#you can feast dance and fuck everyday as if it was the last day of your life

[francis-writes]

I have nothing against this scenario, but why almost every fic is like "you are forced to marry Ramsay/you are a servant who hates him/for any reason you sleep with despite the fact that you deeply hate and fear him"?

Where are my headcanons and scenarios for Ramsay with s/o who is unhinged as well. Who loves to go apeshit with him and indulge in every whim. Where is my Bonnie and Clyde couple? That s/o doesn't even have to be as violent as him, it's enough that they actually love him and enjoy his presence.

[alri-xo]

Quarantine: Breakfast (ThorxReader)

A/N: Hi! I'm back back back back again with a reboot on this fanfic which involves morning with Thor... If you wanna know why I had to change this up, it's becos the first one didn't save when I tweaked it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this one and please. Don't get out dressed up like a bush to get away from home quarantine... Stay safe my dudes...

Pairing: Thor Odinson (Thor) x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Normal POV

Thor woke up to the sunlight kissing areas of his messy bedroom. Pillows on the floor, dirtied garments, the scent of the both of you filling his room. His eyes narrowed as the golden rays of morning blinded him a little.

He closed his eyes again. Feeling the other side of the bed. It is warm but, empty. His love somewhere around the tower already.

He was puzzled, knowing you very well, you would never leave him hanging in the morning. Especially if it's your 3rd year anniversary of being a couple. Also you just got freaky the night before. Did he do something wrong? A rush mission during quarantine?

He laid down on his back. Staring at the ceiling, relishing the night before. You, under him, a moaning mess under his touch... Your lips shining in the glow of the moonlight that shifted in his room as you savored the taste of his love. He loved it and he wanted more. He wanted cuddles and kisses with you, both of you not getting up until 1:00 PM.

However, you were not there. To kiss each of his eyes, his nose, cheeks, forehead and lips. Not there to say good morning. Not there to

He rubbed the back of his neck as he dressed up reluctantly. Wanting to stay naked longer as he waited for you, where ever you were. He brushed his teeth, and washed the sleep off his face and smiled to the mirror. Internally frowning because he couldn't kiss his love "Good morning."

He felt his morning routine crumbling as he picked up the pillows on the floor. Lipstick stains on them, he set them on the bed.

He came out of his room, wearing a tshirt that you doodled all over as a prank when you were new to the Avengers. He kept it, thinking it was one of the stupidest but cutest things ever.

The smell of breakfast filled his nose. The scent of sausages, bacon, eggs and pancakes luring him to the kitchen. He went down to go to the scent's epicenter was, his mouth watering at the thought of seeing a grand breakfast feast on the table.

He made his way, just peeping the kitchen, he saw you singing One Direction songs blasting from the speaker and dancing around as you flipped the last pancake watching it rise a little. You were in one of his hoodies that you often stole. Barefoot, pretending to play the drums.

"S'been three years and you still act like how we first met..." He said, making you jump and look at him. Your face flushed, caught in the act of making him a big anniversary breakfast that was supposed to be served in bed. He smirked at how vulnerable your face looked.

"Get! OOOOOUT!! SHOOO" you said pushing him back to go to his room and just wait there. You felt sweat forming on your forehead because your plan for surprise is ruined... "You are not welcome heeeeere...." you whined.

"You own the tower then?" He asked you, arms crossing on his chest, raising his eyebrow.

"No... but I just want you to go to your room and just wait... I'm making something..." you whined again. He just shrugged and leaned against the nearest wall, watching you.

You groaned, balling your fists in frustration. He's being stubborn and the supposed to be beautiful morning went downhill pretty quickly.

You plated the breakfast as if it was to be served at a hotel. Poured the orange juice over ice with a segment on the brim. You added a small knob of butter and a small jug of syrup, setting it beside the stack of pancakes you made for him, whipped cream in can.

You placed all the food on the tray, ignoring him. You marched back to his room. He followed you, knowing that he just ruined your surprise for him.

You set down the tray on the foot of the bed as you gesture him to come in, not saying a word. You were pissed off even if he is the love of your life.

He came in, trying to not look at you. He knows you're angry and being cocky at the moment is not going to fix it. He sat down as he looked at the food in front of him. A note written on a ripped piece of notebook paper caught his eye.

Dear Thor,

Happy 3rd anniversary! Just wanna let you know thanks for existing and being in my life... Sorry for all the shitty things I have done to you in the past... I hope you like what I whipped up for you, baby... I love you!

- y/n/n ❤

Thor made a lovestruck smile as he finished reading the little note. You were still pretty angry though, that's for sure. One of the days the both of you should be happy took a wrong turn because of him being stubborn and trying to mess with your patience.

He stood up and wrapped his large arms around you. But there you were, like a rag doll, unresponsive to his gesture of apology.

"Thank you, darling... and I'm sorry for ruining your surprise... I love you... Surprise or no surprise, you're still my lady..." he says planting a kiss on the top of your head.

You managed to pull a smile on your face, as you caressed his arms with your small hands, still wrapped around you like a blanket.

"The best surprised I ever recieved was me meeting you. Who knew I would be lucky enough to even deserve you? Everyday, I'm still in shock and awe that you're mine... You are the best surprise that was given to me by love itself." He said, as you felt small tears dampen your cheek, guilt washing over you like a stream for acting like an asshole towards the man that loves you beyond himself.

He felt you shudder as you cried happy tears and he held you closer, sitting the both of you down.

"I love you, Thor..." you manage to choke up smiling, as he wiped your tears away... "I'm sorry for being a total boob towards you... I just..."

"I will always love you, y/n... " he says kissing you tenderly as your hands intertwined, forgetting that the food is getting cold, "It's okay... I still love you anyway..."

Neither of you cared. All you ever needed was this moment. A moment with the one you love most, 3 years and counting.

A/N: I hope you like this fic... it took me a while to make it cos I wanted it to be song inspired. But I fucked up miserably. Hehehe

-Alri

[nightlovechild]

Table Manners - Deceit’s Week. (Day 5: Moceit)

Warnings: Arguing, male character using feminine terms & feminine nicknames, BDSM Themes, Manhandling, Food (involved in play), Anal fingering, Bondage, CBT, Masturbation, Light knife play, Swinger lifestyle mentioned briefly, Alcohol, Object insertion (could be not safe in real life), anal penetration, ruined orgasm. 

Summary: When Dimitri forgets to act like a proper hostess, Patton turns him into a four course punishment instead. (Human AU!)

Notes: This story was written before the release of Deceit’s real name. Deceit's name is Dimitri. 

Hearing the door close, Dimitri prepared himself for a H-E- double hockey sticks of an argument. Patton's leather shoes sounded off of the hallway tile as he stepped quickly into the dining room.

"Dimitri Alexander Sanders, I would like to say that was impressive. But that would be an understatement. The absolute extent you will go to… and risking my job like that!" Patton scolded.

"Your Boss is scum. He was pressuring that girl into his charade, just like he pressures you into staying in your tiny cubicle everyday. I was fucking sick of it. Plus you know My motto: If you are going to lie, do it with style and grace. That floundering fool had neither; so he got what he deserved!" Dimitri said with venom. Setting the dirty dishes down and turning with a fiery flare of his long silk skirt. The high split sliding up to show off his bare leg down to his fuck me pumps.

Patton was looming in the doorway, loosening his tie and biting his bottom lip at the lustful sight. He wanted to stay mad at Dee's risky behavior at the dinner party. But the growing tent in his pants was detracting from his intimidating stance. What was a good man to do with such a hot, tempting, dirty...

Dimitri rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well, could we get the speech about morals and being a good hostess under way? Let me see if I can get you going…Something, something...lying is wrong, but being disrespectful is worse. That in reality nice guys come...in first." Dimitri drew out his words with devious purpose. While letting his polished nails tap against his hips in a striking pose.

"No. I think this lesson will need to be more physical." Patton shook his head in disbelief as Dee made a challenging gesture by waving his hand.

"Bring it on."

Within seconds Patton had Dimitri face down, ass up in the air. Forced into spreading his legs to gain some type of balance at the sharp angle of laying against the tabletop. The struggle was always over quickly in the face of Patton's true strength.

He let Dee enjoy the pinned sensation by letting him struggle and wiggle. Because Dee was never able to get away when Patton’s hand was in the middle of his back. Patton's free hand flipped up his skirt. Making the beauty fight not to whine out loud as his ass cheek was cupped and squeezed. The grip making his panties pull tight against his sensitive cock.

"Come on, Pat. I know you want to spank me. Do it. Smack my ass. Punish me. I outed your boss with one phrase and a Facebook photo. The Mistress almost cried." Dimitri circled his hips, grinding against the tabletop. "I'm getting hard thinking about all the fabrications he is going to have to weave to fix what I picked apart in seconds. You have to punish me, please?"

"Believe me, beauty. You're going to get it again and again. Once here on the table, once in the limo, and once again in my new corner office." Patton smirked as he flipped Dimitri over.

Dee's high pitched squeal and astonished face saying it all.

"We did it? You're a partner now?" Pulling Patton in for a kiss.

"Yeah, Mr. Axer and I had a talk. Finished straightening him out. Told him to get his house in order before it ruined the business. Then he said if I could handle you all these years and remain such a saint being a partner should be easy." Patton said as he ground his throbbing bulge against Dee panties. Sealing their lips together in love and excitement.

Dimitri blindly grabbed behind himself as the kiss grew more heated. His rings clicking against the long glass vial as he gripped the extra virgin olive oil. Thrusting the bottle against Patton’s chest.

"Use it to fuck me, right now, or eat me up like your appetizer. God, just fucking need you. My big business man. My money maker." Dimitri demanded with a moan. Rolling his hips to enjoy the friction of his lace panties against Patton's hard pressed slacks..

"Awe, my dirty girl. So cute when he wants this breadwinner cock, huh?" Patton purred as he stripped his husband bare. The dress going over one shoulder and the panties going over the other.

Dee's cock slapped against his own abs from being so turned on. Patton's words were always his undoing. Losing patience, Dee leaned back pouring the olive oil all over his own cock and thighs. The slippery oil running down his balls then coating the cleft of his ass cheeks. Setting the bottle down, Dee hooked his hands behind his knees to spread himself even wider as Patton watched, entranced.

"Now don’t you look like a feast? But, pretty girl, you know this isn’t the position for taking a punishment. This looks more like you’re begging for a reward.” Patton stepped close, his finger tips running around Dimitri's rim.

"Punish later, fill me up now. I already set the mood to be stuffed. So jump to it." Dee mouthed off with a mischievous smirk.

Patton shook his head and slowly worked his fingers deep into Dee’s body. Getting his dirty girl worked up into a moaning mess in a matter of moments then dead stopped and pulled out.

“You are a slick one. I'll give you that.” Patton said as he wiped his hands clean on a discarded napkin.

Dimitri groaned loudly at the pun. Starting to sit up, only to be held in place.

“You always say the rule in making the deepest longest lasting impact is to set the mood, right? Right. So, how about setting the mood for your punishment? Your four course punishment." Patton growled. Gripping Dimitri's waist and pushing him into the middle of the table.

‘Oh god, yes. Let’s see how creative his self righteous fury gets us this time.’ Dimitri thought to himself as Patton stalked around him.

Patton began gathering things up while removing other items to give Dimitri room to relax back onto his elbows, legs spreading to offer a succulent view.

“What are your conditions for setting the perfect dining mood?” Patton asked as he laid out the items.

“A wonderful hostess knows the power of a glorious centerpiece, fine china serving up delicious food, glasses of high priced drinks and good guests.”

