#it’s nice that they’re not session long rod

[oddlittlestories]

Listening to Street Race to the Death while driving is an otherworldly experience

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

Hey Issei have you seen Rias anywhere and well- uh why is your face red and are you feeling alright

(Got a little carried away with this, but I was really happy to finally write some pure smut for High School DxD, or any fandom other than RWBY really. It's nice to change things up every now and then.)

Issei looked out of the crack from the partially opened door to his room. One of his hands was on the edge and making sure the door didn't open any more than it already was. With as much composure as he could muster, and as straight of a face he could make, Issei responded, "N-nope, haven't seen the p-president! W-why are you a-asking?"

As the person at the door explained their reasoning for being there, Issei couldn't care less and was barely paying any attention to them talking.

On the other side of the door was something that was infinitely more interesting to Issei than what they were saying.

Namely Rias, the very woman that they were talking about, being completely naked and giving Issei quite the private show. As well as the best handjob that he'd ever received. True it was the first one that he’d ever had (by someone other than himself), but that didn't matter right now.

Rias was smiling confidently as her right hand gently glided along Issei’s shaft. Her grip was just tight enough that her hand had just a little resistance for him to feel amazing. She had no issue moving her hand along his cock either as she had used almost a complete handful of the “secret” bottle of lube that Issei had stashed in his nightstand for his special JO time. As she pumped along, nearly no noise was made aside from a slight ‘sclik’ sound. From base to tip, she rubbed and rolled her hand over every inch of the veiny rod in her grasp.

The handjob wasn’t the only thing that was distracting Issei. Rias’ free left hand was also doing some wonderful work of its own! It roamed over her massive bust, playing with her tits. Bouncing them up and down one at a time, together, then teasing her own nipples. She was having a field day with them, much to Issei's enjoyment and future pole polishing sessions as he committed absolutely everything he was seeing to memory permanently.

Rias was also enjoying her self-breast play. She bit her lip as her hand squeezed her sensitive boob again. Such a simple thing felt so good~! Her nipples were even more sensitive, so she made sure to give them just as much attention.

"Mmmuuuh y-yeah, sorry. J-just haven't s-seen her!" Issei's composure slipped a little as a moan snuck out past his lips, but he played it off. He was silently praying to Satan for this interruption to just leave already. (He didn't exactly think about how much of a terrible idea that was given his current situation, but that would just have to be an awkward problem for future Issei.)

Rias finally decided to kick up her game a little. She wanted to see just how much will power Issei had. How long he could keep it together~.

She sank down to her knees without a sound. She pulled her slippery hand off Issei's cock stared at the dick that was now right in front of her face. It glistened with the coating of lube on it, and was twitching repeatedly. It, and Issei himself, were practically begging for more attention.

Well, who was Rias to deny her cute little servant that attention~?

Rias slightly parted her soft lips open a tiny and slipped Issei's dick into her mouth, dragging her lips along it the entire way. She took at least half of Issei's shaft into her mouth before closing her lips around it, and pulling her head back. The lube and her own saliva made her lips glide along the skin with complete ease.

Slowly, Rias started rocking her head back and forth and began to actually suck on Issei's cock.

To Issei's credit, he didn't blow his load right away, despite Rias' blowjob feeling amazing. Although, he did feel his face scrunch up as he did his best not to cum. It probably looked really strange to the person on the other side of the door. Issei didn't really notice it though as he quickly ended their 'conversation' with, "Sorry, d-don't knowwheresheis! BYE!" and slammed the door shut. As soon as it clicked closed, Issei locked it and leaned against the door. "R-Rias... t-tha- HAAAH!"

Issei didn't finish that thought as one of Rias' hands reached back up to Issei's crotch and started playing with his balls. It started with lightly brushing her fingertips along the bottom of them, almost like tickling them, then she took them in her soft hand and gently rolled them around. All without slowing down her head bobbing.

Rias glanced up at the love of her life and almost smiled around his cock. He just looked so cute and innocent the way he was now. He was definitely the biggest pervert she'd ever met, but he would get so awkward whenever Rias or anyone got intimate with him. She honestly thought it was endearing~.

After almost another full minute of Rias sucking on his cock, playing with his balls, and Issei's face scrunching up while lightly moaning from all of the pleasure, Issei came. And from the teasing build up that he'd been put through, he came a lot.

There was no warning given to Rias other than a few quick twitches from Issei's cock that she felt in her mouth before she felt the first spurt of cum leave his dick. Rias looked directly up at Issei and her eyes locked with his as he finished inside her mouth.

Spurts of Issei's cum splashed into her mouth and quickly pooled up on her tongue. Rias moaned deeply in the back of her throat as the salty, yet very powerful and addicting, taste of the man she loves cum completely took over her mouth.

During this delicious meal, one of her hands had traveled down to her pussy and furiously started to play with herself. In a flash, three of her fingers were quickly pumping into her soaked pussy. A small puddle was even starting to form beneath her.

Issei's cock slowly stopped unloading cum, much to Rias's disappointment. However, she still had plenty~.

After Rias didn't feel any more cum coming out, she let her hand drop from Issei's balls, basically silently giving Issei the permission to pull away, which he did. He panted heavily and pulled his hips back and his softening cock slipped out of her mouth, leaving a bridge of saliva between it and her perfect lips.

Rias opened her mouth and showed off the sizable pool of white, thick cum in her mouth to Issei before swallowing it all. She just barely managed to swallow it all in one gulp, but she did it nonetheless. Her mouth now empty, and feeling very pleased with herself, Rias licked her lips and stood up. As she got to full height again, her wet hand left her pussy and rested just above it. "That was excellent Issei~. You really managed to hold back for a while this time."

Issei, a total blushing mess and still breathing pretty heavily, looked at her incredulously. "R-Rias! W-we almost got caught! Why did you keep going?!"

Rias giggled confidently at him and got really close, pressing her big tits against his chest. That immediately drew Issei's attention downwards and he barely registered what she said next.

"Well it was their fault for interrupting us~. Pretty much everyone knows that this is our time together. We were having such a fun time before they came. I didn't want to just stop and kill the mood because of it~. Besides, I felt you get so much harder when I started stroking you off behind the door~. You enjoyed it, didn't you, my naughty little pervert~?"

Issei was still staring at her rack, but nodded slightly unconsciously.

Rias playfully bounced her chest for him, finding it humorous as his head nodded with them. "Now that they're gone though, we can finally get back to what we were doing in the first place~."

Now THAT got Issei's attention. He stared back up at the redhead beauty just as she walked past him, giving him a kiss on one cheek and a pat on the other with her hand, the one that was still slightly wet from her pussy. Issei spun around quickly and watched as his girlfriend sashayed over to his bed, her hips swaying hypnotically, and took a seat on the edge. She scooted back onto it further, her tits bouncing wonderfully as she did so, and locked eyes with Issei again.

Her legs slowly spread open and showed off her glistening pussy to Issei. "You have some unfinished business with this Issei~. Please don't leave me waiting any longer."

Issei's boner quickly started coming back in full force. He swallowed some spit in anticipation, and then said. "Y-yes ma'am!" Then made his way over to Rias.

Five minutes later, everyone in the building was well aware of where Rias was~. All they had to do was follow the sounds of a bed creaking and her screams of ecstasy.

[havebruises]

“Cauterizing a Wound” with Warren + Mitchell requested by...I can’t remember but it was probably @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi and they’re Warren’s hurt tag list anyway! for @badthingshappenbingo​

requests open

cw: | captivity + restraints | injuries, knives + blood | light choking | nausea | noncon touch | intimate whumper | burning, obviously | blink + you’ll miss it suicidal ideation

-

“I don’t know why you cry so much. You’re not exactly made of porcelain, doll.”

Warren gave a half-coughed laugh, because it sure felt like he was, after all the bruises and fractures and injuries. A toy some naughty child had smashed against the wall without knowing how fragile he was on the surface. Blood-brushed bisque cracked all the way over with no hope of repair.

Normally, something so broken wouldn’t be allowed near anyone’s hands, for risk of the shattered material cutting up vulnerable fingers. He would be trashed, simple as that. But Mitchell had no worries guiding his touch over bare unwilling skin. It wouldn’t cut him. Warren wasn’t made of pottery. He was flesh. He had nerves, sparking with pain unlike any real doll and it was so gratifying feeling him twitch with agony.

He was soft, too, under calloused hands. Shaking and taut as a wire against his restraints where his limbs were spread out on the table, wrists above his head and ankles down at either corner of it, leaving him forcibly exposed like the knife sessions. Despite the icy metal surface, lying on the table ended up being the rare place he felt warmth in this place- from the constant intimate touches, and from the smears of fresh blood all over his right thigh. Mitchell loved to have one hand on a blade and the other hand smoothed over some vulnerable part of his body. He supposed it should have been a relief, to no longer be so cold. All it did was make him more sensitive to the pain.

Mitchell had won the scuffle an hour prior. The first time Warren had ever really tried to fight, had had the opportunity to fight in weeks- and he’d screwed it up. Warren had been pinned on his back with Mitchell’s knees squeezing his sides, both of the man’s hands on his jaw looking over cuts and bruises like they were reflections in a crystal. The sudden indignant rage that swelled in his chest and knotted up his stomach prompted him to make a move for the blade Mitchell had set aside nearby. The confidence that assuming he wouldn’t try at least- it was disgusting.

As sudden as the decision was, Warren wasn’t quick enough to avoid a big hand snatching his wrist. It squeezed him so hard he thought it might snap in multiple places, forcing him to let go of the knife. It had clattered to the ground and Mitchell simply released the boy’s wrist and scooped it up. One hand pressed down firmly across the front of Warren’s trachea while he adjusted his stance atop the redhead and sunk the knife-tip recklessly against soft flesh. 

“You know better! What were you thinking?” Mitchell hissed, affronted.

Warren choked and grasped at Mitchell’s wrist, trying to pry it away from his neck with a short scream as the sharp edge cut into the muscle of his thigh like it was paper. Slow at first, dancing a thin jagged line into his skin.

Then, it hilted without warning. A massively impulsive gesture from someone who always took his time with every cut, and had moments of thought between each blow. His captor usually made sure he had the time and energy and meaning required to make every move count. Like someone was scoring his infliction of emotional damage. Like he was being judged by how long he could keep the boy from bleeding out while still making him scream.

This wound in the boy’s leg was agonizing and risky and Mitchell hadn’t thought ahead, but the penetrative motion of it just felt so pleasurable that he didn’t even move at first. He just watched Warren gasp, the poor young man shivering hard to remain still rather than squirm and make it worse. Warren had been there long enough to understand that twisting about always made it worse. His chest still heaved under Mitchell, and his eyes had rolled so nicely in the moment. The fingernails digging into the man’s wrists were easily ignored for the sweet whine that trailed down in the back of Warren’s throat.

Even now, standing above his doll at the body-slab table and cleaning the messy flesh that betrayed Warren’s lack of porcelain- it had been worth it. Mitchell was already considering doing it again. He just wished he had someone else to take care of the mess afterward.

The deep slice had been scrubbed out, but it still bled in rich pulses and pooled over the edge of Warren’s thigh into a puddle at the crease between his leg and the shining metal of the table. It’d be an issue if Mitchell simply decided to stitch it up. A life-threatening, pallid sort of issue unsolved by even deep tissue sewing.

And whoever had any fun with something as small and painless as a needle and thread? It was worth the risk of infection, in Mitchell’s eyes. Well worth it.

Oh, and how Warren wailed when he saw the slim metal rod heat up to that telltale matte coal-red, smoke flickering in the air above it. His arms strained beside him and his wild eyes met Mitchell’s, pleading with him- begging- offering him anything in return for that implement not going in where the knife had only so soon ago came out. He could feel the thick blade’s path in his leg and he knew where that iron would go. 

“Stop stop stop wait--”

A rough hand clapped over his forehead and shoved his head down with a clunk, not wanting to stop those sweet cries but also refusing to let him jerk around like an animal and harm himself. That was Mitchell’s job, as Warren was so often reminded. It was usually an accident, when Warren hurt himself- so far, anyway. The mad grab for the knife had been the closest the redhead had gotten to trying to kill himself, and only because the motion had been so monumentally stupid that Mitchell might have just killed him for it. But Warren was apparently worth the trouble.

“Shh, doll,” his captor called down to him, with a little smirk that implied he didn’t really hate the sobs. “This is for your own good, why are you crying this time?”

He dropped the heavy iron tip down and let it graze the side of Warren’s thigh, the boy’s breath catching as he fell silent to the sound of soft sizzling. His leg felt aflame, like laying his palm flat on the hot metal of a stove only he couldn’t wrench himself away. He arched his spine sharply, but the restraints held him as safely as they always did.

The tip of the iron moved inward, toward the oozing wound, then- inside it. 

Warren yowled, mouth wide open and teeth bared, eyes wide and fists white-knuckled and shaking as Mitchell wiggled the implement into his slickened, open flesh, searing shut any split veins in the way of it. That’s all it took blissfully, the boy’s eyes rolling back and his body falling limp other than the tremble overtaking his whole body and his short panting breaths, sweat sheening his skin. He hardly twitched when Mitchell pulled the iron out and turned it off, setting it aside on the table to cool.

He woke to the scent of cooked meat, burnt hair, and antiseptic, the stench lingering in the air with the misplacement of a friendly barbeque in a morgue basement. It roiled his stomach instantly, and he had to clench his jaw and swallow hard to keep from vomiting. He’s freezing and wet, the table still dripping with water from the hose- though his leg had been towelled off and there was a dry tautness on his skin that implied bandaging. He couldn’t find the energy to move his head and look.

He didn’t want to. There was a dull, hollow pain that radiated up and down either side of his leg, leaving the outside of the radius numb from exhausted nerves and half-consciousness. The muscle in his thigh twitched on its own and he winced every time.

Mitchell leaning above him took up all his vision, toweling off his hands. Warren, shaking and pale, was most striking when splattered in blood. His red hair stuck thinly and contrasted to his forehead, and his lips were bruised and bright from being bitten.

Gorgeous, Mitchell thought, saying nothing. Warren said nothing. The silence was loaded with terror, matched in equal measure by his tormentor’s pleasure. He felt as if his pain was worthless in that way. It meant nothing, and the helplessness that curled around in his gut whenever he noticed it would be distracting- but for the pain.

He’d never felt such pain, even long after the iron had cooled. The sheer amount of it brought blackness into the edges of his vision, framing his captor in a closing tunnel. Soon Warren was overtaken again, finding blessed peace in unconsciousness lying flat on the table.

There was a time when he’d first arrived that he’d fought sleep. He wasn’t fighting anymore.

Warren was nothing less than grateful for it now.

[earthfluuke]

i would like to start this off by apologizing to anyone who happens to read this. this is, by far, the dumbest thing i’ve ever written. it’s cute, but so, so, so dumb. like, there is no need for this to exist.

BUT. i’ve been playing animal crossing for a while now, and my friends and i were discussing which bl boys would play it. and i said tine. i mean, with all that customization? he’d definitely take the opportunity to make everything cute.

again. THIS SHOULD NOT EXIST. but here we are. i hope you all enjoy it.

a few notes:

one - this is raymond. yes, everyone loves him. yes, people are selling him for hundreds of dollars online. i’m not making this up.

two - you wish on stars in this game, and the next day, there will be star fragments on the ground. you can use these to make a special wand that lets you switch between different outfits you have. naturally, tine had to have that.

three - my friend, kaleb, dressed his animal crossing character up as tine in sarawat’s football jersey, so i had to include that.

Nuzzling up to Tine right before bed after a grueling schedule of school, music club, football practice, and running away from hordes of girls he’ll never spare more than a glance is Sarawat’s favorite part of the day. But lately, he’s felt like he needs to change the is to past tense.

Ever since Tine got that god forsaken game, he had been ditching their cuddle sessions. Sarawat has tried burrowing into his side, giving him little kisses, anything to get Tine’s attention. But it’s always met with rejection.

“In a minute,” Tine says, curled on his side, facing away from Sarawat as he swirls the joystick under his thumb to move his character around the screen. “This fish is huge. It’ll get me tons of money for sure.”

That minute never comes. Sarawat subjects himself to wrapping around Tine’s back and hugging him close. It’s nice, but not as nice as it could be.

This has been going on for weeks now, and he’s had just about enough. It’s time to amend the situation.

…

Tine blinks at the spread of cardboard, plastic, and paper on the floor next to the couch before he turns his gaze to his boyfriend for an explanation. Too caught up in whatever he’s reading, Tine goes to investigate for himself.

What he finds is a game console with similar red and blue end pieces to his own. To the right is a video game box, decorated with all too familiar, colorfully animated characters.

“What’s all this?” he asks, because he’s genuinely taken aback. If he remembers correctly, Sarawat had shaken his head and scoffed at him when he was in this same situation only a few weeks ago. From that reaction, video games clearly didn’t seem to be his thing, especially when that video game was Animal Crossing. Or so he had thought at least.

“If you’re going to spend all of your time playing this game,” Sarawat says, nudging his chin in the direction of the box without looking up from the directions he’s reading, “then I’ll just have to join you. Now, can you help me set this up? Because I’ve been trying for the past thirty minutes, and I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do. They all just keep…squeaking at me. Why do they sound like that?”

Breaking into a smile, Tine sits beside him and takes the console from the coffee table. Leave it to Sarawat to take the phrase ‘go big or go home’ literally. But he won’t complain; it will be fun to play with him.

…

It is not fun playing with Sarawat. At least not yet.

While Tine had been imagining all the cute, virtual dates they could go on, he had failed to remember that Sarawat didn’t know how the very basics of this game worked. Teaching them to him has proven to be difficult.

“I don’t get it,” Sarawat says with a little huff, dropping his console onto his lap. “I line myself up with the fish, but I can never catch one. They swim away from me every time I pull my rod up.”

