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cosmicgendershifter · 10 days ago

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More Completed Gentlebeard Fanfic I Recommend

This continues from my previous fic rec post, but since it was getting super long, I am starting a new one, haha. 🌈🏴‍☠️

Without 🔞 Content

"I'm Used to Death" (T, ~119,400 words) by @dimplyowl (same writer as "The Curse of Blackbeard's Sword" and "Invisible String") and @thatmothra (same writer as "Salt, Sweet") is a beautiful and heartwrenching Hunger Games AU that does a more brilliant job at combining that dystopian novel with OFMD than I had thought possible! There's some notable Mary/Evelyn too as a bonus. Don't forget the sequel, too: "But Not Your Death" (T, ~108,700 words).

"#OldManCrush" by @petrichorca and @veeagainsttheday (T, ~13,000 words) is a short but vibrant modern AU full of delicious mutual pining where Stede writes an op-ed about his later-in-life crush that goes viral and sends his best friend Ed, the co-owner at their new shared newspaper, into a spiral.

"there's always an escape" (T, ~4,400 words) by @ghostalservice (the same writer as "mighty real" and more) and @mahnaah is a delightfully silly modern AU meet-cute where Stede solves a hidden bonus puzzle in the pirate-themed escape room that Ed created.

"Smile for the Camera" by @piratecaptainscaptainpirates (T, ~3,900 words) is a fun modern AU meet-cute, centered around a clothes-swapping scene and featuring some emotional hurt-comfort, that has Ed as a struggling trans autistic rockstar who appears on Stede's local news show after firing Izzy as his manager. I also recommend "Ed's Feel-Good Recipe Blog" by this writer (T, ~3,400, words), a fun and sweet little multimedia modern AU about Ed as a burnt-out trans celebrity chef meeting Stede through the comments on his side project recipe blog.

"blue canary in the outlet" by @ladohstry (T, ~3,400 words) is a very soft, sweet modern AU oneshot where Ed and Stede share a bed--and then a first kiss--after a night on the club with their friends.

With 🔞 Content

"My Soul Remains With You" by @bonnetpetit (same writer as "Fox Fires", E, ~130,400 words) is a gorgeous, smutty modern fantasy AU with big season two vibes, in which Ed is the lonely cursed forest creature haunting Bonnet Industries' latest development project, and Stede decides to leave his old life to stay with him.

"Rinse and Repeat" by @theyellowestmustard (same writer as "Swedish Cult Bullshit" and "Magpie", E, ~106,300 words) is a lovely, sensual modern AU in which touch-starved Ed seeks out Stede the hairdresser to do a fancy funeral braid for him and then gets a little bit addicted. "Somnophobia (and Other Eleven-Letter Words" is another great one by this writer (E, ~10,500 words), a heartfelt season two missing scenes fic featuring Ed not wanting to risk falling asleep, Stede comforting him, and hand-holding during sex. 💜

"The Broken Lines" by @clairegregoryau (cowriter of "'Til We See the Sunlight," M, 82,200 words) is a poignant, fantastical WWI AU where comm officer Stede struggles to regain his memories and find his lost love after the trauma of the war, even as he communicates across time with canon Ed.

"Star Waka" by @piratecaptainscaptainpirates again (M, ~55,800 words) brought me to tears with its sci-fi AU depiction of severe depression, with trans Jewish-Maori Ed being assigned to train Stede as a starship captain for a very shitty company, just after Ed survives a suicide attempt.

"But the Dream is Strong" by @babykittenteach (E, ~31,400 words) is a fascinating omegaverse AU, with big genderqueer and kink energy, where Ed realizes he wants Stede to ~ravish~ him so Ed can turn from an alpha to an omega.

"soft like silk chiffon" by @impossiblebird (same writer as "Andante, Andante, E, ~12,400 words) is a post-canon fic that thoughtfully explores Ed's enjoyment of being submissive to Stede's soft domming, with some lovely bondage and lingerie included.

"Men on Fire" by @petrichorca and @mahnaah again (M, ~9,900 words) is a fun and sweet short modern AU where Ed is a pornstar whom Stede interviews for his video series about the queer community, with instant chemistry happening between the two of them.

"twenty years and twelve hours" (same writer as "blue like cut sapphires" and more, E, ~9,500 words) is a delightful modern AU in which Ed and Stede are each other's very awkward (but still good) first time at college, and then they get to reconnect twenty years later! Another throwback fave from this writer is "Unparalleled" (E, ~20,300 words), a post-season one reunion fic full of intense emotion and sexy angst, with the soft dom Stede/sub Ed intimate dynamic that I love most for them.

#our flag means death #edward teach #stede bonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd #blackbonnet #my stuff #fanfic

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capricorn-season · 2 years ago

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Homophobia in drag

When I was a young boy, I loved spending the night at my grandmother’s house. There, I could stay up as late as I wanted, and in the morning, there would always be Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. But the best part was raiding the closet in her basement, which was full of the gowns she had worn in the 1960s and 1970s – frilly pink and purple confections made of lace, chiffon and silk. I would put them on and watch The Golden Girls, sophisticatedly sipping Coke from a wine glass.

When I was nine, my dad bought a video camera, a giant monstrosity that my siblings and I struggled to balance on our shoulders while we filmed home videos. Alone, I’d prop the camera on the coffee table and record myself modelling various outfits, explaining to the camera why this plaid shirt went with these cargo shorts, or why this teal Starter jacket complemented these acid-washed jeans so perfectly. I captured on camera the dance I had painstakingly choreographed to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’.

As a kid, I followed my two older sisters around like a shadow, mimicking their mannerisms – the way they tucked loose strands of hair behind their ears when they were concentrating on their maths homework; the way they jutted their hips whenever they were talking to cute boys. Like them, I was a naturally athletic kid. My favourite sport was lacrosse, but I much preferred to play with the girls instead of the boys. The boys were quick to push and shove, and they loved to whack each other with their aluminium sticks. Girls relied more on their speed, their reflexes and the skills they’d honed to keep the ball securely cradled in the shallow mesh of their wooden sticks.

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian community – most people would call it a cult. From kindergarten to the sixth grade, I attended the community’s tiny school. Because enrollment was so low, there was no in-crowd, no separate cliques of jocks and geeks. In retrospect, I’m sure my classmates and especially my teachers noticed my gender-nonconformity – all of my home videos prove that it was glaring – but it went largely ignored. All that mattered was that we were good Christians, that we loved Jesus and evangelised God’s Word to as many people as possible. When I learned about homosexuals in Bible class, or about AIDS (which we were told God had created to punish homosexuals for their sins), I didn’t think for a moment that I was one of them. Sure, my first real crush, when I was 11, had been on a boy – Elijah Wood, an actor about my age whose performance in the 1994 B-movie, North, had captured my heart. But at the time, before sexual maturity, I mistook the longing I felt for Elijah with the more sanitised desire to simply keep his company and be his best friend. I indiscriminately absorbed all of the lessons I learned about homosexuals, as if they were and would always be irrelevant to my life.

The summer after my sixth-grade year, my family left the community and we moved to a neighbouring town. I began seventh grade in a large public school, where there was definitely an in-crowd. My new classmates wasted little time informing me how unacceptable it was for a boy like me to behave the way I did – the way I enunciated my s-words, the way I brushed my auburn hair, which I had highlighted the previous summer with Sun-In. They called me a faggot, delivered me notes that said everyone knew my ‘dirty little secret’. They asked me frequently, ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’. Well, of course I was a boy, I would respond, trembling.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to sexually mature; I was soon developing crushes that inspired more than just a desire to keep a boy’s company. With horror, I realised that I might actually be what the kids were calling me – which, I knew in my bones, guaranteed me a tragically short life and a one-way ticket to hell. That, after all, was what the old form of homophobia entailed. Self-loathing.

To survive the onslaught, I defeminised myself. I lowered my voice, started wearing baggy jeans and sweatshirts, cut the highlights out of my hair, and replaced my Mariah Carey CDs with Nirvana. Soon, the fear and the anxiety became too much to bear, and the only refuge I found was in alcohol and drugs.

In high school, with each passing year, my drug use got worse. After graduation, I lasted one semester in college before dropping out. Two months later, at the age of 19, I had my first of several stays in a local psychiatric ward. I was delusional, addicted to drugs and suicidal.

It was during my second stay in the psychiatric ward that I was introduced to a 12-step programme, which was how I would eventually get sober in my early twenties. It was slow-going in the beginning of my sobriety to accept my homosexuality. I began to reconnect with the young boy I had once been, the boy whose interests expanded beyond what was typical for males. I experimented with bronzer and mascara, and got French manicures and pedicures.

Engaging in these behaviours felt liberating for a while, but eventually the novelty wore off. In fact, they started to feel performative. I realised I didn’t need those things to be my authentic self. My ideas, my voice, the way I treat other people – these are the things that make me the person I truly am.

In 2011, when I was 28, I fell in love with a man. The following year, I joined the fight for marriage equality. After we won that campaign, I knew I wanted to become a gay activist. I wanted to help create a world in which feminine boys and butch girls could exist peacefully in society. A world in which gender-nonconforming people were accepted as natural variations of their own sex. Minorities, sure, but real and valid nonetheless.

The trans question

In 2017, at the age of 33, I enrolled at Columbia University, New York to complete my undergraduate degree. There, I was shocked to discover how gay activism had evolved since marriage equality became the law of the land. The focus was now entirely on personal pronouns and on being ‘queer’. My classmates labelled me ‘cis’, short for cisgender. I didn’t even know what it meant. All I knew was that they called me ‘cis’ in the same cadence that the seventh graders had called me ‘fag’.

Soon, I learned about nonbinary identities, and that some people – many people – were literally arguing that sex, not gender, was a social construct. I met people who evangelised a denomination of transgenderism that I had never heard of, one that included people who had never been gender dysphoric and who had no desire to medically transition. I met straight people whose ‘trans / nonbinary’ identities seemed to be defined by their haircuts, outfits and inchoate politics. I met straight women with Grindr accounts, and listened to them complain about the ‘transphobic’ gay men who didn’t want to have sex with women.

All around me, it seemed, straight people were spontaneously identifying into my community and then policing our behaviours and customs. I began to think that this broadening of the ‘trans’ and ‘queer’ umbrella was giving a hell of a lot of people a free pass to express their homophobia.