“Well, since you don't make for even a nice hostess, let's see this if this suits you better.” Patton plucked the brightly colored fresh flowers from their vase, “Are you a glorious centerpiece?”

Soft flower petals danced a path down Dee’s body. Water droplets, from the stems, fell across his skin as Patton worked the flowers over his stomach and down between his thighs. Flipping the flowers over Patton picked up the silk ribbon he had in his newly acquired pile of goodies.

Dimitri watched as his rock hard cock was bound to the bouquet. Grunting when the bow tightly cinched around his balls. Patton continued to tease and stroke the silk ribbon making Dimitri add his own dew to the flowers.

“Knees closed. Legs flat.” Patton ordered. Unzipping his pants to easily reach in and stroke his own aching need before moving to Dee’s other side.

Dimitri bit his lower lip as his gaze shifted from his masturbating lover to the flowers that were standing straight up due to the special position. Rolling his hips as Patton continued to survey his handwork. His normally calm face is suddenly full of speculation. Buttoning up his pants again, regaining his composure. The seconds dragging on until Dee couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Well? Am I glorious, my love?” Dimitri asked as he ran his hands over the length of his body.

“Yes, the best centerpiece I’ve ever seen, My little China doll. But your fine body makes me hunger for more. Let's see if you could make a better plate with delicious food all over you?" Patton said as he began placing tiny bite sized treats on Dimitri’s body.

The placement of the last snack at the base of his neck forced Dee to lean his head back keeping the treat in place. But it also made Dee blind to Patton’s actions since he couldn’t move his head. Dee let out a shocked breath as cold metal points slid over his exposed nipples while an ice cold flat metal followed.

Patton chuckled as he placed a fork, with its tines pointed down, on Dee’s hard nipple and a clean butter knife, flat side down, on his other nipple. Picking up a spoon, Patton smirked as he watched the body underneath him shake with desire.

"Stop trembling, my plate. You're making the flowers shake." Patton smirked.

He fought to lay still as his ravenous husband tucked into the first treat at his naval. Slowly, Dimitri took in the sounds of lip licking and humming about how good each sweet tasted. Dee growled at the familiarity of the sounds. Flashes of Patton sucking him or their swinger friends off made him want to break the punishment and force his husband…

Then his mind blanked out as Pat picked up the fork and knife. Slowly dragging the utensils over his skin, tracing hearts and stars all around the last two delicate sweets. Pushing the silverware in, making pink marks show as Dee moaned and panted.

"Hubby, don't play with your food. It's not good manners." Dimitri scolded with a breathless voice.

“Of course my darling.” Patton answered sweetly. Tossing the silverware over his shoulder, leaning down, and eating the treats off of Dimitri’s bare flesh. Patton's hot lips and sharp teeth gently nipping his skin. Dimitri was gasping, leaking onto the flowers as he could feel the hickeys blooming under his skin as Patton pulled back.

"Your sounds are making me thirsty, dirty girl. Are you thirsty? Do you want champagne or a tall clean glass of water?" Patton paused, brushing the stray locks from Dee’s face.

Dimitri smiled at the check in, “water” being their code word for being done. Snaking his hand out to Pat’s, Dee gave him reassuring squeeze.

"Champagne sounds lovely. What g-glasss.." Dimitri stuttered then hissed as the ice cold liquid hit his stomach.

Patton took the champagne like a body shot. Once, twice, by the third time Dmitri was shaking so bad it was making the bubbly liquid spill.

"Be a good cup now. Let me drink you down." Patton scolded as he poured the alcohol down the flowers so it would flow over Dmitri's cock. Sucking, slurping, and licking as his dirty girl got closer to the edge. Patton pulled back when the champagne’s taste became salty.

“F-Fuck don’t.. N-no don’t stop.” Dee begged and squirmed. The flowers flicking the alcohol this way and that with his desperation.

“Are you my good girl?” Patton whispered.

In Dee’s current state he didn’t hear. So, Patton bent down next to his ear. “Are you my good girl? My beautiful Medusa? My awful wonderful hostess?”

“Yes! God, Patton, need you. Feel so empty. Please!” Dimitri whimpered, spreading his legs even more.

“How about I give you a small goody to curb your gnawing hunger?” Patton reached into his pile of items gripping a clean soup ladle with a very phallic shaped handle.

“Yes! Give it to me. Want it! F-fffuck.” Dimitri whined as Patton kissed his forehead while sliding a thick long cold shaft into his oil slicked hole.

“This is how you make our guests feel when you question and charm them to your wiles. So invaded and so deliciously full…,” Patton fucked the smooth ladle handle faster into Dimitri’s body, “of your devious motives.”

Dee couldn’t answer but take everything Patton was giving. Patton climbed up on the table, unzipped his pants, freeing his hard cock from it’s clothed prison.

“Bet you want me to reward you? Take this long cold metal shaft out of you and put my warm loving thick cock in your ass don’t you?” Patton started fucking the ladle into his whimpering lover even faster.

Dimitri nodded as his cock jerked and leaked on the flowers and ribbon. When he was right at the edge, his whimpers turning into groans, Patton undid the ribbon around Dee’s cock, all pressure was gone. Then the ladle pressed against his prostate on the out stroke. Dee keened as his orgasm tore through him with nothing touching him. No sexual gratification, just a ruined orgasm. Opening his eyes, blinking up with a teary look Patton was stroking himself, fast and firm.

“Oh god baby. Took your punishment so well. Came all over yourself just for me..” Patton’s words were lost to moans as he came. Marking Dee’s stomach and chest as he stroked himself through his orgasm. Fully enjoying himself as his husband watched from below.

"Water, Pat, water, please." Dee held up his shaky arms.

Patton switched completely, tucking himself away. He easily picked up his love, cuddling Dee close as he sat down in the head chair of the table. Pouring real water, the ice clinking into the glass then held it up to Dimitri's lips. Taking a deep drink then hiding his face in Patton's neck.

"What's your color sweetness?" Patton tried to keep his voice level to combat the fear they had gone too far this time.

"I'm green. Just feel tiny and.. and…"

"Vulnerable?"

"Yeah. No guards, no lies. Want this with you."

"But you're okay?" Patton gently guided Dee to look at him.

"Yes, Patty." Dimitri smiled demurely then he hid his face again.

"I think a dip in the hot tub then a massage sounds like a good start to our aftercare what do you think?" Patton asked as he stood up, letting Dee wrap his arms and legs around Patton as he walked them out onto the patio.

The setting sun and hot water always grounded Dimitri while the bird's fading songs and bubbles grounded Patton.

"I can't wait for the next dinner party." Patton sighed happily.

"I can't wait for the next after party romp about my horrible table manners." Dimitri giggled as Patton growled.

[darrowsrising]

HowlerPod interview with Pierce Brown:

Howler Rule No. 3: Never make fun of someone who shat their suit. 

A couple he married is still together and the Seattle leg tour is done in a church, so Pierce Brown thinks the Church of Darrow might really happen (sign me the fuck up, I’m worshipping Reaper since ‘I would have lived in peace, but my enemies brought me war.’)

He could never blame his dog, Eo, for anything. His rug can smell of piss and he would blame himself.

He wrote all the povs independently and then pieced them together.

He cosiders DarkAge the best book in the series and if you disagree, that’s fine, fuck you!

He had to write four chapters in three day, roughly 70 pages, because he realised he had gaps and he pulled all-nighters to meet the deadline. He said it the deadline was hard not to respect, because you can’t push a book 3 times, unless you are George R. R. Martin. Btw, GRRM’s Dance of Dragons is what got him to write: he pre-ordered the book three times and didn’t know, so he ended up with 3 copies plus the one he bought from the bookstore.

He said Mustang is the best (so, haters can eat their hearts out for all I care) and he loves her dialogue with Holiday, she’s just so sharp (he says he is bragging here, but he ain’t wrong). Creating her voice was interesting to him, as until now we see her as a projection of Darrow. The hesitation and difficulty he had about doing her pov was ‘can I do her justice?’, because she is a cypher, an enigma, she’s never been explained. 

His best friend says he doesn’t trust her, says ‘she shady, man’ and that he suspected her that she was going to kill Darrow and take over the Society and didn’t trust her until Morning Star ended. Pierce was like’I guess she didn’t...wasn’t up to anything...’.

To Pierce there are three ways to seeing Mustang: 

1 .expectations;

2. Darrow’s perspective;

3. how she sees herself; which isn’t an actual representation of herself, because that’s how we are, we don’t really see ourselves, we are biased, we’re insecure, we’re trapped in this echo-chamber of self-doubt. 

She, on the other hand, is a living, breathing character who has these self-doubts, but she’s a hottie (it was a thing Erin commented about her, that she’s a hottie, but the smartest person in the room and Pierce said she’s a hottie, but not condescending at the same time) and has all this wisdom, but is well aware of her motality and the things her father thought her. Which is sometimes contradictory as Nero often disobeyed his own rules.

For Mustang’s pov, he took away Darrow’s perspective and minded only her reflection of herself as well as what others think of her and juggled both. She is mindful of who she is and what people think about her which was interesting, because Darrow doesn’t give a fuck about what people say about him. And that’s part of the problem, but also part of who he really is.

People want to blame Darrow for shit, but Golds...there can be many people in a room, but when Darrow enters, everybody takes a step back. (Proud Howler right here!)

Apollonius au Valii-Rath, the Minotaur of Motherfucking Mars. (Yes, he said that!)

No, he has no idea how he created him. Apollonius never gets his dialogue edited. His grandiloquence is part of the show and just so fun to write. He gets to mess with a bad version of a Paradise Lost dialogue, from sentence structure to getting Apple to refer to himself in first, second and third person. The guy is a madman, but also so dangerous, because he has that mania behind his eyes. He’s also the guy that speaks three inches from your nose: ‘Wow,why are you so close?’ and Apple is like ‘Do you fear intimacy?’ (he said it in a cool af voice, just go listen to the podcast Pixies, I’m doing this for posterity). Pierce Brown’s favourite scenes include Apollonius at the feast table. He sometimes listens to violin concertos when he writes him. Someone asked him if he’s also naked while writing and listening and he says ‘how else do you think I write?’. The FedEx guy knows by now when he writes an Apollonius chpater. He can write Apollonius faster than most his characters because he is ridiculous and insane and doesn’t have to second guess himself. Apple just want to be the apex hunter of his world, the apex killer. He wants his legend to live on and his vendettas are good, but he’s never scheming, his motives are out there, while everyone else is scheming.

When it comes to death of the characters, he’s trying to strip away plot-armour. He also thinks it’s funny every now and then. But honestly he tries to make the world scarier, making the reader terrified. He also tries to balance it, not make it like No Country for Old Men hardcore and non-romantic endings. 

1. He loves Darrow, he wants to keep him alive

2. He wants to see him mince shite. (at least that’s what I heard, deal with it)

3. He wants to deal with his guilt complex.

4. He needs his story to go on

So Darrow has a bit of a plot armor, but the rest don’t, at least not to the same degree. Some survive really bad stuff, but that’s because this story is one that doesn’t take itself too seriously, he hopes.

He’s like ‘Go away!’ at people who talk about Darrow’s plot armor.( Someone needs to cut that part and send it to me as a gift for whatever occassion you can imagine. Because SAME!!!) Because he compensates by ptting him through hell (that the smmary of it, just go listen to the episode, you’ll love it)

MY QUESTION GOT ASKED FIRST!!! VALIDATION!!!

Howler Questions:

How do you rank Darrow in a top 50 razor fighters of all time?

He said this one is hard, but as his characters get better, this pops up a lot. It gets to a point where these guys can either get lucky or they might slip, make a risky move or mess up and lose. If they try something their master said not to do they can either lose or get lucky.