Leaning over to watch him, Tine giggles softly. “You have to wait for them to bite. See?” Holding his own Switch towards him, he drops his fishing rod into the ocean, waits for the fish to grab hold, and then quickly pulls out of the water. “See? It’s easy. You try.”

Sarawat copies him, and Tine can feel him holding his breath as he waits for the fish to grab onto his line. When it finally does, he practically slams down on the A button. His character presents a pretty standard fish, but it’s still an accomplishment.

He presses a kiss to Sarawat’s cheek and pulls back with a smile. “Knew you could do it. Go catch more; you’ll need them to open up your museum.”

The edges of Sarawat’s lips peak upwards as he continues about the game. Tine goes back to the room he’s decorating, only to be interrupted by, “Why do these bugs fly away every time I get close to them? They’re gone before I can catch them.”

Tine sighs; they’ve still got a long way to go.

…

“What is that?” Tine asks just as Sarawat is collecting the wood that dropped from the tree he cut down.

“What is what?” he asks, continuing the amount of soft wood he has in his inventory. Three more pieces, and he’ll be able to complete the swinging bench DIY he just received.

“That!” Tine stresses, pointing at his character’s swollen eye.

“Oh,” he says, paying him little attention as he goes to the next tree. “I got stung by wasps.”

“I know that. But why haven’t you gotten medicine for it yet?”

He finally glances at Tine from the corner of his eye. “Do I really need to?”

Tine dramatically throws his hands into the air, clearly offended by Sarawat’s outlook. “Yes, you have to! You’re going to look like that until you do!”

Smirking, Sarawat goes into the shop, completely bypassing the cabinet with medicine in it in favor of selling the shells he found. “So this is just one of your chic things then, huh?” He pauses to look at his character. “It doesn’t look that bad. He’s still smiling. Besides, scars are hot, right?”

“Not in Animal Crossing,” Tine demands. “If you’re not going to buy any medicine, I’m sending you some.”

“I won’t use it.”

“Saraleo!”

…

Tine’s jaw is dropped, and his eyes are bugged. “How?” he asks, truly astonished.

Sarawat looks to him innocently, pointing to the screen. “How, what? How did I get to the deserted island? I did what you told me to do. I took the ticket to the airport and gave it to the dodo bird and then–”

“Not that.” Tine pushes his hand out of the way to get a better look at his screen. He moves the joystick around until the lone inhabitant of the island – a grey cat with mismatched eyes – is in frame. “That. How did you manage to find Raymond on your very first try?”

“Is he really that special?” Sarawat asks, moving his character to get a closer look.

“He’s completely new to the game, so everyone wants him. He goes for hundreds of baht online. And of course with your luck you find him on the very first island you visit.” Under his breath, he mutters, “Unbelievable.”

Humming, Sarawat circles the cat once before moving to the opposite side of the island to gather branches. Alarmed, Tine grabs his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Getting materials?” Sarawat answers skeptically.

“Get them after you invite Raymond to your island!” he demands.

“I mean, do I really have to?” Sarawat asks. “He’s cute, but he’s only a cat.”

“If you don’t, I’m breaking up with you. That’s not an exaggeration; I will have my things packed and on my way to Fong’s by tonight.”

“Okay, okay, I’m inviting him!”

…

Seeing the little blue box above his mailbox, Tine goes to check it. Inside is a package from Sarawat and a note that says ‘wear it to give me good luck.’

Putting the package into his inventory, he opens it to reveal a piece of clothing. He changes into it, and it honestly shouldn’t surprise him so much to see his character wearing a white and black jersey.

He can’t help but shake his head and laugh. He doesn’t know what Sarawat could possibly need luck for in the game, but he keeps it on regardless.

…

“I can’t believe Wat bought a Switch to play one game,” Man says over their group call. “Playing Animal Crossing together. That’s true love.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tine asks, flickering Man a smirk before he goes back to the river he’s terraforming. “Why don’t you play with P’Type then?”

Man visibly deflates. “He said if he invited me to his island, I’d mess up all of his flowers. I promised not to run through them, but he doesn’t believe me.”

“I just can’t believe Sarawat managed to get every rare villager in the game,” Phuak says.

“And he’s already had three meteor showers!” Tine adds. “I’d be mad, but he gave me all of his star fragments. So I can’t complain.”

“All of them?” Ohm exclaims, looking at the camera with wide eyes. “He didn’t keep any?”

“Tine wanted to make that special wand that lets you change into different outfits, and I honestly couldn’t care less.” Tipping Tine’s face towards him with a finger beneath his chin, Sarawat smiles softly. “Besides, it makes him happy. That’s all I really care about.”

His boyfriend’s sweet gaze and the chorus of coos coming from his laptop send Tine into a deep flush.

…

“Wat,” Tine calls. The two of them are on his island, sitting together on the bench he put in his garden. “Thank you for this. I know it’s probably not your favorite way to spend time together, and I shouldn’t have even let it come to this. I shouldn’t have let the game take up so much of my time.”

Tine doesn’t expect the flick Sarawat gives his forehead, and he rubs at it with a pout. “Stop apologizing, tua woon wai and get a few things straight. I bought this,” he holds up his console, “because I wanted to. You do plenty of things for me, and I’m doing this for you. That’s what boyfriends do.” He leans down to press a kiss to his shoulder. “And if it makes you smile, then that’s all the better.”

Tine pushes him away shyly, taking up his console again. “Come here. Take a picture with me.” He centers the camera and snaps a few shots of the two of them on the bench, soft bamboo lights illuminating the background.

Sarawat is already fast asleep when he puts the game down. Before he slips under the covers with him, he posts the pictures to his Instagram with the caption, ‘wouldn’t want to experience island life with anyone else.’

[sweetiepie08]

Time Not Wasted (Part 1)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance fanfiction. 

Rian, Mira, and Gurjin get a night off of guard duty and decide to spend it at a nearby tavern. As they drink and celebrate their night of freedom, they laugh, make mischief, and create memories that will warm their hearts for years to come. Time is never wasted when it is spent  with the ones you love. 

Part 1. Part 2.

[-]

The Tavern was as alive as ever that night. Gurjin and Rian had made the trek out here many times before, but tonight was special. Mira’s rotation schedule finally matched up with his and Gurjin’s in a way that allowed them to head out to the Castle Shadow Tavern for the night and make it back for their next patrol. The tavern was built within an hour’s walk from the Castle of the Crystal. Rian imagined it was built by some enterprising gelfling who realized the guard would need something to do on their time off other than polishing boots or running drills. It also fell along a well-worn travel road, which made for a good mix of regulars and new-comers.

On this particular night, Rian sat in a booth with Gurjin and Mira. The sounds of chatter and revelry echoed around them. Above it all, Gurjin’s voice rang out, regaling them with his Captain Ordon impression.

“And that, recruits,” he boomed, keeping his back straight as a steel rod and his face stiff as a board, “is why if you don’t polish your boots until you can see your reflection in them, you have failed both as a guard and as a gelfling, and your ancestors will weep in shame.” A mischievous twinkle entered his eye. “Unless you’re Gurjin, of course, in which case, you can do no wrong.”

“Of course…” Rian sighed, hiding an amused smirk in his cup of ale.

“Is all that understood, Mira?” Gurjin went on.

“Yes, Captain,” she answered with mock severity. “The state of my boots will make my ancestors proud.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Rian said, rolling his eyes. “He’ll keep this up all night, and he has.”

“Silence, Rian,” Gurjin commanded, keeping in character. “Don’t disparage your fellow guard. You should be more like Gurjin. He’s loyal, brave, hard-working, handsome…”

Rian let out a burst of laughter. “Stop complimenting yourself in the third-person!”

“Yes, you’ve broken the illusion,” Mira added. “Our captain would never give that much praise. Up until that, though, I thought it was spot on.”

“You thought it was good?” Gurjin asked, sitting down and reverting back to his own voice.

“I did.”

Rian shook his head. “Trust me, it gets old after hearing it five or six hundred times.”

As if accepting a challenge, Gurjin snapped right back into his stiff, upright posture. “Rian, as your father, I must tell you that you need to lighten up a little.”

“Okay, now I know that’s not the captain,” Mira said.

“Sure, I may be stiffer that the Emperor’s beak and believe any smile lasting longer than a third of a second is a sure sign of deception…”

Rian let his gaze linger on a spot just over Gurjin’s shoulder. “Oh, hello father.”

Gurjin practically jumped as he looked behind him. When he saw nothing there, he turned back to his friends with a wry smile. “Ha, ha, very funny…”

Rian flashed him a smirk. “How’s that for lightening up?” he said, taking a drink.

Gurjin made a non-committal sound and conceded defeat by taking a swing from his stein. His eyes shifted to the tavern’s bar, in search of some new amusement. His face broke into a grin when something caught his eye. “Hey, look at those two Spritons over there.

Rian followed his gaze. He saw two Spritons, a male and a female, accepting their drinks from the bar keep. Travelers from Sammi Thicket, he guessed. Both had shiny black hair and were laughing at something one of them had said.

“Got your eye on one of them?” Mira asked.

“Maybe…”

“Which one?”

“Either? Both?” Gurjin shrugged. “What ever their preference is. I’m flexible.”

“Both?” Mira gasped in disbelief. “At the same time?”

Gujin put on a cocky grin. “It’s happened before.”

“Not to you, though,” Rian added. He and Gurjin shot each other the kind of mocking looks only long-time friends can share.  

“Hey, you may have a steady catch, but some of us are still on the hunt,” Gurjin shot back.

“Any gelfling would be lucky to have you,” Mira said warmly.

Rian clapped him on the back. “And half of them don’t deserve you.”

“Thanks, but you don’t have to puff me up. I know my worth.” He finished the last of his beer and got up from the table. “Well, I’m going to go try my luck.” With that, he sauntered off to chat up the Spritons.

“Alone at last,” Rian sighed, turning his smile over to Mira.

“You really think he’s going to go for both?” she asked, watching Gurjin approach the Spritons.

“Might have just been bravado, but he’s open to anything, really.” He looked over at Gurjin. Something he said caused the Spritons to burst into a fit of laughter. “As long as he’s happy, I’m rooting for him.”

She looked back at him. Her pale blue eyes were soft and inviting “Have you and Gurjin been friends a long time?”

“We went though training together,” he explained. “We were sparring partners for our first combat exercises. He knocked me down flat quite a few times, but I learned to be quicker and more agile. WE’d taunt each other throughout the session, but it was all in jest. We started bonding outside of training and we’ve been like brothers ever since.”

“I can tell.” She scooted in closer to him. “Must have been nice, being so close to someone here.”

Rian moved in closer as well. “Surely you had friends in the Har’ar guard.”

“I did and I still write them sometimes, but if I had a friendship like yours and Gurjin’s, I might not have transferred.”

“Well,” he said, reaching for her hand, “who says you can’t have that here?”

“You certainly made me feel welcome,” she teased, running her thumb along his knuckles, “what with your, observatory tour and all.”

“Not much of a tour when you beat me up there.”

“Neither was that sparring match,” she said with an impish twinkle in her eye.

“That’s not fair,” he argued in mock-offense. “I was distracted by how beautiful my partner was.”

“What makes you think I wasn’t distracted?” she purred back.

They leaned in closer, seeking to close the gap between them. Rian shut his eyes, waiting for her kiss, but Gurjin’s voice interrupted them.

“Hey Rian, come play darts with me.”

Rian opened his eyes and cast an irritated glance in his friend’s direction. “What happened to the Spritons?”

“Turns out they’re childhood friends who just started going together and I wasn’t about the get in the middle of a love story like that,” he explained. “Come on, just one game. Loser buys the next round.”

“Alright,” Rian said, getting up from the table and following Gurjin to the dart board. “I guess you know my taste in beer well enough.”

“I know liquid gold wouldn’t be enough to satisfy your pretentious tongue,” Gurjin playfully shot back, “not that I’m going to need that knowledge though.”

“Don’t be so sure.” Rian smiled at Mira who watched from their table. “I’ve got someone special cheering me on.”

“I know.” Gurjin handed Rian his darts. “And I doubt you’ll be able to see straight, making those googly eyes.”

Rian and Gurjin took turns tossing darts and exchanging playful insults. Rian kept glancing over at Mira between shots. She looked at him with a sly smirk on her lips. She was always concocting some mischief, he could tell. There was always something up her sleeve, though never anything malicious. Whatever it was, it would surely give them a laugh. He could hardly wait to find out what she was thinking.

By game’s end, Gurjin proved to be the victor. “Ha! Take that you cross-eyed bean pole,” he jeered when his dart hit the bullseye.

“You won by one point,” Rian argued.

“And that was enough to beat you,” Gurjin countered. He pointed Rian in the direction of the bar. “Go on, drink slave.”

“Fine, anything specific?”

“Surprise me,” he said, flashing a mocking grin. “You know my taste in beer well enough.”

“As you wish,” Rian sighed. Gurjin headed back over to the table while Rian went to the bar.

“I think I’ll grab another drink too,” Mira said, getting up. She joined Rian at the bar. He leaned against the counter and waited for the bar keep to take his order. “So,” she said, sliding in next to him, “what are you thinking?”

“I’ll just get him an elm brew,” he said. “That’s one of his favorites.”

“Or you could get him the opposite of his favorite,” she suggested, a wicked smile on her lips.

The tantalizing mischief in her voice tugged at his ears. “What are you saying?”

“The bet was, you buy him a drink,” she explained. “He never said it had to be a drink he liked.”

His wicked smile matched hers as he considered the tempting idea. The look he imagined on Gurjin’s face was entertaining. Ultimately, he decided against it, though. “Nah, that wouldn’t be sporting. I’ll just-”

“You’re taking your sweet time over there!” Gurjin called from across the room.

“What?” Rian snapped, looking back at him.

“I said you’re taking your sweet time over there!” Gurjin called again.

“Hush!” Rian shouted back. He turned back to Mira, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. “You know, I started out with the best intentions.”

“You did…” she said, sly smile growing.

“But he had to go flapping his lips.”

“Yup.” She nodded. “He could stand to learn some patience.”

Rian winked at Mira and flagged down the bar keep. “Excuse me, miss,” he said once he had her attention. “What’s the weirdest drink you can make? Like, something you’d have to be out of your mind to order?”

A few minutes later, Rian put a stein full of a greenish-brown liquid down in front of Gurjin. “Uh, what’s this?” Gurjin asked, inspecting the drink from a safe distance.

“You did tell me to surprise you,” Rian said, a rascally gleam in his eye.

“It looks like you dipped the stein in the castle sewers.”

“I can, in fact, verify that Rian got that drink from the bar keep,” Mira added as if she were giving a patrol report.

“Ah, so she’s the one who dipped it in the sewer.”

Mira laughed. “She called it fizzgig dung.”

“How appealing…” Gurjin looked down at the cup as if the name was literal.

“Drink up, pal.” Rian clapped a hand down on Gurjin’s shoulder. “That’s all for you.”

“Alright.” He pulled a face like he was about to single-handedly conduct the deterge. “Here goes nothing.” He lifted the stein and tapped it against his friends’ cups.

“Vliya!” Mira cheered.

“Eh, vliya yourself,” Gurjin grumbled in return.

Rian chuckled. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Eh, shut up.” Gurjin put the drink to his lips and, never one to do anything by halves, swallowed a large gulp. He slammed the stein back down as he gagged and coughed. “Ugh that is rancid,” he said, tears forming in his eyes. He sunk down and put his head on the table. “Someone fetch my mother. I want to go home.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Rian said.

“It can.” Gurjin’s head snapped up. “Why in Thra would you do that to me?”

“I was going to get you an elm,” Rian explained, “but you had to start yapping like a fizzgig. Thought you could use a lesson in patience.”

“Lesson learned.” Gurjiin slid the stein over to Rian. “You try it.”

Rian slid it back. “Why would I want to try it?”

“’This is terrible, you try’”, Mira laughed. “What a compelling argument!”

Rian looked down at the half-empty cup, curiosity seeping into his brain. “I mean… you know what? Okay.”

Mira looked aghast. “You can’t be serious!”

“Well…” Rian shrugged and offered her a half-hearted smile. He really had no explanation other than the solidarity of sharing a disgusting experience with a friend.

As he lifted the drink to his lips, Gurjin shot him a wicked smirk. “Hey Rian,” he said, “Vliya!”

“Yeah, right, Vliya.” Rian drank and felt a burning sensation down his throat. The taste was indescribable. “Ugh, I just drank Arathim poison!” he shouted, slamming the stein down.

Gurjin roared with laughter. “Not so funny now, is it?”

Rian took a sip of his beer, begging for it to wash out the aftertaste. “The name warns you about the taste, but not the burning.”

“No it does not, but hey!” Gurjin slapped Rian on the back. “Think of it as practice for the day you and I try Grotton glow spirit.”

“Uh-huh,” Rian grimaced. “And that’ll be the day I die.”

Gurjin nodded and took a drink from Rian’s beer. “Yup, just dig a grave behind me so I can fall backward into it.”

“Oh, I know about glow spirit,” Mira put in.

“You’ve had it?” Gurjin asked. He looked almost impressed.

“No, but I’ve heard rumors.”

“So have I. Apparently it’s ten times stronger than Uncle Norlan’s secret recipe.”

“Who’s Uncle Norlan?” Mira asked.

“My Uncle Norlan,” said Gurjin.

“Drenchen moonshine,” Rian explained. “I’ve had his uncle’s secret recipe. If glow spirit’s any stronger, it’ll melt the spires off the Castle of the Crystal.”

Mira grinned. “Well, in that case, we have to try it.”

“Yes, but until then, what do you say we wash the taste out of our mouths with a song.” Gurjin grabbed a pair of spoons and set them down in front of Rian.