At Columbia, I took classes on LGBT history, but much of that history was delivered through the lens of queer theory. Queer theorists appropriate French philosopher Michel Foucault’s ideas about the power of language in constructing reality. They argue that homosexuality didn’t exist prior to the late 19th century, when the word ‘homosexual’ first appeared in medical discourse. Queer theorists proselytise a liberation that supposedly results from challenging the concepts of empirical reality and ‘normativity’. But their converts instead often end up adrift in a sea of nihilism. Queer theory, which has become the predominant method of discussing and analysing gender and sexuality in universities, seemed to me to be more ideological than truthful.

In my classes on gender and sexuality in the Muslim world, however, I discovered something else, too. I learned about current medical practices in Iran, where gay sex is illegal and punishable by death, and where medical transition is subsidised by the state to ‘cure’ gays and lesbians who, the theocratic elite insists, are ‘normal’ people ‘trapped in the wrong bodies’. I privately drew parallels between the anti-gay laws and practices of Iran and what I saw developing in the West, but I convinced myself I was just being paranoid.

Then, I learned about what was happening to gender-nonconforming kids – that they were being prescribed off-label drugs to halt their natural development, so that they’d have time to decide if they were really transgender. If so, they would then be more successful at passing as the opposite sex in adulthood. Even worse, I learned that these practices were being touted by LGBT-rights organisations as ‘life-saving medical care’.

It felt like I was living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. How long were these kids supposed to remain on the blockers? And what happens in a few years, if they decide they’re not ‘truly trans’ after all, and all of their peers have surpassed them? Are they seriously supposed to commence puberty at 16 or 17 years of age? These questions rattled my brain for months, until I learned the actual statistics: nearly all children who are prescribed puberty blockers go on to receive cross-sex hormones. Blockers don’t give a kid time to think. They solidify him in a trans identity and sentence him to a lifetime of very expensive, experimental medicalisation.

I wondered how different these so-called trans kids were from the little boy I had been. Obviously, I grew up to be a gay man and not a transwoman. But how could gender clinicians tell the difference between a young boy expressing his homosexuality through gender nonconformity, and someone ‘born in the wrong body’? I decided to dig deeper into the real history of medical transition.

Medicalising homosexuality

What I learned validated all of my worst fears. I learned that for decades after their invention, synthetic ‘sex hormones’ were used by doctors and scientists who sought to ‘cure’ homosexuality, and by law enforcement to chemically castrate men convicted of committing homosexual acts.

I learned about actress and singer Christine Jorgensen, one of the first people in the US to become widely known for having ‘sex-reassignment’ surgery in the early 1950s. Jorgensen may now be celebrated by the modern ‘LGBTQIA+’ community as a trans icon, but he seemed more concerned with escaping his homosexuality, which he said was ‘deeply alien to my religious attitudes’. As Jorgensen put it, ‘I identified myself as female and consequently my interests in men were normal’.

I learned that of the first adolescents to be treated for gender dysphoria (or what was then called ‘gender identity disorder’) with puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones in the 1990s and early 2000s, the vast majority were homosexual. And I learned that these studies inform current ‘gender-affirming care’ practices.

Soon, I met detransitioned gay men who had sought an escape from internalised and external homophobia in a transgender identity. They continue to suffer severe post-surgical complications, years after their vaginoplasties.

I began to fear we had reached a point of no return a couple of years ago, during a conversation I had with a supposedly ‘progressive’ friend. I told her that, if I had been a young boy now, I likely would have been prescribed puberty blockers and gone on to medically transition. ‘And you don’t think you would’ve been happy as a transwoman?’, she asked me. Her question left me speechless. I couldn’t find the words to state the obvious: that I am a gay man, not a transwoman; that statistics tell me my medical transition may not have been successful; and that I would suffer severe medical complications. In any case, if I had transitioned, I wouldn’t be living an authentic life. After all, isn’t that what this is supposed to be about? Living authentically?

Sylvester, an androgynous disco icon of the 1970s and 1980s, was once asked what gay liberation meant to him. He answered, ‘I could be the queen that I really was without having a sex change or being on hormones’. Perhaps I belong in an earlier era, when newly liberated gays and lesbians rebelled against the medical and psychiatric experiments they had long been subjected to. Perhaps my early aspiration of expanding what it means to be a boy or a girl was nothing but a pipe dream. In Europe, there is hope that these medical experiments will cease, and that gay and lesbian adolescents will be spared from a lifetime of medicalisation. But in the US, nearly eight years after same-sex marriage became the law of the land, it is full-steam ahead with these homophobic practices.

For voicing my concerns about gender-affirming care for minors, I have been called a transphobic bigot. If that’s what speaking out against the medicalisation of homosexuality makes me, then so be it.

#gender critical #jk rowling #twitter #artículo

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lavendersartistry · 1 year ago

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You're right, all of this is so right regarding the fandom.

Oi. Fuckers. Listen up.

Broaden. Your fucking. Horizons.

Lately, the Tumblr side of the fandom has been lacking attention towards the more obscure things. Plimbo. Midas. Sozo. You know, those lads.

Not to mention: OCs. Think your OC is gonna get attention? Well, apparently, how it works here is it’ll only grow if it’s a NariLamb OC, a lambsona, or something the devs themselves have promoted/responded to.

And the forms of media, too.

Artwork, animations, and comic/“graphic novel” style are not the only kinds of media. Some of us aren’t artists, but we can write. Or, we can make music. Don’t ignore things that aren’t visual. Give them a look. Show your appreciation. Don’t just leave us behind.

Now, I’m not saying that everyone will have the time/patience/attention span/ability to read through the equivalent of a single- or multiple-page-long Google Doc or listen to something original or anything, I’m just saying that artwork/animation/comic-style stuff is not the only kind of creativity out there.

Give other forms attention. Just because it’s not NariLamb or a lambsona or a piece of artwork doesn’t mean it’s shit. Read someone’s fic, appreciate all kinds of OCs, give the other characters attention.

No, I’m not implying that I find those other forms bad. I’m just saying diversity is at a sickening low, and I want that to change.

If any of you come to fucking harass me, don’t bother. I’m allowed to have an opinion, and if you’re going to antagonize me because of it, you’re more than welcome to block me.

#chiffons | reblogs #cult of the lamb critical #cult of the lamb #the fandom is heavily hyperfixated on narilamb #the fact that most of my cotl posts have less views because it's not narilamb or have a specific type of oc #and i personally write more than i draw because i have more ability to capture expressions and scenes between characters #it shows what the cotl fandom values more in the media #so rant away #because you are speaking facts AND the truth here

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tmwcs · 9 months ago

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₵Ⱨ₳₱₮ɆⱤ Ɇł₲Ⱨ₮ : PLAYMATE

Series: The Otherside

Warnings: mentions of suicidal ideations, kidnapping, hostage, mentions of cannibalism, yandere theme, toxic love, abuse of authority in a relationship, hints of non-con sexual acts, threats, mentions of murder, corruption, I think that’s it. This series is one of gore and terrible acts so read at your own will. Despite what you’ve read so far, the story is going to get better. Not proofread, sorry. Trying to get this story finished so I can get to work on all the asks/requests in my inbox ❤️

Note: This is all in the POV of Sunghoons y/n. Jake’s y/n is labeled as ‘h/n’ (her name). As explained before at the start of the series, the story features three different y/n’s. In certain POV’s of a y/n, the other two y/n’s will be labeled as h/n. I hope this is not confusing anyone lol.

“You two play nicely.”

Jake presents softly and in a laconic sense as he sits across from Sunghoon, both enjoying the view of you and the lonesome girl across.

It had been months since you found yourself isolated by the deranged man, the one who calls you his ‘darling’ and dressed you in pastel lace and chiffon. Despite knowing his monstrous tendencies of eating human flesh, he never carried out the act of consuming his meals in front of you. At least you could be thankful for that. The thought still terrifies you and since he had kept you imprisoned in the luxury and comfort of his hollow home, you’ve been nothing but disgusted and terrified. Ever since your entrapment you experienced the worst nightmares and never could rekindle the feeling of uninterrupted sleep. It was bad enough that you had trouble doing it, but once you finally drifted off through your hourly sobs, you’d find yourself waking only after one hour of rest. It was, next to everything that happened that night with the cult and your capture, the worst feeling possible. You couldn’t lie to yourself, you’ve prayed that you would fall asleep and never wake back up. This was all complete torture. You’ve tried to escape countless times but it was impossible to do without knowing the code to operate the elevator.

You wondered how your family was dealing with all of this. Since he sealed your knowledge of the world behind these windows, all by eradicating any source that dispelled information such as the news, social media, and even disposing of your phone, you would have no way of knowing the ongoing police search conducted in your name. It would break your heart even more so had you find out that they called off the search after the third month since your disappearance, and no longer actively searched for (Y/n L/n).

You can’t count how many times you’ve cried and felt despair, to the point where you thought of just ending it all. But he made sure that everything possible that would motivate or trigger you to act out on a moment of courage, was all locked away. Not that it would matter, the man kept you under his eye like a hawk, and the only moment of privacy you had was in the shared bedroom when he would tuck you in, and twist the key that secured the lock of the ankle bracelet attached to the bedpost. It confused you greatly, to see a man so sick and infested with demons, enough to crave human flesh, and yet every waking minute of your continued existence, he praised you. He expresses it so oftenly; how much he adores you, loves you, that he keeps you because he wants to be the one to care for you. He tells you that the world is ugly, non-sensible, and filled with distrustful idiots that would choose to do you harm, and reminds you of it through the example of how he met you.

He never told you of how he felt that night. At first, it was a moment of pity that caused him to stab his way through living flesh to ease your fears as he witnessed offhand of what was about to happen. Yet, when he realized that you discovered his digging of corpses to feed his cravings, his intentions changed, and he knew he couldn’t take the risk of leaving you to drag the police and find clues at the gravesite. A single strand of hair would lead the authorities to his door, and despite having a powerful hold on the police department, all thanks to his father, only a certain circle of them could ever know of his secret, thus covering up his tracks and ensuring that they were the only ones assigned to any case that he was ultimately responsible for.