Darrow could lose to Lorn in his prime, but otherwise he might get him. Especially in 0 gravity, as Darrow is better in 0 gravity. Sevro is probably the best in 0 gravity as he could invert gravity, but there are characters in DA that can also do that. 

There was a laziness to a degree, a formality to dueling, because they were in a  period of peace. This new generation was raised in war, so now everyone is better, everyone knows their stuff. Everyone knows Darrow knows the Willow Way and because of that everyone practices fighting the curved blade. DArrow has to change up his razror style, he himself has to change, because his enemies expect his stuff now.

Right now, if Iron Gold!Darrow or Dark Age!Darrow would fight Aja (Morning Star), they’d probably kill each other. Aja was 60 or 50 in Morning Star, she just looks younger, because Golds. Octavia is over 110 and Lorn is pretty well over that age too.

Another question (not by me): What advice woul you give your teenage self?

Don’t be afraid to be weird.

Last Howler question: did you ever wrote charcters after people you don;t like and did you kill them?

No, because he writes books that go out of this world. He thinks there are better worlds out there than this one, even if they are terrible. And he thinks that the best way to deal with his enemies is to forget them.

Random thing that I found interesting:

If there was an olympics for everyday things, he’d get a medal at:

Cooking. He cooks anything italian, provecial french cuisine, he knows Julia Child books cover to cover...

Also at spoiling his dog.

His favourite Pixar movie was Up and he cried only when the dog slipped into the house and said ‘because I love you’. Otherwise he doesn’t cry at Pixar movies.

He cried do at Legend of the Fall when Brad Pitt comes home to find out his dad had a stroke.

He assumed he was the ArchPrimus of the whole series.

He’s into the book Rubicon by Tom Holland and The Boys on Amazon Prime.

He asked HowlerPod what are they into these days and Ben said The Boys too, but Erin said Dark Age. The she asked if that is alright or too on the eye, but Pierce said ‘Ben why didn’t you said that. Traitors comes from the front.’ But Erin admitted she was buttering him up in order to get some recipes from him.

Great interview! Also, my 2 seconds of fame! Thank you HowlerPod for this amazing interview!

Hail Howler 1!

Here’s a link: https://www.howlerpod.com/

[gods-rising]

May Post - Mothers’ Day

How would the cast of Gods’ Rising celebrate their mothers - or just their family in general - on Mothers’ Day? Mothers’ Day has happened already in England however that month was dedicated to Birthdays. Sorry for how late this is, life got busy at the wrong time.

Main protagonists first, then minor protagonists, then main antagonists, then minor antagonists. Background characters not included.

Jakob Sullivan - Jakob doesn’t remember his mother or if he even actually had one. But if he did have a mother, he’d buy pretty flowers, a nice card (and write a personal message, maybe thanking her for specific details, maybe nodding toward an inside joke) and cook her a nice breakfast in bed. Even if it turns out he didn’t, or doesn’t, have a good relationship with his mother, he’d try his best to make her feel loved that day.

Zlatko Jones - Zlatko celebrates Mothers’ Day by bringing his mother breakfast in bed and treating her and his little brother to a three person feast with a homemade dessert and ice cream. He’d get his brother a present and card to give to their mother, and get a smaller present and card for himself as well as a big card from the both of them. It’s her day, he reminds himself, and it’s up to him to make her feel special, everyday.

Charlie Parker - Charlie is sans a mother figure, so she takes it as another day to celebrate her father, whom she loves dearly. She’ll throw him a present, probably a corny mug, and give him a Mothers’ Day card and write a joke in it. She likes hearing his laughter; even if the joke is terrible, he’ll chuckle over a hot mug of coffee, which she’ll make (and maybe deliberately fuck up), and she’ll know that she made his day a bit better.

Alex Wilson - Alex, before everything fell apart, would rarely help his siblings get gifts for their mother, having to be urged by either his father, uncles or grandparents to just wish her a good day. Sometimes he’d give her the presents that had been bought by someone else and wouldn’t resist too much to be in the pictures they took each year with her. Looking back in time, he realises, he wishes he’d been persuaded more often.

Kenna Collier -  Kenna wants to stay as far from her mother as she can after the divorce - her mum’s... bizarre nature often ruins her daughter’s plans and mood, and there’s certainly a disconnect between the pair. The moment the opportunity arises to avoid spending Mother’s Day with, well, her mother, she’ll take it without hesitation. She’s disinterested in spending time with her mother. Her mother knows nothing about her.

Klara Lullay - Klara never really celebrated Mother’s Day. Without a mother and a father and grandfather she didn’t see worth celebrating, there was never any need. She’d celebrate herself, because she was the only one who was worth it, in her perspective. When not being hassled or tutored by her grandfather, she’d make herself a cup of tea (despite not being fond of it, she saw it as a celebratory drink) and make some food.

Eban Jones - Eban really wants to make his mother feel special but his anxiety gets in the way of him buying things (it’s hard to buy things when you can barely talk to the cashier). So he finds himself still having to get Zlatko to buy stuff for him. He does help his brother in the kitchen though when making the Mother’s Day meal - but whether that’s for better or for worse, no one is really sure. It’s a hit or miss most years.

Grace Smith - Grace was the closest with her mother and would often draw things for her, get her father to make a breakfast for her to bring to her mother in bed and would go outside and pick flowers from the neighbour’s garden for her. But now, her mother is gone, so she takes the time to appreciate her father and, since she can’t ask him to cook for her, she either gets Kai to help or just goes down to the nearest shop to buy a meal deal.

Kai Smith - Kai was never really too close with his mother, and she seemed to feel the same way, but would still try to participate in Grace’s celebrations of her. This usually met carrying anything Grace couldn’t or wouldn’t. Even before his mother was gone, Kai would prefer to spend time with his father, helping him wash up from Grace’s endeavours, watching television with him and playing video games. Now they have a Player Three.

Maddie Eyighes - Maddie barely celebrates her foster mother, only joining in just enough to get by without hassle, whether that means carrying the breakfast or just being in the background while her foster siblings surprise their mother or opening doors for her foster mum. The moment her necessary deed is done, she’s off, outside and running. Not like she can do anything inside, it’ll be taken up by her foster mother, and outside she’s free.

Nastasia Lavisco - Nastasia, for Mother’s Day, decides to get into more paid fights, win more supplies, trade some of the rest for more profitable supplies to sell, put some of the original supplies up as winnings for two people to fight over, hide some of the profitable but criminal supplies in too, sell the rest, use the money to buy better weapons and repeat the cycle. It’s what she does everyday, and why should a holiday about a mother change that?

Aidan Lavisco - Aidan is very lucky to have help from the people of the palace, as Mother’s Day is almost a necessity rather than a celebration. It’s the one time Aidan is allowed to run a dance, because the mother in question can’t be involved. He decides the scheme, the theme, the dress code, the predominant dance and the menu of it all, but it’s barely a choice. He’s been trained exactly what to say, by a mother who pulls the strings.

Valeriya Jones - Valeriya, as a mother herself, loves Mother’s Day. She always has, as she was especially close to her mother. They would cook together, Valeriya always learning a new recipe, a new trick, a new skill each time, and she treasured that time with her mother. Being a mother of two boys has been a challenge, but she can’t help but be cheerful when her sons show her their appreciation, especially through recipes she taught them.

Kyle Smith - Kyle had been eager to bring his mother gifts and flowers when he was younger, but stopped as the teen years got closer and his fights with his parents became more prominent. Then, when he had kids with his wife, he helped the two celebrate her, or spent time with his son if he wasn’t helping his sister at all. But those days, with his mother and wife, are behind him, and now he’s the one celebrated on Mother’s Day.

Tyler Brae - Tyler, being the immortal Demon King, is obviously without a mother but he finds the day endearing. For him, Mother’s Day is another opportunity to show how much his ragtag family means to him. He’ll choose some corny but interesting film, buy some snack food while his family is preoccupied during the day and get them all in the living room to watch it. They’ll pretend to hate it and complain but he knows that there’s nowhere they’d rather be.

Shadow - Shadow never celebrated Mother’s Day before and would happily continue to not... too bad he lives with Tyler. Finding himself wrapped up in the demon’s shenanigans continues on this day as he helps Tyler set everything up for the rest of the family. If Tyler wants to cook something, Shadow is there to help him and stop the inevitable house fire. Tyler might ask him one day if he’d prefer to stay out of it, but Shadow won’t let him do it alone.

Mehmun Salton - Mehmun doesn’t remember many Mother’s Days - not with his mother, not with his aunt, not with the mother of his daughter. He prefers not to, because who knows what other memories will arise? All he knows is that he had too few Mother’s Day with his actual mother and not enough with his wife. So he has no idea what he used to do - but he finds he enjoys watching shitty films with a group of other traumatised misfits.

Preston Sin - Preston’s mother is long gone, thanks to his immortality. When she was alive, Mother’s Day was special for her and gifts were expected. If she received one less gift, there was hell to pay, even though all of them knew the gifts would maybe last a day or two at best before finding themselves in the bin. But now, she’s gone, and he’s still around and kicking, with a new family who would never throw away presents.

Maggie Snare - Maggie didn’t celebrate her stepmother for Mother’s Day after her actual mother divorced and left her father, which may have started the rivalry and contempt but who knows? Most Mother’s Days, she’d go out with her friends or spend the day studying and being as far away from her stepmum as she could humanely be. If there were plans, she’d reluctantly abide by them. Now she has more freedom and people worth celebrating.

Luke Fortunato - Luke was too young to be able to get things for his mother before he and his brother were sent into care, plus there wasn’t much she cared for. The people running at the carehome weren’t motherly (or fatherly for that matter) so they never expected gifts, almost never received them and they seldom deserved them. He’s glad he didn’t bother because if he had, maybe Ezekiel would have been more bothered. 

Ezekiel Fortunato - Ezekiel’s only gift was to fuck shit up for them - pour the carers’ secret stash of booze or weed into the gutters, piss in their food, blocking the drains up, anything really to make the carers’ lives just as miserable as their clients’. It was a daily gift, because he didn’t know Mothers’ Day was a holiday for a long time, barely escaping his teen years without knowing it existed. He regrets not knowing - coulda done more.

Kiyoshi Kornai - Kiyoshi didn’t have a mother figure, even though she was a Born Hell Demon, and demons don’t celebrate human-made holidays regardless. It took a while for her to be introduced to the concept of the holiday and she’s still uncertain on how she feels about it - cute and something she celebrates with her family now but, at the same tine, how many times was she suffering on Mother’s Day?

Amber Miller - Amber used to love her mother and was often buying her flowers and chocolates. She’d buy her all sorts of flowers, like roses, and try to pick out all the best chocolates for her, wrap them up and bring them to her in her bed. Now she regrets bothering. She could have saved up that money for something, maybe for when she ran away after her parents refused to accept her as trans. But she didn’t. She wasted it on her mother.

Johnny Miller - Johnny would chip in with their sister’s presents to their mother, giving maybe a pound or two extra to really buy something nice. However, they weren’t as close with their mother, or their father really, Amber being the parent-adoring child. Johnny preferred his own company. But that didn’t make it any harder for Johnny to run away with Amber. Not that they’d ever choose them over their twin. They’ll never be far from her side.

Damien Roth - Damien was an Original Demon, created by the hands of the gods personally, meaning he has no family. He would celebrate the gods, before the war, and give the divine gifts - loyalty, worship, love. That changed when his eyes opened to the injustices demons faced in a world catered toward mortals. Now, with the gods dead and a King who needs to die, the only thing he’ll celebrate will be the promise of them never returning.

