#Dead Club City Era

[nbtarchive]

Groovin The Moo 2023 by daisy.

#nothing but thieves #conor mason #groovin the moo #live performance #live 2023 #dead club city era

[lifeafterdeath-if]

Life After Death is a Slice of Death Romantic Drama that takes place within the afterlife. It’s rated 18+ for depictions of violence, sexual themes, alcohol use, explicit language, and, of course, death.

You’re dead.

It’s still something that you have to get used to. That you were happily, or at least you told yourself anyway, living your life within the world of the living only to end up in the world of the dead by nightfall— Elysium isn’t exactly what you were expecting, the bustling city being an eclectic mix of various points in history, but you’re certain you could be in worse places.

Making a new “life” within the walls of the ever-growing city seems an almost impossible task.

That is until a kind stranger, garbed in Victorian-Era clothing, offers you a place to stay at the Silver Towers; an apartment complex that has all walks of life seemingly crammed into its well-structured walls.

Will you be able to find your place among the new ensemble of people? Will you be able to find a connection with someone that you had never been able to create in life?

Only time will tell as your afterlife commences.

Customizable MC: Name, appearance, gender (female, male, and non-binary), sexuality, smattering facets of your life before death, and more!

Detail how your MC feels about their death and the world that they’ve left behind? Happy, sad, angry?

Discover all that Elysium, and its many Districts, have to offer as you meet more and more people.

Engage in a romance with 1 of 6 romantic options— from the kindly stranger to an ancient warrior. Each one gives you an insight into a world that seems so far from your own.

Forge friendships that will last through time.

Follow your MCs journey as they discover what their Life After Death will truly entail.

Edward/Elizabeth Clarke: A soft-spoken individual, with a heart of gold, and a penchant to help those in need. They also happen to be the very individual that offers you a place to stay within the Silver Towers. [PROFILE]

Kaspian/Kassandra Drakos: Hot-blooded and slightly obtuse, Kas is an individual from Ancient Greece; a Spartan Warrior that still has some of their old teachings ingrained in their very being, even after all these years. [PROFILE]

Jace/Jade Reed: Your new roommate who, fortunately for you, seems to have come from the same time as you. With a sunny smile and excitable disposition, they’re clearly a person that anyone could go to if they needed a shoulder to cry on. Only time will tell if they have one as well. [PROFILE]

Yvan/Yvonne DeLuca: The owner of the most influential club within all of Elysium— Afterlife. A rather on-the-nose name, of course, but that doesn’t stop the lines from forming throughout the night. With ambition running through their veins, and a silver tongue, nothing has ever made them slow down. [PROFILE]

Gabriel/Gabriella Caelius: An Angel sent from Heaven to watch over Elysium— a post that seems to have been subjected to for quite some time if their total apathy towards the city at large is anything to go by. It’s clear they want nothing more than to leave, but aren’t able to. [PROFILE]

Celian/Céline Keres: The Mayor of Elysium, maintaining order within a place that is simply a waiting room for most of the inhabitants within, who has a reputation for being cold; not wanting anything to mess with the city they love so much. Of course, another moniker is commonly attached alongside their name— The Grim Reaper. [PROFILE]

DEMO TBA

#life after death #interactive novel #interactive fiction #hosted games #choice of games #character profiles will be added soon

[blueiskewl]

2,000-Year-Old Roman Mausoleum Unearthed Near London Bridge

No burial artifacts were recovered from the structure itself, but the surrounding area yielded over 80 Roman burials containing copper bracelets, coins, glass beads and a bone comb.

A "completely unique," 2,000-year-old Roman mausoleum that has emerged from the rubble of a development site in central London is the most intact ever discovered in the U.K.

The monumental tomb — of which low walls, entrance steps and interior flooring remain — is bejeweled with two mosaics composed of small red tiles, each featuring a flower enclosed in concentric circles. More than 100 coins were also strewn across the tomb's floor.

Archeologists only found the second mosaic when they dug beneath the first one. This indicates the mausoleum floor was raised at least once while it was still being used for burials, they said.

The discovery, which is nestled within the city's central Southwark area, "provides a fascinating window into the living conditions and lifestyle in this part of the city in the Roman period," Antonietta Lerz, a senior archeologist at The Museum of London Archeology (MOLA), said in a statement.

Roman invaders under Emperor Claudius founded London, or Londinium, around 47 A.D. and ruled the city through to the early fifth century, when dwindling military resources and incursions across the rest of the empire forced their withdrawal from Britain.

The recent excavation bears the marks of this decline. "This relatively small site in Southwark is a microcosm for the changing fortunes of Roman London — from the early phase of the site where London expands and the area has lavishly decorated Roman buildings, all the way through to the later Roman period when the settlement shrinks and it becomes a more quiet space where people remember their dead," Lerz said.

The mausoleum would have originally housed coffins and other burial artifacts, according to the statement, but none were recovered from the structure itself. However, the excavation site around the monument yielded Roman-era items belonging to more than 80 burials, including copper bracelets, glass beads, pottery and a bone comb.

Archeologists will now examine these recovered items to better understand central London's Roman past.

Only the wealthier members of society would have had access to the mausoleum, which may have been used as a family tomb or belonged to a "burial club," requiring a monthly fee to secure a future grave, according to the statement.

What remains of the structure indicates that it was a two-story building with large buttresses in the corners for support. The high walls were probably dismantled for reuse elsewhere during the medieval period. Inside, a raised platform cemented with pink mortar containing crushed bits of pottery and brick — a widely used Roman building material known as "opus signinum" — designates where the burials would have taken place around three sides of the mausoleum.

The discovery follows that of a 26 foot (eight meter) long Roman mosaic — the largest unearthed in London for more than 50 years — in February 2022. The newly excavated mausoleum will be put on public display once construction has concluded, according to the statement.

By Sascha Pare.

#2000-Year-Old Roman Mausoleum Unearthed Near London Bridge #roman mosaic #ancient grave #ancient tomb #ancient mausoleum #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman history #roman empire

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Can you do reader who is really in love w/ Tom and they've been bestfriends for years (set in like 2005) and it's obvious nothing is gonna happen with them and over a few months she starts to fall for bill? Like he comforts her abt her crush on Tom and helps her stop thinking about him and have some actual fun and bill and reader just fall in love?

This Tom and Bill era pls?

(Hello! Sure i can but so sorry if I went off what you wanted and I sorta them in a different era, the one in the gif but I hope you enjoy!)

Foolish Love

You couldn't help but fall victim to vicious love.

But of course, not with a regular person. With Tom. Kaulitz.

You guys were best friends for years, you guys were as close as anyone could be, before you fell for him.

You guys were famous, but you harbored and nurtured that "crush" for years before that.

The fucked up shit was that Tom knew. But he wasn't ready for a relationship, so you settled for what you could, friends with benefits.

You knew you would get hurt from the start. You knew your feelings would go haywire with every phone call, every touch and every meet up and every morning you woke up in his bed..

But you still did it.

And you still got hurt. Every time.

So that's how you ended up on the roof, sitting against the wall with a cigarette between your lips as you heard the city quiet down for once.

You didn't move when you heard the door leading to the roof open, and didn't even turn when you heard footsteps coming towards you.

Because you could recognize the familiar gingles of the bracelets that you gifted, small hums of Bill Kaulitz coming to you.

You could hear his footsteps stop, barely glancing. You saw his shoes right next to your legs as he looked down at you.

"Care for some company?" Bill offered, watching as you glanced up to see him offering his best smile, his sympathy coated smile.

You hated it when he gave it to you.

But now you could use it.

"Sure, be my guest." You could barely mutter through your dried up tear coated cheeks, angry tears at yourself for letting yourself get into this shit again.

Bill took your invitation before you took it back, sitting down next to you so close your legs touched.

Bill looked at the cigarette between your lips and you couldn't help but laugh as he took it for himself, stealing a drag before he flicked it off to burn out.

"Hey," you groaned, getting shushed in the process. "You smoke, hypocrite." You dead-panned at Bill.

"I can ruin my lungs, I'm not letting you." Bill smiled, watching as you rolled your eyes but he poked your side to get that smile back onto your lips.

You swatted his hand away, trying to hide the smile before he saw it, but he did. You both then fell into some comfortable silence, both watching the night city light up.

"So…" Bill trailed off, drumming his fingers on his legs before he looked at you, watching as you avoided his eyes.

"Out of everyone, my brother?" Bill finally brought up the reason for your nightly smoke.

You rolled your eyes, scoffing as you leaned your head back against the wall.

"So you know?" You asked, glancing to see the same sympathetic smile on Bill's face.

"I've known. It's been pretty obvious, (Name)." Bill winced, watching as you hid your face in your hands, running your hand down your face before you hugged your knees.

"...Why can't he just like me back? I mean…he acts like he does, then goes off with some skank in a club." You muttered, messing with your fingers as Bill sighed.

"...I don't know. He's Tom." Bill tried to offer comfort, shrugging before he grimaced at his own words.

"That doesn't help." You said, resting your chin on your knees as Bill's shoulders sagged.

"I know…but, (Name)?" Bill said, using two fingers to turn your chin to finally face him.

"...You deserve better than my brother." Bill finally spoke the words you were afraid to admit were true.

"How do you know that?" You asked as Bill thought for a moment, looking down to think before his eyes met yours once again.

"You're friendly. You're thoughtful. And you're quite, awfully pretty." Bill offered his small smile, no sympathy, just love and his genuine truth coated smile.

Bill cupped your cheeks, wiping away the remaining tears from before as you laughed softly at his words, shaking your head.

"You're saying that because you have to." You shook your head as Bill shook his, leaning back onto the wall himself.

"I'm not. You really do deserve better than Tom. I know he's my brother, but he's not boyfriend material." Bill joked, smiling at your soft smile at his jab.

You both sat there for a moment, listening to the wind and the soft city chatter below.

You both leaned back onto the wall as you finally felt something more than hurt and anger in that moment.

Comfort. Something you needed and wished for with Tom, but something you couldn't get.

Maybe because it wasn't really Tom who you wanted to begin with.

Maybe it was the love and the idea you had that was projected onto Tom because you couldn't have someone else.

Someone named Bill.

Bill.

You couldn't have him before, so you brushed off the feelings you were afraid to confront into the back of your mind, projecting them onto the one in reach, one you thought you wanted.

But now, sitting on the roof with him once more, the feelings you pushed down and disguised couldn't help but come back to haunt you.

You snuck a glance at Bill, watching him looking over the roof.

You didn't know why you needed too, but you let your head fall onto his shoulder.

Bill looked down at you for a moment, a small smile overtaking his lips. Bill hesitated for a moment, taking time to think before he lost the chance.

Bill slid an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him, you moved to put your legs over his lap, his arm still around your shoulder, your head on his as his free hand rested onto your leg.

It was quite comfortable, almost a scene out of a stupid rom-com you and Bill watched again and again as kids, sitting on the roof together.

"...Think someone would like me?" You asked, messing with one of the many necklaces you gave to Bill that hung around his neck.

Bill sat silent for a moment, looking down at you before he nodded, resting his chin on your head as he ran his hand over your leg.

"Maybe. If you liked them back." Bill couldn't help the smile that came onto his face and neither could you as he took your hand, kissing the back of it on that rooftop.

You both knew what he meant.

Because Bill had always known he loved you, staying in the background to make you happy when you thought you loved Tom.

So on that rooftop, Bill finally could have something Tom took for granted while he could've had it.

Bill finally got you.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #bill

[nerdygaymormon]

Berlin had become the “gay capital of the world,” a city with a booming queer nightlife scene and the center of new academic ideas calling for greater acceptance of homosexuality and gender non-conformity.

To the Nazis, homosexuality represented a “threat” to the “Aryan” race’s survival that needed to be stamped out. Although male homosexual activity had been technically illegal in Germany since the 19th century, it was generally tolerated and even celebrated prior to Adolf Hitler’s ascension to power in 1933.

The Nazis began their anti-queer purges by targeting clubs, societies and Magnus Hirschfield’s renowned sexology research institute, burning the books in its library. Decades of pioneering work and community life had been erased.