“Oh, we’ve reached that point in the night, have we?” Rian said, picking up the spoons. He pinched them between his fingers, ready to play.

“I didn’t know you could play spoons,” Mira said, smiling at him.

“I had to learn.” Rian smiled back. “Gurjin’s inner-bard comes out after a few drinks and he demands accompaniment.”

“What am I, if not a crowd pleaser?” Gurjin smirked. “Go on, start.”

Rian adjusted his spoons and got his knee into position. “You start, I’ll follow.”

“Very well.” Gurjin stood up, took another gulp of Rian’s beer, and launched into a classic Drenchen folk song. Rian did his best to keep the beat. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mira beaming at him.

“What other secret talents have you been hiding from me?” she purred.

His heart pounded and his face flushed. He missed a few beats, but Gurjin didn’t seem to notice. He played on as he lost himself in Mira’s beautiful eyes. This night, he decided, was a complete success. And he was sure, someday, when he was old and gray, he’d look back on this night and the memory would warm his heart like a cozy fire in a lively tavern.

[tabloidtoc]

National Examiner, January 25

Cover: Secret Dawn Wells took to the grave: her affair with Bob Denver of Gilligan’s Island 

Page 2: Best and Worst Celeb Tippers -- Katherine Heigl, Amy Schumer, Drew Barrymore, Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears, Madonna, Johnny Depp, Jay-Z 

Page 3: Charlie Sheen, Ben Affleck, Sean Penn, Sharon Stone, Naomi Campbell, Mark Zuckerberg, Tom Selleck and Donnie Wahlberg took the 2020 Tip Challenge 

Page 4: Goldie Hawn’s movie roles 

Page 6: Melissa Gilbert who played Laura Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie says if there’s one piece of unfinished business that emerged from the show it’s that she’d like to punch former co-star Shannen Doherty -- Shannen was only 12 when she joined the Little House cast for the show’s ninth and final season playing Jenny Wilder but in a couples therapy session with her first husband Bo Brinkman it came out that Shannen at 22 had bagged Bo in bed 

Page 7: Country star Dolly Parton may be 75 year old but that doesn’t stop her from leaping out of bed at 3 a.m. every morning -- she’s a very very very early riser and she goes to bed pretty early but she’s up and down

* Tom Hanks has been in countless movies and TV shows but his most important role in life has been as a father of four and he has tips for how to do it right 

Page 8: If you’ve soured on feeding canned dog food to your precious pooch you’re not alone -- plenty of owners are switching over to healthy people-food diets for their pets but it’s essential to get guidance from your veterinarian 

Page 9: Most of your kitty’s diet should be a nutritionally complete cat food but you can give them a treat from your plate every once in a while -- you just need to know how to choose feline-friendly snacks with nutrients they need and which they should NEVER eat -- check with your veterinarian 

* Why animals creep into our dreams -- we all dream about animals from time to time and here are some of the most common creatures of our nights and what they could be trying to tell us 

Page 10: On his 21st birthday Matt Goodman raised a glass to his late father who had left behind the money to buy his son’s first beer 

Page 11: Your Health -- the stark truth is that sleeping naked is good for you 

Page 12: Top Guns -- these Hollywood stars were fastest on the draw -- James Garner, Henry Fonda, Eli Wallach, Burt Lancaster, Roy Rogers 

Page 13: Kevin Costner, Yul Brynner, Gary Cooper, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne 

Page 14: Dear Tony, America’s Top Psychic Healer -- a lesson from COVID-19 which is work on mentally healing ourselves, Tony predicts Miley Cyrus will struggle to overcome many of her self-destructive habits, finding strength through religion and she will be back on the hit parade come summer 

Page 15: If you and your partner fight a lot here’s a great idea to grasp: holding each other’s hand is the key to better conflict resolution 

Page 16: Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton might be royals but they’re raising their children just like any other parents and family is their first priority and Will and Kate are rarely apart from their three kids Prince George and Prince Charlotte and Prince Louis 

Page 18: Maggie the shelter stray was twice unlucky when two potential forever homes kicked her to the curb but now she’s found her true calling as a beloved K-9 officer 

Page 19: A homeless man in Atlanta put his life on the line to rescue every single cat and dog from a blazing inferno at an animal shelter 

Page 20: Cover Story -- a three-hour tour that turned into a three-season laugh-fest on Gilligan’s Island made Dawn Wells a star and she took the show’s juiciest secrets to her grave including a red-hot affair with co-star Bob Denver -- Dawn who died of complications related to COVID-19 at age 82 hid a crazy sexy side which she kept under wraps because it was the exact opposite of the squeaky-clean image se presented to the world as farm girl Mary Ann on Gilligan’s Island 

Page 22: This Michigan teen is a top Elvis Presley impersonator even performing in Las Vegas and the only one with Down syndrome 

Page 24: Texas firefighters were hailed as heroes after they rescued a four-year-old boy who had fallen down a well 

Page 25: Here’s the dirt on soil-free gardening 

Page 26: Nice Work If You Can Get It -- celebs shell out stupid money for stupid jobs -- Rod Stewart travels with a room-darkening team, Lady Gaga hates to sleep alone and her personal assistant had to get in bed with her on nights when Gaga was solo, Larry Ellison likes to play basketball on his yacht and employs a person who job it is to circle it in a boat and retrieve stray balls from the ocean, Mariah Carey has a woman who stands beside her at all times holding a drink, Snoop Dogg pays a professional blunts roller, Prince Charles has a personal dresser, Justin Bieber’s entourage includes someone to hold his drink and another to hold his slice of pizza, Sean Combs has an assistant whose only job is to carry around an umbrella for him 

Page 28: Burt Lancaster was one of Hollywood’s biggest stars acting in more than 70 movies during a four-decade-long career but he was also a silly practical joker says his daughter Joanna Lancaster one of the actor’s five children 

Page 30: Legendary actress and dancer Ann-Marget will be 80 years old in April but she’s still stepping out and making movies -- you’re not dead when you reach a certain age said the star who shot to fame when she famously dated Elvis Presley when they made Viva Las Vegas in 1964 

* Candice Bergen running wild and free at age 74 -- she recently became a first-time grandmother and is selling her hand-designed merchandise online 

* What is Marie Osmond doing during the pandemic? She bought a Harley motorcycle and so did her husband Steve and they love to go riding together -- the twosome also take walks and see their kids and grandkids and stay busy and have fun 

Page 42: All Washed Up -- surprising facts about bathing and showering 

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Ellen DeGeneres goes for a spin in California (picture), Chrissy Teigen and John Legend take their kids Luna and Miles to watch planes make the tricky landing at St. Barts’ airport (picture), Joan Collins claims she once gave Bobby Kennedy the brush off because neither of them was single at the time, George Clooney can’t bear the thought of his early film Grizzly II seeing the light of day but it is set to be released later this year, Barry Gibb the last living member of The Bee Gees says life was incredibly hard after losing his brothers and bandmates Robin Gibb and Maurice Gibb who died in 2012 and 2003, Ray Liotta and Jacy Nittolo engaged, Bob Seger paid tribute to saxophonist Alto Reed a longtime member of his Silver Bullet Band who lost his life to colon cancer 

Page 45: Prince Charles and Duchess Camilla show off their walking sticks outside their home at Birkhall in Scotland (picture), Tori Spelling gets some puppy love from one of their pet pooches in L.A. with help from hubby Dean McDermott (picture), Megan Fox has moved on with Machine Gun Kelly and her estranged husband Brian Austin Green isn’t moping solo -- he vacationed in Hawaii with Sharna Burgess of Dancing with the Stars, British photographer David Bailey is dishing on his storied career in his memoir -- he claims sloshed Elizabeth Taylor tried to swipe his camera and his first impression of ex-wife Catherine Deneuve was that she was short and a bit on the fat side, Phyllis McGuire who shared the stage with her late siblings Dorothy and Ruby as the McGuire Sisters died in her lavish Las Vegas home -- she found fame through her voice and infamy through her relationship with Sin City mobster Sam Giancana 

Page 46: Good-hearted sheriff’s deputies surprised a woman with a vehicle after they kept getting calls about her walking along the highway in the freezing cold each morning 

Page 47: These UN Ambassadors use star power to help -- Emma Watson, Danny Glover, Nicole Kidman, Angelina Jolie, Antonio Banderas, Whoopi Goldberg, Susan Sarandon, Liam Neeson, Laurence Fishburne, Mia Farrow, Katy Perry, Alyssa Milano 

[mintchocohip]

pegging sub!bts︱all members

▬     𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 ➤ headcanons for pegging the OT7!

▬     pairing: member x reader ︱ rating: explicit ︱ genre​: smut

cr▹

┃ other kinks can be found with each member, when applicable.

        𝙏𝘼𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙐𝙉𝙂  

▬   A double-sided strap provides the connection Taehyung craves. He wants to work up to something the size of his own cock, or bigger━occasional bouts of humble-bragging insecurity over being too big means he wants to know what it’s like for his partners. The realization that he just loves feeling full up and filled deep follows naturally. 

▬   Aesthetics aren’t an afterthought. The material and colors of the harness and toys do need to suit Taehyung’s mood, and they do need to suit the aesthetics of his favorite immersive historical roleplays.

▬   Even when it’s a low-key session with a medium-sized, soft toy that can curve nice and gently, lube flows like a waterfall. The huge bottle of lube is there less because Taehyung needs it, and more because you both love the slick, crisp sounds. 

▬   Taehyung’s mood is crystal-clear in how he asks for a pegging. If he’s in a good mood, it’s silent body language. When he’s in a bad mood, it’s demands of “fuck me, fuck me, please, right now, just fuck me.” When he’s in a really bad mood, bending Taehyung over the nearest flat surface gets the job done in a few knee-shaking minutes━no lube necessary. Taehyung’s romantic moods means he can’t ask for it. He wants you to know. There’s a certain soft look in his eyes, though, and a certain way he licks his lips, that makes you cusp a hand against the side of his face and ask “Is that what you want?”

▬   Experimenting with the temperature of the toy in the harness gets surprisingly exhilarated results. A warmed-up ceramic dildo is especially popular.

        𝙔𝙊𝙊𝙉𝙂𝙄   other kinks: gangbang, sounding  

▬   When the harness comes out, the comfort of a prostate massager or the intimacy of fingers and tongues is abandoned. The cold, calculated and invasive make Yoongi’s heart patter, and flush him into the kind of mindlessness that can only be released through trust. 

▬   Big, thick, small, thin━what goes in the harness doesn’t matter, as long as it’s pushed into him rough. Yoongi’s mouth is especially eager to take the strap, but indulging his desire to get facefucked is usually reserved for a treat, or a little decompression during aftercare. Within the boundaries of a scene, not letting Yoongi get what he wants is key.

▬   When he’s getting fucked within an inch of passing out, Yoongi’s exhibitionist streak becomes a jetstream. There’s nothing intimate about these moments, so he’s not shy about sharing them. Play parties, clubs, and private shows with strangers make Yoongi woozy with pride over how well he can take it, and equally humiliate him until his cheeks are a beautiful cherry red. Sometimes you start the train; sometimes it’s a friend, and sometimes it’s whoever volunteers to buckle into the harness next to Yoongi’s bound and blindfolded body. 

▬   All of Yoongi’s holes are fuckable, in one way or another. Pale legs have been frogtied up with medical tape. His knees are in his armpits. A metal rod is slowly sliding down his lube-glistening cock, and the stainless steel dildo is slowly pushing up his slicked ass. Dueling sensations streaked through Yoongi’s body by your hand and your hips mean a sensitive prostate is getting squeezed from two sides━the blanked-out expression and utter motionlessness beneath you are relying on you to listen, and watch carefully for signs of a failed attempt to mouth the safeword. Yoongi is also relying on you to understand he’s far from delicate. There’s a muscle in Yoongi’s thigh you only ever see twitching when he’s about to have a shoved-all-the-way-in-there orgasm, and right now, it’s almost vibrating.    

▬   Yoongi doesn’t like the strap being treated as an extension of his partner’s self. The appeal of toys rests on their depersonalization. It’s a thing being put inside of him.

        𝙅𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙆𝙊𝙊𝙆   other kinks: sub training       

▬   Jungkook will try anything in the harness once. Once. The trusty masturbation egg he’s been using for years has survived thanks to regular, attentive cleaning. When it comes to dildos, though, Jungkook goes through them like tissues. Packages constantly show up in his mailbox containing the latest squishy squirting jelly dildo he saw online, or the glittery fuchsia piece shaped like a tentacle. Shyness about experimentation held Jungkook back in the past, and now, his curiosity is spilling out. 

▬   Mixing up unusual, surprising colors into faux-cum creampies keeps things fresh, but, ultimately, most of Jungkook’s rainbow-colored collection fall out of rotation and end up as stress toys for him to squeeze and pick at when he’s bored.

▬   Any position that makes Jungkook uncomfortable turns gears in his brain that pool drool into his mouth. Sucking something hard and tasteless often looks like foreplay, but it feels like a main event. Getting fucked in a piledriver sets those gears into overdrive. Jungkook loves being able to see the strap push into him, and he’ll stare between his legs wide-eyed, flutter his eyelids, squeeze his eyes shut, and wheel through such a beautiful series of expressions and keening, muscle-twitching whimpers that it looks and sounds like he’s going to come untouched at any second━when a rope of come does shoot down onto his shaking chest, it always means keep going. Hands in Jungkook’s hair, fingernails clawing at his legs until they’re pink and red; streaking and pinching come over his nipples, and pushing out a few more orgasms until Junkook’s running dry━it’s the only way to make sure he emerges from the other side of aftercare satisfied.

▬   The thought of his ass and mouth being available to you 24/7 makes Jungkook shiver. Practicality and boundaries mean fantasy stays fantasy. On one special day a week, though, you both get a slice of that dream. By the time you’ve trained him to keep the buttplug in all day, Jungkook can fall asleep with your fingers playfully turning the base.

▬   Building up tiers of length and thickness means switching toys out regularly during long, long pegging sessions. Giving memorable names to the collection of toys available to Jungkook means he can ask for a specific toy simply, or beg for it with a single word.

        𝙃𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙊𝙆   other kinks: roleplay, degredation, bondage, public/semi-public, filming

▬   He insists he can take more. Overwhelming Hoseok into spilling the safeword into his rolling, hiccuping moans is shockingly easy. Even if Hoseok wants to work up to bigger things, getting fucked is a precarious balance between accepting that it won’t all be luxury and trying to stop himself from teetering off a cliff he can’t climb back up on his own. For now, toys are average sized and simple shapes, and lube glistens on Hoseok’s ass like a second skin. 

▬   During gentler sessions, a reach-around with a fleshlight turns Hoseok’s moans into eye-fluttering silence.

▬   Roleplay loosens up Hoseok’s internal restraints. It doesn’t matter how hard he gets fucked, and it doesn’t matter if it hurts━he wants it to hurt. Punishment play, degradation, and your self-assured dirty talk about how much he just needed to get that attitude fucked out of him erase Hoseok’s thoughts, and replace them with sparks and blobs of blissful numbness. The roles are often classics, and the positions that accompany them are classics, too. The man caught jerking off in the library; and the frustrated librarian who’s had enough of his shit━it gets replay. Doggy style and fade down, ass up means he can just shut off his brain, and take it. Other times, faux-impromptu bondage ties him up in precariously exposed positions, and leaves him there when the deed is finished. Breaking Hoseok down is easy, and he’s so cheerful once the binds come off, it almost seems like he wasn’t just shaking like a leaf.

▬   Traveling with Hoseok means racking up unique, increasingly precarious places where he’s been pegged. Bringing him back down from the urge to take the strap in the middle of a bustling plaza means exploring that craving with a camera, some mood lighting, and constant refreshes to see how many hits the video has gotten so far.

▬   The visuals of the harness and toy don’t seem too important, at first. When you introduce a strappy black leather harness and a bright red dildo, Hoseok is swallowing and flushing so much he doesn’t even want to look at it directly. Again━the classics have their appeal.

        𝙅𝙄𝙈𝙄𝙉   ​other kinks: praise/degredation, filming  

▬   Long, thick, and hard. Knowing what Jimin wants is simple.

▬   Jimin’s ass is magical, and it deserves the praise of a good fuck. Praise laced with degradation heightens that fuck into an experience stripping Jimin to his core. Soft words in his ear fill Jimin up with that heady mixture as much as the reverent, demeaning movements of hips━”Perfect. All flushed and fucked like this. Do you understand, Jimin? The way you love it so much━ you’re made for this. As soon as it’s up in there, you’re amazing. You’re glowing. This is who you are.” Dirty talk in his ear while he’s fucked from behind and hands play with his nipples and grope his chest and abs and squeeze the head of his cute little cock means Jimin can curl up in the sheets and shake and squirm as much as he needs to. Ricocheting gasps, high-pitched squeals, and random bouts of stunned laughter mean Jimin loves it. 

▬   Jimin needs to love it. If he isn’t enjoying himself, he will let you know. Bitterness seeps into the vocal brattiness he shoots over his shoulder. If he can’t form those coherent sentences, you’re doing something right.

▬   Pegging Jimin often becomes an exercise in service topping. If you don’t get off, though, he takes it as a personal offense. When he’s not too blown out to need immediate aftercare, the reason Jimin prefers open-crotched harnesses becomes obvious in a flash of skilled fingers slipping into your cunt, and slicking you off the edge that’s been building since your fingers made those same motions in Jimin’s ass fifteen minutes prior.

▬   The simplistic USB necklace keys into whatever outfit you wear on dates with Jimin. If you slid out the compatible connector and pushed it into his phone, dozens of stills of Jimin getting fucked would tile up in neat rows. Some star you; some star whoever consented to recording. The reminder was your idea, but Jimin fell head over heels for it.

        𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙅𝙊𝙊𝙉   other kinks: crossdressing  

▬   Lacy harnesses match Namjoon’s jewel-toned lingerie. A sleek black harness compliments his mesh bodysuit, the matching black collar on his throat, and the jingling black harnesses on his wrists and ankles. You know how to choose outfits that compliment Namjoon’s tan skin and streamlined body━it always makes Namjoon almost giddy with attempts to mute his joy when you surprise him with some shopping, and choose what he’s going to wear tonight.

▬   Namjoon loves dressing up, and he loves getting fucked right. Simple, medium-sized toys or prostate massagers slot into the harness. When Namjoon takes something he can’t relax around instantly, discomfort stops him cold. Thirteen centimeters draw out nothing but delighted shivers and shakes. The gentle care and pleasure pushed in by ten centimeters make Namjoon flush into automatic gasps, and make him leak automatic drips of thick, glossy precome.

▬   One taste was all it took for Namjoon to become addicted. It means a lot to him. Feeling desirable for what his cock can do is fine, but knowing somebody wants him this way is deeply flattering, liberating, and relieving. It’s romantic.

▬   Namjoon wants to show you what his body can do. His stomach sucks in and twists; his shoulders pull back, his chest spreads out and his hips rotate and twist and press down on your lap━hard. Every time Namjoon pushes down hard, the buzz on your clit pushes down, hard. Lights tingle and sparkle over your eyes━keeping your eyes open through the stars Namjoon is putting in them means you must look in awe. You are in awe. When you can move, you’re stroking Namjoon all over, jerking him off, sucking on his chest, groping his ass, and whispering quiet words to the man giving you the best lapdance you’ve ever received━”You’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

▬   Letting Namjoon lead once the pegging session starts is vital. Otherwise, he becomes a little too flustered to properly function.

        𝙎𝙀𝙊𝙆𝙅𝙄𝙉   other kinks: bondage, degradation

        warning:  elements of rape roleplay

▬   Studded leather and an unforgiving strap make Seokjin almost sick with anticipation, on nights when a jockey whip taps against the wall on its way to his ass spread out over the spanking table. A lacy pink harness and a short, soft pastel pink cock put Seokjin at ease, on nights when he wants to be the little spoon, have one of his thighs pushed over the other, and get cuddlefucked into loving oblivion.

▬   “Please!” “No…” “please, stop, please, I can’t take anymore━” and babbling nonsense sounds are Seokjin’s leitmotifs. Getting a feel for Seokjin’s sounds means knowing what it means when the words are soft━faster, harder━and knowing what it means when there’s an edge to them━I’m serious, slow down, but… make it work in the scene. Condescend to me, make fun of me, tell me how pathetic I am for not being able to take more... A taste for hands on his throat and getting jostled around like he isn’t a tall, solid guy means Seokjin needs to trust his partner. While he can enjoy a pegging with somebody he doesn’t know very well, even a casual pegging means outlining parameters of play, and establishing his tics. The relief of a familiar pair of hips in the harness means Seokjin doesn’t have to hold back the things that flow naturally. 

▬   It isn’t a disappointment if Seokjin goes soft during a pegging. His senses have flown into his ass, and the rest of his body can’t keep up. A prostate orgasm while his nipples get a tad too much attention is far more intense than anything his cock could provide, anyways.

▬   Nothing matches the kick you and Seokjin get out of eating his elaborately prepared dinner with a dildo on the table. The second Seokjin tries to start washing the dishes, you're distracting him, until he’s conceding to getting bent over the sink and fucked with tender thankfulness for an amazing meal. 

[fantroll-purgatory]

@itoshiki​

hello! im submitting my sort-of-trollsona-but-not-really. I made him I guess more Alternian and he’s highly personal 2 me but that shouldn’t discourage you! I’m stuck at some parts because I just recently got back into homestuck and I’d like advice from someone who knows their stuff. IT’S SO LONG IM SO SORRY… Thank you so much if you do review it tho!

Hey no worries. Thanks for your patience!

Hell yeah hell yeah ceruleanbloods with Eye Stuff.

World: Alternia, maybe an AU? I’m unsure. But he’s Alternian.

Name: Sancti Serpus

“Sancti” comes from “Saint” and his belief that he can do no wrong, as well as how he believes that his experiments benefit troll society. “Serpus” comes from “Serpent” and his personality being sly and manipulative, could be described as a snake by others in the way he is first nice to his friends but backstabs them later, as well as his lusus being a two-headed Titanoboa (prehistoric Boa).

I understand the reasoning behind the first name! If you want something that plays a little more into the archetypal Mad Scientist “I will become a GOD AHAHAHAHA” vibe then I suggest Apoteu from the Greek apotheoun, meaning “to make a god of.” Still fits his beliefs about himself and how he benefits society…but there is such a thing a vengeful, malevolent god.

I like the serpent theme, especially given the Rod of Asclepius/Caduceus confusion, given that the former is about medicine and the latter about commerce. Plus snake oil salesman as duplicitous people claiming they have a cure when they’re really just selling you whatever they could dig up. Serpus is a little too obvious as a snake troll though, so maybe we abstract that a bit. A slightly silly one would be Davdav, since the longest-living two-headed snake is named Double Dave after its discoverer.

Apoteu Davdav. It has the opposite of a nice ring to it, but I like it because it sounds kind of mad sciencey.

Age: 7.5 Sweeps (16 Human Years)

Theme/Story: His theme is sort of Mad Scientist vibes. He dabbles in forensic pathology, chemistry (even though he often explodes things), troll biology/genes and psychology. Those are his main 5 branches because he’s not very good at math so his knowledge of physics is limited.

fugidghiuuaehiu Bad At Math Science Gang RISE UP

He was hatched and went through The Brooding Caverns. He decided to settle on a Hive in the outskirts of a city, in a suburban area with only a few highblooded neighbors. However, his lusus was very, very hard to feed for the two heads would often argue with and attack each other. His lusus would feed on anyone who visited or came too close, by asphyxiating them. It also neglected him and didn’t pay attention to him for it was too busy fighting with itself. He eventually learned to sedate his lusus through aromatherapy, with chemicals he himself created in his lab. He lives on a huge castle-like hive near a forest where he gets the material for his experiments and corpses to analyze. He has a bunch of body parts in flasks and bottles.

He is a very strange troll, but he doesn’t want to be. Due to his upbringing and his lusus eating whoever came over. He often saw culling, death and destruction near him, which caused him to have a morbid fixation on death and a desire to better troll society through science, influenced by his ancestor Discordi Discipla (he’s a WIP). However, he has fallen victim to his own mental deterioration and apathy as he spent more time around the dead (and undead). This mental deterioration was exacerbated when a presumed dead corpse came to life in his lab and attacked him, causing him blindness in his right eye. He’s somewhat afraid of being culled for his blindness, but knows that it’s not likely, due to his highblood status.

This is pretty good and comprehensive!

Due to his childhood where he didn’t have control over what his lusus did, he now wants to have control over everything in his life. This makes him a very controlling and manipulative person, bent on doing anything to get his way even if it means experimenting on his lowblooded friends. He doesn’t necessarily like hurting others and doesn’t mean to, Alternian society and his own visions of violence has just made him apathetic. This apathy as well as his low self-worth stemming from his neglect has made him have tons of unhealthy relationships, as well as has made him a perfectionist and narcissist. Despite his supposed belief that the end justifies the means and he’s going to make troll society better, he doubts himself and has an inferiority complex.

His mental deterioration has made him a very unstable troll to be around. He’s still a good troll at heart, however the odds are in disfavor due to his blood color causing him to look down on others lower on the hemospectrum and his own childhood. He does things mainly on impulse and suffers from strange hallucinations and visions of the future ever since he was blinded on his right eye. He’s learned to cope with them and they don’t necessarily harm him, but they do cause him significant distress.

He also has a lot of scars from laboratory incidents, and his neighbors hate him.

fjiodshfuo yeah if my neighbor kept making ungodly noises and murdering people with abandon I may also have a beef with them.

Review Goals: General Overview please! Strife Specibus:

Chemicalkind. He carries around various noxious chemicals to use as he pleases, but sometimes they irritate his eyes when he uses them. He can handle it almost all of the time though. He throws them in bottles and that’s how he fights.

I know I *just* suggested this for my most recent review but bottlekind fits here too because if he runs out of chemicals he can just break a bottle off on a nearby surface and stab someone with the broken glass it’s fun it’s easy it’s free.

Fetch Modus:  I kind of took the idea from a mspa fetch modus entry, since I’m bad at coming up with fetch moduses. It’s unoriginal I know, but I genuinely couldn’t think of anything.

Periodic Table Modus.

It requires Sancti to remember his elements, as he needs to remember them for when he’s working and therefore it helps him but also inconveniences him as he can forget them.

This is how it works:

When an item is captchalogued, a quick calculation is checked to see the size of that item. If it is lower than 190x190, the size of the item is totalled and placed on a slot on the fetch modus that corresponds to the periodic table number. 

For example, an item that is 4 in by 2 in would total to 6, and be in the position of Carbon on the table.

Sancti would then have to open the periodic table modus, which would open as an actual metaphysical table, and retrieve the item.

It is blank, with 118 spaces.

This fetch modus is a little confusing to me as well, and your poor math challenged troll likely also finds it difficult.

…but I think I have an idea that keeps with the spirit *and* the confusion while generating some good old Modus Shenanigans. What about an ORBITAL MODUS, with items filling in in each new category as an electron shell would? All items in the outermost shell would be immediately accessible, with deeply nested items remaining inaccessible until the outer shells were emptied.

Like this. Which is perfect for your chemist troll.

Blood Color: Ceruleanblood/Cobaltblood.

Lunar Sway: Derse, because he is dissatisfied with himself.

Derse and Prospit assignations don’t necessarily have to do with how one feelings about *themselves!* Karkat is Prospit and Nepeta is Derse, which reflects the fact that Karkat has accepted the hemospectrum as the way things have to be despite the horrors it inflicts on him, while Nepeta is extremely happy to be herself, but constantly snipes Equius for kowtowing to the hemospectrum. Even Equius is a Dersite, since he doesn’t agree with the hemospectrum so much as develop a really disturbing fixation over the following and subversion of it.

Given that your troll actively uses the hemospectrum to his advantage and delights in doing so, I’d argue he’s a Prospitan!  Title: I’m unsure if I want to make them a sylph of light or a sylph of space, I’m actually not sure at all what they should be.

Between forensic pathology and genetics and chemistry and being attacked by a zombie and feeling he knows best he’s actually coming off VERY much as a Life player to me. Since you’re bouncing between two Sylph classpects I’m happy to keep that title as long as we acknowledge he’s not currently very good at it :P.

Symbol and Meaning: The symbol for purification by burning. He’s my first troll in the session I want to make. It kind of has the meaning of spiritual cleansing or purifying something that is not pure. In this case I think it relates to Sancti’s personal growth that will happen through the session, reflecting how he has to better himself through painful events.

If we go by the EZ, his sign would be Scorsci, Sign of the Fixer. Which is certainly what he sees himself as! I’ll see if I can play with the symbol you gave him and incorporate the Scorpio M into it.

Handle: gravesideAnopsia

Anopsia is a defect in the visual field or blindness, and graveside refers to how he got his blindness.

We definitely see trolls with retroactively foreshadowy trolltags, but I can’t think of a reason for him to have picked Anopsia before his blinding. What about gravesideConjunct, since he sees himself as the connective tissue between the dead and the living? Which can become retroactively ironic when his eye putrifies after it comes into contact with necrotic tissue, which is basically an extreme version of conjunctivitis.

Quirk: ~~( he types…. zzz….. taking… his time…. with words… and….types in caps when he…..wants to zzz…. ASSERT HIS POINT….)~~

Love this quirk he’s a sleeby boy.

He either keysmashes to laugh as “eoeoeoe” “sksksks” or simply laughs like “haha” or “hehe”. He also uses the following emoji    :)-< and (－‸ლ)

Special Abilities: None, unless you count his visions of the future. But he wasn’t born with psychic abilities.

Idk that he even needs visions of the future tbh. Injury does not always confer abilities in troll society.

Lusus/Guardian: A 2-headed Titanoboa (think of a huuuuuge prehistoric Boa, even bigger than an Anaconda). He considers himself to have two dads as the two heads have separate brains. He calls them “my snake dads”. Him and his lusus have a better relationship now that his lusus is sedated, and he often cuddles with his lusus in between their two heads and feeds them the corpses after he’s done analyzing them. However, their relationship used to be negative and neglectful, as explained above.

Omg yes I love his dads.

Interests: Apart from the sciences listed on his theme, he also enjoys the arts and painting with blood of the corpses he studies, as well as making artistic murals outside to the annoyance of his neighbors. He likes cosmic horror books, doomsday devices and machinery, bodily modification, philosophers, and in his spare game he will play puzzle and roleplaying games (but not FLARPing, he’s bad at it). He thinks about hunting the undead sometimes, and likes horror movies, making friends regardless of their dead or alive status, scaring his neighbors, horror movies, and mindless antics.

Appearance: His hair is very straight, but it tends to get messy. Also the string on one of his horns is a string that got stuck on his horn and it’s hard to remove now.

usghiuserg good. I’m gonna see what I can do to his sprite to convey the “straight but messy” vibe more.

Personality: 

He’s VERY creative, more than analytical, which is an oddity for a scientist, others may think of him as a “creative genius” but he rejects the title of being a mad scientist. He wants to be positively known. He also always tries to finish things and has a general curious personality. He’s always seeking knowledge, and often tires himself out from working too much on his experiments, which causes him to enter a cycle of all nighters vs heavy sleeping. He’s a very heavy sleeper, often taking naps throughout the day. He procrastinates on mundane tasks that don’t relate to his interests or experiments. However, he drinks a lot of caffeinated beverages when he needs to work in order to keep himself awake essentially starting an all nighter cycle.

Depending on the circumstances, he can be very friendly and charming, or quite the opposite. It all depends. He likes to crack morbid jokes that make nobody laugh, and is quite disorganized as well as silly. He cares for his moirail (wip) and matesprit (wip) the most, and even though he sometimes snaps at them, he never wants to lose them.

Land: Land of Dreams and Angels, but depending on the classpect you assign him I will change it.

*Hopes and Dreams plays in the background*

What if he’s Land of Regrowth and Thaw, with the grass being fed by the remains of former consorts and the rest slowly unfreezing from ice as his journey continues? Works with his work with dead bodies and also gives us the vegetation associated with Life.

I also have his introduction written out but idk if I should include it. Here it is:

Your name is SANCTI SERPUS and you’d rather be sleeping, or dead.

You love everything relating to THE SCIENCES, but you are not very good at MATH, or keeping organized. However, you are still considered a “CREATIVE GENIUS”. You love anything that STIMULATES YOUR GRUBBY BRAIN -  such as PSYCHOLOGY, FORENSICS and TROLL BIOLOGY. You do many EXPERIMENTS, most of which involve using troll parts in jars, to create true ABOMINATIONS; and one which sadly took your right eye’s vision and has had you in fear of being CULLED. However, you reject the idea of being a “MAD SCIENTIST”.

In a weird fashion, you also highly enjoy THE ARTS, and paint the walls of your GINORMOUS HIVE and other places with objectively “pretty good” PICTURES made from the BLOOD of the corpses you work with, to the annoyance of your neighbors. You also have a slight interest in BODILY MODIFICATION, in an effort to withdraw attention from your accident, as well as an interest in COSMIC HORROR BOOKS, as any good scientist should have. Another interest of yours is VIDEO GAMES, especially ROLE PLAYING and PUZZLE games, and when you’re not working, you spend your time playing them. You’ve even attempted to CODE your own game, and FAILED.  However, you are not a very good FLARPER.

Despite this, all your work leaves you tired, which means you are a HEAVY SLEEPER and tend to procrastinate even the most MUNDANE TASKS that are not related to your interests. On the days that you are energized from drinking CAFFEINATED BEVERAGES, you like to go outside at night and collect all sorts of RANDOM KNICK-KNACKS, which may include CORPSES and FOSSILS to analyze. This has attracted the attention of your neighbors and BEST FRIENDS, who call you an UNHINGED TOTAL MANIAC. You don’t understand why, until you take off your lab coat to reveal an alarming amount of new scars from LABORATORY INCIDENTS. You really are kind of an ODDBALL. 

This is such a frickin MOOD. Let’s go to the redesign, though I don’t have much!

Horns - you said he got string tangled in his horns but those horns are shaped in a way that makes it pretty easy to untangle stuff! I gave him horns that are Klein-bottle inspired, though it’s obviously impossible for horns to actually grow into a Klein bottle shape. Now THAT’S a mess I wouldn’t wanna tangle with!

Hair - I absolutely ripped a fan-troll template to shreds and put it back together again for this hair, but I think this conveys “basically straight but mussed up” with a little more shape than the original.

Face - I adjusted the proportions and replaced the eyebrows with just the piercings because it was looking a little busy.

Shirt - Again it looked a little busy with the jacket with symbols on both flaps and the pendant in the middle, so I gave him a mad scientist jacket edited from John’s.

Symbol - I tried to find a happy medium between the radial symmetry of the original symbol and the Scorsci M with the arrows.

That’s pretty much it! Hope this helped!

-TR

[shels-kpop-main]

Queen Guys Dating Girls With Disabilities (Part II)

Roger Dating Someone With Profound Vision Loss

Roger is surprisingly patient when it comes to your vision problems

Which is good, because you expect nothing less from your partner

Sure, you had to explain a few things to him at the beginning, because he was quite unaware when it came to disabilities

You often experience “floaters” -- specks in your field of vision

They’re annoying but you’ve gotten used to them. But every once in a while, you see one and freak out a little

Because, dammit, that one really looked like a spider okay

If Roger notices you making a funny face, he reaches over and takes your arm, whispering softly. “There’s nothing there, love. It’s not a spider, don’t you worry.”