He took you in, not exactly knowing what to do with you. But something started to grow inside. It all started when he saw your diligence in displaying such devoted obedience when he witnessed your struggle in placing the blindfold over your eyes. You were so trusting. For all you know, he could have deceived and finished you off, yet you carried out his demand without even so much as questioning him. The first one to ever place such trust in him, aside from his two friends. It was something Sunghoon wasn’t used to, but grew fond of the feeling of something so feminine and delicate to rely on him. You never strive to be considered lovely or gorgeous, but in his eyes, you were life and breath. When you got caught red handed trying to make your first escape, but was stuck at the elevator, he melted at the sight of your adorable wide eyes. How cute. You were so helpless, so frightened, but you still obeyed. Through your waterfall tears, you still were his good little girl and did what he told you. You did it out of fear for your own life, after seeing his capability, you figured you couldn’t put anything past him. And there was a part of him that knew that but there was a part of him that felt something deeper. As much as you would hate to admit, you are the one that inadvertently sealed your fate.

He did everything to make you comfortable, aside from having his meals in his private lounge after he tucked you into bed. He fed you the finest foods, never once forcing his sickness on to you. After all, he necessarily ever wanted to be sick in the first place, had he been given the choice, he would love to be one that developed a palate for food, the kind that everyone else enjoyed. The pressures of his fathers greed and lust is what turned him at such an early age. Since his old man controlled the city as a major political figure, it authorized destruction in Sunghoon’s emotions and mentality. He’d never forget when his father had committed his first murder, it was his opponent after the election. When his father realized he wasn’t going to win the election fairly, he ensured he was going to do so through dishonorable matters. Sunghoon was only six at the time, yet at such a tender age, he knew of his fathers corruption. Then again, the man never did much to cover it up, even in front of his only son. In fact, as he grew, it nearly seemed that his father enjoyed flaring his dirty deeds. Does anyone have a clue how it felt to be a child growing up with a murderous and selfish father? No…no one knows of his pain. Not even you. Although some day, when the time is right and you are ready, he knows that he will be able to confide in you of where his evils stemmed from. For now, it’s okay for you to think of him as a monster, so long as you stay.

You hands grip the excess material of the fluffed skirt and its laced edge. No one could ever understand how much pain you were in. You present a side eye and view the two men across the room. Quickly, you retract your sights back to the young girl before you as soon as you see Sunghoon staring. He’s always staring.

As the two enjoyed their drinks in their velvet seats, you and the other girl were displayed in front of a large painting, portrayed like small dolls at a small tea table with fine finger foods. This girl, h/n, looked to be as miserable as you. A quick glance over to the one who brought her in, the one named Jake, who Sunghoon explained was a close friend, made it easy to figure out why the girl was uneasy. Like Sunghoon, the man's eyes feasted her. He wasn’t just watching over her—no. Those eyes of his, he was desiring her just as Sunghoon desired you.

You whispered quietly and softly as you topped her tea cup. “How long?”

H/n lifts her head with glazed eyes. She looked at you sympathetically and helplessly. “How long since he took you?”

Noting that the two men were caught up in their little side conversation, h/n dips her finger into the small container of fruit preserves. On her plate, she spells out her answer before scooting it over. Six months.

Your heart sank as you felt the rage of fresh tears forming in your eyes, but withheld the urge to sob, after all, he liked seeing you cry. He constantly claimed that he will forever be responsible for your happiness, pain, and your future.

You leaned in, grabbing the Madeleine cookies off the tray as a way to communicate with her. “Is there anyway for you to escape?”

She shakes her head shamefully. “I tried…he’s made it impossible for me to leave.”

She quickly looks over to ensure that his attention was still towards Sunghoon. “If I do it again…he’ll catch me. I can’t take any more punishment.”

You raise a brow in confusion as you force her to elaborate. “Punishment?”

She nods urgently while the tears escape and drip down her face. “For breaking his rules.”

An electrifying shiver jolts up your spine. Rules?

“What type of punishment?”

She looks at you with pleading eyes. She shakes her head, signaling that she could not speak of it, or maybe she didn’t want to. You nod subtly as you shift your hand over hers, grabbing hold of it to comfort her. “I understand.”

H/n returns the handheld embrace before asking you a question that brought you back to a harrowing memory, one that you’ve tried to forget. “Has he…has Sunghoon…”

She couldn’t find it in her heart to finish her question, but the shift of her eyes traveling to the bedroom door and right back to you was all that was needed for you to understand where she was going with it. You release a deep breath. “Not all the way…not yet.”

You wanted to cry. After the first couple of weeks in being held against your will, Sunghoon inched his way to become closer to you, against your wishes.

It produced countless nights where you screamed and cried, pushing him away whenever he felt bold enough to kiss you. He forced you in his arms and embraced you lovingly, but you were disgusted by the scent of blood on his hands. No matter how many times he lathered them with soap and rinsed away his sins, you could still smell it. It was enough to make you vomit. Your mind races to the night when he laid atop your body, inhaling your kisses as his filthy hands traveled up and down your torso. You shuddered at the memory of it.

When he placed his hand under your nightgown and reached for your panties, you grew desperate and mistakenly revealed your vulnerable truth. “Stop! Please don’t do this! I’m a virgin!”

His eyes widened while his grin grew wide. You really are so pure.

He grew ecstatic, and lavished you with kisses as he remarked how you both were meant to be. Using your virginity as proof that he was the one who was fated to take it away. ‘You’re mine. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we do it the right way.’

You snap back into reality and look into h/n’s eyes. “Not yet. He is going to make me marry him…”

Releasing a single tear, you gulp and bit down on your lip, finding strength within yourself. Keeping a composed face, your tears travel down, creating a feature of contradiction exposure. “He’s going to make me marry him, and then he is going to take everything away from me.”

H/n shakes her head as her brows furrow sympathetically. “He already has.”

More tears spewed as you faintly nod. Squinting your eyes, you keep in your whimpers. She was right. He already has taken everything. Sealing your existence away from society, taking you away from your family and friends, and forcing you to live in a tower filled with corpses…yeah, he already has taken everything away from you.

“Has…Jake?”

H/n shakes her head in relief, though you could see there were some reservations. “He’s done awful things…he treats me like a toy, but says he wants to take things step by step, and do it differently than how he used to do it.”

You issue a confused look. “Differently?”

H/n stares into your eyes. A stoic look graces her face as she whispers. “Then how he usually did it with other girls….he says that unlike them, I have meaning.”

“Them?”

She breathes out. “The other girls…Jake used to—“

“H/n, baby girl. Time for us to go, say goodbye to y/n.”

You both snap your heads up as Jake’s voice startles you. You watched as h/n quickly wipes away her tears and stares back down to the tiles floor. Nodding her head, she grips the edge of her denim miniskirt and stands. “What do you say, darling?”

That pet name….

“Thank you for having us. Let’s play again soon, y/n.”

You bite down on your tongue. This was all so sick. A sentimental urge ruptured within you and you quickly stood and grabbed onto h/n’a hand. Seeing your eyes, she returns the hold as you both scream and cry, yearning for each other's comfort as you share the same pain. You knew that Sunghoon would be displeased by your action, much less Jake with h/n, but it didn’t matter. You both did not care, even when they pulled you by the waist as they pry you apart. You fell apart and drop to the floor as Sunghoon gripped your hair while Jake drags H/n away. Her constant cries of your name echoes through the hall, when suddenly it all stops the moment he gets her through the front door. “H/n?…h/n?!”

Kneeling down, Sunghoon tightens his grip on your locks while pulling your head slightly back. Forcing you to face him, you gasp out frightfully as you witness the look of malice in his eyes. They were wide, his pupils shrink, causing him to look psychotic; it was enough to make you heed his warning.

“Don’t ever…EVER, do that again. Understand?”

You nod.

“You belong to me. The only name you will scream out is mine. Don’t test me. I love you, and if I have to make you understand that love, I will.”

“I-I-understand.” You struggle out your words as you felt his grip fisting your strands, growing tighter as you feel the harsh sting of the pull. Wincing in pain, his eyes begin to soften. Placing a kiss to your lips, you pin them shut, refusing to let him enter. He pulls back, all the while keeping his hold on you. “Kiss me. If you wanna keep your mouth shut, I can find another way to get inside you.”

His fangs exposed though the slick grin as he spoke out his poisonous words. Your eyes widen with fear and shock. You knew better than to call his bluff, he would do it, married or not. As he stated before, the act of marriage was a courtesy in your honor, should you give him a reason to not abide by it, he wouldn’t hesitate to take you in an instant.

Maybe you should be grateful.

Taglist: @nshmrarki , @lprww , @baekxo07 , @m7omo@nikstrange@heeshees@moonmoongi@heesitation@heeseung-min @nctsslut @heeseung-min @addictedtohobi @strxwbloody

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itskybabes-blog · 1 year ago

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The Kiss of Red Death

Daniel Garcia x fem!reader

Warning: quite innocent, just some drinking

Word count: 740 words (short but sweet)

Comments and advice is welcome.

Part one

The bass tingles the hairs on your arms and the melodies ignite your hips. The alcohol you sipped, the taste still lingers on your lips: you’re in the groove and not ashamed of it.

You twist the knobs and press the buttons with passion, dialling up the vibes, this party would be nothing without you. Selecting the perfect soundtrack to the weekend, you’re in a trance – that is until a tenner lands on the decks.

“DJ! Reload it!” They exclaim, drunkly in joy. With a sly smirk and a brief glance up, you obey their demands and wheel up whatever cult hit you were spinning. Gotta keep the client happy, right?

You’ve been on fire all night. This might be the most amount of tips you’ve ever earned. However, nearing the end of your set, you feel a light tap on your shoulders.

Startled, you cock your head to the right and raise an eyebrow, inviting your space invader to speak. They are on borrowed time.

“Hey! You’re on fire tonight!”

Is this something you don’t already know?

Quickly pumping up your plump cheeks and flashing a tender smile, you go back to blending tracks. Let’s not kill the party.

They retreat back to the VIP section behind you and dance on with their friends.

You’ve played your last song and start to collect your things when the aforementioned intruder comes back up to you.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. I just wanted to say I loved your set,” they say.

You finally take your face out of your bag to look at them. You take in what you can see of their face in the dimly lit club. Your breath halts as you’re stunned by the beautiful man complimenting your skills.

His dirt-coloured eyes gaze down upon you waiting for your response. You briefly look down and feel heat in your cheeks, muttering a “Thank You”.

He softly pursed his lips into a sweet smile, “No problem!”.

Awkward glances are exchanged.

“So…"

"So…"

After a few seconds, this mystery man reignites the conversation.

“So, do you DJ all the time?”

Silly question but he’s trying, right?

“No, this is my side job,” you said before heaving your bag up off the chair you shoved it in.

You begin to walk towards the cloakroom and get your coat when your admirer tapped you softly again.

“Hey, Lemme buy you a drink!”