By 1935, Paragraph 175 of the German penal code was revised to include a harsher sentence and criminalize virtually any kind of male same-sex intimacy.

Between 1933 and 1945, an estimated 100,000 men were arrested for violating Nazi Germany’s law against homosexuality, and of these, approximately 50,000 were sentenced to prison. An estimated 5,000 to 15,000 men were sent to concentration camps on similar charges.

In the concentration camps, they were subjected to barbaric tortures, including sexual abuse, castration and medical experiments. The other prisoners also ostracized them. Overall prospects for gay prisoners were poor: an estimated 65% died, and an unknown, albeit likely disproportionate number committed suicide.

As the Allies swept through Europe to victory over the Nazi regime in early 1945, hundreds of thousands of concentration camp prisoners were liberated. The Allied Military Government of Germany repealed countless laws and decrees, but left unchanged the 1935 Nazi revision of Paragraph 175.

For the queer survivors of Nazi oppression, 1945 did not bring about any kind of liberation; rather, it marked the beginning of a systematic process of persecution and willful suppression—one that would result in their erasure from the pages of popular history.

Under the Allied occupation, homosexual concentration camp survivors were forced to serve out their terms of imprisonment regardless of time served in the concentration camps. They were easy to identify because in the concentration camps they had an upside-down pink triangle sewn to their clothes.

After the war, Jews, children, and political prisoners could apply for financial and moral support from the new German governments (a.k.a. reparations), homosexual men could not. Similarly, gay survivors were not allowed to collect a pension for the time they spent working in the concentration camps while other survivors could.

The Nazi version of Paragraph 175 remained on the books of the Federal Republic of Germany (West Germany) until the law was revised in 1969 to decriminalize homosexual relations between men over the age of 21. This resulted in the arrest of around 100,000 gay men between 1945 and 1969. Paragraph 175 itself would only be entirely removed from the penal code in 1994, following Germany’s reunification.

Advocacy groups successfully rallied for the creation of memorials, and the German Bundestag finally voted to pardon and compensate the victims of Paragraph 175 in 2017, a meager and all-too-late offer of justice as most of the victims were long dead.

The Nazi-era oppression of queer women and intersex individuals has been overshadowed due to a combination of homophobia and sexism. Lesbian women, for instance, may not have been systematically persecuted under the Third Reich, as Paragraph 175 only targeted gay men, but that did not deter the Nazis from shutting down their clubs or arresting them for “anti-sociality,” deeming them “morally unsound,” labeling them as “lesbisch” (lesbian) political dissidents and sending them to concentration camps.

For years, LGBTQ organizations were ignored and even shunned from Holocaust commemorations. The gathering of their stories was not considered important. The suppression of the Holocaust’s queer voices remains a stain that lingers on to this day.

#queer history #scary how fast things changed #from gay capital of world to concentration camps #never forget #long post

[taschamonnii]

More Than A Woman

Read Part 2 & Part 3 & Part 4 & Part 5

You x Shirley Carter (70s-80s Southern Housewife Original Character  - Elizabeth Olsen) 

*Disclaimer/Summary: This completely Fictional Character is based on the way Lizzie plays old-fashioned Housewives. (Some inspo is taken from WandaVision, I Saw The Light, and Love & Death) This character is in no way a portrayal of any real-life people. Audrey Williams and Candy Montgomery were real people that Lizzie has portrayed for entertainment purposes in tv & film. This story is not about them. I just want to see Lizzie play a 70s-80s housewife that is secretly Gay and stuck in a religious small-town in the South. Since she has never done that but has played the part of perfect housewife I decided to make my own character.* I will be using edited pictures from the characters she has played and unaltered gifs since it's way too hard to edit those.* 

Character Description since this is a made up character: mid length-wavy-dark brown hair (think more the length in I saw the Light like it falls to her collar bones but the dee dark brown from goth Wanda era, Emerald Green eyes, Wears form fitting dresses and hig waisted pants and skirts.  

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Angst/Smut

TW: SMUT, 18+, Cheating on husbands to be GAY together, 

I am so obsessed with Lizzie playing housewife that I made a playlist! More Than A Woman

AN: I’m not going to lie, this is purely a selfish work of writing. I NEEDED it!

Word Count: 4,343

Imagine This:

“I’m very attracted to you. Would you be interested in having an affair?”

The intensity of deep emerald green eyes was almost too much for you. The air in the truck was thick as you swallowed hard. Her gaze moved from your eyes to your lips and in a flash right back up to your eyes. Heat pooled low in your abdomen and you couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. 

Shirley licked her lips and your gaze was instantly drawn to the movement. Your body gravitated toward her. 

“You already know the answer to that question, Shirley.” 

Your tone was playful. This moment had been a long time coming. The two of you had far too many shared glances and lingering touches. You felt the attraction instantly when your gaze first landed on her in the church choir. She was the only reason you joined when you moved to this tiny town for your husband's job. She was quick to notice you as well, she convinced you to join the church tennis team. She was the epitome of a perfect church-going housewife when she introduced herself to you. Shirley Carter was perfect, too perfect. She knew she had a role to play in life and she perfected it to hide her secret. She was desperately waiting for a woman just like you to share her secret with. You hadn’t needed to perfect your role the way she did. You were originally from California. Yes, you married a man, but there were book clubs specifically for women just like you in your old city. Your husband attended a club of his own so intimacy and kids have never been a requirement. A mutual agreement was made between you and your childhood best friend long ago. You didn’t need to really hide it. So, it was oh so easy for her to notice your constant staring. She let you know it was more than okay when she caught you staring. She'd always manage to drift more into your personal space and she’d act super friendly. It was honestly mesmerizing to watch her play this part so perfectly. 

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it.” she smirked.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want to have an affair with you, Shirley. You are all I ever want, all I think about.”

“What are you waiting for? Kiss me.”

A shiver ran down your spine at her words. You closed the gap between you in an instant. Her lips were impossibly perfect. Softer, sweeter than you ever imagined and you had imagined this moment since you first gazed upon her plump lips. She didn’t waste any time her body shifted into your space and forced you to sit upright on the bench seat of your truck. She was in your lap before you could even decide where you really wanted your hands. The second she settled into straddling you she kissed you harder biting at your bottom lip. You moved your hands around her body and down her back. The curve of her hips was irresistible, causing you to pull her into you. Her gasp allowed your tongue to slip inside her sweet mouth. You moaned at her taste and moved your hands to grip her ass hard and pull her into you again. 

This time she pulled away quickly and bit her own bottom lip as she pushed your shoulders back. Her hands gilded softly down your arms and grabbed your hands. You watched and let her take your hands where she wanted them. She cast a spell on you the second she whispered that she was attracted to you and now you were hers. She knew this, she knew she could do anything she wanted with you, that you'd do anything. She took your hands and laid them softly on her full breasts then made them glide down her front to her sides to the hem of her blouse. You moved your thumb along the material and grazed her skin softly making her shiver. 

"Touch me."

She let your hands go and grabbed your shoulders. You didn't waste time moving your hands under the fabric. You squeezed her hips pulling her closer. She hummed and pressed in closer, instantly capturing your lips. Your hands moved around her and up her smooth back. Nothing compared to how she felt under your fingers. You couldn't wait to have them buried deep inside her. 

You moved one skilled hand to her bra and unsnapped it as the other hand moved to start pulling her blouse off. The sudden cool air on her heated skin made her shiver and gasp. She may be bold but you had the experience. 

You wasted no time at all after throwing her top aside. Your blunt nails scratched down her back. She leaned into you with a loud sigh.

"Fuck"

"You like that?" 

"God yes!"

"Just wait, I'm only getting started."

You moved your hands up her sides and filled your hands with her full breasts. Her nipples were already so hard it made your mouth water. She sighed as you massaged them in both hands her hips began to grind against you begging for friction. You pinched her nipples without warning hard and she let out a whimper. 

"Does he touch you like this?"

"N-No. Fuck it feels so good. Please don't stop."

"Only I can touch you like this."

She nodded.

"I need to hear it."

You let go of her breasts completely and she groaned.

"Please Y/N! Only you can touch me like this, only you make me feel this good. Please!"

You smirked, she was always so in control and now she was putty in your hands.

You cupped her breasts lightly as light as you could stand it. Making her whimper again. You could cum just at the sound of her breathy moans but you wanted to make her cum first as many times as you could get from her. You were so curious how many ways you could get her to cum in your truck. 

You changed the angle you were sitting, bringing her closer. You leaned forward into her and ghosted your lips over her left nipple. 

"Fuck!"

You flicked your tongue over the stiff bud before she could ask for more. You sucked it hard into your mouth, biting it lightly. Her gasp and jerk of her hips told you she liked it. You pinched her other nipple harder and began to suck and bite and flick her left nipple relentlessly. Her hips were pressing against you wildly. Your free hand steadied her motions helping her get friction by gripping her firm ass and pushing her into you. Her breathing was becoming more labored but her hips kept the motion as you switched hands. You pinched the overstimulated bud hard as your mouth moved to her right nipple. You followed the same relentless pattern. Sucking biting, flicking licking. Pinching and brushing the other. Your free hand moved to her ass only this time you kept her body pressed closer to you not letting her get any friction. 

Her green eyes shot down to lock with yours and her pupils were blown. You released her nipple from your mouth. 

"I want you to cum just from this." You pinched both her nipples then brushed your hands over them and squeezed. 

"I know you are close. Let it go for me and I will make you cum again and again."

She threw her head back as you squeezed her breasts and grazed your palms over her sensitive nipples.

"Fuck I can't"

"You can"

You scratched down her sides and back up then pinched her nipples toying with them between your fingers. Her head shot back up and she pressed closer to you. You kissed down her necks and began to leave the lightest marks, careful not to leave any that will last, over her collarbones and breasts. Your fingers consistently follow a pattern of playing with her hard nipples. Gently then harder. Her hips bucked into you hard and her body trembled then her legs squeezed you hard. 

"Oh OH! Fu-FUCK!"

You hummed feeling your own clit throb at the sight. "Fuck you are breathtaking when you cum."

"I. You. Fuck! I didn't think I could cum like that."

"It takes more time that way but I could spend days worshiping your breasts. But also now you are soaked and ready for me."

You moved your hands finally letting her boobs have a break. Her nipples stood stiff and bright pink, almost tempting you to try and make her cum the same way for you once again. But you couldn't wait to feel how wet she was. 

You moved your hands down to her skirt which was already hiked up around her hips and pushed it out of your way more. You took both your hands to her inner thighs massaging them. You started softly making her whimper and used more pressure as you got closer to wear she needed you most. You could feel the heat radiating off of her center. Your fingers brushed against her silk panties and she gasped for air. She was soaked.

"Can I rip these off of you?"

She shuddered at your words and nodded as she talked. 

"You've already ruined them." 

You moved to the hem of the fabric and yanked it apart. A moan left her lips at the friction against her clit, the soaked material ripped with ease revealing her soft wet skin and soft trimmed hair. 

You moved two fingers along her soaked lips and lightly brushed her clit. 

"Stop fucking teasing Y/N"

You moved your fingers up and down spreading her slick heat she instantly bucked her hips into you. Her hands grabbed at the hair on the back of your neck. 

"Fuck me!"

You moved your fingers to her entrance teasing just the tips in. 

"Kiss me and I'll think about it."

Her lips instantly captured yours hard and needy. You pulled your fingers back up to her clit only adding light pressure. She moved like she was going to part the kiss to complain but you instantly captured her lower lip sucking hard as you moved your fingers. Both your fingers slid into her with ease. Her walls tightly surrounded you. Her body relaxed into you finally getting some satisfaction. She moved her hips as you slid as far as your long slender fingers could go. 

You moved your fingers slowly back out and in, a few times until her hips started rocking in time with you. You curved your fingers making sure to press against her most sensitive spots. 

"Ride my fingers."