You give him a half-hearted smile and pat his hand gratefully

Roger’s success (and financial means) do help at times. One time, you were driving home from work in the rain, and the different shades of grey all but ruined your depth perception. You got scared and pulled over to wait for the rain to pass.

But it just kept coming down, and the panic was growing in the pit of your stomach. Eventually you broke down crying, feeling so trapped by your own senses. Luckily, there was a pay phone nearby, and you were able to call Roger. He sent a car to pick you up right away, and you were home within the hour.

But you and Roger had been dating since Queen II came out, and he was dirt poor then. But that didn’t stop him from making sure his girl got home safe when your contrast sight and depth perception went to shit. One time, you called Roger when you were stuck by the roadside, and he left a recording session to come get you.

You felt awful for needing his help, but he never once held it over your head. He just took your hand and kissed your forehead, telling you everything was alright, until you started to believe it.

Another hindrance you experience is the presence of blind spots in your field of vision.

You and Roger love to read music magazines together, curled up on the couch. You explained to him that sometimes you have to turn your head to make up for the blank spaces in your vision, and he was understanding of it.

After a few session of reading together, you noticed something

Roger was moving the magazine, or whatever you happened to be reading, slowly from side to side

It took you a moment to realize what he was doing, but when it hit you, you almost cried

He was moving the magazine to try to compensate for your blind spots as best he could

You reached up and grabbed his face to give him a big kiss

Roger looked at you, stunned but also perfectly willing to go along

“What was that for, love?”

“Nothing. I just love you.”

Roger wags his eyebrows at you. “Is that so? Lucky me.”

Brian Dating Someone With Type 1 Diabetes

Most people don’t know the difference between Type 1 Diabetes and Type 2. Brian was no exception to this upon first getting to know you. But after you briefly clarified the distinction, Brian made it his personal mission to educate himself

The next time you spoke with him, and happened to mention your experience with T1DM, he was much more knowledgeable

You appreciated this immensely. Not many people took the time to learn about your condition, and it meant a lot

Especially since you and Brian weren’t even dating at the time

When the relationship eventually grew romantic, and then serious, you warned Brian that moving in together would pose its challenges

Brian enjoyed cooking for himself, and you had done just fine managing your blood glucose levels at home

But living together would mean that you either ate separately like before, or Brian would have to learn to cook options that were more suitable for you

He chose the latter without even blinking

Brian was always good about asking if you had checked your blood glucose levels recently. Which you didn’t need his help remembering, but it was nice to know that he was concerned and invested in your health.

He would let you know if there was a bit of dirt or dust on your insulin pump, so you could wipe it off. If you were in the middle of a really good book but your pump needed more insulin, you could call for Brian. Moments later, you’d hear the fridge open and shut, and Brian’s mess of curls would appear in the doorway.

One time, Brian asked if you wanted to come to one of Queen’s shows.

You responded hesitantly, saying “Of course I want to go. But your shows go on for quite a bit. It might be too long for me to be away from my supplies.”

Brian assuages your fears by making sure an insulin cooler is present backstage, along with plenty of emergency sugar sources. And he makes it well known to the venue management and staff that if you aren’t taken care of, there would be hell to pay.

With all that said, Brian has never once made you feel like a victim of the disease.

He is always confident that you can manage the condition, and simply wants to help you do so as best he can.

Brian admires you for advocating for yourself, and feels stronger in your presence. He’s proud of you, without being patronizing.

And his cooking is damn good.

John Dating Someone With Chronic Migraines

You couldn’t remember when the migraines started.

You had just sort of always had them. They loomed over you like a dark cloud, not always present, but always near.

John didn’t really witness you having a full-blown migraine until after the two of you had moved in together. He got up first and was reading on the couch for a bit. But the hours passed and he noticed you hadn’t gotten up yet.

He stepped softly into the bedroom, immediately seeing you curled up into the fetal position. Your face was tense and your expression pained.

“Love?” He asks, as quietly as he can. You respond with a wince, and John suspects right away that you must be having one of those migraines you told him about.

“Are you nauseated?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

You hear John step towards the bathroom, returning shortly after with the waste bin. He sets it down delicately on the floor next to the bed. You hear him leave once more.

When he returns, he’s holding two little, white pills, and a glass of water.

He helps you to sit up so that you can take the medicine, and gingerly lays you back down.

The pain is throbbing and pulsing through the right side of your head, and you’re seeing stars. The curtains are open, which doesn’t help. The sunlight coming in is like a hammer pounding into your head.

“John… curtains.” John happened to hear your mumble, and goes to the window.

From the sound of it, he’s trying to close the curtains slowly, to prevent the metal rings from screeching against the metal curtain rod. You’re too tired to voice your appreciation of this, but you make a mental note to thank him later.

John kisses your shoulder as softly as he can, and leaves you to rest.

When you emerge from the bedroom, hours and hours later, John is balancing his checkbook at the kitchen table.

The sharp pain in your head has dulled down to a consistent ache, and you’re feeling well enough to sit with him for a bit.

John looks up, and rises immediately upon seeing you. But he doesn’t come to you right away. Instead, he goes to the kitchen window, and lowers the blinds there to darken the room a bit.

“Hi,” you mutter. John smiles at you, cautiously approaching.

“Hello, love. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a truck. But I’ll survive,” you assure him. “Thank you for all that.”

“Any time, love. Can I get you some tea?”

The two of you sit quietly, sipping tea on the couch. You’ve got your legs resting on John’s lap, and he’s rubbing soft circles into the skin of your ankles.

Truth be told, you had been worried about how John would handle seeing you with a migraine for the first time.

But he had handled it with grace and patience. It wouldn’t lessen your pain, or the occurrence of it, but it was comforting to know John was in your corner.

Tag List: @getagriponmyboyracerrollbar, @letmelivetaylor @boozeleatherandstache @attatchment-issues, @hermajesty-queen, @night-turns-into-day, @universallytragicpeach, @deacytits, @anotheronebitesthedeaks, @rogers-sweatbands, @bensrhapsody, @lv7867, @zodiacal-dust-and-curls

[leah-halliwell92]

Meet the Family

Here ya go Nonny!

Request: Present day roger Taylor and young x reader Smutty You choose scenario

It’s the night before the concert in your hometown. You hadn’t been super excited to be back but you took it in stride since you were convinced to come see the show by Adam and the gents. You hadn’t though it a bad idea at the time, take a few days out of your vacation time to see Queen + Adam Lambert in concert...low key scratching off a Queen Concert from your bucket list.

What had you semi-second guessing if you should have come at all was the call from your mother telling you to come over for dinner and to, “Bring your beau.” You made a mental note to stick a rod in your brother’s ass for being a snitch but decided against it. While your family knew you were dating, they didn’t know who.

You’d arrived to Roger’s room to a warm welcome from your dear boyfriend and a promise of fun later that night and into the morn. There was nothing else you wanted to do but knew that going to your parents’ house needed to happen considering you’d been putting it off since you and Rog started dating nearly eight months ago.

“(Brother’s name) blew the whistle on me and told my parents I’m in town,” you’d told him as you lounged on his bed earlier in the day.

“What’s so bad about going to see your parents?” Roger asked with a furrowed brow, “Is it...me?”

“No!” You said loudly, “It could never be you. You make me happy you daft grumpy Santa.”

He snorted at the nickname and pulled you close before asking, “Then what’s all the hubbub with them?”

“My family’s and I quote, “Well bred and blue collard”, meaning well educated rich bigots that think they’re entitled to all because they’ve gotten a better education than the rest,” you say with a sigh.

“You always told me you came from the high standing sort,” Roger said now understanding why it was that you never mentioned going to your family.

You nod and say, “I went to school for ballet originally. Mother made it that way...despite my wanting to go into history.”

“You wanted to study history?” He asked in astonishment not having known this before.

You nod with a soft smile and say, “I wanted to go into European history and go into teaching. Mother thought I needed something that and I quote, “Fits your station dear not something as mundane as teache”.

“And your dad?”

“Father is all about the boys,” you said with a sigh, “I may be his youngest but he’s made it very clear what he thinks of women as a gender. If you were to ask him to his face he’d say my place is in the home to care after the man I married.”

“That–”

“Barbaric and outdated I know,” you say with a laugh, “But on one hand I could go into ballet and perhaps modeling and work or be some asshole’s wife.”

“Tonight’s dinner is going to be interesting isn’t it?” He asks with an edge in his voice.

“Yup,” you say with a neutral grin.

Fast forward to the car ride on your way to your parents’, you were not having second thoughts per say. You just weren’t expecting anything positive to come from this but hoped...hoped that it wouldn’t end as bad as you thought it would.

“We don’t have to do this,” Roger said reassuringly patting your thigh tenderly.

“Yea we do,” you said with a sigh, “If we don’t mother’s hounding will know no bounds. Plus...I’ve put this off long enough. You have a right to meet and know where I come from.”

He nodded in understanding and made sure to grab your hand in his giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You made it to your parents’ with one last cleansing breath got out taking the wine bottle Roger had the idea to bring out with you as Roger waited for you on your side of the car.

“Ready?” He asked.

“No...but I have you so yes,” you say honestly and grin at him after he presses a a kiss to your forehead.

You go up the steps and knock on the door.

The door opened to reveal your brother who smiled warmly at you before looking at Roger clearly in shock that he was there at all.

You passed the wine bottle to Roger before going to your brother and slapping him upside the head.

“You are a moron,” you hiss at him.

“What did I do!?” He asked rubbing at his head where you hit him.

“You told mother I’d be in town!? And you expect me to just take it!” You tell him ready to hit him a second time.

“What! It’s not like you were going to visit,” he muttered.

“We won’t know now will we? You took that choice away from me,” you say your voice going cold, “Next time you come to me to cover your ass when Joyce asks me where you are I’ll let her know you’re with Irving.”

His eyes widened to the size of saucers, “You wouldn’t...”

“Like hell I wouldn’t,” you say seriously, “It’s not the first time you’ve strung me up to dry so why should me getting even be a surprise to you?”

You took your coat of and helped Roger with his putting them both on the coat rack.

“Now that we have an understanding may I introduce to you Roger Taylor,” you say motioning to Rog, “Rog this is (brother’s name).”

“Nice to meet you Mr. Taylor and may I say I’m a huge fan,” your brother said shaking Roger’s hand before turning to you a sheepish look on his face and saying, “I’m sorry for telling mother about you being town, she’s been badgering me to hand you over before she tells Joyce what she thinks is the truth.”

You sigh and roll your eyes.

“Before you get anymore confused,” you told Roger in a whisper, “Joyce is (B/N) therapist, Irving is his partner. Neither of our parents know he’s gay.”

Roger’s eyes widen at that and nods in understanding.

“Joyce doesn’t know about Vin,” (B/N) said with a sigh, “I wanted to make sure he and I were in a good place and stable before going for a couple’s session.”

You nod in understanding knowing where he was coming from.

“By the looks of it is part of why you only visit once a year,” he says with a knowing grin.

“You’d visit once a year if you could you ass,” you said with a laugh as he pulled you into a warm hug.

“(Y/N) is that you!?” Your mother called from the kitchen.

“Naaaa, its the fuckin Easter Bunny,” your brother mumbled causing Roger to crack a half grin.

He liked your brother already.

You greeted your mother with a hug and kiss before pulling away a smile on her face, “It’s about time my baby comes home for a visit.”

You smile at your mother and nod before being pulled into another hug.

You pulled away and met your father’s gaze.

“Welcome home (Y/N),” he said before pulling you into a warm hug.

This shocked you and your brother. Your father had never been the most affectionate of people to either of you so for him to pull you into a hug was a huge thing.

“Everything alright little bird?” he asked you tenderly.

You nod still in shock of what was going on.

Your mother bustled and turned to Roger, “And you are?”

“Mother this is Roger Taylor...my boyfriend,” you said after giving yourself a mental shake.

“Boyfriend?” Your mother said with a shaky smile.

You nod enthusiastically and make your way to Rog’s side resisting the urge to slip your hand into the crook of his arm.

“Nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Roger said extending his hand for them to shake.

Your father gave him a stiff nod but shook his hand whilst your mother turned from the group and made her way into the dining room.

“Is this why you avoided coming home for us to meet him?” Your father asked voice hard.

“Yes and no,” you say honestly. 

Roger knew the reasons why and wondered how long it would take your parents to figure them out.

“Don’t expect me to explain father,” you said standing your ground, “you know very well why.”

Your father’s eyes widened at this. Whether at your audacity of your tone or the fact that you made it clear you weren’t the type of woman to just take it.

Before your father could say anything else you mother called out, “Good thing I invited Charlie over for dinner.”

“Fuuuuck,” you said with a sigh.

“I told you not to invite him dear,” your father said, surprising you and your brother even more, as he made his way into the dinning room.

Your mother didn’t even bother whispering when she said, “I’m more than glad I invited him. By the looks of it Charlie needs to be here and make sure they get back together.

“He dumped him for cheating mother!” Your brother yelled as he threw his coat on.

“Well she should have looked the other way! It’s not as if she was trying to keep him happy as she should have,” your mother walked to quaint smile on her face to be greeted by Roger putting on his coat before passing you your scarf and helping you finish put your coat on.

“Where are you all going?” She asked.

“Enjoy Charlie’s company mother,” you say coldly and turned to the door without a second thought ignoring your mother’s protests as you went.

“(Y/N),” your father called.

You turned to him ready to refute whatever he was about to say when he shocked you by saying, “If you can, let’s meet at the restaurant that’s in your hotel and bring Roger. I’d– I’d like to catch up...please.”

“Here’s the address, if what you say it’s true then join us for breakfast,” Roger said voice hard.

Your father nodded solemnly and went up into the house ignoring his wife’s questions of if he managed to get them back for dinner.

You and Roger went into town with your brother for a private dinner before you promised to keep in touch with each other.

The following morning, as promised you met up with your father for breakfast where some of the air was cleared and mutual olive branches passed. And a promise of weekly calls was made. The topic of your mother was brought up, but you made it clear that if she couldn’t accept or at least pretend and civil towards Roger then there was nothing to be done. 

That is how your brother and parents went to a Queen concert your mother slumped in a chair in the audience still in denial that her only daughter chose a rockstar of all things to attach herself to.

[ducktracy]

115. hollywood capers (1935)

release date: october 19th, 1935

series: looney tunes

director: jack king

starring: tommy bond (beans), bernice hansen (kitty), billy bletcher (guard, frankenstein’s monster)

originally titled beans in hollywood (i suppose it’s good they changed it, not that repeating titles matter but you’ll have daffy duck in hollywood, too), hollywood capers centers around beans’ infatuation with the movie industry, dropping in on a recording sessions. however, things quickly run amuck once he accidentally powers on a ferocious frankenstein robot.

activity is high as ever at warmer bros studios (a pun frequented in many a cartoon). actors bustle to and fro, including a humorous caricature of w.c. fields, sauntering along with a rolling cane, cigar propped in his mouth and showing off some gaudy checkered pants. the guard and fields (pinned as “mr. seal”) exchange “good morning”s. suddenly, fields places his hat atop the guard’s head and pops his cigar in the guard’s mouth. he positions his cane like a cue stick, shooting off any ash. very amusing and creative. he regains his cigar and hat, matching into the studio as the guard scratches his head.

next comes our favorite hollywood star, beans. he putters along in his car, the engine shorting out and making for a bumpy ride, animation fun and flexible. screeching to a halt at the gate, beans allows the guard to interrogate him, the guard growling “who do you think YOU are?” beans jumps up and puffs out his chest proudly. “beans is the name, one of the boston beans!” (not a solid reference to anything in particular as far as i know, except for boston baked beans. still fun and downright stupid.) a nice touch as he tilts his hat forward and holds out his overall straps smugly.

the guard is having none of it. he grabs the car and pushes it backwards, and beans is sent riding up into a tree, the car exploding. rubbery, smooth animation as beans dangles on the safety of a tire, bouncing up and down, his butt honking the car horn.

other celebrities have better luck than beans. a charlie chaplin caricature enters with ease, his car wheels moving along like actual feet. oliver hardy also saunters into the studio, greeted by the guard. hardy briefly acknowledges the guard’s “good morning, mr. hardy!” as he strolls inside the studio. once far enough in, a familiar hand unbuttons the jacket’s buttons, and beans steps out of the disguise as his hardy getup, nothing more than a bundle of balloons and clothes, rise into the sky. this could also be paralleled with porky’s attempts to disguise himself as hardy in order to enter the warner bros lot as well in friz freleng’s you ought to be in pictures, freleng’s approach much more amusing and rewarding. still a nice gag here, though.

giddy at the fact that he’s in, beans wanders the lot and enters one of the studios, a sign posted on the door indicating that they’re filming.

i was wondering if oliver owl would ever make an appearance again! granted, i haven’t seen many of jack king’s beans cartoons, maybe a little more than half. but it seemed like all of the gang from i haven’t got a hat was reused except for oliver. here, he’s an adult, a crotchety, anxious director pacing around, accompanied by a dog assistant who matches his pace. the dog bumps into oliver, who isn’t pleased. he orders the dog to go back to his post at the camera.

oliver loops himself down in his director’s chair and barks “quiet!” a tanned porky makes a cameo as he shushes the bystanders in the studio. a shot of a man asleep on the rafters, blowing out a candle that also aligns with a chorus of hushes. beans’ shadow also shushes him, as does an anthropomorphized microphone.

the cameras are now rolling. lovely animation as the camera man runs over to film the scene, his camera running like stilts. little kitty is the star of the film, singing “sweet flossie farmer” as a turtle (the one used during porky’s performance in i haven’t got a hat) accompanies her on piano. a barbershop trio lend their voices, as does the piano playing turtle. beans observes in awe as he stands on the rafters.