You try to act all coy. You don’t want him to spend his hard-earned money on you, but he insists. Giving in, he nods his head over to the bar and grasps your hand, pulling you through the crowd.

“Tequila?”

Yes, please! Tequila makes the world so much better.

You eagerly nod your head and hop up on a bar stool. You swing your feet – a luxury you don’t get much being 5’8 – and play with your hands. Your outgrown acrylics remind you of your nail appointment. You can’t miss that.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, two large glasses slam on the bar top and the bartender pours that sinful liquid into them. When they’re done, you swig back both shots and hold up your fingers authoritatively.

“Four more please”.

Chuckles evade the lips of your fan, “Woah! You’re a beast!”.

Years of going out three times a week kind of gives you an iron liver.

You gaze through your eyelashes whilst apologising, relying on that innocence.

“Wait! I’m doing shots with a stranger and don’t even know his name,” you say embarrassed by your lack of manners.

“I’m Danny,” he holds his hand out for you to shake.

You take a better interest in his appearance and you can see his muscular physique burst through the seams of his chiffon shirt. His olive skin seems flushed and adorned with a glittery sheen of sweat. His lips are pursed in that cheeky smile again. You caught the attention of a fine man tonight.

“Y/N,” you grip his big hand and he brings it up to kiss.

The familiar slam rings again as you see the four shots you requested.

You swig yours back again and look out the corner of your eye at Danny’s hungry gaze, looking at you boss two more shots.

“Drink up!” You tease. “I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

Danny sniggers, swigging his glasses with his eyes still on you. He chose the right partner in crime tonight.

A/N: This is the start to my first wrestling story. I deffo plan to continue this story, but let’s see what we get.

#aew x reader #aew fics #daniel garcia #daniel garcia x reader #Daniel garcia imagines #wrestler x reader #wrestling imagines #wwe x reader

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angel-bruises · 5 months ago

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Wtf?? I’ve had this vintage nighty for years and used to wear it quite often (there’s photos far back in my archive at @cynicalneoprincessism )

I haven’t worn it in several years but got it back out & wore it in a cult party kei/mori inspired outfit the other day for a friends faerie themed picnic. Anyway I was just about to put it away and it’s all torn???

I’m so confused, I swear I didn’t rip it when wearing it, and I wasn't doing anything that should've ripped it. I tried googling but there’s no information about chiffon tearing/shattering with age when worn. I’m so confused 😭

#vintage fabric #chiffon

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livgr3 · 11 months ago

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Fairy Tale Musicals: Little Shop of Horrors (1981) dir. Frank Oz

Little Shop of Horrors has a somewhat lengthy history of multiple adaptations. The first iteration of the story was the 1960 film The Little Shop of Horrors, with a screenplay inspired by science fiction stories of the 1950s. Then, the movie was adapted into an off-Broadway musical in 1982. In 1986, the popular musical was adapted into the high camp, soon to be cult-classic movie musical Little Shop of Horrors, directed by Frank Oz, whose experience in creating and puppeteering The Muppets would lend itself to Little Shop's impressive Audrey II puppets.

Three teen girls who live on Skid Row, Crystal, Ronette, and Chiffon, introduce and narrate the events of the film.

Seymour and Audrey are both struggling to make ends meet, and work at Mr. Mushnik's failing flower shop on Skid Row. Seymour, who has a hobby of collecting exotic plants, brings a mysterious plant to the shop, Audrey II, which draws in customers and gives the shop a fighting chance at staying in business. As the plant begins to make Seymour more popular and successful, he discovers that the only thing that he can feed the plant to make it grow is human blood. (Also it can talk and sing.) Meanwhile, Audrey's abusively masochistic dentist boyfriend Orin becomes more and more insidious towards her, making him into the perfect candidate for Audrey II's first victim...

Aesthetic Markers of Class, Race, and "Bootstraps" Myths Through Song

Though Oz's film is still set in the 1960s when its source film was made and generally parodies conventions of '60s B-movies, it is clearly influenced by the politics of the 1980s, when it was made. I will read Oz's Little Shop alongside two specific events: The Reagan Administration and the Second-wave Feminist movement.

Let's close read the musical number "Skid Row" to see how formal and stylistic elements enhance racial difference and enforce the "Pull yourself up by the bootstraps" rhetoric that became popular during the Reagan era as a way to justify and distract from the growing economic disparities in America.

youtube

Though the three narrators provide a segue into the song by exclaiming that there is no chance of "bettering ourselves" on Skid Row, Audrey and Seymour end the song determined to get out of their situations. They are notably the only two people in this ensemble number to sing about getting out of Skid Row, looking up towards the sky as the song ends while the rest of the cast looks down. Several other stylistic markers set Audrey and Seymour apart throughout the song, such as the bright lighting on only them, their brighter clothes/hair in comparison to everyone else's dull attire, and even the slower tempo and more gentle style of singing during their verses.

While Seymour and Audrey's economic status makes them "Othered" protagonists (much like Eliza Dolittle in Ray's analysis of My Fair Lady), the formal elements of this number serve to further Otherize people of color. It is important to consider Seymour and Audrey's whiteness in comparison to the ensemble, which consists of many Black performers. With these two white characters as the only ones to sing about wanting to get out of Skid Row while the others do not, the film contributes racist capitalist narratives that one's economic status is a "choice." This is further supported by the fact that the rest of the ensemble of this number rarely shows up throughout the rest of the film. Their only purpose is to foil the protagonists' strife, making the audience feel as though they are rooting for the "little guy" or the "Other" at the expense of another, racialized Other.

However, the narrative that continues after this song seems to subvert and rework this very same myth of finding economic success through the exploitation of The Other.

After finding out that Audrey II feeds on human flesh and blood, the meek and good-natured Seymour struggles to see anyone as "deserving" of death. That is, until Audrey II directs him towards Audrey's abusive boyfriend Orin. Fast forward a bit, and Seymour later feeds his boss, Mr. Mushnik, to Audrey II. The death of both these characters promote Audrey II's growth, which increases the attention it gets from the media and therefore brings Seymour more wealth.

Since the film dips into conventions of Sci-Fi and monster movies, it is expected that those who are killed for financial gain are bodies which have been marked as disposable or lesser. However, the victims in this film, a horribly misogynistic man with a good career and a boss who disregards the well-being of his workers, could easily be construed as heroes in other films. In this film, Seymour and Audrey II flip the narrative of violent exploitation, fighting against oppressive figures in order to succeed in the very capitalist system which they help promote.

Complicating Femininity Through Race and Class

Ray writes of My Fair Lady as indicating what it means to properly "be" a woman through a rags to riches transformation. Little Shop sets up the perfect foundation for such a transformation to occur to Audrey, who defies any notions of demure, proper womanhood with her "trashy" style and nasally voice. This physical transformation never happens, though, and Audrey's femininity or womanhood are never in question.

Instead, Audrey undergoes an internal transformation through the film's exploration of domestic abuse, which seems to be informed by a heightened awareness of the issue thanks to the advancements of the Second Wave Feminist movement. I find that the film handles this issue surprisingly well, with Audrey experiencing symptoms of abuse in a way that is very realistic, and she is never treated as a source of blame for the abuse Orin subjects her to. When Orin's death frees her of her circumstances, she regains a sense of autonomy and self-confidence.

Audrey's "I want" song, "Somewhere That's Green," also handles contentious aspects of womanhood in a way which considers economic class. In this song, Audrey sings that her biggest dream in life is to live in a comfortable suburban home married to Seymour. While the Second Wave Feminist movement fought against the designation of women as housewives, such a lifestyle would be a privilege to Audrey in her current economic state.

However, the film's three narrators are not given the same complex characterization. Ray writes of the "transgressive inner voice" of female musical protagonists as something progressive and empowering. The three narrators in Little Shop are basically only their voices (and they out-sing everyone else in the cast tbh), existing as an omnipotent presence that is only partially connected to the world of the film. Though the film definitely showcases their vocal talent and charm, they are reduced to an accessory with the sole purpose of narrating white stories.

Two Endings

The film's original ending followed the ending of the stage musical. In this version, Audrey II kills both Audrey and Seymour. Businessmen take cuttings of Audrey II and sell it across the country, accidentally creating an army of Audrey IIs that take over the US.

After two test screenings which left audiences uncomfortable and speechless, Oz filmed a new ending before the wider release of the film. In this new conclusion, Audrey and Seymour survive, kill Audrey II and live happily ever after.

Discussion Questions!

Does camp and the tone of movie musicals make it easier to include anti-capitalist themes and narrative points? Might the film have been made and widely released if the same themes were conveyed in a more "serious" manner?

What is the significance of Audrey II being a plant, as opposed to another kind of being? Could there be an environmentalist reading of the film?

Why do you think the darker ending was successful in the stage musical, but made audiences of the film adaptation uncomfortable? Do stage plays and films evoke different expectations?

What do you make of the second ending and the role of happy endings more generally - can they evoke a sense of hope, or are they an unrealistic distraction from real issues?

#oxyfilmmusical #@uncannyprofessoro #panelpresentation

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morningstarinc · 2 years ago

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Because Faith is Mine

MorningstarInc

Summary:

Eva never had much faith in anything. Christianity had let her down. But one night, her friend invites her to a "Ritual" where they are sequestered by Papa Emeritus for a unique proposal. Eva's life begins that night, she hits the road with Papa and the Nameless Ghouls, power struggles ensue, sexual favors follow, and three ways are had. Eva finds meaning in life and it turns out he wears a mask, oh, and happens to be a demon rockstar from hell.

Notes:

First work, I'm looking for critique on writing style, etc. This is a tester for an unrelated novel I am working on. Any help is appreciated and I hope you enjoy the fantasy.

Chapter 1

God. There was no god, or rather, if there was, what had he ever done for me? Never had any of the thousands of prayers whispered over the years been answered. At this point in life, I had begun to consider that there was no such thing as a higher power. Until I received an invite to something called a “Ritual.” A girlfriend of mine had invited me to a show, I wasn’t sure what to expect but I was always down for a night of fun, though I had to admit, the thought of a “Ritual” had intrigued me. My friend Grace and I had grown up in extremely religious households, so it was just natural that the two of us were drawn to one another with our rebellious tendencies. Grace was currently pacing the living room of my small apartment.

“Evangeline Flewelling! We need to go! We're going to miss the show!” my friend yelled at me. “God dammit Grace, you know I hate my fucking name, I'm almost ready,” I yelled back to Grace. “Oh, pardon me Princess Eva, would you mind hurrying your ass?” she rebuttled.