Her breathing became heavier and breathier as she moved on top of you, her perky breasts bouncing in front of you. She began to move more and more and so you picked up speed and made sure your palm rubbed against her clit. She was already so close you could feel her walls flutter around you. You moved your free hand from her ass to scratch up and down her back. 

"Fuck! AH! Ah fuck please don't stop! Oh my fucking God! Fucking how? Fuck! Fuck Fuck!"

"I love how you ride my fingers! You are so fucking beautiful!"

Her legs squeeze around you tight and tremble as she throws her head back. Her neck strains and you want to bite it so desperately but know better. You guide her through her orgasm, easing the pressure letting her soak up the high and enjoy a slow come down. Her walls release their tight grip on your fingers and you slowly pull them from her. You are desperate to taste her but you want her to watch so you wait a second. As her body stops shaking she locks her gaze on you and the green rings around her blown pupils cause you to smirk. You feel like the best kind of evil as you bring your fingers to your lips and suck them slowly into your mouth moaning as you get lost in her taste. Her lips part as she watches you. You make sure to make an audible pop sound as you clean them and release them from your mouth. A whimper leaves her parted lips. 

“You are so fucking sexy Y/N!”

“You taste so sweet, Shirley. I want to eat you up, no I need to. Please?” 

You love the way her cheeks become red so you continue. “I need to bury my tongue as deep as I can into your sweetness. I need to feel your tight walls flutter around it as I drink you in and get lost in how incredible you taste. Do you want to feel my tongue inside you, Shirley?” 

Her body shudders and it is breathtaking to watch your words affect her so deeply. You move closer and brush your lips against hers softly. “Do you want to know how good you taste?”

She doesn’t answer with words, her lips meet yours urgently. She is swiftly slipping her tongue in your mouth and pressing her body against you with need. She moans into the kiss and manages to suck lightly on your tongue. Your clit throbs and you can’t stop the shudder that runs down your body. She pulls away with a smirk knowing the effect she had on you filled her with confidence. Her hands ran down over your chest and her slender long fingers quickly unbuttoned your top. She makes even quicker work of your bra, tossing it aside. She licks her lips as your breasts and abs are unveiled to her. 

Her fingertips brush up and down your chest and abs. Your nipples harden as her palms brush over them. She pinches them between her fingers softly. 

"Can I make you cum like this?"

You bite your bottom lip and nod. It's so sexy how she wants to copy what you did and learn from you. 

Her commanding, dominating, and controlling personality pushed her to be a fast learner and damn she really paid attention.

Her fingers are so long and her grip is strong she holds your breasts in both her hands firmly feeling squeezing, testing the weight in her hands. She loves how soft your skin is. She loves how you fit perfectly in her hand and it is better than her wildest daydreams. 

You moan at her explorations. Her palms graze your hard nipples as she releases your breasts. She then swiftly pinches both nipples between her fingers softly.

"Harder." You sigh

She bites her bottom lip and she pinches harder. Causing you to sigh with relief. You can feel your walls contracting around nothing and buck your hips up into her to no avail. 

She smirks. She moves off your lap slightly bunching up your skirt as she adjusts herself to put one knee between your legs and to allow her to straddle your bare leg. 

Her bare wet core now rests hot against the smooth skin of your thigh. And fuck her knee is pressed right against the wet fabric covering your clit. Her intuition is beautiful but you expect she's read about this sort of thing. She's a curious and intelligent woman. 

She settles for a moment in the new position still pinching your nipples, eyes glued to your every reaction. Then she slowly slides her wet heat along your thigh as she presses her knee into your clit. You throw your head back straining your neck. 

The display of your exposed neck collar bones and chest make her mouth water. She licks her lips before she leans in and presses an open mouthed kiss to your neck. She kisses and tests the waters sucking lightly. You can tell she wants to mark your skin by the way her lips tremble against you.

Her lips feel devine. Your mind wanders to how good they will feel on the rest of your body and how badly you want her to bite you but you more so just want to see and feel what she does next. You melt as her kisses lower to your chest and she kisses all around your nipple. She takes the other in her hand and finally envelopes the stuff bud in her warm mouth. She is light, careful, and calculated as she flicks her tongue and it drives your hips to grind against her. She pinches your other nipple as she lightly bites the one in her mouth and you can't help yourself.

"Fuck that feels so good!" You grab her ass in both your hands and squeeze, pressing her wet heat harder against your leg. Bringing her closer and also giving your clit much needed pressure. 

She takes this as a sign that she's doing the right things and begins a pattern similar to what you did licking biting sucking while grazing and squeezing and pinching. She switches between breasts and your back arches. You are so close and right when you are about to say harder her long fingers tangle into and pull your hair. She bites harder on your nipple and pinches the other with determination. You feel your walls contract and moan out. 

"Fuck I'm cuming! Yes Shirley!"

Your body trembles once twice as she releases your breasts and kisses your lips. Your hands travel up her back and into her hair as you deepen the kiss. She pulls back first. 

"I want to feel you cuming."

Her fingers travel down your torso and pull on the hem of your soaked panties. Her gaze falls to your lap and she grabs at the fabric the same way you did hers. You nod approval to rip them. Her fingers move with haste and her gaze is locked on the skin and neatly trimmed hair. She watches as the fabric falls with a clear sticky wetness. She licks her lips as she glances back up at you.

"I don't know how to do this."

She moves off your lap and sits looking away from you. Twisting in her direction you softly graze her chin and pull her attention back. 

"You have been doing amazing and you have made me feel absolutely incredible already. You don't have to do anything else if you don't want to."

"No! I want to! I just want to be great or nothing."

You smirk. "You and those long fingers are going to be the best. You are going to ruin me for everyone else, no one will ever compare to you." 

She rolls her eyes.

"I know this because you want to be great so you will let me help you and you will listen and feel and know what to do by paying attention."

She bit her bottom lip thinking "can you straddle me so I can do it like you did?"

You lightly bite your bottom lip and raise your eyebrow. "Oh Mrs. Carter, you want me to ride your fingers and fuck me senseless?" 

"Yes, Mrs. Y/L/N." 

You move and help her adjust into more of the middle of the seat. The bench seat is such a blessing and you are so thankful for your truck right now. Your knees hug her outter thighs and you hold your skirt keeping it bunched up as you settle on her lap. Her gaze travels up and down your body with determination like she's memorizing you. It makes you shiver and you can't stop yourself as you capture her lips in a heated kiss.

Her hands grip your hips fiercely and you think you may have bruises from it which makes heat rush to your already dripping core. You steady yourself with one hand on her shoulder and take the other down to grab her dominant hand. You hold her wrist as you guide her hand down. You guide her to just lay her hand over your core and you release a hot breath against her necks. She takes that as a good sign and presses her middle finger against you more. She bends it running from the source of the slick heat to your clit and you let go of her wrist to grab her other shoulder as your body shudders. 

She repeats this a few times each time teasing your entrance a little. Your hips are begging for more when she decides to slide her middle finger into you slowly letting your walls pull her in and fuck it feels so fucking good! She curls her finger as she slowly removes it and you can't help but squirm on top of her. 

"More. I need another."

Her gaze falls to your lap as you lift up off her slightly and she presses two fingers at your entrance. She slowly pushes in and you let your hips fall, enveloping her fingers with a sigh of relief. Your walls flutter around her and it encourages her to begin exploring different things. Your hips match her movements and your breath quickens. Your hands tangle into the hair on the back of her neck. 

You can't stop yourself from leaning into her as you feel the pressure build. Her fingers are perfect. You try to kiss her shoulder and neck but your moans make you falter and scrape your teeth against her skin. It makes her shudder and dig her other hand harder into the skin of your waist as she helps you stay steady. Your breath is more of a frantic panting against her skin and it just seems to urge her on. She quickens her pace more confident in her motions. 

And fuck it feels so good to let her take the lead to give into her. She seems to be enjoying herself and it just makes you clench around her. She can't stop watching her fingers disappear into you. She's mesmerized. 

You are so close your hips can't keep up with her motions but it's more than okay because she is fucking you right where you need her. 

"Fuck Shirley! Ah! Feels so good! Oh fuck right there! Keep- Oh fuck! I'm gonna AH!"

Your hips falter completely as your legs squeeze around her and your legs tremble. Your walls squeeze her fingers contracting hard around her. She slows her pace and stays inside you until you loosen your hold on her. You lean back blissed out and ready to kiss her but she's slowly sucking her fingers and your jaw literally drops at the sight. She moans at the taste of you and keeps her gaze locked on yours. When she makes a wet pop sound finishing the show you instantly capture her lips in a hungry kiss absolutely melting into the taste of you and her. 

You both break from the kiss in need of air and rest your foreheads together. 

The windows of your truck are fogged up and reality hits you. You just fucked and got fucked by Shirley in the church parking lot! You can’t stop the laughter that falls from your lips.

Shirley tilts her head to the side with a crooked smile. “What’s so funny?”

You gesture all around you “We just fucked in the church parking lot. I just fucked and got fucked by Mrs. Perfect Southern Church going HouseWife, Shirley Carter.”

You throw your head back with laughter and soon she joins you but not before she lightly slapped your shoulder. She glanced around and you were parked far in the back corner but still it was so risky! Sure that was part of the thrill but Shirley was not an idiot. She nudged you to get you to be serious for a second. 

“We should probably be smarter about this. We need to make a plan.”

You nod in agreement. “You’re probably right.” 

You move to get off her lap and she stops you. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You smile down at her. “It’s getting late. I was going to find my blouse.”

She bit her bottom lip “oh alright, but I really like having you like this.”

You gave her a lopsided smile and leaned in to kiss her lips once again but this time savoring it. You parted your lips but only barely. “I like it too.”

You pecked her lips once more before moving off her lap and grabbing her top and tossing it at her. You found your bra and quickly pulled it on. You find her bra and dangle it from your finger. “Mrs. Carter, this little lacy red thing is so very inappropriate for choir practice.” 

She rolls her eyes and snatches it from you. “Oh yes because that black number you have on is so appropriate.” 

She smirks and grabs your shirt from under her and throws it at you. 

You gasp and throw your hand over your chest “whatever do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Now button your damn blouse so I can concentrate.”

You do as you are told and watch as she fixes her blouse, hair, and makeup in the mirror. Just like that she looks the part. Perfectly put together. You leave your hair tousled and a few buttons undone, your husband is used to this and most likely is asleep in his room by this hour. 

When she turns to look at you her gaze falls and she physically shakes her head. 

“You can’t go home looking like that!”

“Like what?” You smirk, “relax, my husband, is asleep in HIS room and used to me coming home like this. We have an arrangement, made a pact as kids, so our lives could be easier. Theo likes men and I well, obviously, I LOVE women.” 

You eye her up and down with a smug expression and top it off with a wink. Another roll of her eyes. “You are something else. This is all new to me and we need to be careful. I have kids to think about.”

“Oh don’t you worry, I know how to be discreet and flexible. Whatever you need, you are worth it.”

AN: This is an original series 

#Elizabeth Olsen #Female Reader X Shirley Carter #70s-80s Southern HouseWife #cheating on husbands to be gay but the husbands are also Gay lol #original series #made up original character based on the way Elizabeth Olsen plays old fashioned Housewives #smut #angst #wlw #lesbian #playlist for elizabeth olsen living her best disco life and that are vibes for the show and for dancing #inspo taken from WandaVision and I Saw The Light and Love & Death

[b4sorex1a]

Soft I Scream —(English Translation)

Part I out of II “Barça Camping Smut”, Pedri González/Ferran Torres fic

Word Count: 5,5k

Summary: Because Pedri González always lets Ferran Torres do what he wants, even when it hurts deeply. They have sex in the camping tent.

CW: Rough Sex, Dom! Ferran Torres Sub! Pedri González, Rape Play, Non-Con, Fight Sex/Fighting Kink, Choking, Sexual Violence, Physical abuse, Smut, Dead Dove: Do not Eat, Consensual Non-Consent.

│❝Make me feel like I am breathing, feel like I am human❞ — The Neighbourhood.