Ayla - Ayla is usually in charge of all the Light World balls - not the Mother’s Day one, however. She’s not involved, and leaves it to her son. However, she makes sure he knows what she wants, and that there’s hell to pay if demands aren’t met. Though the Mother’s Day ball is often praised as her son’s, it’s a product of her incessant control and manipulation. That’s the best Mother’s Day gift she can get - relentless power.

Loki Lullay - Loki grew up within the Lullay family and the supposed Lullay curse took his mother from him at a young age. Mother’s Days were the days he’d visit her grave with his brother and father, to lay the most gorgeous flowers for her. He hasn’t seen her grave for eighteen years while his traitor brother keeps up the tradition, or at least he assumes he does. Maybe that’s what drives him to madness. Twenty years away from her.

Malcolm Gull - Malcolm bought flowers for his own mother and his best friend’s mother, before she died at least. After that, he’d buy his best friend flowers on that day, even chocolates, and they’d have a picnic as well. Those were some of the best days for the pair of them, playing Frisbee and football. Then his best friend died. Because of the sorcerers. Because of a sorcerer. He’ll avenge them. He’ll avenge them both. He’ll avenge him.

Nico Angel - Nico never got into Mother’s Day. He’d buy stuff, or at least his father would, for her, maybe bring her a half-hearted breakfast in bed, but no real effort or time put into it. That changed when he became a father, as he’d help his child treat his wife on that day, making food, buying flowers, showering gifts. Too bad it didn’t stay that way - he didn’t stick around for long with them. He just hopes his sons treat their mother well.

Davey Sullivan - Davey grew up with no mother, a dead brother and hatred for his cousin. His father made sure he knew it was his cousin’s fault his mother and brother were dead and made sure that he knew it was his fault that his cousin got away unpunished for his guilt. But for Mother’s Day itself, he’d go to his mother and brother’s graves, lay flowers down and promise them he’d get his cousin punished. Once and for all.

Aerron Yelad - Aerron’s mother loved him much more before he got diagnosed with autism. Despite being ‘vaccine injured’ and ‘proof vaccines do more harm than good’ and ‘the reason I’m not vaccinating the rest of my kids’, he still loves her a lot. He understands that she does love him, he’s just harder to deal with, and she’s giving all the attention she can. But he still feels alone. Alone enough to make bad choices. He’s so desperate.

[babybirdgyeom]

♥ strawberries and asparagus: mark tuan.

summary: in which a customer thinks you and your new co-worker should get to know each other a bit better and it ends up being one of the best things your job has ever given you

word count: 2.9 k

a/n: i thought of this while working in one of these small huts (what a surprise) i hope y’all like it - if you know me you’ll know i was too lazy to proofread. i always appreciate feedback! ♥

⇢ it was your third summer working for the farm near your grandparents house. they put up little huts in the city every summer and sell their asparagus and fruits, strawberries, cherries, blackberrys and a lot more

⇢ it was late april and you were more than excited about the new season starting, finally seeing all of the co-workers again. the atmosphere on the farm was always familylike and everyone knew each other

⇢ on this day a little old lady came to your hut, overly excited “ohh you finally are here again! how i missed your strawberries”

⇢ she was a regular and always being very nice to you, giving you big tips and asking you about college 

⇢ suddenly a young man stood right beside her which left you a bit confused at first because the customers were usually older people who are willing to sell a bit more for fresh fruit

⇢ he was rather tall, his hair dyed blonde and you couldn’t help but think he was very attractive

⇢ he gave you a big smile, even his eyes seemed to smile and you couldn’t help but blush a bit, trying to get yourself together 

⇢ why am i turning red??? it’s not the first time a pretty boy smiles at you (y/n) get your shit together 

⇢ the boy started to introduce himself, his name was mark and to your surprise he was your new co-worker. his job was to bring you the fruits early in the morning and pick them up and drive them back to the farm at the end of your shift. 

⇢ “wait a moment, i’ll just finish this order.”, you assured him, turning to the lady who observed the situation very precisely

⇢ “oh i’ll take two boxes of strawberries and two of the blueberries darling”, she said. as you wanted to put them in a bag for you she stopped you after the first two servings. “no no the other two boxes are for the two of you.”

⇢  the smirk on her face was too cute, she was more than excited to play cupid. she said since this is his first day he should get to know his co-workers, especially when his co-worker is such a cute one and you could swear you saw her winking at him

⇢ so he packed up all the remaining boxes of food back into his transporter and you were afraid things might get awkward but he handled the situation really well

⇢ “so..”, he looked at you, his hand against the back of his head, he seemed to be a bit unsure too, “wanna enjoy a meal with me?”, he said letting out a little laugh

⇢  the two of you sat down in the little hut, mark right beside you, closing his eyes, enjoying the last rays of sunshine 

⇢ you studied his face while his eyes were closed.. he for sure was the most handsome your boss ever hired

⇢ for the next hour you and mark were eating the fruits the lady bought for you and just sat and chatted about everything

⇢ you told him about the co-workers, that he should try to become close with jaebum, the son of the boss and one of your closest friends and that there’s a big feast at the farm every year where everyone who works there gets to pick fruits themselves and drink a lot and at the end of the day there will be a lot of the farms best asparagus for everyone

⇢ it was for sure that you and mark hit off immediately and when you got home later that day you couldn’t stop thinking of him

⇢ to your dislike

⇢ you for sure couldn’t develope a crush on your new co-worker

⇢ but still you found yourself hoping that he has a shift too everytime you have one just so you could see him for five minutes a day

⇢ you should’ve gotten his number but of course you didn’t

⇢ you even thought about asking your boss when mark works again just so you know when you should put on make up and dress maybe a bit more nicely 

⇢ you didn’t though because you knew your boss and he’d tease you a lot

⇢ "why do you look so fucking dissapointed to see me?”, your close friend and co-worker jackson asked one day when he was picking up the fruits

⇢ “i just--- have you met this mark guy already?”, you asked him bc u knew your secret would be safe with him

⇢ his eyes immediately widened at your question

⇢ “i can’t believe you’re in love with our new co-worker, is this a drama??”, he was a bit too excited

⇢ “YA JACKSON who the fuck is in love, keep it down, i just asked about him”

⇢ so two weeks after you first saw mark you finally got lucky and saw him again

⇢ “(y/n)! i hope you’ve been fine, i already started missing you”

⇢ you know he was joking but ugh you really did miss him 

⇢ you barely know him (y/n) you seriously need to stop 

⇢ “if you want to you could give me your number? just in case i ever come late because of traffic or something so i can inform you”

⇢ [jackson, 18.47]: i could swear mark looked extra happy when he came back to the farm today. did you show him your tits or what happened?

⇢ you wondered if mark really only got your number to call you about work 

⇢ the next day you didn’t get to see him again

⇢ [unknown number, 16:43]: hello, i know this is not work related and i said i’ll get this number for work purposes only but i thought maybe you want to eat something again tomorrow after work? 

⇢ [unknown number, 16:45]: of course i’ll pay this time! and we also don’t have to eat in the hut again like we could go somewhere more fance

⇢ [unknown number, 16:47]: only if you want though, if not that’s fine too i just thought it was fun last time

⇢ [unknown number, 16:49]: oh this is mark by the way if you wondered what kind of psychopath is sending u tons of messages..

⇢ [unknown number, 16.51]: if you aren’t free today after work we can also go eat something another time!!

⇢ [unknown number, 16:54]: now i feel stupid for sending you a thousand messages, i’m usually not this annoying i promise.. 

⇢ you couldn’t help but smile like an idiot at all of these messages, he seemed either to be a bit nervous or just a really messy person but you thought it was cute no matter what was right

⇢ so you texted back ‘yes, i’ll be off at 7pm so pick me up? we could just drive back to the farm together and eat at their restaurant, it’s the best’

⇢ when he picked you up the next day you weren’t sure if this was a casual thing or something like a date but since you only have known him for a short time you assumed it was just a casual meet up to get to know his new co-workers

⇢ he helped you inside of the big transporter he was driving to transport all of the remainings in, holding you on your waist and lifting you up because the seat was really high and you’d have to climb it 

⇢ as soon as you arrived at the farm you helped him to carry the boxes from the transporter inside and when your boss saw you he raised an eyebrow at the two of you, smirking

⇢ “what are you doing here (y/n)?”

⇢ you’ve known him for years since he’s jaebum’s dad and you and jaebum used to be best friends in elementary school

⇢ “i couldn’t resist anymore since i’m seeing your asparagus everyday so i decided to come here and eat some”

⇢ he grinned at you, shaking his head, “and you forgot how to eat and need mark to help you?”

⇢ you were used to his teasing, knowing he meant it in a loving way

⇢ “you don’t pay me enough to eat out so i need someone to invite me.”

⇢ mark and your boss laughed and you brought the last box inside

⇢ mark smiled at you for a moment, looking at you 

⇢  you couldn’t really identify what his glance was saying but you didn’t really had time to think about it since he fastly bowed in front of you, acting dramatic

⇢ “(y/n), would you honor me by letting me take you out to dinner now?”

⇢ you dropped a curtsey and played along

⇢ “always use protection, kids” your boss said as you left the office to go to the restaurant right next to the farm your 

⇢ you took one of the single aspagarus that were lying around and threw it at him

⇢ you were impressed by mark’s personality

⇢ not that you thought you’d be dissapointed but he did seem a bit quite and more shy in the beginning but it soon turned out that he wasn’t at all

⇢ the two of you enjoyed your food a lot but you enjoyed each others company even more

⇢ soon the two of you were laughing really loud about stories from the farm you told him

⇢ “if we weren’t hired here we would’ve gotten kicked out long ago”, mark whispered to you 

⇢ the waitress really did look a bit annoyed by your loud laughter but she knew she couldn’t kick you out

⇢ the evening soon was over because even though you wanted to stay you both had to be at work in the next morning really early again

⇢ of course mark drove you home, being the gentleman he appears to be, even waiting for you to get inside

⇢ “hey (y/n)!” he screamed before you entered your apartment

⇢ you turned around, “what else do you want, mark?”, you screamed back at him jokingly and he let out a small laugh

⇢ “are you going to be at the dinner party next weekend at the farm?”, he smirked while asking that question and his smirk made you smirk too immediately

⇢ “i guess i have to, wouldn’t you be too lonely without me?”, you ask him, your voice being a bit too flirty

⇢ he shook his head amused, “let me pick you up”

⇢ you gave him a genuine smile, “i’d love that.”

⇢ when you fell into your bed you felt how tired you actually were

⇢ you thought about the day you had, that must’ve been a date right? or were you just delusional

⇢ but even if it wasn’t it was a lot of fun

⇢ you decided to send him a quick text before you went to sleep 

⇢ ‘i really had fun mister tuan, it’s a pity we had to leave so soon. next saturday you’ll have a whole night to keep me entertained, will you be able to handle that?”

⇢ before you could think about it again you sent it

⇢ not really realizing that this might be a bit ambiguous until he texted you back

⇢ “i’m pretty sure i’ll find a way.”

⇢ the dinner party at the farm was the same as usual, a lot of alcohol and everyone dancing and having fun

⇢ mark and you were sitting on your table, talking to jaebum until he excused himself to go after the new waitress he had laid his eyes on

⇢ both of you were feeling giggly from the champagne

⇢ you got up and mark copied your action

⇢ suddenly you realized how much you’ve been drinking, almost falling over but finding yourself in mark’s arms

⇢ he didn’t seem to be that strong but apparently you were wrong about that assumption

⇢ once again he smirked at you

⇢ “if you wanted to be in my arms you could’ve just said that (y/n).”