I settled for a vampy chiffon crop top with long puffy sleeves, slung my purse across my chest, and stomped out of my bedroom in my black chunky heels. Grace ran to the car demanding that I walk faster. Maybe I was nervous, who knows, something felt odd in the air tonight and it made me hesitate with every step. Strapped into the car I pulled our destination up on my phone. “So, what should I be expecting at this ‘Ritual’ exactly?” I asked Grace as she sped down the highway, swerving around other vehicles. “Girl, it's everything!” She squealed in excitement. “Alright, well that tells me absolutely nothing...”I replied with a laugh.

“Ok, soooo, think sexy guys and girls wearing masks and all black while rocking out to satanic metal worship music?” she said with an uptick of her voice. “Jesus, so it’s a cult?” I asked sardonically. “No, no, no it's not a cult, it’s this satanic pope named Papa Emeritus, he goes around to different cities performing ‘Rituals’ and sharing their stories. Look we're just going to a concert Eva; you always overthink things. Just relax and have fun tonight. It's going to beeeeee, let's say, spiritual,” She finished with a wink. I inhaled deeply and shook my head and replied, “Whatever you say Grace, I'm in your hands.”

We pulled up to the Arena in the next town over. Every parking lot was overflowing with cars. I had no idea this “Ritual” was going to be so popular. Grace was giving me the lecture right now about how we should have left sooner because she knew parking would be an issue. I try to calm her, but my attempts are clearly futile. We settle for a spot a few blocks from the venue and Grace takes off at a run-walk speed screaming over her shoulder for me to ‘hurry the fuck up.’

“Bitch, I swear to Satan if I miss Kaisarion I'm going to murder your face!” Grace says in a panic, I know she’s joking but the people walking behind us most definitely did not think she was joking. I picked up the pace a little bit and we finally made it to the Arena. Once again, Grace was freaking out for nothing, people were still making their way in for the show and the opening act was still playing. Grace grabs my hand, and we head straight for the front of the stage.

“Oh, hell no Grace, you know I hate the front, I don’t want to be smooshed!” I plead with her. Grace turns to face me, grabs my cheeks and looks deep into my eyes. “Trust me Eva, you're going to love this show, just calm the fuck down,” she says as she stuffs her pen in my mouth, I take a deep puff. The herbal taste fills my mouth and lungs, I breathe out deep and remember that tonight is supposed to be fun. I smile between her palms, and she releases me only to pick up my hand and continue dragging me to the front. We waited there for what seemed like an eternity, and thankfully I had used the restroom.

The opening act plays their last song and everyone around us is vibrating with excitement and its contagious. The room is filled with fog and the lights are dim. Suddenly the lights went out and guitars began to play. Curtains drop and the lights come on and figures cloaked in black stand on the stage. I have to admit, I gave an initial chuckle of amusement but watching them stalking across the stage with their guitars was more than enough to sway my mind. They wore black masks connected to hoses with two small horns atop their heads. They were dressed in tattered black military suits which gave a striking silhouette.

I wasn’t prepared for what happened next, a man in a skeletal mask ran onto the stage and began to sing. It’s hard to describe the way I felt in the crowd. I felt safe. Everyone was on the same level of excitement, and the more the crowd's excitement grew, the more the bodies on stage had to give to the crowd. The sound of the guitars coursing through the air, the boom of a cannon, drums pounding, lights flashing, and the masked skeleton singing, it was just as Grace had described it, Everything.

I was drawn into the crowd and began to dance and jump to the music. Grace was beside me going ape shit. She grabbed me by the neck pulling me close to her lips. “What the fuck did I tell you! Isn't this fucking awesome? she yelled into my ear. I turn to her and yell back, “is that the guy you called Papa Emeritus?” pointing to the masked skeleton man. She nods to say yes.

I turn my focus back to the stage in time to see the man named Papa is standing so close to where Grace and I are in the crowd. He looks down at us and tilts his head. The song is ending, and he finishes the last verse. Papa began to speak to the crowd.

“How are we doing tonight children!” Papa yelled, the crowd erupted in cheers and fists went flying into the air. “Good, Good!” Papa replied. “Then put your fucking fists in the air!” The masked man yelled into the microphone and the crowd obeyed. The next song took off and I turned my focus to the figures in all black roaming around the stage. I tapped Grace’s shoulder, tearing her away from the show. “Who are they supposed to be?” I yelled into her ear.

They're the nameless ghouls! They're kind of like Papa’s henchmen, I think? They're sexy as fuck!” she screamed, leaving my ear ringing. I watched as one of the ghouls stalked forward. I could have sworn he was staring at us. He stopped and stood a few feet away, staring. His head fell to the side slightly and he stood stoic as his hands slid over the strings of his guitar. I briefly imagined what it would feel like to have those deft fingers touching me. It’s as if the other ghouls picked up on it because soon three ghouls were standing before me staring. It appeared as if they were whispering to one another, and suddenly they broke apart, retreating to different sections of the stage.

Grace was staring in shock, she grabbed my hand and yelled into my ear once more, “I can't believe that just happened, they were totally staring at us!” She released me and began to dance and sing again. I turned back to the show. I have to admit, I found myself lost in the beauty of the ghouls. Their striking uniforms, their bold masks that border terrifying, the way they prowl. Yet they had a lightness to them too, they were playful on stage and had a way of controlling the crowd.

I began to understand what everyone was so worked up about. This was something I could truly get behind. A group of people gathered to worship satanic metal music together free of judgment. No one is angry, no one is hurting, everyone is on the same page, just here to celebrate and have fun. I began to think about my childhood. Growing up in such a religious household had certainly left its mark. Sometimes I felt a pull to darker things. I had spent so many years trying to fit into the mold my parents made for me. But I just couldn’t do it. I wanted more freedom for myself than that.

So, I broke away. I had always considered myself an atheist, Christianity didn’t cut it for me so why believe in anything? But I could believe in this, I could believe in Ghost and what they stood for. Another song began and this time Grace pulled me close to tell me it was called “Mummy Dust” and that the ghouls go crazy during this song. Not really understanding what she meant I just shrugged it off.

Papa was running around the stage singing and tossing his mic, keeping the energy high at all times. The ghouls were prowling around as usual, when one of them approached me again. The song began to slow. The ghoul was tall and slender, he stood in front of me stroking his white guitar. I watched as he let go of the guitar to run his hand along his cheek, dragging two fingers across his tongue. My pulse quickened and I felt my lips turn into a grin. I was loving this, just like Grace said. The ghoul kept running that hand all the way down his chest and to his guitar where he began stroking. And to his “climax” cannons erupted and confetti fell everywhere. I was so blown away by what I had just witnessed and extremely turned on by it.

Everyone was so distracted by the confetti, and I soon realized why, raining down from the sky was what appeared to be dollar bills. I snagged one out of the air and examined it, it appeared to be fake and had information regarding joining the “Clergy” to become a “Sister of Sin.” I barely had time to stuff the bill in my pocket before I felt myself being pulled backward. I felt a cold bar drag against my back before realizing that I was being pulled over the guard rail by a security officer in all black. I glanced behind me to see that Grace was in tow as well. I was relieved to not be alone in this situation. I didn’t have long to wonder what Grace and I had done wrong to be removed by security, when I glanced up, the same ghoul that stood before me touching himself was walking along the stage as security dragged me away. The last thing I saw before being removed through two double doors were the ghouls staring and Papa waving at me, the crowd still distracted by the confetti and fake money.

Once behind closed doors the rather large and muscular security guards sat us down and explained that Papa had requested a meeting with us. Grace squealed in excitement while I stood there confused. Why would the lead singer of a metal band want to see the two of us? It’s not like Grace and I are anything special. A woman came to the room to offer us a beverage while we waited for Papa. The woman wore a skintight black maxi dress with a black chiffon veil draped behind her head. She was adorned in all kinds of silver jewelry and was absolutely gorgeous. She introduced herself as Sister Katie and explained that she was a member of the Clergy and was herself a Sister of Sin.

I of course had no idea what was going on, but Grace was going ape shit next to me. She briefly explained that Papa Emeritus was a Demonic Preist. His mission in life was to tour around the world accompanied by his band of Nameless Ghouls to spread the word of the Clergy. She also went on to explain that her job is to take care of whatever Papa needs.

“So why are we being sequestered Katie?” I asked sarcastically. “Sister Katie,” Grace corrected me. “Ah, sorry, Sister Katie...? I amended. “It’s alright,” Sister Katie replied shaking her hands fervently before continuing. “You’re being summoned likely because Papa saw something in you tonight and he needs that something,” she went on. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, the three of us turned to see Papa Emeritus enter the room in his blue sequined vest. He threw his hands in the air.

“Ladies! Welcome, I am so glad you have chosen to join me for a chat.” He spoke. I found that comical given the fact we were dragged in here, but I kept my mouth shut. I was actually interested in what he had to say. Papa’s head tipped to the side, and he looked confused. “You do know why you’re here? Don’t you?” he asked. I folded my arms taking a deep sigh, “I know we were dragged here by two security officers before the show was even over.” I spoke evenly playing that I wasn’t enjoying this bullshit. Deep down I felt curious, I felt a pull, as if something big could happen from this one encounter. “Ah, I see,” Papa said as he shrugged and looked dejectedly at the floor before once again throwing his hands up in the air. “A simple misunderstanding! Please, please,” he said as he gestured to a modern sofa and chairs in the middle of the room.

I took a seat and Sister Katie made her way to a minibar against the wall. She began working on drinks, Papa interrupted my gaze by sitting down just across from me in an armchair. There was something comforting in his presence. I felt as though I could bare my soul and that nothing I could ever say would scare or startle him. I could feel something seeping into the depths of my soul. But I needed to know why we were here so I waited in silence for him to continue.

Papa broke the silence as soon as Grace took her seat next to me, “Ladies, are you familiar with my mission with the band Ghost?” Grace’s hand shot in the air and Papa smiled, “Yes, cherub?” he asked. Grace took a big breath in, “Ghost is a metal rock band preaching the freedom of Satanism and guiding people to being better human beings.” Grace stated confidently.

Papa nodded, “Ah, yes, yes my cherub, but we are also so much more than that. We fight for freedom, womens freedom, sexual freedom, freedom of expression, we accept all.” Papa continued. Sister Katie had returned to the party and sat a tray of beverages down on the coffee table between us. Four champagne flutes sat infront of us, bubbling with a red clear liquid. I waited until Papa grabbed a glass and took a sip before following suit. Grace was already sipping her drink.