a brief interlude as a man plays “chopsticks” on a cash register, reused from those were wonderful days. it’s been awhile since we’ve seen any recycled animation, or at least to my knowledge. the piano playing turtle tickles the ivory as he lies on his shell playing dueling pianos. animation is also reused from buddy’s beer garden as a bartender fills up various mugs with some beer to the beat of the music.

back to beans, who’s still ogling in awe at the scene below—the stuttering dog from into your dance attempting to woo an indignant kitty. disaster strikes when a nearby workman passes by, carrying a long piece of board. as he turns the corner, the board smacks beans and sends him flying. he attempts to grab onto a rope for support, yet the rope is tied to nothing. despite his best efforts, beans is sent tumbling down, right into the arms of the dog.

rightfully so, everyone is shocked, especially oliver and his anthropomorphic director’s chair (king’s disney roots seeping in once more). he marches over to beans, who dutifully introduces himself, once more repeating his “beans is the name, one of the boston beans!” greeting. it didn’t work before, and it doesn’t work now. oliver grabs beans and throws him out (another future parallel to you ought to be in pictures).

beans rockets through the studio, landing right onto the set of frankenstein. granted, a robotic adaptation, but still. he discovers a bench obscured by a white sheet. pulling back the sheet, beans is met with the grotesque face of frankenstein’s monster. in the midst of his shock, beans stumbles backwards and trips over a power switch, which brings the robotic monster to life. beans runs for his little life as frankenstein’s monster limbers up, stretching before barreling right through a wall leading to the prop department.

the dog camera man is rolling, just in time to catch the metal menace marching towards his camera. the sound effects are a bit misplaced as the monster literally swallows the camera (a jack king trademark), the sound of crunching already playing as his mouth is still gaping open. the sound effects are a little off in this one. sometimes it isn’t noticeable, sometimes it is—nothing against bernard brown, there’s only so much you can do. treg brown’s ingenuity and creativity in his sounds is sorely missed. nevertheless, the monster devours the camera whole, wincing as he chomps on a bolt. he spits out a plethora of camera parts, including a film strip—accompanied by a jarringly funny machine gun sound effect.

kitty spots the monster, a fun take as her bonnet spins above her in shock. she darts away as the monster stumbles across a mirror, sticking out his tongue and mocking himself. it’s a useless and arbitrary gag for sure, but also funny for that reason alone. like a baby or an animal discovering its reflection for the first time. he gets closer to the mirror, mocking himself once more. his reflection leans back and punches his actual self hard, a gag that would be reused in porky’s double trouble to the same degree.

the monster is sent flying right into a tub of water, where he squeezes his head to pour out the water from his ears and scalp (his hair rising like a toupée as a geyser of water spurts out from his head). the animation is fun and amusing, always entertaining to see particularly hard substances turned to rubber. though this IS the rubber hose era of animation, so that’s a given.

beans spots a metal rod propped up to a spotlight, which he can use to his advantage. he sneaks up behind the robot, who’s still drying himself off. his plan is sent into action as beans wraps the rod around the monster, constricting him into place. of course, a simple puff of the chest and the binds are broken free by the monster. a fun indicator of personality as beans flashes a guilty, sly smile (one thinks of the many guilty grins conjured up by daffy as he gets himself into trouble), bashfully dragging his feet.

cue a triumphant chase sequence as beans runs from the monster, who snags him by the overalls. a slightly incoherent cut as beans is seen flying through the air, crashing into many doors that pile up beneath him like dominos, one by one. the animation is very smooth and tantalizing as the doors collapse to the ground, beans skidding across the floor like butter.

he slides straight into a giant fan (or in this case, labeled as a wind machine). an idea hatches as he disregards any instructions to turn off the fan. he turns the switch, and a harsh breeze blows against the approaching monster. beans slides the fan closer to the monster, and eventually the monster is chopped to pieces as he walks right through it. his remains splay out on the form, forming a makeshift engine of a car. robotic arms smack the monster repeatedly in the face as we iris out.

not bad at all—i found a cartoonist’s nightmare to be more entertaining and smooth sailing, but this was more enjoyable than any buddy cartoon by king. the biggest downfall to this cartoon was slight lapses in coherence, often gags falling short of their intentions and jarring animation cuts. the sound effects also felt occasionally out of place. nevertheless, high energy and decent. a neat way to reprise the cast of i haven’t got a hat. ham and ex, the two curious pups, were missing from this cartoon, but they’d make prominent sidekicks for beans in his cartoons as troublemaking tricksters. this cartoon felt very similar to you ought to be in pictures (one of my favorite cartoons). protagonist has trouble entering a studio, and once he manages to get in, trouble is never ending. ultimately, a bit soupy at times, but a decent, entertaining short that makes for an amusing watch.

our next review is our most important yet—tex avery makes his debut with gold diggers of ‘49, which could be debated as to why looney tunes is the phenomenon that it is today.

[whumpywhumper]

Oryn--Part One

@0idril0 encouraged me to go ahead and post this after @imagination1reality0 said she was interested. This one is a little closer to heart than some of the others I’ve posted because I’ve taken a lot of elements from my big WIP. You could say this is a world adjacent. 

I encourage constructive criticism on all my stuff but thrive off of feedback!!!! Gimme your comments, reblogs, whatever��ya want! I don’t usually bite. 

The previous unnamed whumper/whumpee post can be found here. . . there are more sections written if this gets feedback

****************

“Ple-please NO!” He screamed as pain arched through him again, Soren’s hand petting at Oryn’s naked chest as magic spread through him in a tidal wave. His back bowed off of the slanted table, vertical only by virtue of his restraints. He couldn’t get away. Couldn’t get free. His eyes rolled up in his head as he was forced to feel—Acid. Knives. Bones snapping. Boiling. Flaying. PAIN—the writhing young man ran out of air so he screamed without sound. Unable to draw in precious oxygen. His mouth open in a silent wail that showed his blood-covered teeth. His body convulsed as real pain mixed with the magical pain. The awkward bow of his body forced his broken ribs apart. The taut muscles in his arms and legs pulled at the cracks and breaks in his bones. The near-constant convulsion putting excruciating pressure on dislocated and reset joints. His aching muscles shrieked as they ripped themselves under their own power. His own body was betraying him. 

Soren didn’t let up the magic until Oryn’s vision speckled with black and his consciousness was fading. As soon as the magic released, the Fae went limp, all his weight crashing onto his tormented wrists. He concentrated on taking hitching gasping breaths between sobs. He had never believed himself to be strong but he was surprised to be reduced to this. A shaking mass that couldn’t fight this sorcerer off, couldn’t access his magic right, couldn’t do anything but cry. No wonder he had been caught. He was the weakest of them, the least likely to be missed, the least useful to his friends. 

An easy pathetic target.

(No matter that he had been caught protecting those very friends—Telling them to run—No matter that he ran into the veritable onslaught of soldiers that rushed them in the middle of the night—Telling them to hide—No matter that he had sent more than twenty of those soldiers screaming to their deaths with his limited magic and furious blade before he fell to the bone-breaking blow to his leg—He was the pathetic one.)  

The Fae’s yellow eyes flickered open—he hadn’t even realized he closed them— when he felt the delicate hand of his tormenter on his neck. His sight was blurry with tears but he could see Soren’s pale face looming over him. A great many people thought this man beautiful—his golden hair and blue eyes in direct contrast with the Fae’s own black hair—but all Oryn could see was cruelty. Sharp corners to his full lips, cutting cheekbones, and a hard jaw made the face that quirked down a facsimile of a smile at the quavering creature in front of him. “Why don’t we try this again? Hmm?” Soren’s thumb brushed up and down Oryn’s pulse point in a lazy line, above his thick metal collar, and his sharp gaze tracked how his skin fluttered with the pounding of his heart. “Where can I find the others?”

He whimpered at the question and the Fae’s head lolled away from the nobleman before Soren jostled it back. That question had followed him through his sessions under the ministrations of the sorcerer but he wouldn’t answer it. Soren had promised that the torture would stop if he told him but he couldn’t. He had sworn to them—the other runaways deserved to be free. They had to be protected, should never be bound—enslaved—again. 

“Nononono...I can’t...I can’t...” He turned his head away from Soren again and heard a growl of frustration. A hand grabbed his sweat matted hair and yanked his gaze back. “Ah!” Fresh tears trickled from his wide eyes. Down the side of his face.

The sorcerer took his hand from Oryn’s throat and wiped them away. 

A shudder rolled down his spine. 

The gentle act was such a vivid contrast to the rage that was in Soren’s eyes. 

The nobleman’s lips compressed, white edges marring the pretty face. A smudge of Oryn’s blood decorated his arched eyebrow in obscene ornamentation. “You are trying my patience,” Soren hissed, perfect teeth clenched around the hard words. 

Soren released Oryn’s black hair with a snarl and turned to his row of tools. His long delicate fingers caressed sharp rods of copper, manicured nails clinked glass syringes full with a dark liquid, a soft palm rolled the thick handle of an ensorcelled baton. Time seemed to slow as the sorcerer skimmed over the blood-flecked instruments. Cold blue eyes bored into the exposed fear in his face. 

An ocean of ice lived in those eyes. No safe harbor to be found. Nothing for the tormented soul on the table. 

Oryn trembled. 

The sorcerer hadn’t seemed to like using the tools. His lips had curled in distaste when Oryn’s blood had coated his fingers as he shoved those copper rods through the thick meat of Oryn’s back. The frown of discontent that creased Soren’s smooth face as he slid liquid agony into the Fae’s veins conflicted with the possessive, manic glee that blazed from every pore when his magic made him writhe on the table. The downright disgust that had poured from the nobleman’s eyes when the heavy ensorcelled baton had made him choke and gag on blood and bile as he ribs and body were broken had made a statement the recaptured slave would not soon forget. There were other tools on the table, pliers and wicked blades and implements to stretch and break Oryn. Anticipation made his breath speed and he tugged at the metal cuffs with futile terror. 

“You’ve done this to yourself, you know?” Soren tsked, disappointment lacing his tone. “I have given you every opportunity to stop this but you refuse. You refuse to be good for me and I’m forced to resort to these. . . things,” he snarled, flicking his fingers at the instruments in the room, “to make you talk—to make you be good for me.” A whine caught in Oryn’s throat as the sorcerer moved toward the stove that held white-hot branding irons. The sorcerer’s eyes snapped back to the Fae’s face. His nostrils flared, “You’re in luck, dog, that I don’t want to deal with the smell of your cooking flesh at the moment or we would be decorating that pretty face of yours with my sigil to match the ones on your thigh.” 

Oryn bit his lip to stifle the terrified sound that erupted from his chest. He could not be cut off from the Light, from the Goddess, from his magic more. Sweat slid down his throat and mingled with both the flaking and fresh blood on is skin. He couldn’t do this, no more, no more, nonononono! Please, Celüne, no! He didn’t realize he was speaking aloud or thrashing at his restraints until the sorcerer’s hand clamped down around his throat. Cutting off his air. He gagged and tried to jerk his head away but only succeeded in cracking his skull against the hard table. The hand around his throat squeezed with bruising force and the young man stilled as he focused on the tip of a blade hovering above his eye. He struggled to calm his twitching muscles as the blade skimmed across his cheek, nicked the delicate skin of the hollow of his throat, and came to rest over his stomach. The hand loosened its grip and he sucked in a greedy breath as it eased away. 

“Enough,” Soren said, a small frown turning the corners of his mouth down, regret painting his features. “I don’t like this any more than you do. I’m not the one that started this ugliness. I tried to ask you nicely and you refused to cooperate!” The sorcerer’s blue eyes flashed and the knife pricked the quivering flesh of his abdomen. “This can end here and now. Just tell me where the others are and this all stops.” 

Oryn sobbed. He wanted the pain to stop. No more! Please, no more! He shook his head in wild denial and squeezed his eyes shut. He grit his teeth. He had to stay strong, he couldn’t give in, he needed to—SLAP—Oryn’ head snapped to the side as bright pain blossomed on his cheek. The Fae’s babbling thoughts scattered like marbles on a smooth floor tossed by the nobleman’s open-handed blow. His eyes shot open. A gasp and he opened his unwilling mouth to speak. “I-I-I- I don’t. . . I c-c-an’t. . .please,“ he begged, hating his weakness.  

The sorcerer placed his fingers under his chin and drew his gaze up. “You can, and you will. It is only a matter of time. Make this easy on yourself.” Soren’s thumb brushed in a delicate parody of care against the young man’s bruised cheek. “There is no shame in breaking. You’ve done so well. It will all stop.” The pale face lowered to look into yellow eyes. “You don’t have to hurt anymore.” 

Oryn’s resolve and his face crumpled. “The others are. . . . they. . . please. . . ” he gulped with a weak spasm of his throat, “please. . . they’re at . . .” 

The door opened on his confession and Soren turned with an infuriated curse that made Oryn give out a breathy groan. A messenger boy stood, half hiding behind the thick wooden door, with huge innocent eyes. “M-my lord?” 

“If there is not a good reason for this,” the sorcerer said, menace lacing his words, “then I will make sure that you wish you could replace this one when I’m done with you.” 

The boy, goddess, he couldn’t have been older than eight or nine, took in the bleeding and bruised form on the table. He started stuttering in terror, “T-the general, uh, the general h-h-he said that-that-that you whu-whu-wanted to be warned...” 

The nobleman straightened and Oryn saw a new, unexpected, expression as he darted to the door.  

Fear. 

“Stay here. Do not speak.” Soren said as he rushed out and slammed the door shut with the messenger pressed against it. The boy didn’t blink, his huge blue eyes locking onto the slumped Fae as he tried to press as far away from the blood-spattered table as the solid door allowed him. 

Oryn didn’t bother trying to engage the boy. He would make the already terrified child run and disobey Soren. As weak as he was, he didn’t want the sorcerer’s attention away from himself at the expense of someone so young. 

He focused instead on his choking breaths, hiding his sniveling face in the corner of his bent arm. His gut churned with the anguished realization of what he had been about to do. “Could I really give them up for this to end?” he asked himself. “Am I really so despicable?” He knew, in his logical mind, that Soren would never let him go. Would likely keep him strapped to this table or collared at his heel to play with as he saw fit. At best, he would be allowed to die, at worst... he squeezed his eyes shut, tears coursing down his sweat and blood-encrusted cheeks. He rebelled from the dreadful avenue his mind took him down. 

“It would be better to die...” he thought, with an aching realization. It was his best option. How could he have been about to give up the others to save himself? Shame ate at him and wriggled like worms under his skin. He wanted to tear it off and turn himself inside out. Giving up the others to come back as slaves was not an option. It was never an option. Soren would not be able to find them without a confession from him and they would continue to be safe with Rien. He felt a small, wavering, flicker of satisfaction. Soren’s preoccupation with him had been a healthy distraction. 

His family’s teaching’s whispered through his tired mind. Fight to the death but embrace it upon its arrival. He shuddered—it looked like death was coming for him. Perhaps he could...antagonize Soren into killing him? He had a temper, he had seen it. Oryn grimaced at the idea of provoking the short-tempered sorcerer and the image of his broken body after. An intrusive thought flitted across his mind, “Would there even be anything left after? 

A tiny intake of breath drew Oryn’s attention back to the little boy that was being forced to experience this situation with him. Because of Soren. Goddess, he was a small example of what Soren could do if he laid hands on the others. 

Oryn’s head thunked back against the tilted table and he looked through half-opened eyes down at the child in front of him. Those innocent little features wore naked fear and his lips wobbled as his gaze locked on the tool table to the Fae’s right. “Don’t...don’t look,” Oryn rasped. 

The messenger flinched at his voice, his little body slamming against the door with a rattle,  that panic-stricken gaze snapping back to his yellow eyes. He started drawing quick rapid breaths that expanded his tiny chest like an exhausted rabbit. 

The bleeding man tried to school his expression to as kind of one that he could muster. “Don’t look,” he repeated, softly. He swallowed against the grating in his throat, stilling a painful cough. “You shouldn’t have to see this. Turn around and look at the door.” 

A tiny swift head shake was the only response. Impossibly, those tiny little breaths came even faster. His huge blue eyes kept darting back to the blood-covered table. 

Fuck, Oryn realized, Soren had threatened to put this little fellow in his place. He swallowed a howl of rage and made his voice as gentle as his hoarse vocal cords allowed. “You won’t be disobeying,” he whispered. “You’ll still be. . .” he coughed, swallowing against sticky copper taste in his mouth, “you’ll still be here. You don’t have to speak. Just...turn around.” 

Tears started spilling down those cherubic cheeks but the boy listened to him this time. He turned with slow steps. His slight shoulders hitching with quiet hiccuping sobs. 

“Good job,” Oryn said, finally giving in to the urgent need to cough. His ribs bellowed their protest but he couldn’t stop. By the time the barking cough ended, he was blinking black spots out of his eyes and drooling blood saturated phlegm. He was so weak that he couldn’t pick his head up to try and wipe the liquid away. He drew small, popping breaths but the bone-weary man wanted to slip away from his body. Wanted to stop breathing. He let his eyes slide closed in the relative quiet of the chamber.  

[radio-nano]

A Riot At The Opera: Queen Triumphant by Jonh Ingham with my favorites parts in bold.

QUEEN ARE the type of group that make a man want to abandon rock writing. They pose questions and never provide answers. They exist in their own space-time continuum, visible and audible but keeping their secrets to themselves.

On the surface they couldn't be a nicer bunch of people, but they carry English reticence to an epitome. It isn't, as Geoff Barton said two weeks ago, that they're boring, it's just that they're reserved. Or in writer parlance, they don't automatically provide colourful copy. All my instincts as a writer tell me that there is a great story in that band, but after two nights with them I'm hardly any the wiser.