Ferran Torres didn't really care much about being a celebrity. The club handed him a title dripping with greatness, elite forward. Despite his mindset built on determined phrases, the young athlete was like any man his age, entirely vulnerable to the greedy offering presented in Blaugrana contracts. But money in a debt-ridden Barcelona doesn't come easy or free, especially when the Catalan football entity belonged to the most corrupt league in Europe.

The administration found its goldmine in a group of attractive boys brimming with charisma, the players of the new post-Lionel Messi era. Hence, it was impossible to resist the promise of salary increases exchanged for some videos or interviews – the perfect mutualistic relationship between players and capitalist entrepreneurs hungry to push boundaries.

For these reasons, the noisy group of teenagers and adults found themselves playing around on the already paid-for travel bus. Shouts, laughter, insults echoed throughout the vehicle, even songs related to the trip played.

Ferran Torres hated the countryside; after all, he was a city boy. However, he enjoyed watching his teammates socialize happily among the comfortable seats of the enormous vehicle. Amid Lamine's laughter and Balde's jokes, complaints were drowned out, creating a light atmosphere filled with joy. The silly videos the youngest in the group showed to each member weren't that funny, but his laughter had a strange tone that made up for the childish taste in humor.

The Valencian finally headed to the back seats in search of a comfortable spot with a view of the window. The expensive journey lasted for many hours, so he impatiently sought his own corner among the characteristic red and blue carpeting.

He strolled down the aisle, ignoring Fermín's audacity, who was sitting at the back of the bus, almost devouring the lips of his boyfriend. He flashed a mischievous smile, baring his fangs at the blonde. This day truly evoked nostalgia for those school trips where hormones flourished in the air, overwhelming the adolescent bodies of the students.

Ferran glanced forward and locked eyes with a brunette girl sitting in the front seats, holding her phone. The social media admin, Ferran thought. He was alarmed when the female figure raised her phone to start recording the surroundings, a concentrated smile on her painted lips.

Being the good friend he was, he smacked his hand against the blonde-haired youth's head in front of him, who was completely lost in a passionate session of deep kisses with another guy.

—Fermín, dude, they're about to record you, wake up, —he whispered loudly but teasingly.

Fermín furrowed his brows as he separated from the other guy, dazed by the touches of the honey-brown-haired individual in his lap.

—Fuck, she's so annoying— impulsively came out of Pablo Gavira, whose toned arms were wrapped around the neck of the blonde. Pablo settled into the seat next to his partner, irritation stemming from being away from a much-needed physical contact he hungered for. His facial expression distorted, annoyance spreading.

Accustomed to the midfielder's piercing gaze, the admin ignored the death threats expressed by other eyes. Smiling, she pointed the flash camera at Xavi, who observed the whole situation with a serious and tired expression. The coach simply greeted in Catalan and returned his attention to the window, years of exposure to the press weighing on his shoulders.

Ferran found it amusing that the management insisted on bringing the coach on this trip. It was as if they had sent them a nanny in the form of a forty-year-old man with more stress in his body than is considered healthy.

With enough exposure to a hormonally charged couple for a month, the Valencian stepped back, moving away from Fermín and Pablo, towards the side, where he noticed a compact figure seated in a chair. Affability melted into his pink-cheeked face when he identified the identity of that mysterious silent person, the boy who entered to take the furthest seat from the others.

Pedri. Pedro González López. Pedri, lifelong. Adorned with his short, disheveled black curls and an oversized black hoodie, with a sun-kissed tan warmer than Ferran had ever witnessed. The midfielder played with the cord of his earphones, lost in the green view of meadows and cows displayed by the window.

Without thinking, the Blaugrana forward chose the perfect corner to spend the entire journey, one where he was accompanying Pedri in the corner of the vehicle, isolated from other curious looks and the girl bothering them with recording new content. His presence became noteworthy as he greeted Pedri with a surprise, his hand suddenly colliding with his muscular thigh.

—Hello— Pedri turned his head in surprise and shyly smiled, opening his space amiably to welcome Ferran.

—Don't mind if I sit here, do you?—he said, but he had already settled into the seat, a mischievous smile decorating his proud lips.

—Nah, if you don't sit, I'll be too lonely and look like a weirdo— he replied sweetly, years of friendship allowing the younger one to open up in the best social way.

Ferran moved his backpack beneath him and looked at Pedri again, waves of happiness coursing through his heart. His hand, claiming space on soft skin, hadn't moved from that leg, now comfortably settled there with no intentions of letting go of the pleasant sensation. Ferran remained seated with legs apart, arm extended to the side, leaning on Pedri's thigh, testing the limits of the midfielder.

It was a friendly game he liked to play too many times, relishing in stretching the boundaries of comfort for Pedri. He loved playing with the lines, knowing that the Canary Islands native would adapt to the new, uncomfortable structure. Because that was their dynamic – hungry, both figuratively and physically, pressure that Ferran exerted against the other guy.

His hand remained where it was, slowly caressing from the appropriate area, inching upward at a centimeter per hour. The voices, complaints, the sound of the engine, and Xavi's frustrated shouts faded into the background from that isolated corner, allowing the duo sitting there to concentrate on the presence they had between them. Everything exterior became blurry for those hidden youngsters in the corner, narrating a new promise of confidentiality.

The golden sunlight adorned Pedri's marked face, his eyes quickly turning vanilla in the exposure to the sun's rays. The shy smile lay on those pink lips, directed towards the Valencian, casual conversation settling between the two.

The high temperatures of the Spanish weather tormented the confined moving space, but the multi-million-euro-valued commitment kept the Barça players calm.

—It's so hot in here; we're cooking, — complained Torres.

Pedri emitted a little laugh.

—I don't think they can install air conditioning, huh?— Pedri replied calmly, shedding himself of the heat in his oversized hoodie.

Like the most torturous paradox, the midfielder folded and stowed his garment in some bag, then lifted the armrest, closing the distance to share a thermal touch of bodies. The canary's head rested on Ferran's shoulder, complete trust demonstrated through innocent actions.

Without the annoying seat divider in the middle, the brunette felt the need to adjust so that both could occupy the space more 'efficiently.' So, he woke up the younger one with a movement, firmly took him by the waist, and placed him on top, shifting towards the center.

An eager commotion sat in conscious uncertainty. Pedri looked at him uncomfortably in the new position, analyzing as if he were at Camp Nou. It was a charming phenomenon to witness the analytical anxiety of Pedri, who moved restlessly at the possibility of being discovered in a compromising position.

—Ferran...— the beautiful boy who sat with legs spread on either side reproached.

—I know, trust me,— Ferran decided to convey with confidence. However, in response, he received a skeptical Pedri trying to get out of that position.

—Stay still— an assertion came out more like a threat painted in a dangerous red, as he reached a hand to the midfielder's neck and pushed forward. The dark-haired one's head was hidden in his neck, unable to get a visually satisfying response, but apparently, Ferran already had one foot in the semi-open door, and Pedri remained static, sitting on his lap.

—Such a good boy, are you my good boy?— he whispered into his ear, leaning in to offer a friendly kiss on the cheek. The athlete withdrew from that space, scandalized.

—We're going to get recorded; let me sit down— he warned, a variety of unspoken pleas invaded his tone.

—But you're already sitting, look,— he pointed out, letting out laughs.

Pedri González wasn't in the mood for this banter, agitated in a thousand breathing rhythms. Ferran seemed to understand that, releasing his grip on the hands that rested on Pedri's waist.

Except that the Valencian's coldness under long lashes hit much harder than the warmth.

—Okay, if you're going to behave like this, I think Félix wants me over there— he casually pointed three seats ahead, where the pretty Portuguese was sitting.

The younger player lifted his eyelids instantly, panic filling his mind, agitation rising as he felt the body beneath him start to move away.

—No, stay, I want to sit like this— he pleaded earnestly.

Victory tasted like euphoria in Ferran's mouth, but as always, when the limits were stretched to the supposed maximum, he wanted to push them much further.

—Dude, don't mess with me; I'm not going to force you, move— Ferran insisted, lazily pushing the nervous guy on top of him.

Rejection tasted painful on Pedri's tongue; he knew the flavor of fear very well. Usually, he subdued it with calmness, but this was different. He didn't speak; the death of syllables came so easily when nerves traveled through his entire system. Like almost never before, he decided to resort to one of his most inconsistent tools – impulsivity.

He hugged the older one tightly, pressing his body against the other's. He prayed for Ferran's greater ignorance as he leaned against his lap, a guilty friction electrifying the air.

Ferran pushed him away, using his strong arms to encircle his neck, risk and insecurity settling into tanned skin.

—Mmnh... no, no— the canary denied, trying to remove those hands from such an intimidating area.

The punishment for innocent disobedience came in the form of hard slaps to Pedri's face. The first two showed no shyness, leaving temporary crimson marks on the younger one's cheek. The strong impact caused the dark-haired one to turn his face in pain.

With one hand threatening a jugular and the other free to assert dominance, Torres coldly eyed Pedri.

—Shut the fuck up.

Another blow, an extended hand applying upward force in several more slaps. Almost-silenced screams filled with pain were unheard outside of that corner.

—Why?— Pedri's pained expression lacked tears, but the emotion of betrayal unfolded, burning into his own flesh.

Immaculate white fangs appeared mischievous in the vexing curve of Ferran.

Another collision, drier, more painful – one caused by the bluntest part of Ferran's hand – was the fitting response. Pain surged like an electric current through the younger one's face, forcing him to twist while sitting, processing what was happening.

It wasn't a punch; it was something lesser, something more condescending, a warning like those given to disobedient little children. It was the perfect message to keep him in check, offering him his only role in that environment; one of complete inferiority.

Pedri was beaded with cold sweat, terrified in a state that struggled against submission, trying to devise a negotiating dialogue. Seriousness mixed with concern covered his entire face, the marks on his cheek turning redder, his heart racing at a thousand, swelling with adrenaline and cortisol. His survival-mode brain recognized the situation – Ferran was a bigger man, asserting dominance – the easiest evolutionary way out he developed since childhood smiled at him more and more.

To surrender, show his neck, and offer a pathetically curved smile. The values his family taught him, that conflict is never good, words are the key to resolving everything, tranquility is essential.

Hesitation only earned him another blow. One, two, three; the player number seven amused himself by impacting his hand, toying with the force. The last one detached from any shame or fear and collided brutally with Pedri's cheekbone.

His reaction was instantaneous, bringing his hand there while he wrapped himself in the unbearable feeling that expanded through his side.

—No, no, please, please, no— he could barely shout as Ferran's palm quickly covered his mouth, stifling the painful screams.

Pedri whimpered with that limb pressed against his mouth, eyes closed and brows furrowed, in need of a break. He was granted a pause, lying in Torres' lap, so he decided to hide again in his neck.

—You actually let me hit you— Ferran said into the air, stating it as a fact.

The midfielder's chest rose and fell interrupted and irregular. Torres finally relaxed, intrigued by the exciting paradox he felt in the lower part of his body.

He felt Pedri's hard cock, pressed against his own stomach.

(…)

The hours passed as the bus roamed through routes; the entire staff remained calm in emotions. Many were content with listening to music or checking their social media, while others slept peacefully. Ferran Torres gently stroked the small, toned back of a sleeping Pedri.

The Valencian diverged his gaze to witness the bold scene of Fermín emerging from the bathroom, with flushed cheeks, legs trembling with tics, and the facial expression only found on a satisfied man. Not even three minutes later, Gavi exited the same bathroom, resembling a disheveled prince, saliva spilling from his corner, teary eyes, and pure disorientation. The eldest of the group amused himself at witnessing Pablo's stumbles across the entire floor, completely out of it.

Ferran surveyed his surroundings again. The sun descended, and the sunset purples invaded the sky. The heat dissipated, and typical LED lights illuminated the entire bus aisle.

Minutes were left to reach the destination, and mentally, the camping gear already weighed on him. The work they would have to do on the unstable ground, at night.

A male voice snapped him back to the present.

—In ten minutes, we arrive. We've organized, and it's been decided that seat pairs will share camping tents for the night— Xavi shouted from the middle of the bus, capturing everyone's attention.