“Sister Katie, could you please bring in the Ghouls my love?” Papa asked glancing over his shoulder at Sister Katie, she nodded taking a small curtsey before leaving the room. So, now was the time we would get to see the Nameless Ghouls up close. Now this I was excited for, something about them up there on stage got me fired up. One of them did more licking than anything else on stage, so needless to say I was more than intrigued.

Papa cleared his throat, “Ladies, you seemed to have quite the effect on my Ghouls. They spent most of the night on stage in front of you! This is a rare quality, you, see? My Ghouls are very, shall we say, mischievous. They require, supervision you understand, yes?” Papa waited for us to nod in response. He kept explaining, “The Sisters of Sin are some of the most prestigious members of the Clergy you, see? They are the Matriarch, they are the ones that keep us together, the ones that keep us running. We very much so love and respect our Sisters of Sin. Ghost has begun to pick up in popularity, with that means more touring. My Ghouls have been on the road before but never this long, I fear they may need more guidance.

I am recruiting Sister’s to train with the band. I have some ideas regarding our show. I would like to see our Sisters of Sin represented on stage. Yes, I want our Sisters of Sin to not only watch the Ghouls and ensure they behave, but I would like to see Sisters dancing and singing on stage with us. My Ghouls were enthralled with you two tonight, and it struck me, this was a sign. You two are perfect for the band. And so, without further ado, ladies, will you join us, will you join the Clergy to spread the freedom of Satan's way?” Papa was beyond excited at this point. He sat and waited in anticipation.

At that moment the door opened and Sister Katie walked through followed by one after another Nameless Ghoul. They seemed to come in all shapes and sizes. The first to walk through the door was a tall male with a runner's body, I recognized him as the one that liked to lick. Grace nudged my rib and whispered and pointed “that one is Alpha, but I like to call him Fire.”

The Ghouls were dressed in head-to-toe black. Now that I was closer, I could see that their masks were incredible, they appeared to be some sort of post-apocalyptic gas masks with small horns protruding through the top. The next through the door was a woman with a perfectly curvy body, one I would have killed to have. She walked in and took a seat on the arm of the chair that Papa sat in and began to play with his hair. Next through the door was a larger male figure with a stocky build, his sleeves were rolled up and I noticed he had several pieces of silver jewelry adorning his fingers and wrists, he seemed bold. “That was Beta, but he prefers to be called Aether. He’s second to Alpha in command of the Ghouls.” Grace whispered quickly.

Lastly through the door was an athletic built male with broad shoulders, strutted up to the other Ghouls taking his place behind Papa. “Thats Rain, he’s the Bassist, and the sexiest in my opinion.” Grace said louder than a whisper this time. She quickly turned red and began fidgeting in her seat. Papa chuckled. “Where are the other Ghouls?” Papa asked.

Alpha’s voice came through his mask deep and rich, it sounded almost otherworldly, “They’re currently indisposed Master” The other Ghouls chuckled under their masks, all except Aether who lightly smacked Rain on the back of his mask. I swore I heard a deep groan from under Rain’s mask. Papa cleared his throat snapping everyone back to the conversation at hand. “See ladies, this is why I need you; I need someone to keep my nameless Ghouls in check.” Papa pleaded with us.

I was looking at Papa but Alpha stole my attention as his tongue slowly came through his mask licking his lips, I felt a shudder deep in my stomach, or perhaps deeper than that. Finally this close, I could see that the Ghouls wore black scarves over their mouths during the show, but now they had them pulled down exposing what appeared to be human flesh. So, Grace was wrong, they weren't otherworldly beings, they were just people in masks.

Grace screamed yes so loud my ear began to ring. The one called Alpha had not yet broken eye contact with me. I stared back at him, he tilted his head and suddenly this felt like a pissing contest. So I tilted my head in return and to my surprise, I said “yes.” I saw a smile form on Alpha's face and Papa shot out of his chair. “Hail Satanas, Sister welcome to the Clergy and welcome to the band. While I am saddened by the fact that not all the Ghouls are here to witness this moment, I know they will be excited to meet you as soon as possible.” Papa said walking around the table to embrace both Grace and me. He snagged both of us placing a kiss on each of our cheeks before turning to leave the room. “Sister Katie will arrange your transportation tomorrow, we hit the road at dusk for Illinois!” Papa hollered back at us shutting the door behind him.

Sister Katie had already made her way to us and embraced us both at the same time, “Welcome Sisters, I am so excited to have you with us!” she said. Let’s get your information and then you ladies can head home to get your affairs in order. I will arrange your ride tomorrow. Remember, dusk.” she finished.

As we exchanged information the Ghouls had taken over the couch. I glanced back to see them lounging. Aether sat in the armchair, while Alpha sat on the sofa. I was slightly surprised at the fact that Rain had his head resting in Alpha's lap but I figured they were a tight group. The female Ghoul, whose name I had discovered earlier, was Cirrus, she was sitting on the top of the couch playing with Alpha’s horns. They seemed drawn to him; I suppose that’s why he was called Alpha after all.

Sister Katie had taken down all of our information and we finally parted ways. Grace and I left the building in a daze. I felt as though I had no recollection of what just happened. My mind was buzzing with the impossibility of the situation. Grace and I had just been asked to babysit the nameless Ghouls while performing with the band Ghost as backup dancers and singers. Fuck, what if I couldn’t sing?

#fire ghoul #dewdrop x reader #dewdrop ghost #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop smut #aether #nameless ghoul #fanfic #smut #ghost bc #ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iv #the band ghost #rain ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #nameless ghouls #ghost sodo

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 2 years ago

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By: Ben Appel

Published: May 14, 2023

The trans question

Medicalising homosexuality

Ben Appel is a writer based in New York. His forthcoming memoir, Cis White Gay: The Making of a Gender Heretic, will be published by Post Hill Press.

How on Earth did we get to the point where so many people are engaged in this shared delusion? A type of magical thinking about the infinite malleability of humans, human biology and the human psyche.

What it resembles is a visceral distaste for the human body and biology, cages constructed for the purpose of imprisoning the helpless gender thetans that are condemned to live trapped within them as punishment for slights against Xenu.

But you are not in your body. You are your body. You can't be "born in the wrong body" because you are the thing your body does.

#Ben Appel #gay conversion therapy #conversion therapy #homophobia #woke homophobia #magical thinking #shared delusion #anti gay #gender ideology #queer theory #trans the gay away #trans away the gay #gender thetans #religion is a mental illness

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cult-of-chaos-comic · 2 years ago

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Prologue: Equal Opportunity

Cover + Recap Page + Pages 1-3

Writing by Ash Rose

Storyboarded by @queenofwerewolves

Lineart, Colors & Shading by Ash Rose

// TRANSCRIPT

COVER ART: Neck-up drawings of Dark Enchantress Cookie, Pomegranate Cookie, and Red Velvet Cookie in decending order, shaded with harsh black shadows. The background is completely black aside from a glowing red ring behind the three characters. There is a dark red border around the outside of the image that has a triangle sectioned off from it on the top right. Within the triangle, the text "#0" is hand written in golden yellow. On the top of the image is the Cookie Run: Cult of Chaos logo, and on the bottom of the image is the chapter title "Equal Opportunity" in text that fades from red to golden yellow, with a red border around it.

RECAP PAGE:

⚠️ BEFORE THE STORY ⚠️

A Day Off's Storytime

On the days that he has off from his usual work as General and Creator of the Cakehound Army, Red Velvet Cookie likes to give his soldiers a touch up in appearances with a trim to their fur.

One day, while he does this on one of his most loyal soldiers; Chiffon, he was asked by the loyal pup to tell a story from his childhood - specifically that of when he and his boss/mother Dark Enchantress Cookie had traveled to the City of Wizards, an event that had resulted in the possession of an apparently magical book that Red Velvet Cookie still has wuth him to this very day.

But just as he was finishing the story, Pomegranate Cookie, his fellow Cookie of Darkness, had appeared at their doorstep with a strange device that she had received from a heist their co-workers had done for Pomegranate Cookie. In a moment of coincidence, Red Velvet Cookie knew what the device was thanks to that very book, identifying as a "Magical Ring Portal".

But now just one question stands...

What opportunities can be found for the Cookies of Darkness with such a device?

WHO'S WHO:

Red Velvet Cookie - Cakehound Army General

Pomegranate Cookie - Dark Priestess

Chiffon - Top Cakehound Army Soldier

???

PAGE 1:

[LOCATION - Red Velvet Cookie's bedroom]

Pomegranate Cookie: [confused, but still trying to keep her composure] Magical… Ring Portal, hmm?

Red Velvet Cookie: [excitedly holding up the ring in his non-cake hand] Why, I do believe it is!

Pomegranate Cookie: [her usual demeanor, but you can just ever so slightly see the curiosity in her eyes] I see… I'm sure it wouldn't be too much to ask of you to tell me what this Magical Ring Portal is and does, hmm?

PAGE 2:

Red Velvet Cookie: [places his cake arm behind his back and takes a sort of bow] Oh no, it absolutely wouldn't be! Especially for you, Pomegranate Cookie.

Pomegrante Cookie: ....

Pomegranate Cookie: [eyes narrow] Cut the flattery, Red Velvet Cookie.

Red Velvet Cookie: [goes back to standing straight, looking a tad embarrassed] Right, right, my bad.

PAGE 3:

Red Velvet Cookie: [displays the magical ring, still in his non-cake arm, with pride] The Magical Ring Portal, a device used to travel to and from the Chaos Dimension, one of the four primary dimensions in our multiverse!

Red Velvet Cookie: [Eyes shift to now glancing at PomC as he theatricaly tosses the ring in the air] With this having been originally in the possession of Gingerbrave and company, it would seem that perhaps they had traveled to that dimension during the adventure your mirror showed you.

Pomegrante Cookie: [nodding] That certainly would be a logical conclusion to make.

Red Velvet Cookie: [non cake hand scratching chin, catching the ring on one of the fingers on his cake hand] But that doesn't dwindle things down much, does it?

UPDATE 2

#cult of chaos #update posting #functionallly described

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bear-boi-5 · 1 year ago

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Magic Man

Introducing, your fun companion, Magic Man! He loves to chat and play games with his friends! Some of his favourite activities are card games, magic tricks and controlling a large cult solely devoted to worshipping him and his demonic presence.