Skin tight

That their insularity has a lot to do with them being one of the most amazing heavy-metal and/or rock bands in Britain - with all the signs that they'll end up monsters on the order of Zep - is fairly obvious, but just how much bearing it has on the matter is hard to say. The enigmas they might pose mightn't even have answers.

Is there any logical reason why they present an image and persona straight out of the Beatles school of interlocking chemistry?

John is reserved, almost nonchalant on stage, as if it's all in a small, personal joke. When asked how he saw himself within the framework of the band he replied, with a small smile, "I'm the bassist".

Roger is his opposite, the cheeky sidekick in a Clint Eastwood movie, and attracting a lot of cheesecake attention in America and Japan.

Freddie is an original - one of the most dynamic singers to tread the boards in quite a few years. His attraction is obvious.

Brian is perhaps the biggest enigma of all. What is this seemingly frail, gaunt astronomer doing on that stage, striding purposefully and blasting diamond-hard rock? They're all equally strong personalities - like the Beatles there's no one major focal point. Ask four fans who their dream Queen is and you'll get four different answers.

Queen have been busy lads these past few months. Having disassociated themselves from their former management and joined with John Reid, the fourth album was seen to. Reid decided that a tight schedule wouldn't cause them undue harm, and figured on two months to record before embarking on this current tour. Only Queen are driven to better each previous album - which at this stage of the game is obviously producing some excellent results - and A Night At The Opera turned into a saga - culminating in 36-hour mixing sessions in an effort to allow at least a few days for rehearsal. In the end they managed three and a half days at Elstree with four hours off to videotape the promotional film for 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.

Their first few dates had not been without errors and the quartet were still not feeling totally comfortable their second night in Bristol, fourth night of the tour. You'd never know it, though.

Like all other aspects of the group, the stage is sophisticated. A black scrim provides a backdrop bounded by a proscenium of lights both front and rear. At each side the p.a. rises like a mutant marriage of Mammon and Robby the Robot. Amp power is readily evident but the most extraordinary is Brian May's subtle set up: nine Vox boxes stepping back in rows of three. The only packing crate visible is holding a tray of drinks, and you may rest assured that no roadie will rush, crawl or lurk across the stage while the show is in progress unless it's to rescue Freddie's mike from the clawing crowd.

As the auditorium darkens the sound of an orchestra tuning up is heard over the p.a. The conductor taps his baton on the music stand and a slightly effete voice welcomes the audience to "A Night At The Opera". The Gilbert & Sullivan portion of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' follows, a brief glimpse of Freddie is allowed, and then in a blast of flares and white smoke the blitzkrieg begins.

Roger is barely visible behind his kit, just his eyes and tousled locks. John is wearing a white suit and playing the-man-who-must-stand-still-or-it-will-all-blow-away. Brian is slightly medieval in his green and white Zandra Rhodes top, while Freddie is...

Around his ankles his satin white pants flare like wings - fleet footed Hermes. Everything north of the knee is skin tight - tighter than skin tight - with a zip-up front open to AA rating. But further south, definitely in X territory, lurks a bulge not unlike the Sunday Telegraph . There have been sex objects and sex bombs, superstar potency and the arrogant presentation of this all-important area, but never has a man's weaponry been so flagrantly showcased. Fred could jump up on the drum stand and SHAKE HIS CUTE ARSE, leap about and perform all manner of amazing acrobatics, but there it was, this rope in repose, barely leashed tumescence, the Queen's sceptre. Oh to be that hot costume, writhing across the mighty Fred!

Phallic

Freddie is not pretty in the conventional sense of the word; like Mick Jagger of '64, he is his own convention. Also like the Jagger of that time, his stage persona and action is unlike anything else. Although it borrows - like most of the group's plagiarisms - slightly from Zeppelin, in tandem with Freddie's supreme assurance and belief in himself - he always refers to himself as a star - it explodes into something that is a constant delight to watch.

He reacts to his audience almost like an over-emotional actress - Gloria Swanson, say, or perhaps Holly Woodlawn playing Bette Davis. At the climax of the second night in Bristol he paused at the top of the drum stand, looked back over the crowd and with complete, heartfelt emotion placed his delicate fingers to lips and blew a kiss. Any person who can consume themselves so completely in such a clichéd showbiz contrivance deserves to be called a star.

Freddie's real talent, though, is with his mike stand. No Rod Stewart mike stand callisthenics here, just a shortee stick that doubles as a cock, machine gun, ambiguous phallic symbol, and for a fleeting moment an imaginary guitar. He has a neat trick of standing quite still in particularly frantic moments and holding the stand vertically from his crotch up, draw a fragile finger along its length, ever closer to the taunting eyes that survey his audience.

Their show contains lots of bombs and smoke, lots of lights, lots of noise. They fulfil the function of supremely good heavy metal - i.e. you don't get a second to think about what's going on. When they do let up for a few minutes, it's only so you can focus in on the bright blue electric charge crackling between your ears.

Bulldozer

Dominating the sound is Roger's drumming, a bulldozer echo that bounces like an elastic membrane, meshing with your solar plexus so that your body pulses in synch with the thunder. Tuned into that, everything else is just supremely nice icing.

For three days rehearsal, after eight months off the road Bristol was extremely impressive. In speculative mood I quizzed people on how long they thought it would take to headline Madison Square Garden. I was thought a radical at a year and a half. John Reid smilingly assured me it would take a year.

That Queen should end up with John Reid is an entirely logical proceeding. Everything about Queen demands that the world eventually kow-tows at their feet in complete acquiescence - so big that bodyguards have to accompany them at every step. Well, no - they found that an annoyance in Japan, but, you know, huge.

Such status demands a Reid or a Peter Grant, and whatever the causes for their leaving Jack Nelson and Trident, an elegant group like Queen is going to look for a man with class. Reid found the idea of managing a group interesting, and having to deal with four strong personalities a challenge. He only concerns himself with their business and ensuring that the year ahead is mapped out. In January they begin a jaunt through the Orient, Australia and America, by which time it's March and they begin preparations for the next album.

Reid's prediction of a year was proven highly credible the next evening in Cardiff. The band had still not paused from the rush up to the tour and spent most of the day relaxing and sleeping - no doubt a factor in their near recumbent profile. Also, unlike most groups, they were keeping their dissatisfaction with the show to themselves.

They stopped off at Harlech TV on the way to see a cassette of the video for 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. The general consensus was quite good for four hours, with much laughter during the operetta. Brian finds film of the group educational - the first time he saw himself was a Mike Mansfield opus for 'Keep Yourself Alive' - "It was 'All right fellows, give it everything you've got but don't move off that spot.' It was terrible." You don't like Mansfield, eh? "Oh, I hate him - we all do... I was horrified when I saw it - I couldn't believe we looked that bad. I looked very static - seeing myself has taught me a lot about stage movement. Some of the things I do are planned for effect, but it's mostly just feeling the audience and communicating that back to them."

Arriving at the motel - several miles out of town - Freddie immediately fell asleep, John held court of a sort, joined later by Brian, while Roger went jogging, a daily event when touring. Tuning in to rock via Bill Haley and Tommy Steele, he became a drummer because he was better at it than guitar. All through school he was in bands; he only went to dental school out of "middle class conditioning, and it was a good way to stay in London without having to work". His mother thought it a bit strange when he opted for a career as a rock star, but she doesn't worry too much now.

The concert starts in much the same manner as the previous night, but there are signs that tonight is work, with posing an afterthought. The endings to most of their songs are magnificent and majestic, especially 'Flick Of The Wrist' and the rapid harmonies of 'Bad Boy Leroy Brown'.

Maniacal

The audience, seeing their faces in town for the first time, are vociferous in their appreciation. Guys know all the words to every song, yelling enthusiastically at every effect and solo. The band picks up, Freddie receiving the crowd beneficently, telling them they’re beautiful.

As the show builds it is obvious that things are gelling more. The previous night Brian had seemed totally out of place, not moving too much, taking solos with the weirdest half blank half possessed stare, talking to himself; cocking ear towards guitar. He was the proverbial stranger in a strange land, one step removed from the plane inhabited by you and me.

Tonight he moves fluidly, the gonzo lead guitarist of a gonzo band. His expressions are just as maniacal, but it only makes him look more demonic. His solo in 'Brighton Rock', an exposition in riffing and echo, is a treat because of his physical response to both music and audience, complete with ham acting. Freddie gets into the same game on 'The Prophet's Song', where he conducts an a capella madrigal with himself. It's a pretty commanding moment.

It’s soon after this that Madison Square seems reasonable. About a minute into 'Stone Cold Crazy' it becomes very obvious that Queen have suddenly Plugged In. Found the metal music machine and Connected. Freddie's movements explode in perfect unison with the music, the lights and surroundings go crazy, and the audience goes berserk.

Freddie asks for requests and receives a roar out of which one can vaguely make 'Liar'. Fred walks along the stage, nodding, agreeing he will do this one and that one while the kids roar on. "I'll tell you what - we'll do them all!"

'Doing Alright' opens slow and portentously. Queen's variation of light and shade is one of the major factors in their popularity, but even so the quiet sections frequently find the audience's mind wandering. One kid starts getting a joint together, totally forgetting it when everything blasts off again; guys talk among themselves, only to instantly leap to their feet, fists flying to the beat.

'Doing Alright' changes into a cha-cha beat, Freddie snapping his fingers, the coolest hipster in town, and then instantly drops into faster-than-light drive - the whole row next to me leaps to their feet as a man, rocking back and forth as Brian roars into a blinding solo.

Two songs later, in 'Seven Seas of Rye', the kids break - very fast - and in five seconds half the audience is a seething mass in front of the stage, climbing on each other in pyramids, sudden openings appearing as a splintering seat sends a few bodies to the floor.

The rest of the show is equally intense, especially for a couple of minutes during 'Liar; where Fred and Brian merge into a tight little triangle with Roger while John stands in front of the bass drum, staring out with his small smile.

Freddie has treated his encores - 'Big Spender' and 'Jailhouse Rock' - differently on successive nights, once appearing in a kimono and in Bristol with rather rude tight white shorts, giving the song title new emphasis. In Cardiff, though, he doesn't bother to change at all. Later it transpired that Brian had twisted his ankle during 'Liar'. While he’s attended to, kids out front pick up chair slivers to keep as mementos.

On the bus back to the hotel Brian sits quietly at the back, chatting with two girls. John sits at the front, as always. Freddie stares out of the window, lost in his own world. Roger bounces around, starts a pillow fight with Brian - which stops as soon as Brian scores a direct hit to the face - then discovers an eight track of Sheer Heart Attack, punching it through the channels as he conducts the group. The two hours towards which they have channelled the day's energies are spent.

Ambition

That Queen have become a top attraction through a fair degree of plagiarism is amusing. Stealing is nothing new in rock (or any art for that matter) and mostly Queen use the borrowed material better than the originals. That they would be big I don't think anybody really doubted. All four have immense desire to be successful, and that kind of ambition will keep them slogging until they achieve it.

But there are popular heavy metal bands and there are popular HM bands. From watching Queen's audience it is apparent that Queen speak for them in a way that bands such as the Who and the Stones and the Beatles spoke (and continue to speak) to their audience. Uriah Heep may be great at what they do, but five years after their demise who'll remember them? Creedence Clearwater Revival demonstrate the same thing - who remembers them? And yet five years ago they were the largest band in the world.

Queen will probably always be remembered, because as their tour is beginning to demonstrate, they have the ability to actualise and encompass the outer limits of their sense of self-importance.

Queen and their music, presentation, production - everything about them says that they are more important than any other band you've every heard, and who has there been, so far, who has objected? Certainly not the 150,000 people (plus 20,000 a day) who bought 'Bohemian Rhapsody' in the first 20 days of its release. Certainly not me.

See you at Madison Square Garden.

And Freddie in an interview a few later after this article:

He has been talking almost an hour and from the rapid increase in body twitches it's obvious he now wants to leave. He gets up to go but then thinks of something else.

A few weeks before I had written a story that adored in detail the tightness of Freddie's costume and the obvious bulge it contained. The Editor had not missed the opportunity to use an obvious headline.

"You know, your 'Cock Opera' piece has done me more harm than good. It was a wonderful piece, but My God, I've got to live up to it now. The insinuations of hosepipes and things, it's gotten really amazing. My God! A day hasn't passed when someone hasn't made a comment on it."

I was reminded of critic Lillian Roxon interviewing Tom Jones and wanting to poke her pencil there to see if it was all Tom. I guess only Fred's tailor knows for sure.

[arsonforcharlie]

tonight was the fuck squad critmit (it’s like christmas but christianity isn’t a thing in eurolia, but i wanted to use christmas shorthand- WORLDBUILDING) special, because the main plot was not going anywhere nearly consequence-free enough for the tone we wanted to nail down. it featured presents for the squad- little brooches based on magic items everyone’s character has that came with little notes from the shop owner where they got the item. (from the left, rhonia’s magic lunchbox, the bag of trading, sergei’s impervious rod with the lightup orb attached, the diadem of brothority, and maddela’s serpent fang dagger)

we also had a lot of cheese and caramel-filled snickerdoodles and chocolate and wine to the point where i made an impromptu decision to run the session theatre of the mind because we absolutely weren’t going to clear off the battle mat. (you can almost see it under the second cheese board up there. that wasn’t even all the cheese.) tonight’s adventure involved a lot of homebrewing because i couldn’t find stats for pretty much anything i wanted, and also i wrote a knock off night before christmas that i read in my best reading-to-wee-chiddlers-by-the-fire voice from this expertly-crafted prop book in between segments. they seemed to have a good time, fortunately! god i love my friends. recap and full poems under the cut

Twas the night before Critmit, and all through the inn While Jasper was putting the trash in the bin From his holiday party, an annual bash Where all of our heroes got totally smashed. He wiped up the spilled beer and swept up the glass From the breaking of windows that had just come to pass. The fuck squad was nestled all snug in their beds While visions of beautiful dresses and jewels, or hedonistic orgies, or Reaper in a bit of leather and not much else, or huge plates of mac and cheese, or hedonistic orgies again but this time a little bit closer to the ground danced in their heads. Alone or with partners, they started to snooze And settled their brains in to sleep off the booze. But then, just as slumber began to take hold, They awoke out of doors, dressed, armed, startled, and cold. The snowdrift they lay in was not one they knew And the landscape was foreign, cold, barren, and blue. A cottage ahead was the only respite From the miserable weather on this harsh winter’s night.

partway through my first reading of the poem i realized a button of my shirt was just straight up undone and busted out with “oh my shirt just popped the FUCK open” so that really set the tone for the night

(directly after i finished the descriptive verse) Sergei: “Then you see him, Shia Laboeuf!”

frankly i’m surprised we went this long without any shia laboeuf references

the fuck squad go into the cottage to warm up, and inside find an old dwarf in a red and white robe with a long white beard, drinking from a mug of hot cocoa by the fire and checking over a list. he introduces himself as klaus, and tells the fuck squad that he needs help. rhonia immediately asks “DO WE NEED TO SAVE CRITMIT” and frankly i think we could all use that sort of initiative. he says yeah, he needs help, usually he brings presents to all the chiddlers of the world-

rhonia: “WHAT????” “chiddler. it’s slang. bobbie uses it. go away.”

- but unfortunately, this year, the mean old Grunch has stolen his sleigh and his reindeer, so he can’t give out presents! the Grunch put some sort of spell on it so he couldn’t bring it back to his house with a snap of his fingers, but if the fuck squad could bring it back, he’d definitely put them on the nice list- and that’s something a few of them deffo need. he also condones a little bit of accidental murder if they need to.

sergei: “i’ll take care of the reindeer!” saida: “I’ll take care of the murder!” rhonia: “If the reindeer die I’ll turn them into skeletons and bring them back!” everyone: “NO!”

they take fur coats that are hung by the door and set off along the road towards the eggnog sea

it’s a sea made of eggnog. maddela fills her flask. rhonia starts drinking just, like, with her hands. meanwhile, sergei, saida, and yoni begin asking me where the sewage goes. i, of course, do not have a satisfactory answer because why the fuck would i, it’s a fantasy dreamscape, so that ended poorly

Saida: “RHONIA DRANK POOP! Shit-slurper.” “you know, it’s great how i don’t even need to write down your names when i’m taking these notes because each of you are so damn identifiable.”

they’re interrupted by five odd creatures, shaped vaguely like humanoids but made of an odd hard biscuity substance with what looks like icing outlining their facial features, who demand to know who they are and where they’re going. when they say they’re going to go stop the grunch, the gingerbread guards draw their weapons. before anyone can try and calm the situation, maddela just leans forward and tries to take a bite out of one of the guards. (she does later successfully get a chomp out of one.)

(i mention something about one of the gingerbread men having a hole in them after they were stabbed) sergei: “heh it’s a glory hole” “IT’S NOT A GLORY HOLE” yoni: “it’s the Eurolia version of american pie!”

frankly i’m just happy yoni remembered the bad continent name i made up pretty much on the spot so i could justify having a fake fantasy eurovision

Saida: “if any of you fuck a figgy pudding i’m leaving” Sergei: “Don’t worry, I generally try not to fuck food.” “Not since the incident.”