⇢ this time it was you shaking your head in disbelief, amused by his confidence

⇢ “are you flirting with me, mark?”

⇢ you could swear the smirk on his face became even bigger if that was possible

⇢ “you tell me.”

⇢ his eyes became a bit darker and as you looked at him a bit, not knowing what to say he reached for your hand

⇢ “dance with me?”

⇢ “oh mark that’s embarrassing. i’ve known these people here since i was a child.”

⇢ he shrugged with his shoulders, “come on. they are all drunk and dancing. they won’t even look at you. which is a big mistake.”, he said and just simply twirled you around, almost forcing you to dance

⇢ you needed to admit that you were enjoying it a lot more than you thought you would

⇢ at the end of the night mark offered to walk you home and when you said that it’s okay he of course insisted

⇢ and that was the night you first felt mark tuan’s lips on yours 

⇢ also it was even better than you imagined

⇢ he was very cute about it, not really asking if he was allowed to but stopping a bit before his lips actually touched yours, giving you the chance to turn away

⇢ when you saw him at work the next day you were a bit afraid that things might get awkward but once again mark’s confidence was impressing you

⇢ as soon as he packed all of the boxes inside the transporter he was leaning over from the outside of the hut giving you a small peck on the lips as if it was the most normal thing in the world

⇢ “the weather is so nice. let’s go minigolfing.” and you did.

⇢ and you did. it was a whole mess, mark laughing at you the whole time because apparently minigolf wasn’t your strength

⇢ “i’m not trying to be cheesy here by doing this but it’s pure torture seeing you like this, let me help you.”

⇢ before you could wonder what he meant by “doing this” you felt mark behind you, his arms around you, his arms on top of yours, showing you how to properly do it.

⇢ that’s how you and mark continued for a few weeks. he mostly just asked you to hang out spontaneously after work or wrote you when you haven’t seen each other at work in a long time

⇢ [mark, 19.17]: hey i miss you. want to come over and watch a movie?

⇢ when you arrived there was a big mattress on the floor, popcorn and nachos beside it, three blankets and a lot of pillows. it looked really comfortable

⇢ there were a few candles lit and the atmosphere was very soft

⇢ you sat down, waiting for mark to get something 

⇢ when he came back you saw him carrying a big plate full of freshly made cupcakes and you found your mouth wide open

⇢ “they are blueberry ones since you said those are your favorites. with blueberries from the farm. i hope they taste good, i never baked before”

⇢ you were a bit in shock, “you did that for me?”

⇢ “no i actually did that for christian from around the corner but he didn’t had time today so i thought you would do. of course i did that for you!”, he let out a small laugh

⇢ “mark...”, you said a bit confused, “do you like me?”

⇢ now he was truly speechless for the first time since you met him

⇢ “i- um- well.. i mean it’s not like i just kiss you for nothing and take you out-”

⇢ before he could say anything you kissed him

⇢ this kiss was something different than the other ones before though, usually they were only small pecks and that’s it

⇢ but this one was with more emotions, his hands on your waist, trying to bring you closer to him

⇢ “(y/n), i don’t know how to do this but we’ve been seeing each other a lot now and it feels stupid to ask but you know”

⇢ he looked at you and hoped you’d understand what you mean and even though you obviously knew what he wanted to say you wanted to hear it from him

⇢ “know what?”, you played a bit clueless

⇢ “do you think we could officially say that we’re dating?”, he asked, taking your hand into his, the other hand still resting on your waist from the kiss

⇢ you let out a laugh, grabbing a blanket and putting it over you and mark, your head resting on his chest, his arm around you while you turned on the tv

⇢ “i think we could say this”

⇢ even though you always liked your job now you were really thankful for what it gave you

[rhysie-cakes314]

Day 5- Amulet

Amora eyed the matching medallions dubiously, each dangling from a thin chain necklace.. “You’re certain these are the real deal?”

The old woman’s smile was missing several teeth, and Amora wasn’t certain how the woman seemed to stare right at her when her eyes were the milky white of the Midgardian blind, but she was confident in her response. “Not many mortals are left who would recognize the Amulets of Damballah. You needn’t worry about knock-off replicas. These are suitable for your needs.”

Amora searched the priestess’ body language for signs of deception, but found none. She would know, being a master of deceit herself. “I met Damballah myself, once. I thought his specialty was death, that he only worked with necromancers. How will a tool meant for the undead help me when the man is alive?” Madame whatever-her-name-was (Amora didn’t care) may be the expert in human Voodoo here, but Amora knew her gods.

The priestess threw her head back, cackling. “I have my own abilities, Enchantress. Those amulets will work on the dead and living all the same, now.”

Amora allowed herself to grin. It was time she finally got what she wanted.

…  

Natasha was perched on the edge of the kitchen counter beside the coffee machine. “I like your new necklace,” she commented as Thor entered the room. Natasha always took a keen interest in Thor’s fashion, so she noticed any tiny changes in his everyday appearance. One of her favourite pastimes was playing dress up and makeover with Thor, partially because he was the only one who let her, and partially because it was just so entertaining. His massive demigod body managed to look good in everything from speedo to ballgown. It was also no secret that his hair was the most luscious of the group, which allowed for a myriad of experimentation for style.

Steve was off on his morning run, Phil was out of town for a mission, and Clint and Bruce were still in bed, so Tony was the only one else in the room. He lifted his head off his arms to see who she was talking to and quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you liked jewelry. This opens a whole new world of possibilities for Christmas gifts.”

Thor grinned proudly. He headed for the poptart cupboard. “My beautiful lady, Jane Foster gave it to me. She said it was a symbol of our undying love, and she has a matching one. I will cherish it with all of my being.”

Now that he was closer, Natasha could see the details. The medallion matched the shade of gold that draped around Thor’s neck, and a snake was the only decoration. “Is Dr. Foster into snakes?”

Thor looked thoughtful for a moment. “She has never mentioned them, but I suppose she must! I thought maybe the snake was a Midgardian symbol of companionship I was unaware of.”

Tony’s head had dropped back down to his arms already, but he shook with laughter. Natasha threw a butter knife at his head. “Ow! No throwing my own silverware at me. I will terminate your lease. Don’t you test me.”

She didn’t look worried. “You never gave us leases. Don’t make fun of Thor if you don’t want punished.”

Tony rubbed at his head. Thor laughed his booming laugh. The sound always felt too loud in the enclosed kitchen, or indoors in general, really. Tony tried to hide the fact that it startled him by jumping up for more coffee. “I believe he was laughing with me.”

Natasha shrugged. “I think that was very sweet of Jane. How is she lately?” The astrophysicist sometimes came to live with them for months at a time, but it had been awhile. It was as sporadic a living arrangement as Thor, who whisked off to Asgard or landed in the roof without warning.

“She fairs well. She is giving a speech at an important conference next month.” Natasha sometimes tried to imagine what the relationship was like between a scientist and a god. The idea just seemed so alien. The two seemed to both be obsessed with other worlds or realms, so she supposed that could be what they shared most. But can a human really understand a centuries old warrior-king?

“I’ll have to see if I’m going to that, I’m sure Pepper will know. Maybe I can get you an invitation, buddy,” Tony pat Thor’s bicep. “I’m off to the lab now, seeya later, probably,” he shouted over his shoulder. It was that time of year again. The Avengers all knew by now that seeing Tony at all was a rare occurrence in October. The man practically worked non-stop for a month straight.

Steve returned with a light sheen of sweat. Natasha noticed he always seemed to run harder October mornings. He also exercised more in general. Her theory was that Steve needed to let off extra steam and distract himself more constantly to ward off feeling lonely while Tony was squirreled away in his lab. The supersoldier usually had unfettered access to Tony’s domain and spent hours just watching the genius work or sketching him, but not in October. Tony had forbid him because his ‘ass was too distracting.’

“Captain!” Thor welcomed. “We should spar today, it has been too long.”

Steve chuckled. “We just sparred last week! But sure, lord knows I’ve got time. Meet down there in an hour? I need some calories.” He was already raiding the refrigerator, pulling out an egg carton, bacon, and orange juice.

“A week can be an eternity when excitement is missing from your life,” Thor said mysteriously. He passed Bruce on the way out.

Bruce waved his greetings, heading straight for the tea. The group sat in companionable silence while Steve made his feast. Bruce liked to read the newspaper in the mornings. Tony kept trying to explain that a physical paper was a waste and called printing presses obsolete, but Bruce liked the feel of it. He could control the pace with which he absorbed the news instead of feel overwhelmed by the fast talking reporters on TV. Plus he liked the crosswords.

When Steve went down to the gym, Thor was already there. Steve looked at him from the doorway, curious. He looked like he was meditating. His body was still, his eyes closed. It was odd; Steve didn’t think Thor could be still. He was always so energetic. His eyes snapped open, and Steve felt the blush at being caught staring. Thor didn’t mention it though, just hopped to his feet excitedly. “Come, let us battle!”

Steve shook his head fondly. Thor brought enthusiasm to everything he did. “Only if you think you can take me,” he joked.

“I’ll go easy,” Thor boasted. “We wouldn’t want anyone to get injured.”

Thor was decidedly not going easy. The serum meant that Steve could hold up against Thor better than the others, minus Hulk, but Thor was fighting with more ferocity than usual. Steve narrowly dodged another blow, thankful they were fighting bare-handed. Even with the shield, Steve was sure Thor could hurt him with Mjolnir if he wasn’t careful. He managed a kick to Thor’s side before rolling away again. His best strategy with the god was always to stay out of reach.

“I thought,” pant, “we were just,” pant, parry, “sparring.”

Thor backed off a little, slowing his movements while they spoke. “We are.”

Steve danced around him, trying to find an opening. “You seem like you’re going harder than usual,” he was concocting a strategy. Thor always turned right to spin if you got behind him. If Steve could get him to go for the turn and manage to roll and pop up in front of his left, Thor would be wide open. He’d have to be very fast. Speed was his friend against a bigger opponent.

It had to be Steve’s imagination, but Thor seemed to sneer at him. Thor didn’t sneer. “I play to win.”

Suddenly wary that something was wrong with his teammate, Steve decided it was time to be done with this. He had a feeling Thor wouldn’t just let him bow out either. He leapt behind the god, and took action when Thor started to turn. He popped up to see Thor face to face with him. He had seen through the ploy.

Thor took advantage of Steve’s surprise and landed a solid gut punch. Steve actually left the ground momentarily before slamming into the mirror behind him. Some of the glass trickled away around him as he tried to regain the breath knocked out of him. Thor drew closer, but instead of kneeling to apologize or ask if he was okay, Thor smacked his head back against the wall. The world went dark.

…

The silence was deafening and sudden after the blasting metal from a moment ago. Tony looked around in confusion. “Sir, Steve has been injured in the gym while sparring with Thor,” JARVIS informed him.

Tony didn’t ask questions. If JARVIS felt the need to alert him, it wasn’t just a minor injury. The elevator was fast enough to throw him off balance but he remained upright. When he arrived, Natasha and Clint weren’t far behind. The scene in front of him didn’t make sense. Steve was sitting against the mirror, chin against his chest, clearly unconscious. Behind him, Tony could make out the blood smeared on the wall from his head.

Tony didn’t even notice Thor, too busy sprinting to his boyfriend’s side. Thor waited patiently off to the side, until Tony was on his knees trying to wake Steve. Natasha and Clint were too far away to stop the god.

“Tony, watch out!” Clint cried.

Tony whipped around just in time to get suckerpunched. He felt his nose break and was lying on the ground. The room spun. What was happening? He tried to lift his head, but something was in the way. He was choking. Tony blinked hard and Thor came into focus above him. But it couldn’t be Thor. His supposed friend was expressionless as he waited for Tony to stop fighting.