That last part was a joke! :]

Anyways, Magic Man is a character I've had for about 3-4 years now. This is his 4th redesign and was originally created as apart of a simple in class task where you made a mini book. He was just a joke character but has become one of my most fleshed out characters I've created, I love him to bits. He's got pretty deep lore just beyond his TV head exterior.

He's like a mix of Bill Cipher and Chiffon (Sir Fluff on YouTube, go check em out if you don't know em yet). His personality was built around Chiffon's oddly menacing cheerful personality.

#art #traditional art #traditional drawing #traditional illustration #drawing #ocs #oc art #oc art tag #oc artwork #tv head #tv head oc

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phoenix-darkmoon · 1 year ago

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Beyond Eternity Chapter 3

Vasxyra overlooked Bloomridge Park from the balcony of the once sealed off tower of the Crimson Palace, her dark vision piercing the moonless night as easily as if it were daylight. The city had recovered quickly in the months following the battle with The Absolute and life had returned to normal for most people. The graveyard held many fresh new graves from the battle, but otherwise, life went on. She saw a pair of young lovers meeting secretly in the park, spreading a blanket to lie beside one another to look up at the stars. Her breath came out in a visible mist as she sighed. The air was growing colder as the seasons were beginning to shift. All too soon it would be time for the Graverending, the sole sacred day of her mistress. A heavy cloak fell upon her shoulders and Astarion's strong fingers pressed knowingly into tired muscles, his lips pressing into her hair just behind her ear and taking in her scent. “You haven't taken a meal today either. You must eat, love, you're still mortal.”

She leaned back against him wearily. “Hunger eludes me when I am lost in my work, you know that.” She said, closing her eyes and enjoying the ministrations his hands were giving her neck and shoulders. Despite the castle being safe for her to conduct her work, it was a long and arduous task. The first thing they had done upon gaining control of the palace was to establish control over the Szarr family. Then they had set about building a good reputation among the people of Baulder's Gate by helping rebuild the city and helping the poor and common folk. Appearing in the sunlight helped banish any lingering rumors of vampires, as did opening up all the windows and boarded up towers and exits the palace once had sealed. Now that Astarion had the sun back, he relished in its light. She couldn't fault him for it, he was born a high elf, a creature of the light, but for her the dark would always be home. Still, she tolerated the sun because it brought him such joy, even when it weakened her. For her part she traded in her travel robes for much finer fabrics of blackened chiffon veils and shawls, silver rings on each finger and a simple circlet with a small skull in the middle of her forehead that she enchanted with detect thoughts, something much more in line with a priestess of Kiaransalee, or even the cult of the dragon, and as the unofficial mistress of House Szarr in Baulder's Gate no one questioned it. The circlet she wore was her most valuable asset currently and she wore it constantly. It allowed her to peer into the thoughts of those around her effortlessly, giving her insight into their minds. More than once, she had used it on the man standing behind her in an effort to better understand him and during those glimpses she had come to realize that he did not think himself worthy of her. Beneath all his power, all his bluster and boasting, he was still afraid of losing her. That fear is why she would still catch him, every once in a while, staring at her neck with an intensity that would make her shudder; or he would place a kiss on her throat and his lips would linger at her pulse just a second longer than necessary. She wouldn't lie, the potential danger was exhilarating and he hadn't laid with her again since that night in the Elfsong Tavern. It was most vexing, but she didn't want to push him either. Her appetites ran strong and deep despite her exhaustion and his hands on her shoulders weren't doing her any favors.

She looked back down at the young lovers on the blanket. They too had given up their star gazing and instead were embracing one another, their lips locked together under the dark sky thinking no one could see them. Suddenly, phantom hands were on Vasxyra's hips and she gasped in surprise, her spine going stiff. Astarion was instantly alert, releasing her and looking around for any sign of a threat. “What is it?” Despite his vampirism, she could still see better than him in the dark and he thought perhaps she saw something he couldn't. The words were barely out of his mouth when she moaned softly, almost pleadingly, and her knees buckled under her. “Vas!” He lurched forward and wrapped his arm around her waist, catching her from behind, and leaned her against the banister carefully.

Her hand was shaking as she took hold in a death grip and tried to keep herself upright on her equally shaky legs. “I'm....I'm alright.” she said, but her breathing was ragged, her shoulders heaving under the heavy cloak he had draped around her for warmth. Her other hand was clutching the cloak closed as if to shield her, her eyes screwed tightly shut as she panted, trying to regain her composure.

Astarion placed his other hand on the banister beside her to give them both more support as he held her quivering body, the worst case scenarios running through his mind. Was it poison? A spell? She cried out again into the moonless night, her back arching away from him as she held the banister trying to find purchase and this time it was a sound Astarion knew only too well. His hand gripping the wooden banister clenched around it so tightly the wood cracked, his pointed nails digging into the ancient material. Concern instantly dissolved into anger and frustration. “That damned incubus.” He growled into her ear and she shuddered against him.

“Yes, the incubus.” She said, still breathless. The phantom sensations were still there but they were fading away now, becoming bearable. “I think it was so intense this time because I'm so exhausted.” As her composure returned she noticed how tense Astarion was as still as the grave behind her. The way he was holding her essentially had her trapped, and she was sure the ancient wood under his hand wouldn't withstand much more force. Gently, she laid her hand on his. “Astarion, are you alright?” Without answering, he scooped her up into his arms like a bride and they dissolved into mist. They reformed into solid form back in their bedroom and he deposited her onto their bed unceremoniously before crawling onto her and capturing her lips with his. The kiss was rough and commanding, his fangs biting painfully at her lower lip. She opened obediently and tongues met, her hands clawing at his shirt until she was able to pull it free of his trousers and get her fingers underneath.

He slid a knee between her legs and she moaned, tearing her lips from his just to breathe and ground her hips against his knee. “Delicious” he purred at her ear, his hand moving down and back up under the slit of her black robe only to drag his pointed nails down the outside of her thigh as he lifted her leg to drape it gently over his hip. She raked her own fingernails down his back in response, hissing in pleasure at the sensation of his scars under her nails and arched her back into him. “Good girl. You enjoy the things I do to your body.”

Something about the way he said it broke through the fog of pleasure clouding her mind and she opened heavily lidded eyes to take in his face. Despite his expression of pleasure, she could tell by his eyes that he was a realms away, lost somewhere in his own mind. She had sensed this same distance in him their first night together and again when they shared a bed with Halsin and the twins. She didn't need to detect his thoughts to know he was thinking something distracting and probably something she would rather not know. With an exaggerated sigh she reached up and flung the cloak from her shoulders then grabbed at his shirt and dragged it roughly over his head to leave him bare chested. She sat up, pushing gently at his shoulder and placing gentle kisses along his collar bone until she coaxed him off of her and allowed her to straddle him instead. She moaned and ground her hips down on his, feeling him responding to her through the thin fabric of her robes and with a sly smile she pulled one of her black sheer veils from around her waist. “Do you trust me?”

“Mmm, bondage play? I really must start exploring your limits more.” He said through hooded eyes, but his expression never changed.

With a sensual laugh she lay forward and loosely tied the veil over his eyes. Through the sheer fabric he could still see the outline of her body as she took his hands and laid them over her hips. “Now that I have your undivided attention, I don't know where you've gone off to in that head of yours, my love, but come back to me. I know you aren't really here with me in this moment, so come back. Hear my voice.” she whispered and placed a kiss to his pointed ear, she trailed her fingers along his jawline and traced his lips with their tips. “taste me on your tongue.” she said and kissed him softly. She heard him inhale deeply, taking in her scent as they kissed, and she moved her hands back to his wrapping her fingers around his wrist and sliding his hands up the soft fabric of her robes, over the mound of her breast and pressed his palm over her the plane of her chest. “Feel me, Astarion. My skin...my heart....my life.” She entwined her fingers with his and lifted them to her lips, placing a kiss on the back of them then reached forward and with one swift, gentle motion she removed the blindfold from his eyes. The crimson gaze that met hers was clear and almost held an air of awe as she looked down at him, her pearl eyes shining with affection. “Are you back with me?”

Gently, he disengaged his fingers from hers only to reach up and tangle them in the silver strands at the nape of her neck. “You are...the most amazing creature.” He said and pulled her slowly to him for another deep kiss.

Satisfied, she slid from his lap to lie beside him, snuggling into his side with a contended sigh. “That was the first time you've included me in your travels as mist. How far do you think your powers could take us in that form?”

She heard him chuckle beside her. “Thinking of traveling the world now, love?”

“Nothing so extravagant.” She smiled, sleepily. Just recalling your boasts of summoning legions of wolves and shrouding the world in fog for your children.” she said, sweeping her hand in front of her dramatically before letting it drop back to the bed. It was then she recalled a small passage she had read in her studies of the undead and on vampires in particular. It was rare, and could only be accomplished by true vampires like Cazador that were recently well fed but it was possible to conceive children with mortals. Astarion had had actual life returned to him, the first living vampire ascendant. It was probably more than possible in his case. She shifted uncomfortably, her jaw clenching subconsciously.

Astarion sensed the change in her mood immediately. “What's gotten into that sweet head of yours now?” he asked.

She studied the silver rings on her fingers a moment before answering. “Have you ever thought about it? Having children, I mean?”

“Feeling jealous, my love?” he teased.

“Not spawn,” she said, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him, “true children. Blood of your blood and flesh of your flesh?”

He studied her face, trying to determine how to answer. “I don't think it matters considering it isn't exactly a possibility any more, is it?” he asked hesitantly.

For a brief moment she thought of lying to him but stopped herself before she even attempted. She had already told him she would do her best to be honest with him from now on. “It is.” she finally said. He sat up a mix of excitement and shock on his face and she pulled one of her veils up around her shoulders and over her hair, pulling the hem forward to hide her face as she turned away. “I don't blame you for being excited, my love. I'm sure you have many questions and I'll do my best to use my necromantic knowledge to answer them, but I truly am exhausted. Could we speak on this after I rest? As you mentioned earlier, I am still mortal.”