—I believe it's unnecessary to mention what's appropriate or not in a first division sports camp— Xavi shot a bit with his typical stern gaze at Pablo Gavira.

—Yes, míster.

Contained laughter echoed amid the silence of that confirmation. Torres shifted to make room for the male figure waking up in his grasp.

—Have we arrived?— Pedri asked, still half-asleep, his cheek slightly swollen from the earlier teasing.

Ferran gently touched the bruise, enchanted by the mark it left.

—Yes, we need to grab your stuff, come on.

With neutrality, they lined up at the front of the door; everyone was already eager to exit. The scent of nature and fresh air hit them positively. It wasn't often that they left big cities to admire views as beautiful as the ones in front of them.

In the sky, lights of various bright and dark colors moved, painting a starry picture of a peaceful night. The groups quickly divided following the guides' instructions. Alongside them were the photographers responsible for promoting this adventure on social media, and the cold flash light blinded the players every minute.

After a quick dinner consisting of fat-free chicken salads, Ferran noted that their tents were already set up. He read the small paper Xavi handed him minutes ago, trying to identify their designated area.

He surveyed the entire place, a path filled with rocks and uneven ground greeted him knowingly.

From afar, he could see the large red tent, where a minimum of three people could enter. His sleeping spot was far from the original zone, away from the other blaugrana boys, tall bushes covering most of the ground.

Surrounded by conflicting emotions, he turned completely around, investigating the whereabouts of his night partner. Pedri wasn't far; the dark-haired boy seemed a bit dazed, bathed in moonlight, backpack on and a black coat wrapped around his waist. His soft locks tousled to the sides and upward, offering a pleasing view to Ferran, who admired from not too far away how those big eyes explored the forest.

Pedri's hint of facial maturity didn't convince anyone at that moment; inappropriate thoughts of Torres likened him to a lost kitten that might jump at any moment to protect itself.

—Pedri! Over here!— he raised his hand, and Ferran's heart melted a bit as he discovered, for the tenth time, the soft and affectionate change of expression when Pedri recognized him.

The midfielder followed the rocky path to the secluded area, using the mobile flashlight as the main source of illumination. With instructions to unpack and sleep – according to Xavi – the night would pass easily, everyone resting to the sound of chirping crickets.

Ferran Torres had other plans for that night. Pedri dropped his backpack inside the tent and went out to accompany the culé forward, seeking company. This time, the cold wind danced across the sky, gently pushing the camping tent fabric, creating soothing sounds.

Both stood looking at the sky; the midfielder reached his hand to entwine it with the older's arm, relaxing his awareness, bringing his cheek closer to the other's worked biceps.

Pedri was shorter than Ferran, so his honeyed brown eyes looked upward, embarrassment easily settling in his chest.

—Qué chico más mono— Ferran whispered, —What a shame.

Questioning covered the atmosphere's sentiment for a few seconds; Pedri's affectionate expression vanished, replaced by a quickly-formed serious grimace. Ferran violently pulled the younger one's dark hair, intending to throw him to the ground.

He succeeded; despite Pedri's dedication to sports as a profession, he was ultimately a thin and weak boy. The midfielder crashed face-first into the ground, lightly staining his face with dirt.

Fear took residence in the canary's heart; he tried shouting for help towards the camp center, but it was futile. The punch to his eye left him dazed for several seconds amidst the rocks that hurt his muscles. His vision blurred, pain emerged from all sides, and tears threatened to surface.

In pain, Pedri brought his hand to the blow, babbling. There was no respite this time, and Ferran reveled in the dark purple color spreading across the younger one's eyelid.

Tingling sensations tickled his lower part as he observed the other's pathetic attempt to compose himself. The Barcelona 'Golden Boy' was lying on the ground below him, writhing breathlessly, covering his face with his hands, attempting to shield himself.

When he moved, a scared sound escaped from Pedri's pink lips, an instinctive reaction. Ferran used his leg to kick the flexed thigh of the younger one without measuring the force. A groan was heard, new dark marks emerging on the abused skin. The pain in the struck area allowed Ferran to see the terrified expression of the figure beneath him as he tried to cover his legs, exposing his face.

Deep sexual excitement ran all over Torres' cock as he delighted in the terrified view of Pedri, who had one eye narrowed and the other looked at him with fight; even even in the situation he was in. He took a hand to caress his member on top of the clothes, sending a disgusted look to the other.

Assuming that Ferran was distracted, Pedri managed to recover supporting himself by crawling, the ground of the floor hurt his hands and knees, but he still crawled in a pitiful way to escape.

When he walked away less than two meters, Ferran decided that it was a good idea to really chase him, since he found the painful attempt to avoid the inevitable very amusing.

He walked slowly but safely to Pedri, appreciating how the boy arched his back and how small his angular waist was from that angle. He drank from the sinful sight of the backside under the miserable canary's sports shorts.

—Where do you think you're going?— He expressed full of irony.

He closed his hand on Pedri's hair once again to stretch him towards himself, this time focusing on moving him in a more brutal way. Pedri held back a scream but began to whimper.

—I asked you a fucking question.

He wrapped his hand around Pedri's neck to push him back, letting him lie down on the floor. Once there, Ferran removed his coat and lifted the white t-shirt to the top of his pectorals, displaying the buttons standing on the culé.

—No! Agh!— He whimpered.

On the cold floor, Pedri González was agitated, with spots on his face and body, dressed in violence on his face, exposed to his stomach; he began to cry.

Ferran Torres' cock couldn't harden more than it already was.

Upon seeing the marked abdomen of the canary, the Blaugrana striker approached to give him a blow in the center, taking away his air at times.

He took advantage of those seconds to turn him on his knees and hands, waiting patiently for him to recover. When the crying returned little by little, Ferran aggressively stretched the black soccer shorts that covered Pedri. He used the fabric to handle the weight of the canary as he would like, lowering his underwear just because of the humiliation of exposing him in that way, and then releasing the elastic of the garment and leaving it hanging below his knees.

He hit the exposed buttocks of the midfielder with his palm, a small laugh escaped him only because of the theatrical, he fed on how bad Pedri could feel in those moments. The Valencian spat in his entrance that expanded and retracted to contact.

He took his two middle fingers to align with his entrance. He was perfectly aware that it was too much to put him in, but the thought that Pedri became miserable trying to endure the pain from interference made him dizzy.

He inserted both fingers at the same time into the salivated pink entrance, apparent difficulties when entering. Pedri crossed his eyes upwards and opened his mouth, failed attempts to breathe. The pain punctured all over its interior, the comforting thought of fainting came at times.

—I can't! I can't take it anymore! Why are you doing this?! Why don't you just kill me if that's what you want?— Pedri screamed with his shattered voice, loud enough to attract attention from afar. Ferran reacted quickly, withdrawing his fingers from the tight entrance, vaguely hearing approaching footsteps.

Dragging the canary's body by the neck, he placed him inside the tent. Adrenaline surged through him. He entered as well, zipping up the fabric door, surveying his surroundings.

Pedri resembled a deer caught in headlights, utterly bewildered, almost naked, lying on his stomach on the flat mattress. Ferran approached the submissive Barça player, his training and match companion since his debut in the first team.

—Quiet— he commanded. Swiftly, he removed the remaining garments from the athlete. An idea Fermín had recommended weeks ago crossed his mind. He crumpled Pedri's underwear and forcefully placed it in his mouth to muffle the screams.

Everything was going as planned until he underestimated how much fight the canary would put up. Something that felt like a metal brick collided with his face.

Pedri’s phone. Pedri had thrown his phone at his face, violently.

Anger boiled at maximum power inside and outside his entire body; finally, Ferran understood the phrase 'seeing red' as his anger blocked the calm and playful response he would have had in another context. The pain was sharp and electric, leaving a horrendous taste in the his mouth. Pedri, who apparently didn't think things through so clearly, sat covering his face while crying.

The Barcelona forward sucked all the oxygen from the room, inhaling and exhaling in an effort to calm the desire to strangle the younger one. Some minutes passed, the sound was noticeably absent; only Ferran remained fully dressed in sports attire, and Pedri, who refused to lift his head amidst his whimpering.

Ferran approached and separated the other's legs.

—Chaval, I just don’t get it, you practically try to kill me, but when I hit you, you get all horny and hard— he said, while directing his hands to Pedri's dick, massaging from top to bottom.

Crimson colors exploded all over the abused face of the canario, fear still latent in his dilated eyes. He positioned himself on his knees, moving away from the friction that Ferran gave him.

Pedri and Ferran looked physically battered from the fight, the striker felt blood fall down his nose but decided not to pay attention to that detail, Pedri on the other hand was caressed by the painful marks of previous brutality, his eyes were tired and an intense red color emerged from his cheeks.

Ferran decided that his favorite art was to paint purple and darkness on the sun-kissed skin of the boy who gave himself on his knees in a tent where no one would come to help him.

—You're like a bitch in heat, addicted to pain, eh? do you like to be hit? I'm going to fuck you up while I put my dick inside you— he slapped Pedri’s cheek again, with sickly softness.

—Mmhg, I don't want to, Ferran, please, let me go,— he begged all pathetic and drooling.

Torres walked his tongue through the trace of liquid enjoying Pedri's saliva, sucking until he reached his mouth, savoring his mouth abruptly. When separating from a union that he thinks could not be considered as a kiss, a line of saliva interconnects them for seconds.

—This is happening, I'm going to rape you anyway, so make the best of the situation and try to enjoy it— his diction was cruel, Pedri's empty look of hope confirmed it, he still nodded, accepting what was offered to him.

He excitedly handled the almost motionless body of Pedri, spitting in his face to remind him of his place. The confinement became heavy, the smell of sex was combined with that of nature, the wind entered through the grids of strong fabric and distant sounds of insects and other animals were noticed.

He placed Pedri on the floor like a puppy, positioning his body on all fours. His cock jumped at the sight of that small figure arched completely at his mercy. To violate him, he smiled when he licked the entrance, corrupting his privacy completely, sucking and kissed that area enjoying the mixed sounds of pleasure and shame.

He had to stop to remove his clothes. This day was one of the great reasons why he loved Pedri so much, the boy would let himself do anything, he could try to kill him and somehow the midfielder would affirm that it is his own fault, that he was provoking him to commit those actions.

The attractive Spaniard was there in front of him, delivering his body despite the fact that sex is not something he wants right now. Veins of excitement were throbbing in Ferran's thick arms, he loved that the important thing all this night is if he wants, what Pedri wants or needs is not a priority.

Pedri González placed himself in a position of inferiority, allowing violent injustices towards his body and spirit. Because that's how he was, in need of pleasing.

For that same reason Ferran pulled him by the back of his neck to stamp him down, keeping his hips up, and then arranging his foot on his head touching his cheek, applying pressure, crushing him. He used that impulse to support himself right in his hole, the fat tip of his cock would deliciously stretch the tight walls.

It didn't matter that it was painful for Pedri, or that it was uncomfortable, or that it was too much forcing him to faint, it wasn't the point of everything they were doing. Pedri didn't have to feel good.

His cock disappeared inside that warm interior, expanding and ruining the hole that his member ate. Ferran was sure that it would be completely ruined after sex, completely molded to the size of his own dick.

He waited several minutes when he entered completely, once Pedri’s body got used to it, he could assume an incessant rhythm to hunt his pleasure.

Pedri whimpered below him, babbling prayers that made no sense, destroyed and corrupted in his entirety.

He began to move, his patience returned the best prize, his cock slid deliciously, impaling the entrance in each thrust. His balls collided with Pedri's fleshy buttocks, the characteristic sound of a good wet sex came out of the isolated tent.

Pedri moaned sweetly because he was getting fucked so hard and he couldn't do anything to avoid it, just receive everything inside, cross his eyes sometimes and open his mouth to release dirty sounds.

He stood still introducing himself to be impaled whole while he was crushed, satisfied and painful expression mixed up.

—Does it hurt?— Ferran asked him between hoarse growls.