“It has to be an imposter, JARVIS! Scan him, who is it!?” Natasha shouted as she managed to tackle Thor away from Tony’s prone form. Tony coughed and sputtered, thankfully not dead.

“According to my scans, it is Thor. I have no explanation,” JARVIS sounded as afraid as a program could.

Clint cursed, “Shit.” He had Thor/not-Thor in a full nelson, but he was too strong to be immobilized. Natasha hit him in the head with a weight to no effect. “Where the fuck is the Hulk!? He can actually do something against this guy!”

“Dr. Banner is not waking at my prompts, and is in his bed. His vitals indicate he may have been drugged.” JARVIS explained.

Thor threw the humans off with little effort with a shout of triumph. “You will all die! Then I can return to my beloved Amora!” he thundered.

It hit Natasha like a ton of bricks. The Enchantress. The necklace had to be controlling their friend somehow. Thor had told her about the Asgardian woman who was obsessed with Thor. She had tried many times to make him fall in love with her. They had to get the damn thing off!

A gun shot rang out, and everyone spun to see the new arrival. Phil was standing in the doorway to the gym, eyes wide and gun pointing at Thor. His bags were beside him on the floor, indicating he had just arrived. The bullet bounced uselessly off of Thor’s skin, leaving only a shallow mark. “Hit the chain around his neck!” Natasha shouted, praying he’d hit it. Phil was a good shot, but he was no Clint and it was a small target.Thor screamed in rage but the next shot hit the chain and the medallion hit the floor with a loud clang.

The effect was immediate. Thor went still, looked around like he had just woken up. They watched him slowly take in his surroundings, the horrified look solidifying on his face. “What-” he choked off. “What have I done?” His voice was quiet but echoed through the silent gym. He dropped to his knees, a sob ripping through him.

Natasha wished there was time to comfort her traumatized friend, “Coulson, Bruce’s room! Clint, Tony! I’ve got Steve. JARVIS, can SHIELD pick them up at the landing pad?” No one argued, just snapped to.

JARVIS, bless him, was ahead of her. “Med evac team will land in approximately 3 minutes and are aware of the number of patients.”

Natasha allowed herself to look back at Thor as she threw Steve over her shoulder. His face was wet with tears, but he was glaring right through the medallion he now held in his hand. Everyone was going to be okay, medical was already almost there. Mjolnir landed in his hand, hard from somewhere else in the tower. Thor met her eyes for a moment before he was crashing through the window. She couldn’t blame him, but she desperately hoped he’d return after taking care of the Enchantress. He needed to know that none of them blamed him. He needed to know not to blame himself.   

[roncosby7]

February 25th, 2021

I write blogs on Tumblr. You may or may not know this, but it is a thing I do and I receive very much deserved respect from it. I have friends because of this, high statuses because of this, lovers because of this. So many gifts have been gifted to me because of these blogs. Gifts that I cherish and embrace everyday, just as the gifts to do to me. Every morning I wake up and a new light has entered my eyes. The planet can now spin. Birds can now fly. Society can now start functioning as a whole for Grady Henderson has risen and he writes Tumblr blogs. I got 2 hours of sleep, but I feel great about this. Because I spent all night up writing another masterful blog that will be seen by all of my millions of followers on this morning. All of them will read it and be amazed by the satisfying structure, the poetic wording, the genius sense of philosophy and human perception. They will learn so much about life, others, themselves and philosophically dance with their own minds as their pupils dilate and tears fall down their faces. This happens every morning, and all of my followers do it at the same time. Every single one. They collectively exhale a breath of warm air as they experience pure euphoria and I feel it flow past me. This peaceful gust of wind that passes through me when I open my bedroom window and watch the day begin. I don’t need break feast, for my stomach is full of ideas. I do drink coffee, though. Because I am a writer. I exit my house and watch the sunlight reflect off of my black clothes, simply because it is too nervous to let me be absorbed by it. The wind stands still, the grass turns away, all animals stop what they’re doing to honor me. I have caused pure natural peace, because I write Tumblr blogs. The sun reflects off of me so much that I am now I a walking oval of light. I walk down the street this way. My light shines through neighborhoods and people recognize me. They say “Good morning Grady! Today’s blog was dazzlingly profound!” and I respond by nodding my head and taking a sip of coffee, visibly insecure. With a secret. I’m hiding something. Behind all of this light and these black clothes, there is a hidden diamond that will never be shown to anyone. With that thought in mind, I levitate to school and feel the ground vibrate beneath me. I watch 2 deer bound toward the horizon as I commence forth. “That will be us one day”, I profoundly whisper to myself

People exit their homes and congratulate me for saying something as profound as “That will be us one day”. How will the human brain ever be able to comprehend all the intricate meanings in the phrase “That will be us one day”? What a fucking genius. The light fades away as I step down from my levitation, for I have just arrived at school. All of the students greet me with thunderous applause. Each member of the school staff walks up to me and shakes my hand individually, sharing their thoughts and feelings about my latest blog and how it affected them as people. A kid runs up to me in tears and gives me a large hug, telling me that I saved his life. Then a group of well respected young women push him out of the way to consult and comfort me for being a life saver. I am not attracted to these well respected woman for what they look like for I am not a monster, I am attracted to them for the people that they are, which are people I respect. (they are beautiful, though). I all of a sudden have a bunch of brilliant thoughts rush through my head, as I always do, and I blurt out amongst the crowd. “What if we all wore yellow sunglasses?” and everyone in the school simultaneously gasps and grasps for air for they have just been hit with the intelligence of gods! This man’s understanding of the human race is unmeasurable! Multiple upon multiple tears are shed and everyone starts chanting my name, in tears. It sounds pathetic yet beautiful. Everyone ought to get to class so they all pick me up and carry me their triumphantly. I humbly reject their gratification in a sophisticated way.  

When I get to class I say “All this for merely existing?” and everyone laughs loudly while also understanding the sheer amount of thought that went into that phrase. Everyone understands me. They understand who I am and what all of my intentions are, and they respect me because of it. They don’t disrespect me or resent me for being different, instead they PRAISE me for it. They PRAISE me as if I have just slayed a demon in the center of a massive Colosseum. Except the demon is uniformity! 

Because I write Tumblr blogs

Yes. I am a human being that types things on to Tumblr and posts them for the world to see. This is something I do. And therefore I sit in Spanish class and do nothing. For the school system understands that Grady Henderson will not grow up to be in a position where he must talk to people that can’t speak the same language as him! Grady Henderson won’t have time for this, he’ll have stories to write! And so I sit in the back of the classroom and work on my next project of writing and gaze at the turned heads of all the normal students in front of me. Every now and then the students will turn around to look at me, just to be reminded of how brilliant and sophisticated humans can be. Just so they can put a bit more light into their dark, uneventful lives. Heh. what a bunch of Garfields. If I said that out loud 3 people in this classroom would likely have a brain seizure. I do not say it out loud, though, because I think I’ve caused enough completely worth it catastrophes in this school this morning. The multitude of tears that built up after “What if we all wore yellow sunglasses?” has made the school hallway slipperier than something that is extremely slippery. Students are slipping and falling and sliding all over the place. One struggles to walk more than 2 steps without nearly collapsing, simply because of the extremely large amount of tears that were shed. Look at all of these teenagers. Falling and wailing around in the effects of their own emotions. I write that down in my notepad, which I keep in my pocket because I’m a writer

As I’m walking to my next class, I don’t slip at all, for I am a perfect human being and this is true. I hear a feminine voice yelling my name behind me. I turn my head and see one of the well respected women from earlier sliding towards me at a very fast speed. I could’ve easily let her run into the wall, but I do not, for I respect this woman. for who she is, not because of what she looks like. (although she is beautiful). I catch her. She desperately stares into my eyes and asks “Grady Henderson! Grady Henderson! Did you stay up until 5 AM last night?” I answer honestly “Yes, I believe I did” she says “God. That is so fucking cool. Nobody else in the universe stays up that late, I can tell you that for sure! How do you manage to be this special of a human being?” I say “I’m actually very insecure about the lazy and ignorant decisions I make and therefore am deeply disappointed in myself most of the time” she says “God. That’s so fucking cool. The fact that you’re able to admit that about yourself? I honestly don’t think you should feel that way, but what do I know? Jesus, you’re amazing. Hey, you’re going out with friends tonight to throw cheese at people’s cars to metaphorically spit in the face of uniformity, correct?” I nod. she says “Well I was wondering if maybe I could tag along. At some point. With you.” I tell her I’ll think about it and then compare this situation to a Garfield strip. She faints from the overwhelming brilliance and lands in my arms. She wakes up shortly after and realizes the situation. “Oh! I must’ve been too amazed by your interpretation of Garfield! Anyway, I have to get to class. Oh shit, I can’t believe I don’t have this in the first place but what’s your Snap?” I tell her “I don’t use social media. I don’t have an undying need for attention like every student in this building”. She faints again and this time I don’t catch her, because I have to get to class. I’m really sorry about this and I hope she can forgive me. 

As the day moves on, all students get called to the gym for an assembly. As I’m walking down there in the circle that the slipping crowd has formed for me, a kid accidentally bumps into me before being tackled, beaten into a pulp, getting the words “You deserve this” carved on his stomach with a knife, becoming drenched in gasoline, and being burned alive. It takes every student about 40 minutes to get to the gym because of all the chaotic slipping and falling that’s happening due to the tears but when everyone gets there, the principal walks to the center of the gym seemingly very anxious. What will he say? Something about the small drug cartel that has formed in this school? No. Fuck that. You must’ve forgotten about the fact that I write Tumblr blogs. The principal yells “Fuck it! Fuck you guys! School’s out for the rest of the day! Grady Henderson writes blogs on Tumblr!”

Everyone starts wildly cheering and screaming. Fireworks are lit in this high school gym. They rented a band. A band starts playing intense and celebrational rock music. Confetti is fucking everywhere, people are slipping all over the god damn place, and as soon as a chant of my name begins I head out. Because I don’t need attention. I don’t need to be loved, it’s just an accessory. I need to levitate home and write another Tumblr blog. I do this. I get home and greet the silence. I make more coffee and light candles. I look deep into the crevices of my soul to find the most mind bogglingly genius themes and ideas. I gather these ideas and express them through my fingers. Every time I type a letter into this laptop, a dog gets cured of cancer. People are rallying outside my house to not only thank me for the day off school but thank me for existing. Also to beg for another blog. I humbly reject all of this praise and close my blinds. Sometimes I have to turn on the sprinklers to get then to fuck off. I did that during winter once and this man stayed. In fact, he froze. Jesus. the lengths people will go to praise me. It gets fucking annoying. Don’t they understand that by constantly informing me of their obsession with my writing, they’re interrupting my writing? Holy fuck, these people. The entirety of this day consists of me writing while intermittently meditating or taking a sip of coffee. My thoughts evaporate from my brain and into the atmosphere, forming into an eagle made of pure light and energy. It flies around my house, leaving trails of light behind it. Of course it lands after a while but never truly stops. For the eagle will always fly, and so will I. God, I’m such a fucking genius. The eagle just fell into the ocean, what the fuck? The eagle was supposed to fly forever, why did that happen. Well shit. Now I don’t have a reason to write, which is good because now it is nighttime. And at nighttime, Grady Henderson must explore the natural ground of his town to discover things about everything. Tonight, he will do it with other people. He will throw cheese in the face of uniformity, something that he does a lot. He will not watch people dance, that’s fucking cringe. Fuck you. What do you know about me? You’re gonna think that I’m gonna go to a school dance and experience THAT when I can experience ACTUAL fun? You must be insane. I will not abide by the expectations given to me by my culture. I will throw cheese on people’s cars. They will see the cheese on their cars and faint, knowing that they have been defeated. Defeated by the long arm of Grady Henderson, who writes Tumblr blogs. Did you know that? Did you know that I write Tumblr blogs? You didn’t. You didn’t and now you do and you have nothing but respect to give me for it. Many people respect me for thi-

I suddenly get a phone call. It’s a voice that sounds all to familiar that sternly says “Grady, I think you’re stalling to prevent something.” What the fuck does this person know about me? Holy shit. How disrespectful that I get these phone calls from people. People that assume things, Mother of Christ. I am the equivalent of the Mother of Christ, for I birth a savior while remaining innocent. This savior of course being Tumblr blogs. Yes, these Tumblr blogs have saved many people. These blogs have made people realize that they should not kill other people and themselves, that everyone must be alive. These blogs keep people alive. These blogs are the savior of all humanity-

I get a phone call again, it is the same voice. “Grady, just get in the car. You can’t prevent it, just let it happen.” I say Fuck you to this person and hang up. Who does this person think they are? calling me and telling me things that aren’t true? I could sue this person for lying.