“Oh, yes...yes of course, Darling.” Astarion said and reached for her to coax her back down onto the bed. She lay down, her veils fluttering gently around her, but there was a distance to her now and Astarion was left with a wealth of new questions to ponder as he gently stroked his fingers down her shoulder while her breathing slowed and deepened. Elves didn't truly sleep, they meditated but even so she still needed it. He couldn't remember the last time she had allowed herself to take a full rest and she desperately required one. Even with her darker skin tone he could see the exhausted bruises under her eyes from the long nights she spent pouring over her work and the even longer days she spent with him among the people of Baulder's Gate building an image of nobility. His precious treasure, he didn't deserve all she did for him and still she kept giving, even without being his spawn. The first birdsong had begun when he finally pried himself from her side and made his way down to dining hall. Inside, a young ginger haired girl was already awake and busily lighting candles around the hall. “Yenna, make sure she eats something today. I'll be back this evening.” He commanded as he moved past.

The young girl stopped what she was doing and gave him a small curtsy. “Yes, Lord Astarion.” At her feet, a mangy orange tabby cat arched its back nervously and darted under her skirt. Astarion just smirked at the simple creature and continued on his way.

#baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate fanfiction #drow

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i-llbedammned · 1 year ago

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Medium term songs:

Best Tears — The Happy Fits

Someone New — Hozier

Problems — DeathbyRomy

POLTERGEIST! — CORPSE, OmenXIII

EAT SPIT! (feat. Royal & the Serpent) — Slush Puppy, Royal & the Serpent

Cemetery — Run River North

For My Friends — King Princess

Growing Up — Run River North

Haunt Me — XY&O

Apricots — MAY-A

All These Years — Camila Cabello

Silk Chiffon — MUNA, Phoebe Bridgers

Blame It On The Girls — MIKA

Take Me to War (Live) — The Crane Wives

The Louisville Shuffle (RIP) — Sarah and the Safe Word

Sweet but Psycho — Ava Max

Make of It — half•alive

Love Brand New — Bob Moses

cult leader — KiNG MALA

Here's to Us — Halestorm

Knife Under My Pillow — Maggie Lindemann

Daisy — Rain Paris

Escape From The City ...for City Escape — Ted Poley, Tony Harnell

New — No Doubt

Shine — Mr. Big

To My Enemies — Saint Motel

Side Effects — Stray Kids

Put Your Records On — Corinne Bailey Rae

One — U2

Voices Carry — 'Til Tuesday

SHUM — Go_A

Over — A Perfect Circle

Scattered — Green Day

Venus in Gemini — DEZI

Bathwater — No Doubt

Supernatural — Ken Ashcorp

If I Keep Drifting — Welles

Come Out Ye Black & Tans — The Wolfe Tones

MISS ME? — Kordhell, Scarlxrd

Kingdom Come — Missouri Surf Club

Blame it On Me — Bonnie Raitt

Bad Guy — The Cog is Dead

Straight to Hell — Great Big Sea

I Wanna Be Yours — Arctic Monkeys

Dear Fellow Traveller — Sea Wolf

Eat Your Young — Hozier

Bloody Mary — Lady Gaga

Blush — Dessa

Fight to Keep — Run River North

Leaving Of Liverpool — The High Kings

go here and let me know what your short term top artists from spotify (within the last 4 weeks) are in the tags!

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theorist-influencer-untitled · 9 days ago

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12.29.24 Sunday--Happy Blessed Sunday... Prayer for nana...

1:02 am

Still,have windblow...

I'm on "True Blood" again these are more of Cult of INC or Church of Christ,they are into SEX that's why it is called CULT... Bunches of crazy people like my old fakers friends and exes and with some relatives??? What's wrong if I was in-love compared to their fucking cult!

I can't get a bf that I want... I feel intimidated now... I wanna get my bf that I want and gain new friends somewhere...

I hate it if my cousin-white and Daniel Marsh will be entangle on Manalo's CULT, I was a Church Of Christ but I'm no longer interested on any entanglement with them...

The introduction of "True Blood" it shows there the baptism of their members, the same way on how Church Of Christ baptize their members...

6:55 am

Still,have windblow...

Waiting for 7 am prayer vow for nana...

7:24 am

Still,have windblow...

This will be the saddest if ever my nana can't go back to her normal existence... Knowing or sensing that some relatives, some old fakers friends? and some mutually distant chinese friends and most specially some fakers Church Of Christ members and some fakers TV artist who are members of this cult will just plan to massacre us here or have the power to do the act of switching of spirit and soul but will plan a back-stab that is painful on me!

On other angle, in a lil while will be 2025! I'm thinking of job and money...I'm praying for a blessing as well...

Still,hating my cousin-white on Dubious coz he can't save me and probably he already took an another ice cream and hating them forever and if ever they have entanglement on other people here and most specially on our 2nd degree cousin's... I really feel jealous on that part!

Yeah! How can Daniel be my Hero, Daniel Marsh?Where can I get a bf to lift me up, in times like this...

Where can I get a bf??? Someone cute and understanding and mature and supportive...

Still, I hate Manalo's their fakers chiffon cake organizers that only them can be happy in this world!!!

For the fake healers be guilty not religious! Pray and have a change of heart with some old fakers friends and some relatives and some family and some TV Artist.

7:45 am

Still,have windblow...

Uncle DD the fakers??? and Harold are cleaning outside... New plan for something, I hope it is something good...

Probably, Mitch was part of that cult and mysteries...

9:38 am

Still,have windblow...

Where is my brown fur pouch? Is that intentional? I have no peace of mind here in a way... Can someone return it with money???

10:02 am

Still,have windblow...

My left thumb is aching,seriously... I ordered a splint or thumb therapy support in Lazadah... I knew it that I need a thumb support splint coz the muscles on my left thumb are strained and some lil bones...

Thank God in a way that my biological father gave me a charity but I still need more fundings...

10:28 am

Still,have windblow...

Another fakers Uncle Jun... Texted me to go there tomorrow early morning... I don't have enough or extra fundings...I know he can access this journal or perhaps Ate Cha the plastics told him about today that I just bought a coffee...

Can an arab man be here???

youtube

12:32 noon

Still,have windblow...

Thanks,Kuting...

Brought by my biological mother.... She said given by Kuting... I remember my leche flan recipes... Grrr... My notebook was stolen...

12:50 noon

Still,have windblow...

Thanks Ivan for the sinigang...

For dinnerish later...

1:11 pm

Still,have windblow...

Hmm...Thanks, Kuting I hope there is no double meaning a "left over"....

If it is about bf I'm not gonna take a left over food of my biological sister's if the agenda is simply to step on me... A left-over bf... No way!

1:55 pm

Still,have windblow...

I suddenly feel paranoid I just ate 1/4 of leche flan and 2 tablespoon of macaroni and I licked the brown rice or I forgot that brown rice.Oh! BIKO!

The windblow, put a paranoia on me... I suddenly feel bloated but I'm drinking coffee now...

I'm burping a lot coz of a sudden anxiety given by the windblow...

I hope my circle can protect my soul and spirit... I suddenly feel fat and bloated.... I feel that the liquid inside my stomach is moving but I usually had have this kind of thing, sometimes I feel bloated and I burped a lot coz I had have GERD.

2:29 pm

Still,have windblow...

Still,thinking of money and job....Whew! What I wanted for New Year! I wish for a supportive and handsome bf and new circle of friends who can lift me up and be genuine thru good and bad times...

I want a spinach pizza, egg pie,pesto pasta or red meatballs spaghetti... I love the tempura that Chian and Uno gave me those are something positive... What else? I wanna a "tiramisu"....

I feel self-pity if I don't have my own job,my life and my own bf....

3:03 pm

Still,have windblow...

Suddenly, I wanna have donuts...I wanna travel and buy Starbucks everyday? Collect tumblers... Whew! My self-pity...

I wanna memorize and learn "tarot card" but I don't have new friends and budget... Why? Coz my heart is pure...

I know my tarot shuffle will come out correctly and will be real in life...

3:40 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel jealous that I don't know why... I feel jealous if Mitch got so many followers and new friends coz probably I have no one now even a bf that I want...

I do feel ugly and fat and I feel left out...

9:03 pm

Still,have windblow...

Done,eating dinnerish and done,doing the prayer vow with Crysette....

Crysette is the daughter of Aunt Karen, she is opening her heart to me awhile ago... She is having anxiety in life coz of our situation... Her bf was here awhile ago that Aunt Karen hated her bf. That is one of her anxieties...

I can't believe that she is already 20 years old this year... I thought she is only 17 but she said she is 20 already. She miss our nana coz she always tell her stories about her bf on our nana....Crysette met her bf in Bulacan, when the time that she went away from home, she stayed with her biological father in Bulacan...

She said she will stop going to school this next semester coz Aunt Karen told her that she will stop going to school if that's her bf coz Aunt Karen wanted other man for her....Aunt Karen wanted someone wealthy for Crysette...

She asked me if I'm ohkay here, I said yeah! But I'm thinking of money....If I have a job and money I will be happy or bf that I want with stability or wealth, if I want to buy Starbucks then I can, if I want to go somewhere there will be a car for me to drive on... Those are still my self-pity...

I told her I need money these days. Crysette told me if I'm happy here alone or if I'm ohkay, I said yeah! I'm not alone,John is here...In a way coz I have no choice like if I wanna go somewhere, I don't have a car on my own, if I wanna do some vanities I don't have any budgets these days... Those are frustrations... I love Netflix but I need some progress... Am I homebody? I have no choice these days but to stay in the house coz I don't have enough fundings... I miss hanging out in Starbucks with friends and I wanna meet new positive friends who love coffee and dogs...

So, when you are in a coffee shop,you are still considered as homebody....It is about coffee,talking, tables, pastries or cookies. It is like you are in your living room...

I wanna travel,vanities and dog show!

10:14 pm

Still,have windblow...

It is raining from the past days....I love the rain, it is not always negative but just a flat phase and feeling of sentimental or calm... It is raining now... Or a new beginning of something positive...

youtube

10:54 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel bitterish...I wanna leave this hometown but not until there is changes and still nana is in the hospital... I want her to be fully recovered...

I wanna get a bf who can assist me on money, someone mutual or willing... I feel bad why I can't get a bf? I feel bad...

Again, I can't go back to my X-Ryan will not face him now9 just for saying hi, coz I have no party and he will not give anything to me now... I'm masturbating feeling empty but a relief but seeing faces like on my cousin-white and Daniel Marsh+... I also want an arabic faces / arab man face!

11:45 am

Still,have windblow...

youtube

Rooting my hair.... A bit self-pity but still fixing on my own... Can't go to Salon...

Waiting for 30 minutes...

11:58 pm

Still,have windblow...

For Happy New Year just rooting my hair... 15 minutes to go...

youtube

#Youtube #w

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