—Yes, yes, yes, ahnf, so much, it hurts so much—Pedri could hardly answer, feeling an incredible abuse towards his prostate.

Torres suddenly left his entrance, taking a look at the disaster that caused, Pedri's entrance could not be closed, from his sight he could see all the pre-seminal fluid that was inside.

—Come on, squeeze a little— Ferran spoke to humiliate Pedri.

—I can't, I can't, I can't, I need, I need— repetitions of thoughts and cries was the only thing you could hear coming out of the mouth of the Barça star.

I need your cock. And how can one blame Ferran Torres for his mentality when he has a boy so beautiful below him that needs his dick to be able to breathe, even if he doesn't say it out loud, because even his aroma was needy. Ferran gave Pedri the best wish, he put it to the bottom and did not stop at any time, even when the canary's legs began to tremble.

The tingling began to resemble intense cramps, so much that when the climax came, Pedri needed to cry; he only had the option of enduring an orgasm where he is unable to stop or establish a rhythm. The stretch of nerves intensified, the powerful electricity was due to the overflow, the midfielder stopped emitting sounds, only drowned air came out of his mouth.

—Are you going to cum while I fuck you in the ass? Good boy, cum just because of my cock— he murmured dragged, also losing control completely.

He felt below his foot Pedri nodding his head, unable to emit any coherent word, his brain fried in white when he reaches the peak of pleasure. The orgasm hits him like a whip for several seconds, he screamed low while jets of semen came out shot down several times.

Ferran came out of his entrance when he felt his climax coming, quickly settling down on his knees in front of Pedri's face, masturbating his cock abruptly until he stained the minor's entire face, sperm liquid on his lips, forehead, nose, up to a little in his hair.

Both men collapsed on the ground, covered with blows, fluids, a little dirt and new experiences.

Pedri lost consciousness and Ferran was too tired to clean them both, but he still reached for baby wipes for sensitive skin to clean his boyfriend, worrying about not hurting sensitive areas.

He kissed him on the forehead after cleaning the whole scene as much as possible, wearing him in comfortable pajamas.

—Pedri sweetheart, we have to stop roleplaying like this, you almost killed me this time— he murmured to his partner who slept peacefully next to him.

I love you, it was the last thing he thought before falling asleep next to Pedri.

(...)

#smut #fc barcelona #pedri #pedri gonzalez #ferran torres #hard k1nk #barca #writeblr #slash fanfiction #dark content #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #rpf #football rpf #bd/sm kink #pain k!nk #fc barcelona smut #degrading k1nk #abuse k1nk #camping #not beta read

[cosmica-galaxy]

(I know that you're busy with Dilf/ Milf shenenigans so I don't expect you to answer this ask soon. I'm okay with waiting. Take your time :3 Sorry if this was anwered before,I just wanna see your Skibidi ocs happy after war,after all this angst. )

We know what's gonna happen to human if/when war is won in distant future(them becoming the archivist),but what what about your Alliance ocs ? They are now free from constant batttles,stress and pain.They have whole new life,new possibilities. What whould they pursue? Who are they gonna become? Would they all still be in touch? (.You can include other characters too,if you want :p)

Also another thing: with last human dead,this world had been fully passed on to (now ex) Alliance. Will they handle it better than their human predessedors?

Camron would probably still hold onto the values of the alliance, even after the war is victorious and over. So he'll wind up joining a patrol division in the city that is now being rebuilt by the alliance. Think of it like a police officer's job, but he's more of a patrolman. After the war, he'll mature greatly and grow into his new role...heck, he may even act like Veteran to an extent. He'll also make lots of pitstops to the local archivist museum to see his sweetheart human friend. DJ decides to finally answer his calling and opens up his own club, where he's the dj, obviously! He'll be serving up hot top-of-the-chart songs to his guests, as well as good nutritious meals! It becomes a regular gathering spot for alliance members of all backgrounds and even the human drops by for a visit when they have a moment. The main crew all gather here to have drinks and fun while on their days off or their breaks. Vee becomes a communication expert and moderator for the alliance's new facilities and internet webspace. He now operates in close conjunction with the TVs in monitoring information, data, and operations for the new cities that are being developed in the skeletons of the old world. These devices are crucial and it's a big reason why the TVs were put in charge of looking out for them, as the new world will rely heavily on it. When he gets downtime, he visits the last human archivist, a great friend of his. Then, they hit up DJ's club to have a drink and eat some good food together. Buddy and Fiend both stay with the human at the archivist museum as the security personnel. They guard what is left of the human world and the last living human with their lives. With Buddy leading a division that includes Byte and other camera mimics. Menace is also overseeing the burial/spiritual side of the museum, as it's usually dark and has lots of creepy decorations. Like bones for example. Pal and Melody both work with the other speaker mimics in transporting goods to and from the villages that were set up in the recovering country sides. Their wings made them invaluable in the early days of repopulation, as mimics started to become civilized again and made farms and ranches to feed their hungry after the Skibidis were wiped out. So speaker mimics were the transportation and look outs for any surviving skibidis in the post-war era of the world. They also work as mail carriers and product deliveries. The alliance as a whole began to rebuild cities and nestle into where the humans left off. As for if they make the same mistakes as humans? Who knows...? Humanity is a template for the alliance to follow, now that they're gone. The only thing they can do is analyze the wrongs humanity committed and try to make sure they don't do the same, for they may meet the same fate as their predecessors.

#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #anonymous #skibidi tag #anon asks #anon ask #skibidi toilet mimic #skibidi mimic

[aurumacadicus]

Well, it's time to pick our club's book for May! If you're interested in book club, shoot me a message for an invite. All summaries are underneath the cut! Happy reading!

A Tempest of Tea by Hafsah Faizal

On the streets of White Roaring, Arthie Casimir is a criminal mastermind and collector of secrets. Her prestigious tearoom transforms into an illegal bloodhouse by night, catering to the vampires feared by society. But when her establishment is threatened, Arthie is forced to strike an unlikely deal with an alluring adversary to save it—and she can’t do the job alone.

Calling on some of the city’s most skilled outcasts, Arthie hatches a plan to infiltrate the sinister, glittering vampire society known as the Athereum. But not everyone in her ragtag crew is on her side, and as the truth behind the heist unfolds, Arthie finds herself in the midst of a conspiracy that will threaten the world as she knows it. Dark, action-packed, and swoon-worthy, this is Hafsah Faizal better than ever.

Things We Lost in the Fire by Mariana Enriquez

In these wildly imaginative, devilishly daring tales of the macabre, internationally bestselling author Mariana Enriquez brings contemporary Argentina to vibrant life as a place where shocking inequality, violence, and corruption are the law of the land, while the military dictatorship and legions of desaparecidos loom large in the collective memory. In these stories, reminiscent of Shirley Jackson and Julio Cortázar, three young friends distract themselves with drugs and pain in the midst of a government-enforced blackout; a girl with nothing to lose steps into an abandoned house and never comes back out; to protest a viral form of domestic violence, a group of women set themselves on fire.

But alongside the black magic and disturbing disappearances, these stories are fueled by compassion for the frightened and the lost, ultimately bringing these characters—mothers and daughters, husbands and wives—int a surprisingly familiar reality. Written in hypnotic prose that gives grace to the grotesque, Things We Lost in the Fire is a powerful exploration of what happens when our darkest desires are left to roam unchecked, and signals the arrival of an astonishing and necessary voice in contemporary fiction.

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White

Mors vincit omnia. Death conquers all.

London, 1883. The Veil between the living and dead has thinned. Violet-eyed mediums commune with spirits under the watchful eye of the Royal Speaker Society, and sixteen-year-old trans, autistic Silas Bell would rather rip out his violet eyes than become an obedient Speaker Wife.

After a failed attempt to escape an arranged marriage, Silas is diagnosed with Veil sickness—a mysterious disease sending violet-eyed women into madness—and shipped away to Braxton’s Finishing School and Sanitorium. When the ghosts of missing students start begging Silas for help, he decides to reach into Braxton’s innards and expose its guts to the world—so long as the school doesn’t break him first.

Featuring an autistic trans protagonist in a historical setting, Andrew Joseph White’s much-anticipated sophomore novel does not back down from exposing the violence of the patriarchy and the harm inflicted on trans youth who are forced into conformity.

Gold Diggers by Sanjena Sathian

A magical realist coming-of-age story, Gold Diggers skewers the model minority myth to tell a hilarious and moving story about immigrant identity, community, and the underside of ambition.

A floundering second-generation teenager growing up in the Bush-era Atlanta suburbs, Neil Narayan is funny and smart but struggles to bear the weight of expectations of his family and their Asian American enclave. He tries to want their version of success, but mostly, Neil just wants his neighbor across the cul-de-sac, Anita Dayal.

When he discovers that Anita is the beneficiary of an ancient, alchemical potion made from stolen gold—a “lemonade” that harnesses the ambition of the gold’s original owner—Neil sees his chance to get ahead. But events spiral into a tragedy that rips their community their community apart. Years later in the Bay Area, Neil still bristles against his community’s expectations—and finds he might need one more hit of that lemonade, no matter the cost.

Sanjena Sathian’s astonishing debut offers a fine-grained, profoundly intelligent, and bitingly funny investigation into what’s required to make it in America.

Inkheart by Cornelia Funke

One cruel night, Meggie’s father reads aloud from a brook called INKHEART—and an evil ruler escapes the boundaries of fiction and lands in their living room. Suddenly, Meggie is smack in the middle of the kind of adventure she has only read about in books. Meggie must learn to harness the magic that has conjured this nightmare. For only she can change the course of the story that has changed her life forever. This is INKHEART—a timeless tale about books, about imagination, about life. Dare to read it aloud.

A Lady’s Guide to Mischief and Mayhem by Manda Collins

The widowed Lady Katherine Bascomb has little use for the rules of society—instead, she engages in such “vulgar” activities as managing The London Gazette and writing about crimes against women. But when her latest article leads to a suspicious arrest, the attractive detective in charge of the case is incensed that she’s interfered with his investigation. Only before Kate can make amends, she stumbles, quite literally, upon another murder entirely.

Detective Inspector Andrew Eversham is appalled that Kate is entangled in one of his cases—again. Yet when he asks her to kindly keep away, Kate offers a bargain: She’ll refrain from writing about the case—if he allows her to study his methods. Before long, Eversham can’t deny his attraction to both her beauty and brains. But with a killer lurking in the shadows, will they learn to trust their instincts, each other, and the undeniable passion that is blossoming between them before it’s too late?

#polls #book club

[ache-of-saint-vick]

Since I'm building up to run a Ravenloft campaign using Shadowdark rules at some point this year, I wrote up a setting-appropriate Rumors table; this reflects 3e-era lore because the Arthaus era fucks and 5e sucks. Without further ado,

Rumors of the Mists:

01. The Count of Barovia is sick, and there's fear of a succession crisis if he dies without an heir

02-03. A new island has been sighted in the Sea of Sorrows, and it appears to be uninhabited

04-05. The prettiest girl in the last town you visited is starting to grow horns from her forehead

06-07. Gravediggers have found a chained coffin buried lid down in an unmarked grave

08-09. The fearsome dragon of the Mountains of Misery was sighted silhouetted against the moon

10-11. The Vistani dragged some poor fool back to Barovia for a "family reunion" at Castle Ravenloft

12-13. Captain Ysmault has been lost at sea; his poor wife is being hounded by creditors

14-15. Falkovnian chain gangs are being used to forage for bat guano and saltpeter; is war coming?

16-17. Foul horrors of undeath are swimming out of the Necropolis to terrorize the living

18-19. The Ba'al Verzi have been hired to kill someone who looks exactly like one of you

20-21. Gundarakite rebels are spending lots of money. Where did they get it? What's their plan?

22-23. Captain Ysmault has returned! He says his ship somehow ran aground in a landlocked desert

24-25. Omens suggest the inhuman El-Koth are stirring in the hinterlands of Hazlan

26-27. One crypt in the cemetery doesn't belong to any family, and has treasure buried inside

28-29. Someone in the next town wants to run away but can't subdue a Mist Ferryman alone

30-31. Baroness Lyssa is hosting a party in Zeidenburg, but needs guests willing to travel there

32-33. A new Mistway opened on the Nocturnal Sea; nobody wants to risk a ship to explore it

34-35. The Dilisnya family is summoning younger members to a meeting; what are they planning?