I get in my friend’s car.  

A light immediately shines in the boring lives of everyone in this car. A smile is put on everyone’s faces for Grady Henderson is here and he writes Tumblr blogs. We laugh and tell personal stories. We laugh until the interior of the car nearly implodes. We laugh until we cannot breathe, mostly because of my stories though, because my stories are fucking hilarious. And the second I bring up Garfield, laughter shoots up like rockets amongst the stars. We throw cheese. We throw so much cheese. It slaps on buildings, it slaps on sidewalks, it slaps onto cars, it slaps onto people. There is so much solidified dairy sporadically spewed amongst this town that you can almost call it littering. You take one little look at any area of this town and you can point out nearly 100 pieces of cheese. People will wake up the next morning and not know what the fuck is going on. We revolutionized cheese warfare against uniformity! Correct! There is cheese fucking all over the place! If God’s sperm was yellow and he decided to cum all over his creation (like a narcissist) I guarantee it would look like this. Look at God’s yellow cum plastered all over this fucking place. It’s beautiful. Our town combined with this sperm is concepting a godlike being of creation and pride, and his name is Grady Henderson. 

I get another phone call and chuck my phone out the window

Look at this field. This field is a metaphor for all the people that will one day plant fields. They’re all the same, they’re all bland. Me, on the other hand, I am not! I am colorful! I am unique! For I am a writer and I write Tumblr blogs and this is why I’m here, isn’t it? Because I write Tumblr blogs? Yes. This is true. This is rightfully and justifiably true. I wonder why we’re in between fields. I notice we’re driving down a pitch black country road. 

“We are are driving down this road right now”, says Friend A. the only Identity this man has is Friends A. “We don’t have to”, says Jonas. You guessed it, he’s kind of a cunt, but he sells us cocaine. “What the fuck are you talking about?”, says Friends A. “We don’t have to go forward. We could go back and throw cheese forever. enough to make earth shine like the sun.”, I gotta say, I’m kinda leaning towards Jonas, here. But- “What the fuck would be the point of that? Think about all the other times that we’ve done that. Where do we end up? We end up right here, don’t we? We end up right here driving down this dark road. It wasn’t different the second time and it wasn’t different the time after and the time after and the time after, it’s not gonna be different this time.”, says Friend A. I’m starting to see this guy’s point of view but I really don’t want to. Friend B(2) chimes in “What the fuck are you guys talking about?” “Shut the fuck up!” says Jonas. “Fuck you! You only exist as a replacement for someone we thought we could save but can’t and never will be able to!” “See what I mean?”, says Friend A “You know what I’m saying is true, you just don’t wanna see the despair of her forehead agai-” “Alright.” Jonas says “I think we should let Grady Henderson decide what we should do” “That’s fair”, agrees Friend A “He writes Tumblr blogs and therefore we should always listen to him”

They stop. They’re waiting for me to respond. My mind is blank. For once in the history of the universe, there is nothing going on in the brain of Grady Henderson. They want me to say something, but I don’t think I will. Instead I just look out the window all all these stalks of corn. I watch each and every one of them pass by. I realize they’re not the same. They form sort of an inconsistent wave. Over and over and over is just corn stalks rise and falling and rising and falling. There’s no progression, they never learn anything. Every single one of those cornstalks is a led in their own story and every single one of them is repetitive and boring. I watch this for minutes They really want me to respond, I really want to think of a response but I simply cannot. I am too fixated on the cornstalks. All of a sudden, I do want to say something. I receive a surge of energy, I want to yell at the top of my lungs but I don’t because I’m respectful. Instead I just say “Let’s sleep on it” and we pass another car the second after I say that. Friend A slams on his brakes and says “That’s them!”. Jonas starts saying the word no over and over again. This doesn’t matter, because the reason we stopped is because we noticed the car that passed us. That car is full of well respected females. We must get out of our car and interact with these respected females because we are teenage males. It’s what we do! We have to do it! We simply have to! There is nothing in existence stopping us from talking to these well respected women. This is not for their physical attraction, though. It might be for my good friends but for me, of course, it is because of the people that they are. (Although you know they are extremely, dazzlingly, extraordinarily, astonishingly breathtakingly beautiful)

We get out of our car, they get out of theirs. They all say hi in various ways, dependent on how confident all of them are. They start talking to us. Not flirting with us. Talking with us. Jonas, for some reason, turns his back and nearly falls to the floor to vomit. The well respected women are all not phased by this because they’re all focused on me and how much of a genius I am. Expect for one. Yes. I notice one well respected women does not care about my genius at all, because she doesn’t seem to care at all after I tell her I’m working on my next blog. She tells me “You next blog? What is that? Why should I care?” Everyone looks at her, shocked. As do I. This doesn’t make sense. How can a human not know what my blog is? Why must a human ask if they should care about what my blog is? What the fuck is happening? I then notice that this is the same well respected woman that spoke to me today. The same woman that I let fall on the floor head first. This must be why she has a giant bruise on her forehead! This also must be why she is suffering terrible memory loss because she has obviously forgotten about my blog!

“Have you not heard of my blog?” I ask “We were talking about it earlier today.” She says “I’m gonna be honest with you, I’ve never seen you before in my life”. Oh my god. I can’t let nature get away with this. I can’t let her get away with this! I need this to be stopped! Everyone needs to love me! I can’t live without everyone PRAISING me! She needs to love me! I need to refresh her memory, that’s what I need to do. I need to make her realize how much of a genius I am, to maker her remember. This is what I do. I ask her “You wanna go for a ride?” (this is creepy, why are you so creepy. You’re not creepy! You’re a genius! You write Tumblr blogs for fuck sake!) She accepts because she has to and I lead her to my car. Some of the other well respected women emotionlessly ask me where I’m going. I tell them I’m going to space. As I step on the gas, I hear Jonas collapse on the floor, for I believe he was using this car as a way to hold himself up. I step on the breaks after Friend A screams my name. He tells me “Please end up happy this time. Please.” 

His eyes are red. I wink at him and drive out into the unknown. 

I’m driving like a bullet straight into the darkness, with a well respected women in the passenger seat beside me. She asks me what we’re doing or where we’re going about 7 times but the only response I have is “We’re going to space”. I start to think that maybe she’s not the villain, I am. But I’m not, because I’m a genius. Jesus CHRIST! What is happening to me? I’m seemingly forgetting how intelligent I am! Well, I’m gonna remind myself. And I’m gonna remind her. We drive further and further into the abyss that is the Nebraskan country roads. Deeper and deeper into this dark tunnel. I don’t exactly know where I’m going, except I do! I’m going right here right now! I stop the car. For a moment I experience pure inner and atmospheric peace. When I look over at the well respected women and my heart sinks. I stare at all of her beauty. Her imperfect hair rests upon her head like a feather resting upon the land, flowing and waving naturally through the wind. Below it are 2 eyes that when looked at could bring a feeling of peace that could end any war. And it’s pretty fucking hard to focus on that with that giant bruise on her head. She lays on top of the car with me. I play every song on my main playlist. Our hearts move to the music, our hands interlock. Our eyes are completely engulfed by the universe above us. This is what I show her. I show her my symphonies, my perspective, my passion, my views, my craft, I show her everything. Therefore I unveil this mask she has been wearing all her life and introduce her to a sunrise. I show her her purpose. the one reason she was put on this earth, and that is to honor Grady Henderson. I show her the beginning, the middle, and the end. Not only of the playlist, not only of this moment, but of the universe. All of existence is defined by this moment and she understands every bit of that. She looks at me, eyes and all, and asks “What’s your Tumblr username?”

She understands. She respects. She remembers. As we drive home, the streetlights of this town become more visible. Forget that beautiful, wretched land. We are here. I look at her and barely recognize the bruise. She looks at me and barely recognizes the person she saw step out of that car. I drop her off at her house. She thanks me, and says she looks forward to reading my blogs. She has no idea what she’s getting into. I have brought light and meaning into yet another soul today. I go home and finish writing tomorrow’s blog 

I write about how fucking pathetic I am. I write about how arrogant and narcissistic and disrespectful I am. I write paragraphs and paragraphs about how much I feel like Jon Arbuckle every day. I write about how alone I feel. I write about how unsatisfied I feel. I write about my repulsive face and my repulsive legs. I write about how the only reason I wanted her to like was because I’m an attention seeking piece of shit that only saw value in her because of her physical appearance. I write about how creepy I am for being so descriptive about her. I write about the friends that I hurt and abandoned and how I don’t even know if they made it home or not. Because I don’t care about anyone else, I only care about Grady Henderson. I write about this lazy, pathetic, repulsive person named Grady Henderson. I post it at 5 AM and go to sleep. 

I wake up 2 hours later. I look out my window and watch another Friday morning begin. I once again feel the gust of wind of all my followers expressing their emotions about my latest blog through exhalation. I feel disgusted. And yet, I still rise above nature’s ground and levitate to school. Because I have to. 

My name is Grady Henderson, and I write Tumblr blogs. I don’t receive any respect because of this and rightfully so. 

[slateblueearthbelow]

It’s So Good to Learn That From Right Here, the View Goes On Forever

I was sixteen the first time I heard the Mountain Goats. Somewhat unsurprisingly, a boy introduced me. He was older than me by a not insignificant amount and our friendship probably blurred some lines. (And then I turned 18 and our friendship busted straight through all of those lines at high speed and without a single look back.) I was miserable in high school and miserable in Wisconsin and we talked about it a lot. He was more or less constantly feeding me music, and one day, he sent me a song called This Year.

There will be feasting and dancing In Jerusalem next year – I am going to make it through this year If it kills me.

I had never heard someone sing with the intensity John Darnielle sings with. His weird, reedy voice hits notes you know someone with his range should not be aiming for, but there’s a joy, a desperation, and a reaching in his voice that I don’t think any other musician can adequately capture. The year I was seventeen and the end of high school seemed so far away and some of my best friendships were falling apart at the seams, I played This Year so many times it’s a miracle my parents didn’t kill me.

When December 2016 rolled around and I had escaped a toxic job, a bad relationship, and Connecticut (sorry, Connecticut), I listened to This Year at least once a day for the entire month. Twelve years after the first time I heard it and I still screamed my joy about surviving for the feasting and dancing.