Saida: “That doesn’t count, everybody fucks a little food when they’re thirteen!”

saida uses the memory gauntlets on one of the gingerbread guards, another thing that i was not prepared for. despite getting a lot of suggestions that i dismissed as horrifying (the beard suggested going back to the intolerable temperatures of being baked to life, rhonia suggested when he got his eyes piped on, that sort of thing) she instead saw this gingerbread man hugging his twin sons, tiny tim and tiny jim, and telling them that he was happy they’d be able to go to college because he was working as a guard. apparently that was worse. whatever.

me, out of hand, discussing rhonia’s armor of bones, “You could make a full body bone strapon.” rhonia: “COULD I????”

doesn’t say she can’t

the beard, interjecting: “Just curious, is the gingerbread man, like,a  DILFY gingerbread man?”

saida, returning to the important question of whether rhonia drank poop: “What if they poop royal icing? Because if they poop royal icing that means they can use it todraw little features on each other like lil gingerbread scat enthusiasts?” “SO YOU KEEP WALKING ALONG THE ROAD”

yoni puts a bit of gingerbread into the bag of trading, and when i roll on the table, i get the “bottle of ale or wine” result, so i rule she gets some rum so they drink that with the egg nog.

saida: “I’ve had dreams where we were all together. In Todd Howard’s house. Which was also a social science facility.”

“the road veers away from the coast of the Eggnog Sea, towards several rounded mountains on the horizon.” saida “AYYYYYYY TIDDAYS”

it’s not tiddays, it’s the sugarplum mountains, but that sure doesn’t stop them from making a bunch of lewd comments about the geology

“the road leads to a field, with a weird-looking snowdrift across the middle, that looks almost like one you’d see growing against a wall.” sergei: “it’s not vaginal, is it?”

still don’t know where that one came from

“fast and the furious, vaginal drift”

there are a few snowmen past the wall, and they begin throwing snowballs at the fuck squad, who join in the snowball fight eagerly.

maddela: “can i put rocks in the snowball?” saida: “wow, you were a little shit as a kid, weren’t you?”

but maddela meant a specific rock, because she had a thunderstone. she missed horribly with it, but i commend the effort.

there was a surprisingly long discussion about what food would be best to throw at these snowmen before they found out that they couldn’t throw food past this wall of force.

“alright, sergei, you’re up, what are you doing?” sergei: “i’m doing a pressed ham!”

this is a new term for me, but apparently it’s when you moon someone and press your whole ass up against the window.

why

like why in general but why in particular would you do that with a weird magical barrier

anyway he does it and takes 6 cold damage directly to his ass

“alright, so this snowman’s aiming right for your asshole i guess.” sergei: “what? he can’t see my asshole!” “I assumed you spread your cheeks.” sergei: “why would I do that?” “instinct.” sergei: “fair.”

“okay, let’s say if i roll a crit he hits you right on the asshole.” sergei: “do your worst!” and that is when i rolled my first and only nat20 of the night.

sergei: “i just took like sixteen damage to my ass, i’m not wagging my dick at them.”

they defeat the snowmen (which was indeed an encounter that i think i inadvertently stole the idea for from one of the TAZ liveshows but i realized after i statted it out so i used it) and move on without any more discussion of that

the road takes them up Mount Killjoy, where the Grunch lives in his cave. in the cave, they find a snow globe with a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer in it.

they try to take it, but the Grunch comes out with his dog mark and tells them they can’t do that. before he can explain why, a bolt of shadow comes from the entrance to the cave and destroys the snow globe, knocking it out of sergei’s hand

A dwarf walked on in tracking fresh fallen snow- The same dwarf that they met only hours ago. The miniature reindeer, before the squad’s eyes, Now freed from the globe grew to regular size. More rapid than Sergei, his coursers they came And he cackled, and giggled, and called them by name. “Now, Gnasher! Now, Ripper! Now Grinder and Pain! On, Killer! On, Chiller! On Scratch and Elaine! We have nightmares to cause, and a Critmit to steal! And soon these poor suckers won’t know what is real!” His face it was shifted, past our comprehension, The unnatural show too unnerving to mention. His flesh flopping flatly like meat from a deli With his midsection roiling from chest to his belly. “Ho ho!” said the monster in the Grunch’s house, “Your mind is your prison! I’m Sanity Klaus!”

did i make this whole adventure based around that one pun? yes, yes i did. i’m a serious dungeon master.

maddela: “are the reindeer in a, uh, 20 foot cluster with nobody else around?” “that’s real specific and makes me think you already have a plan.”

“yeah, you can’t use that without hitting sergei.” saida: “well you can do that, you’ve done that once and it’s fine!”

rhonia: “I will also let you know that I have 12 hit points right now.” yoni: “I don’t care, I want to hit things”

they fight with sanity klaus and his eight reindeer, who mostly bite, and also possess a power to turn their noses into flaming hot coals. everyone is surprisingly competent at fighting when they’re in a dream and not scared of using up resources, though, and they defeat him with very few injuries except rhonia being aged up through the use of Sands of Time

where’s that gif from the remake of jamie lee curtis holding her face and going “i’m like the cryptkeeper!” because i imagine that’s rhonia when she discovers she’s 30

maddela: “They have free will! They can do what they want!” “And what they want is to bite.”

the grunch thanks them for helping him defeat sanity klaus. it turns out, on festive nights like this, it’s easier for people in the plane of dreams to cross over to the material plane. usually the grunch does it to deliver presents every critmit, and spends most of the rest of the year working to keep sanity klaus in check, but this year he got the bright idea to get someone else in to free his reindeer and try and kill the grunch for him so he can cross to the material plane and work to spread madness there

so, the fuck squad saved critmit, and they’re definitely on the nice list despite all the innocent creatures they killed

yoni flapdragon puts the base of the snowglobe into the bag of trading, and gets a huge diamond, just, like, as big as both fists. just then, the grunch claps and they all wake up.

As the fuck squad awakened that bright Critmit morn, They were healed up, restored, bit hung over, but warm When they went down for breakfast, to all their surprise Our friend Jasper had glee in his smile and his eyes He held up a sack, that merry old bloke, Labelled “Gold to replace windows that the fuck squad broke.” “Someone left me this bag, down there, under that pine, And there are also some gifts down there that are not mine!” A teddy for Sergei, one that might fit a bear And a headdress for Maddela to go in her hair Rhonia got food and a pillow for naps, And Saida got a lavalliere- that’s four elf claps! For Yoni, a collar of intricate make With amethyst stones, that would fit her wee drake. As they opened their presents, they heard in their minds A voice that the waking world rarely would find. The Grunch calling out, his voice merry and bright “Happy Critmit to all, and to all a good night!”

[bendigo-marine]

Boating Items You Can Expect from Your Local Boating Center

Boating centers have been around and putting up boats for sale for a long time. They’ve been present ever since boating has become a recreational hobby – that dates back to a few decades back. The items they offer have increased from the usual canoes and kayaks to boating accessories, outboard motors, and high-quality Quintrex boats for sale.

If you’re a new boater, you probably don’t visit your local boating center frequently. We can assure you they have everything you need from trailers to various choices of boats for sale.

Before getting you to get your new Quintrex boat, you should look at what you’d need as a boater as well. Whether you’re a freshwater or offshore boater, take time to visit your local boating center and purchase what you and your boat needs.

Boat accessories

Some of this equipment may not be necessary for your boat but would be nice to have. These are more situational items than essential ones. They can make your trips luxurious, and your fishing sessions satisfying.

Rod Holder – If you look at the newest Quintrex boats for sale, a lot of them have grips or loops on the hull that are used to support your fishing rod. After you cast your line, you can attach your tackle to the rod holder while you wait for a bite. This way, you can pass the time with your friends by talking and bonding over some nice drinks.

Canopy – while your boat can survive without a roof, they’re almost essential when you’re fishing in the Australian heat – doubly so in the summer. This will make sure that you’re free from the harsh rays of the sun. Even though you have the best sunscreen or lotion available, you still don’t want to be out in the sun for too long. It’s way too hot, and you’re in danger of heatstroke.

Recreational gear – these include things such as ski poles, ropes, wetsuits for swimming, and diving gear. You’re going to need these things if you want to spice up your vacation with some wild activities. Be sure to wear your life jacket if you’re planning to do things like these. They may be fun, but safety is still the number one priority.

Outboard motors – Many boats already come with their own engines in their purchase package. However, you can choose to get an outboard motor for sale and purchase a better one as well. There are many outboard motors for sale for different water environments as well such as freshwater ponds, lakes, rivers, and offshore.

Safety Items

Life jacket – these things are not optional. In most states, boats are required to have certain types of personal flotation devices stowed away in their storage. Think of these as seatbelts when you’re out in the water. They will save your life when you least know it. Even when you’re not in immediate danger, or just peacefully fishing, wear your life jacket.

Bucket – These are used for bailing water out of your ship. While modern boats come with a device that automatically bails water, you should at least keep one bucket handy in case the device stops working.

Flashlights – these are used to find your way in the dark. When sunset comes, it gets dark very quickly. Take not keep extra batteries for your flashlights as well.

First aid kit – These contain basic items such as bandages, antiseptic bottles, and medicine. Keep them in handy in case of emergencies.

[stuartledrew]

Neat Thought...

We're viewing our pasts, from our presents, as we step into our futures.

That is to say:

When I look at you, I'm seeing where you were, not where you are.

The speed of light Doppler effect...The “light barrier”/screen...Am I on yet?

Anyway...

Be nice.

Be happy.

Be you.

How?

We're a light/dark energy/matter, double rainbow...Well, we will be...

Once you find the “you” that you were born to be.

Balance, harmony, diversity, eternity...Life.

Or...

An eternal, double, infinite, single wave length (...-1.0.1...)...Life?...

Take your pick.

Some interesting things start to happen, when you think in terms of the speed of light, being directly connected to, the number of beings on the network. - Truly just beings there are.

The more of us who join, the more harmonic we become.

We begin to think as one mind, not the same thought, just the timing of...We begin to beat...And all time exists at the same time.

Just a thought.

https://stuartledrew.tumblr.com/

Another neat thought:

Given that I'm viewing my past on a slightly convex screen (time plane), with a very concave retina, + rod/cone placement + transmission speeds = 3D = Evolution (Hunting)

Oops...Got a bit lost there myself...

We're the present, a singularity of time.

We're centered.

So...

Simpler biology...Concave, to concave, flipped...

Anyway... Enjoy...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NAEppFUWLfc&list=RDMMNAEppFUWLfc&start_radio=1

“Stone walls do not a prison make,

Nor iron bars a cage.” Richard Lovelace

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkgkThdzX-8&list=RDMMNAEppFUWLfc&index=2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HTTAPCUtbc8&list=RDMMNAEppFUWLfc&index=5

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpoP4YSFKGA&list=RDMMNAEppFUWLfc&index=4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vZA5heWazIQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGJuMBdaqIw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xCorJG9mubk

P.s.

This will be my last post, tweet, comment...ANYTHING!!!...On this subject.

In 2008 I got a “tap on the shoulder”. That night I was run through the gamut...I was once Jesus...No, apparently I was Satan...Nope...Wait...I was God...Until I screamed out into the darkness, “NO!!! It just doesn't work!!!”. Then I got to thinking...

I told the doctor (I was “told” to), and ended up being diagnosed as schizophrenic, and being hospitalized. Tip, unless for some reason you wish to be hospitalized, don't tell a doctor that you were once god. Anyway, whilst hospitalized, I briefly lost my temper with my psychiatrist, and got assigned an interview with another psychiatrist, to confirm that I was bipolar too...WHAT?...

Anyway, at that meeting, things got a bit emotional. The psychiatrist's student, started crying and had to leave...And I got a confirmation of bipolar disorder...WHAT?...

I made an RCMP officer cry once too, a male one. He was left to “watch over me” in a room at the hospital, on one of the occasions that I had been told:

“This is a big thing! A REALLY BIG THING!!! You understand that, right? Well the only way they're willing to get you guys together, at the moment, is in a controlled environment. Get yourself checked in to the hospital.”...Phone RCMP...Say “This is Stuart Graham LeDrew I live at...I used to be god, and I fear that I may do harm.”...BINGO!!!...Hospitalized, but no meeting!...No kidding!...Nearly 13 years!...Anyway, back to the RCMP officer I made cry...We talked for a bit and I asked him, “If it isn't, EVERYBODY, what's the bloody point?”, and he began to cry.

Long story short:

Either I'm pure probability, and simply mad.

Or I'm right, and we all win!!! But if so...Where is she? It's the communications era! I'd have been there the next day.  If I hadn't been told, that I have to wait here. Katy has to choose to come to me. I must just be mad! The next day!!! I'd probably have been arrested and detained, but I'd have had to!!!

The way I figure it...

If I'm just mad: I have hyper-inflated lungs, and COVID's on the rise, shouldn't be long now.

If I'm right: Maybe I have to go through all of them, one-by-one, for some reason, and I'm just losing again. C'est la vie.

If I'm, right, right: It has to work, first time. Otherwise,  it's just a trick of sorts, possibly unjust, and personally unacceptable. Something may be back...BUT IT WON'T BE ME!!!

And I'm not “Going long”, that's just the same thing, a trick.

If anyone can hear me...You can't mess it up! Why? Because I'm still here!

HELP!!!

Or not...Your choice...That's the point!

Well, one more.

I WILL FIND A WAY!!!

I'm back, but then again, I did say that I'd find a way.

Perhaps it would illustrate my point, “Stuff like this doesn't 'Just happen'!”, if I give you a few examples.

I was 'told' to go upstairs 'right now!', and watch a video...”Which one? 'You will know.'. I did so. The video was:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xCorJG9mubk

Which is basically a synopsis of this whole thing.

Then, one evening at 10:10 on the 10th, I wondered, “What is 101010 in binary?”. Turns out it's 42. Douglas Adams' “The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything”.

In the video, “This is the part of me”- Katy Perry, at 2:23 Katy is wearing a watch. It's 10:10, and the minute hand is pointing to the 10 on the outside dial. I only just noticed this fact, and I've been watching it for years.

I first encountered Katy with the release of the “I kissed a girl” video. I was walking through the living room, and the video for it came on tv...Our eyes met...I walked away thinking “Oh well, just another talented, pretty girl, they'll “throw away” in a couple of years.”. I mention this because as I said, our eyes met...Then, I walked away at the end of the video. But what happened between those two events...(blackout)? It was odd, but I didn't think much of it at the time (loads going on). Now, did I see Katy, then get my “tap on the shoulder”, or visa versa? I couldn't tell you, it was all too long ago now.

In late 2010 there was a forum called “The Meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything”, upon which I was posting. It was the usual stuff...Drunks in Florida, “Killing time”, and people only interested in their own theory's. So there really wasn't much point, but one day, a 12.5 year old girl, posted a link to:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGJuMBdaqIw&list=PLNNEgHxrnU5xrECkqd-mbgyOf6X7_6W9p&index=95&t=0s

And asked, “Is this the sort of thing that you mean?”. I told her that it was basically exactly what I meant, but thought nothing more of it. That's not strictly true. What I meant by it was that I made no connection to Katy or the “I kissed a girl” video. I don't think that I even noticed that they were the same person. If I had, I'd probably have thought something along the lines of, “Oh, still going...Gosh!”. As to the song itself...That has saved me countless hours of thought...We're all on our own “perfect road” leading us all to our own “perfect door”. No need to keep 'checking'/cross referencing etc:. BRILLIANT!!! Anyway...

All of this had fallen into the background, for a couple of weeks or so. It was odd, but nice, a quiet mind. Then on 3/14/2018 Stephen Hawking died. Within 4 hours of his death I had a basic understanding of how all this works. I explained it all on physics forums. My model fixed all of the various problems/oddities in their model, but they would have none of it. Got banned!

Christmas 1987 my mother asked me what I'd like for Christmas. I usually got her to get me a record, but this year the really wasn't one that I had my eye on. So I said “Pop goes the world by Men Without Hats.”, because I thought that the girl in the video was cute. Turned out, I never really listened to it, I didn't really care for it much. But!!! Now, the anomaly in the video that has been bugging me for years becomes clear. What anomaly? What are those floating bubbles with the red bits on them? Do they mean anything? Because, again, the video is pretty damn on-the-nose!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zUUtf7gOe8

Or the video for “Imagine” - John Lennon, he was a tad over zealous, here and there, but, imagine. Why do they zoom in on the window that has “THIS IS NOT HERE” printed on it? I'm demonstrating that it isn't, so...

And finally, well for now anyway, in 1994 Elastica released “Connection”. Huge amounts of this process have related to music videos. “Connection” was one of those “instant fav's”. The original video is a masterpiece, but could cause epileptic seizures due to the quick cuts.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gY2s4hJ8kuA

“Another heart has made the trade, Forget it, forget it, forget it, I don't understand how a heart is a spade, But somehow the vital connection is made.”

I have to know this! How is a heart a spade? It's ridiculous! It could be anything! Oh well...

Then two days ago, for no reason the thought Juice Newton “Queen of Hearts”, so I played the video. 35 seconds in...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0DK-0fIKCw

I could go on. My day, everyday, is just a continuous “coincidence” stream. Stuff like this doesn't “Just happen”!!! Well technically it does, but...

I will find a way...I mean, what else ya' gonna do?

Especially after the most powerful moment of this whole thing...

The weekend before my birthday in 2017, Katy had a “Witness Weekend”, four days, on air 24 hours'ish, a day. I'm not entirely sure why I watched, Katy was “relevant” by then, “Firework” had saved me so much time. I watched probably 3-4 hours, or so, each day, but I have a problem with, “I may be wrong...”, so I didn't want to feel like a stalker.

Katy had a psychiatrist come in to the theatre, to have a session with. As the session progressed, Katy started to cry, and Katheryn came out. Our eyes met...And it was literally like a double laser out of her eyes! Then I knew! Her image was burnt into my soul...She must “Meet her Prince Charming!”, it doesn't have to be me, but she has to be happy...I hear tell...

“Friends describe Katy and Orlando, as 'More than in love'.”...

Then there's Daisy Dove...

I think it's wonderful. Orlando's a really nice guy (he played himself on “Extras” with Ricky Gervais), life's complex sometimes, and it's a big house...Anyway, I'm either quite, quite mad...Or right...

And it REALLY SUCKS not knowing for sure, for sure, because I am ya’ know?