36-37. A Zhakatan temple has been unearthed, and the ancient dead enshrined in it are angry

38-39. The Wild Hunt Club of Vechor has lost one of its guides and is looking for a replacement

40-41. Someone is sending abhorrent love letters to the Vistani camped around Tser Pool

42-43. Two women on the mainland are feuding to be the bride of Blaustein's pirate king

44-45. Werewolves are attacking Captain Snowmane's riverboat as it sails the Musarde

46-47. Bodies are being found in the river in Lekar, completely drained of blood

48-49. Only thirteen years remain until the Time of Unparalleled Darkness is upon us

50-51. A windmill in Barovia is grinding the bones of everyone who's gone inside to investigate it

52-53. Captain Ysmault is setting forth again

54-55. The Darkonian Church of Ezra has ordered its faithful to stockpile nonperishable foods

56-57. A gambler won the deed to the House on Gryphon Hill playing Thieves and Wizards (yes I know it's called Wizards and Thieves, but Thieves and Wizards flows better)

58-59. Someone is kidnapping men and replacing them with cursed dolls

60-61. The druids of Immol will enchant a blade for whoever leads a raid into the Forlorn Vale

62-63. A boatload of immigrants has arrived from famished Paridon... with impostors among them

64-65. Rats and ratcatchers in Pont-a-Museau are contracting a disease that drives them mad

66-67. A swordsman from Rokushima has claimed a bridge and demands to duel any who cross it

68-69. The Boritsi family is offering a reward for the return of a holy relic from their chapel

70-71. The tyrant of Invidia's troops have raided Zeidenburg; the Count of Barovia is threatening war

72-73. Elf children are having nightmares about a white tower looming over a mysterious city

74-75. Someone is poisoning unopened Borcan wine; this could be the next Andraal 735 fiasco

76-77. A hideous man with half his body melted has been sighted in the seamy slums of Kantora

78-79. The mayor is being very evasive about where they were during the last two full moons

80-81. Outlanders seek a sword Rudolph Van Richten brought back from Barovia as a trophy

82-83. The moon over Vechor turned blood red and lightning flashes are visible on it at night

84-85. Have you heard the new Harkon Lukas song? It's a wonder the composer hasn't come forward

86-87. A power struggle is brewing between two high-ranking leaders of the Kargat

88-89. A mad monk has been caught in the act of burglary and refuses to explain why

90-91. For the first time in years, the Carnival is headed back down the Old Svalich Road

92-93. The prettiest girl in the next town is sleepwalking and waking up on Old Craven's grave

94-95. The Tepestani Inquisition warns that a vile fey of darkness has escaped and roams the land

96-97. Honest Igor was just here the other day, but left in a hurry when he heard you were coming

98-99. A freestanding staircase with a door at the top has been sighted in the forest nearby

00. Azalin Rex has hired someone to explore the furthest corners of the Mists for unclear reasons

#Ravenloft #Shadowdark #Curse of Strahd #if Curse of Strahd was your intro to Ravenloft you're in for so many treats

[nbtarchive]

New promophotos published via spotify Full versions

#dead club city era #photoshoot 2023 #promoshoot #nothing but thieves

[dustedmagazine]

Morricone Youth — Battleship Potemkin (Country Club)

Sergei Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin is a landmark in early cinema, a 1925 silent film of epic scale and ambition, which chronicles a late Tsarist-era mutiny aboard ship that strikes a chord and ignites a full-scale rebellion in the port city of Russia. It is well worth watching, if only for the stunning “Odessa steps” sequence, where the Tsar’s army ruthlessly guns down civilians in sympathy with the striking sailors. The images of a mother begging for her wounded child’s life or a baby in a carriage bumping headlong down the stairs are striking and memorable—and they have special resonance now, when Odessa is again under siege by a Russian army with few qualms about collateral damage.

The film has had a number of scores over the years, the original by Edmund Meisel, one from 1950 by Nikolai Kryukov , and a widely circulated 1975 50th anniversary edition incorporating symphonies by Dmitri Shostakovich (that’s the version currently on the Criterion Channel). Eisenstein himself hoped that his movie would be rescored every 20 years, so that its sound would remain relevant to new audiences.

Enter, then, Morricone Youth, a New York City-based orchestra dedicated to live scoring classic films. The ensemble, a sort of bus man’s holiday for musicians in other bands, has performed music for films including David Lynch’s Eraserhead, Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lodger and George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. The band, which is headed by Devon E. Levins, regularly performs its scores while the film is running in select theaters across the country. It is in the process of recording and releasing these scores. Battleship Potemkin is the latest.

On listening to this excellent soundtrack, with its languid, East European waltzes, its stirring snare-shot battle sequences, its antic re-enactments of rebellion and eventual triumph, you might regret not having the opportunity to hear this music in its rightful setting, a movie theatre. And yet, the music itself is evocative enough to hold your attention. “Vakulinchuk’s Dream” with its bell-like keyboard lines and its soaring trumpet is full of eerie yearning, exactly the sort of thing to embody a sailor’s longing for equality. The syncopated lurch of “Giliarovosky Is Watching,” with its sinuous, near-tango-ing tainted sensuality insinuates danger and trickery. “Cossacks Charge,” the music for that Odessa Steps imagery, snaps to attention on military drum rolls and advances relentlessly on piano motifs. And “Funeral” with its haunting, disembodied voices, is lovely and heartbreaking, exactly as it ought to be.

All of which is meant to say, yes, it’s probably better with the movie, but it’s pretty great with just your speakers and your imagination, too.

Jennifer Kelly

#morricone youth #battleship potemkin #country club #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #film score #silent film #odessa steps

[burningtacozombie]

random thoughts, episode 5x04 edition:

- Miguel reminding Soledad that her men fucked up by not informing her sooner, first I thought that hit was retaliation for Miguel taking out Alejandro in the bathroom but the little boy reminded me it was the cook house the club raided previously and the person he saw was Angel. had Miguel looked at me like that and given me candy, I would've spilled my guts to him too. wouldn't even have mattered if he lied about being with the police or not.

- Emily playing nice at home for a minute and not even Miguel bought it, lol. and the mother of that city hall clerk calling her out in the middle of the store was so unexpected that it made me laugh, she was so close to the door already. oh, did Sarah really say fuck that american accent? she sounded differently.

- Adelita did to that little girl what the cartel did to her as a child, killing the father right in front of her. also, she told angel about the day at the beach with her dad and now my speculation makes so much more sense that Clayton and Mav presumably filmed one of their last days on the show at a beach before they wrapped up. no idea if Carla was there too but Adelita's story made that puzzle piece fit in quite nicely.

- did Gilly seriously adopt a whole ass family and is playing house with them now? are he and whatshername an item now?

- I felt bad for Sofia when she tried to save Lobo and the club was just standing there, doing nothing. history repeats itself for her, first she couldn't save her kid and now they let that dude die. obviously they couldn't just call an ambulance and explain what happened but that doesn't make it easier for her. and then her dead child's father shows up on top of it...

- Lobo was a fucking idiot for entering garage in the first place. the sign saying "if you enter, you die" was not just for decoration, what did he think was gonna happen? but hey, no one liked him anyway, lol. yeah sure, he hated having a prospect tell him what to do but man, did that bite him in the ass. 

- Guero should've been visible more, he needs an episode centered around him, idgaf what anyone says. Bottles has been front and center for two episodes, give him the same treatment. there's unfinished business with Diaz and I want him to finish it. well fuck, I fell for this guy so fast it's actually a little embarrassing, lmao.

- the Broken Saints, I like them. Johnny Panic putting EZ in his place with "my attention isn't free" and putting him to work, good for her. but who is really calling the shots in their club, who is "mother"? 

- I can't wait for KJ's ghost to come back and haunt EZ and I hope he's not gonna get out of that one. Angel looked at him so fucking loud when Hank said there's a rat. also, wasn't EZ supposed to have a photographic memory or some shit, why does no one seem to remember that, not even the writers...

- Bottles is actually so sweet, he and Elio are amigos now. he reminds me a little of Steve though and hopefully he won't end up the same way... 

- Nails is back and she's doing well. I wouldn't have needed to see her again but I'm glad she's doing well. are she and Hank getting together after all?

- they, the cast, talk about coming full circle so often that I'm beginning to think when, not if, EZ dies, Angel will leave the club (family beach scene) and Bishop will be sitting in the president chair as if the "Reyes era" never existed and shall never be spoken about ever again.

#danny pino #miguel galindo #andrew jacobs #guero #jd pardo #ez reyes #clayton cardenas #angel reyes #mayans mc #mayans fx

[storiesofsvu]

happy law and order thursday!!

Okay, city tv has registered that I’m not actually in Toronto and now we’re back to the backwards viewing order…

OC first:

My goldfish brain has half forgotten if we’ve seen this blonde dude before or if I just know him from somewhere else.

There’s so much goddamn tension between bell and the other captain, like there is no way they haven’t fucked…

Ugghh mama bear belllll…. Heck yes to these parents watching out for their kids, nothing gets past them lol.

Still don’t like/understand jet using air pods instead of official ear pieces…

Okay, yes Reyes was on his way to blowing the op, but jet didn’t need to jump right in, she kinda fucked the whole thing up.

Bruh… is that bitch dead? Do we need to start reminding the younger generations they need therapy too?

Okay, good, shrink time it is! Bonus that it’s Ayanna’s personal shrink, not department, a: more personal. B: proves that she’s in therapy and we know she likely needs it.

They might be exes, they might be frenemies, but they certainly do work an interrogation room great together

I feel like gunfire in the midst of a gas station parking lot where all the fuel is, is a deadly idea… that could have gone so much worse. Esp considering this is in relation to bombing cases…

I know a lot of it is likely just the era that the show was created/originally airing but the differences in the squad room designs between departments baffles me.

Elliot really out here lecturing his own brothers like he didn’t up and leave out of nowhere. God I hate this shit lol.

*

L&O now. How much attention will I pay?

Jfc… that dead body was a jump fucking scare

What is WITH all the shaky cam tonight, ugh.

I have said it before and I will say it again: Samantha Maroun goes shopping with Rita Calhoun.

Fuck, cases like this fucking suck. But like, legality wise, they’re right. It’s easier to get the perp behind bars by just using the more solid case they have with the rich white victim. If they try to get justice for all the victims, it’s way more likely that they case can and will be thrown out or land on a not guilty verdict. Ugh. Politics

If they need to prove that the vic and the perp didn’t have sex at the sex club on the night of the murder…why not just run a rape kit? Or would some kind of exam like that just be part of the autopsy?

More shaky cam… loving this.

Also why the fuck did my subtitles disappear halfway through this episode? I’m deaf… I need this shit..

Seriously that crime scene photo needs to come with a fucking warning. Jesus

*

Okay. SVU time

Wonderful. I’ve gotten my subtitles back. Thank god.

This is a weird start… hmm…

Getting even more interesting… ngl…

Okay, circling back around, I thought we might be about to get a plot twist of ray being the perp.

UUGHH. I saw a tweet about a new female officer/detective and as much as we all hope that she’ll stick around for more than a season… if Officer Gomez is the new squad member, she’s a woman poc so the chances of her sticking around are slim to none, lets be fucking real.

 Okay, don’t get me wrong. I know that this girl is tiny and she’s an escort, but if a man came in and confessed to rape you’d still take him immediately into an interrogation room. This is a double standard. Especially cause she’s young, thin and pretty, I’m not going to ignore that or let that slide either. *side eye* (like yes, we later do get to the point that she was forced at gun point, but they don’t know that til after. Everything is complicated and there’s lots of lines crossing over and blurring but my statement still stands)

When are they gonna make Bruno an actual part of the team? Why is he still just a guest star?