John Darnielle is a stange man. He loves death metal, Planned Parenthood, and literature in translation. He turned 50 this year, which is incomprehensible to me. The first time I saw tMG in concert, it was 2012, when he was 45, and the front row was made up of wildly energetic 18-year-olds who were singing every lyric along with him. Somehow, this strange man with the odd speech patterns, old enough to be their dad, gave them something necessary to their hearts and their lives. I still remember them screaming, I will hide down in my corner / because I like my corner and JD affectionately rolling his eyes at them.

He knows, you see. He has written songs and albums that are deeply personal (The Sunset Tree, Beat the Champ), a whole repetoire of songs about a completely fictional couple called the Alpha Couple, songs about specific places and people and times and yet – in all of this, he captures the universal.

A remarkable number of his songs are about survival. From Best Ever Death Metal Band (the best ever death metal band out of Denton / will in time both outpace and outlive you) to Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1 (find where the heat's unbearable and stay there if you have to / don't hurt anybody on your way up to the light / and stay alive) to Heel Turn 2, which I listened to until my ears bled during the last summer at my toxic job:

Let all the trash rain down From way up in the rafters, I’m walking out of here in one piece Don’t care what comes after. Drive the wedge, Torch the bridge. I don’t want to die in here. I don’t want to die in here.

And then there’s Spent Gladiator 2. Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1 is an upbeat song, all things considered. Uptempo, hopeful, major key. Spent Gladiator 2 is not. Spent Gladiator 2 is swampy, dark, minor. The lyrics are for the moment before you pull yourself off of rock bottom.

Like a spent gladiator, Crawling in the coliseum dust. Who can count on his remaining limbs, All the people he can trust. […] Just stay alive.

When there’s nothing else, JD says, your victory is staying alive. Bleeding, alone, everyone around you cheering at the spectacle, all you have to do is hold the fuck on.

With chronic illness, there are weeks that are more tough physically and there are weeks that are more tough emotionally. Some weeks are both. Two weeks ago, I had a minimum of one doctor’s appointment or test everyday for a week. By the time I hit Friday, I was ready to never see another doctor again and I wouldn't have results to any of the tests I had done for at least a week. I was exhausted and feeling helpless about the world.

I saw the Mountain Goats that night, on Friday. They were opening for someone else, but every stop on their tour close to me was this weird little cluster of opening for another band, so I took what I could get. That was a 45 minute set, something like twelve songs. Some from the new album, Goths, some from All Hail West Texas, some from The Sunset Tree. And Spent Gladiator 2.

Like a fighter who’s been told it’s finally time for him to quit, Show up in shining colors And then stand there and get hit.

When JD asks you to keep fighting even when you feel beaten, it gets easier.

It’s been twelve years since the first time I heard This Year. By now, the Mountain Goats have been with me through every phase in my adult life. John Darnielle’s voice has accompanied me through end of high school, all of college, leaving camp, graduating from college, moving to Seattle, taking a big scary job across the country, quitting that job, three relationships, and, finally, moving to New York. A throughline of music, like a lifeline, or a train track.

There's gonna come a day When you'll feel better. You'll rise up free and easy on that day And float from branch to branch, Lighter than the air. Just when that day is coming Who can say, Who can say.

The Mountain Goats @ the Beacon Theater, New York City, 6/23/17

[medicalmarijuana-news]

The HIGH TIMES Guide to Flying with Marijuana

Like most Americans, I dread and detest the act of traveling at Thanksgiving time; like most Americans, I subject myself to this ordeal every year just the same. In 2015, at least the routine was more merciful than usual: Get north from San Francisco to Portland. Easy—a short domestic flight, no customs; a quick trip of a few days over a long weekend, no need for a checked bag. No problem.

Since life is short and our precious time on the mortal coil is best spent anywhere else than in virtual captivity at an airport, I arrived at SFO with the usual efficiency, allotting just enough time to sprint through security and make it to the gate for the final boarding call. I was on schedule to do just this, when, shoeless, belt-less, my pockets empty and my arms over my head in surrender, I glimpsed my carry-on bag slide off of the security conveyor belt and into the hands of a TSA officer.

“Is this yours?” the officer asked me.

Let’s take a step back. The year before, Oregon voters legalized recreational cannabis. Portland’s retail dispensaries had just opened for business. The plan for the trip included the requisite pilgrimage to Stumptown coffee as well as a tour of the city’s cannabis offerings. I’d heard the weed was just fine, and I was eager to try some.

But I live in California. The outdoor harvest was in. So of course I packed a few glass jars filled with the finest Humboldt and Mendocino have to offer. Arriving empty-handed, with nothing to share after the Thanksgiving feast, would be rude. But since I pack as efficiently as I travel, these jars weren’t stashed anywhere discrete—they were right on top. This saved the TSA officer the trouble of digging through my collection of t-shirts and hoodies to find them.

Thus, the dance began.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“That… is medical cannabis,” I said, a shot of adrenaline-fueled anxiety putting just the slightest hairline crack into my confidence.

I was prepared for this. You see, for the better part of a decade, I’ve flown with marijuana nearly everywhere I go. I do this for a variety of reasons, chief of which is that I can. (Second and third-place reasons are, I’d rather not patronize a black-market dealer where I’m going if it’s an illegal state, and I’d rather bring the weed I have than spend money on more otherwise.) And not once have I ever had any trouble—even when TSA looked through my belongings and found some weed.

If you’re reading this, you can, too.

Many, many people do it, whether they’re growers flying to international Cannabis Cups or normal civilians.

It’s remarkably easy, and requires little more than common sense and abiding by a few rules. Here’s how.

REMEMBER WHAT TSA DOES.

The youngest of the cabinet-level federal departments, Homeland Security’s Transit Security Administration is in the job of looking for things that might lead to a reprise of 9/11, fear of which is what’s led us to take off our shoes, empty our pockets and be subjected to Donald Trump-level sexual assault all for the thin veneer of safety.

Since it was natives of trusted U.S. ally Saudi Arabia armed with box-cutters that got us into this mess, not Lebanese blond hash, TSA has acted (for once) appropriately. In other words: They are not there to look for drugs.

“Our officers are focused on security and are not searching specifically for substances that aren’t a threat to the aircraft,” TSA spokesman Bruce Anderson confirmed to HIGH TIMES in an email.

Now. If you’re trafficking in pounds, or more likely, if your rolling bag is full of $50,000 in cash on either end of such a trafficking jaunt, you may find yourself greeted at the gate by law enforcement, who TSA can (and does) call if they do discover drugs during a screening.

But who does the TSA call? If you’re packing weed, they won’t call the FBI or the DEA. They call the law enforcement agency responsible for patrolling the airport. They call the local cops—who enforce local law, not federal law.

It’s a common misconception that airports are beholden to federal law. But it’s also a common mistake to believe that just because marijuana is legal in the state where you’re boarding, the same holds true at the airport.

KNOW THE LAY OF THE LAND

Perhaps the single most important rule of all is to know the rules. This means knowing more than simply if cannabis is legal or not in your state of origin and destination. You need to know the rules of the airport.

In Denver, for example, the airport has declared all possession of marijuana to be illegal. If you’re caught with cannabis, they won’t jail you or fine you, but they will make you throw your weed out.

In Portland, police will check your boarding pass before letting you go. If you’re flying to somewhere else within state lines—which evidently is a thing—you’re free to board, weed in hand. If you’re flying somewhere else, even to a state where cannabis is also legal, you’ll be asked to go back through security and dispense with the weed somehow.

In San Francisco, you’re allowed to board with an ounce—but if you have your medical cannabis recommendation, you’re allowed to board with eight ounces.

In other words, airports are for the most part just as permissive as the states in which they’re located. This has led to a general air of “who gives a fuck” at security, at least in legal states.

Case in point: In the month of January 2017, Portland police were called to security at PDX after TSA discovered drugs three times. The year before, they were called twice. Nobody will come out and say it, but drugs just aren’t a priority.

“Their primary mission is to look for things prohibited on board an aircraft that can compromise the safety of the flight,” Portland airport spokeswoman Kama Simonds told HIGH TIMES.

In Denver, drugs going through security are such a big deal that after 2015, when 29 people were stopped at security, out of 54 million passengers, they stopped keeping statistics, airport spokesman Heath Montgomery told HIGH TIMES.

Once past security and aboard your flight, you’re in the clear until you get to your destination. Once there, your risk factors are the same they’d be anywhere else: A ticket for blatantly boneheaded public smoking in a legal state; a citation or misdemeanor arrest from an asshole cop in New York City; or something far worse, depending on the amount, the color of your skin and the demeanor of the cop somewhere else.

WHAT ABOUT INTERNATIONALLY?

This, for obvious reasons, is the biggest risk. But, for all the reasons mentioned before, the risk won’t be in the United States. You’ll be dealing with the same TSA and be able to get on board your flight with the same ease. What happens when you land in your foreign destination is up to you—but also up to the attitude of the local gendarmes.

Last year, a close friend spent more than a month in Eastern Europe. Since that’s a long sojourn, he packed several vape pen cartridges and a few ounces, and nothing happened (aside from getting stoned in his father-in-law’s backyard on the regular).

This wasn’t just a leap of faith: cannabis cultivation is so rampant in the Balkans that simple possession would likely not have been a big deal. Conversely, when I was stuffing my bag for a jaunt to Thailand, a few stories about bribing Thai police and the conditions in Thai jails was enough to convince me to leave the weed at home—though, later during this trip, while in Hong Kong, the availability and price of weed smuggled in from Namibia, of all places, made me wish I’d taken the risk and snuck something into my carry-on.

Which brings us to the last cardinal rule of cannabis travel.

CARRY-ON. CARRY-ON. CARRY-ON.

You know what? I take back the above maxim about knowing the rules. Of equal importance is where you pack your stash—and you must pack your stash in your carry-on. Repeat: Do not put it in your checked luggage!

The reason for this is simple: The likelihood of your carry-on being searched, as long as you’re not trying to pack something blatantly banned like a can of spray paint, a lighter or a half-full bottle of wine, is slim.

But as Lifehacker recently explained, the roll call of red flags for TSA that can trigger a search of your checked bag is a veritable shopping list of harmless everyday items that includes phone chargers, food, toiletries and clothes—in short, anything that anyone going anywhere flies with, always.

Since marijuana is illegal to transport across state lines, it’s contraband and can be yanked from your bag without redress.

“But I’ve flown with XXX amount stuffed in my disgusting checkered Vans many a time,” you may say.

Since we’re already in the business of taking risks, what’s one more? Let’s ponder that question when you arrive at your destination, pop open your bag and find the “YOU’VE BEEN SEARCHED!” ticket and no weed.

But this means you should police your carry-on for the things that do trigger a search, particularly if you’re in a place where cannabis is not legal. Such basic preparation is why I’ve never been stopped going through security in New Orleans, New York or St. Louis—and is the reason why a forgotten bike tool, hidden at the very bottom of a hastily-packed, holiday-time carry-on was why my bag was diverted and subsequently dismantled by a TSA agent in San Francisco on Thanksgiving Eve.

Even then, it was clear she’d been through this before.

“Do you have your paperwork?” she asked.

But of course. I presented my medical marijuana recommendation, and she and I made small talk while a San Francisco police officer could be summoned to check everything. A few minutes later, a cop appeared, riding a Segway. He barely took the time to step off before nodding at the TSA agents and rolling away.

“You’re all set. Have a nice flight,” the agent told me.

By that time, my flight had long since departed, leaving me plenty of time to sit at the airport bar and ponder over an Irish coffee the necessity of taking more care when packing. Next time, I’d leave the bike tool at home—and bring some pressed hash instead.

RELATED: How To Avoid Getting Searched at the Airport

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from Medical Marijuana News http://ift.tt/2lDh5SF via https://www.potbox.com/