Man, it’s gotta be hella hard nowadays when it comes to taxis and shit. You have legit taxi’s, multiple companies, gypsy cabs and multiple ride share apps and companies.

Odafin Tutuola only knows about robin egg blue because of Phoebe… there is no way he would know otherwise.

This doctor clearly fucking rich as hell, fuck

HOW does the SEX CRIMES unit currently not have any women working for it??!! (I’m not counting liv cause she’s the captain and irl she would not be in the field, she’d be constantly swamped by paperwork). Even in this episode, it would be helpful to have either terry or fin and a female cop going to talk to a vic/potential vic, if I had been assaulted in any form, remembering it or not I wouldn’t be very open to talking about it if they were talking to me like that, both playing the alpha role. At least with Velasco he can slip into a more soft, quiet, supportive type of conversation/questioning…

“where do you keep your receipts” is something that ALWAYS blows my fucking mind on these shows as a bartender. I DO NOT GET IT. Maybe it’s cause we have tap/card machines that don’t require signatures in Canada, but like…we don’t keep receipts, and even when there are the ones we do keep, they don’t have names, they don’t even have the full credit card number on them, so there would be no way to track someone. We had 250 people in the room each night and as a bartender, unless they had a tab with me, or a personal connection/were a good tipper/conversationalist, I’m not gonna remember them. Our reservations are usually for large groups, so sure we have a single name/card on file, but there’s no way to pin point someone out of their 4-40 people friend groups.  Random bar/service industry things that drive me wild on tv shows. That’s all.

Okay, we’re taking the bracelet off, I think that’s some progress finally.

You know, I wouldn’t mind commercial breaks if they weren’t the same fucking commercials every damn time. That’s the issue with live streaming shit. I miss cable…

“well…they’re idiots, but at least they’re consistent” LOL

Ice T really said “hold on…I need to earn my paycheque for the season” with the amount of screen time he has this ep…

Wait…what’s the plan here? The cops have talked to the perps, there’s no way they wouldn’t be sus about ray coming back in on this. Why not send Velasco or other cops in to bribe the things out and play the ray role? This seems like a bad idea lol.

“wife is here” WHY DID NO ONE TELL VELASCO??

Why don’t we get to go to court anymore?!

Who is this defence attorney? She looks familiar.

I need to raid Velasco’s closet. This coat and sweater look so fucking cozy. They’re mine now.

Glad to see liv branching out to a new type of therapy.

#law and order svu #svu #law and order #law and order special victims unit #law and order organized crime #law and order spoilers #spoilers

[readerbell]

I just finished reading The Well of Ascension. Here are my notes.

I just finished reading The Battle of Luthadel portion and what the hell, Brandon? At least the last Sanderlanche was epic. This one just felt sad. Clubs & Dockson dead. Damn the two Koloss who killed them in particular.

And Tindwyl! I just wanted Tindwyl and Sazed to have a happily ever after. After her life of difficulty and Sazed thinking he’d never experience love because he thought himself half a man, they deserved a nice cottage in Terris at the end of this. But nooooo… If anything happens to Spook I will lose it.

I don’t even feel all that happy about Vin’s incredible defence of Luthadel. Even the victory feels bitter. Which in itself is a sign of great writing I suppose. I’m sure Vin feels the same way.

And those inquisitors! My first thoughts when I started reading this book were these guys are up to something & I kept asking where Marsh is throughout. What the hell is going on with Marsh anyway? Does becoming an Inquisitor change someone’s personality or something? His whole ‘my brethren’ stuff was uncomfortable. And now they’ve killed the Keepers and taken their bodies. Are they about to create a force of Super Inquisitors with feruchemy powers? Also, who was the Inquisitor people spotted in the city? HOLD ON! Sazed is the last of the Keepers? *whispers* Does this mean they’ve died out as a race? Where are Tindwyl’s daughters? Maybe The Keepers didn’t give that information away. Maybe.

Since I’m word vomiting now, let me tell you I did NOT see TenSoon coming. I was sat at my desk shouting NO NO NO as I listened to that portion. I started mourning OreSeur until I realised the Kandra I cared about was the undercover…undercover one. I hope we get to see him again.

Speaking of things I didn’t see coming, I did not think Allriane was going to be a good person. I was expecting Shan Elleriel 2.0.

I’m guessing The Well of Ascension is in Kredik Shaw? Why was that mist creature pointing Elend to the refugees? Is it a force for good? 🤨🤨

What is it with these diaries btw? Does someone in Mistborn Era 2 discover Dockson’s last writings before he died? And Sazed’s notes to the now dead Keepers? Did Rashek forge Kwaan’s diary? Or was Kwaan mad? HOLD ON! Hear me out… what if…Kwaan had the same voice Zane had in his head? So he was normal right? And then the voice took over and that explains the contradictions? Maybe?

Kwaan spoke about being Holy First Witness. WHAT?! Please don’t get Sazed mixed up in this. Granted, he’s been mixed up in this already but like man. I don’t want Sazed to die. Having said that, Sazed needs to go back to those Church of the survivor people and ask them where they got the term Holy First Witness from. Something is afoot.

The mists Vin drew upon in the last book was the Well of Ascension? Look at me pretending to know what the Well is.

Kwaan is the mist creature? The mist creature is opposed to whatever Vin & co are doing. See, if they hadn’t killed Rashek…this book would be much shorter.

Statlin City is about to become important…probably in the next book.

*narrows eyes* Is Vin about to drill a hole in the bore holding the Dark One? Lanfear, is that you?

Marsh!

MARSH…?! They have Marsh under Compulsion?! WAIT A MINUTE IS THE GUY FROM ZANE’S HEAD CONTROLLING MARSH? WHAT IS GOING ON? I hope Sazed pulls out his spikes. Sazed had 10 rings left right? I can’t remember what was in them but GET HIM, Sazed! That makes me sad because I liked Marsh more than Kelsier.

Omg. What if this was all an elaborate plan?! Marsh was the one who took Sazed to the Inquisitor stronghold. If it wasn’t for Marsh they wouldn’t have access to Kwaan’s “diary”.

SUPER SAZED! Is every book going to end with Sazed being a super hero? If so, count me in (I’m still mourning our losses though).

Are we about to get yet a new metal?! 🤨

“You spent the last two years teaching, but I spent them killing. Killing so many people. . . .” Marsh killed the people at that fortress? (I can’t spell the name).

Breeze?! Who else has a duelling cane? Ham and Spook are with the Ventures.

WAIT WHAT?! ELEND?! The mist creature is evil?! WHAAAATTTTTT! Is there a REWIND metal? I demand one.

Oh it was Ham who helped Sazed. Nice. But Elend? Are we just killing everyone who grew in this book, Brandon? Tyndwil? Clubs and his newly fashioned gift from Sazed. Dockson and his final realisation. Now our little Emperor. IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO SPOOK!! Where is Spook?

Do not trust the kindly voice, Vin.

*“. for he must not be allowed to release the thing that is imprisoned there.”* WAS THIS WHAT WAS IN THE STOLEN NOTES?! 😮😮😮 Uh-Oh. Vin. What have you done?

The mist creature hurt Elend so she could choose him instead of the world! Does the mist creature have a name?

Elend is suddenly an allomancer? Our new metal creates allomancers?

Why are you going to the Conventical, Sazed?!

Prediction: we’re about to discover a new diary.

* He held the rubbing up and slapped it against the steel plate on the wall. And the two did not match.* BRANDON! What?! So Marsh and whatever was controlling him did set Sazed and the gang up. 😭 So the diary we’re getting in book 3 is Kwaan’s actual diary? Oh man, I wish Tindwyl was here to see this. She was the one who kept pointing out the contradictions.

“I write these words in steel, Kwaan’s first words said, for anything not set in metal cannot be trusted.” MY MOUTH IS AGAPE. I literally had to sit up. It’s past my bed time. I have work in the morning. Brandon Sanderson…is a genius. I don’t quite forgive him for taking Tindwyl but wow. Okay, talk about a pay off.

Let it be known, I was team Rashek shouldn’t be killed anyway. Rashek was an evil good guy? This is why Rashek was hunting the Keepers?! IS THIS IS WHY THE INQUISITORS WENT FOR THE KEEPERS?! Hold on. Pause. So…who was controlling Marsh? I am so confused.

Let me go buy the next book.

#Cosmere #Mistborn #the well of ascension #vin venture #Elend venture #Sazed #tindwyl #my homie #clubs #breeze #Dockson #spooks #what happened to Demoux during the battle

[cyberphuck]

Anime Club!

Seb and I are starting a two-person anime club where we each recommend an anime and watch one episode of each every day (or most days) and jot down some thoughts about it. (very, very, VERY old friends of mine might recall Saturday Night Anime Club, which was a weekly livestream I used to have where we'd watch four or five episodes of different series. I watched a lot of series back then that I wouldn't have seen otherwise.) We’re starting with Serial Experiments Lain and THE BIG O!

Serial Experiments Lain E01

Prewatch: I've been sort of avoiding watching this series because I have a loathing of 2000's era anime (why are the colors so washed out, please, it's okay to make something red), but that era is the one Seb grew up with, so a lot of these series are close to his heart and he kept encouraging me to watch at least one of them. I've heard of Serial Experiments Lain, but I have absolutely no idea what it's about, so I'm going in blind.

My Episode Summary: First of all, the opening theme sounds like it was sung by The Cranberries?? Like it's not them but it sounds exactly like them. The opening is a mix of the main character floating around with a sleepy look on her face.

Seb: Trans girls really like this series.

The episode opens with a schoolgirl committing suicide by jumping off a building. Later, Lain sees one of her classmates crying, and hears that the "dead" girl has been sending emails to her friends, who think it's a cruel prank.

Me: *Lain is taking off her jacket* are we gonna get schoolgirl nakedness? This seems like a schoolgirl nakedness kind of show

When Lain gets home (to her weirdly sparse room), she puts on her Internet Bear Hat and logs into her futuristic email, where she finds she's also received a message from the dead girl, who says her body is gone but she's still alive, and that she's with God.

Me: If you're a protagonist in a serious 2000's anime, your parents hate you and each other.

Lain goes to her dad, who is surrounded by computer monitors, surfing the web (and looking at headless people?). He laments that Lain's mom doesn't seem to understand that the internet is the wave of the future, but is delighted when Lain asks for a better computer.

Me: Seriously Lain's expression is always "oh my god I'm so high right now"

On the train to school, the cars suddenly jolt to a stop and the conductor announces there's been an "accident." Later Lain either hallucinates, visualizes, or witnesses another one of her female classmates committing suicide by train. Her face warps eerily just before the train hits her.

Later, Lain sees the building-suicide girl walking on the road and stops to talk to her, asking her "where are you?"

Me: Runaway train never goin back, school girl on a Japanese track Seb: You don't know what's happening yet but-- Me: I definitely don't know what's happening in this show

Thoughts: I got a lot of Satoshi Kon vibes, especially from the opening scene. The actual art style is just bog-standard 2000's stuff but the blocky background cut outs are actually really cool.

I'm really intrigued by the premise of this show, even though Lain is always wearing O_O face. Something about anime schoolgirls comitting suicide is just engaging. The series is only 13 episodes, so I'm looking forward to a lot of weird shit happening in a short period of time.

BIG O E01

Prewatch: Seb described this as "the show that looks like Batman the Animated Series" and we both remember it being referenced on 2003 Teen Titans. It was on Toonami when I was a teenager so seeing clips from it is kind of jarring. I've seen one or two episodes from this series and I know it's about a guy, a girl, a giant robot, and like. A train?? But I don't remember much else.

My Episode Summary:

Me: Are buttons the main export of this city?

"I'm Roger Smith. I'm very good at my job." *Proceeds to be extremely bad at his job*

Roger Smith is a negotiator; the show opens on him pulling into an abandoned hangar and exchanging a briefcase full of money for a young girl. When the young girl's father shows up,  however, he says that's not his daughter, it's an android who looks like her. Roger tries to get the money back by detonating a bomb inside the briefcase and then flying it out of the bad guys' car, but it gets shot open and the money spills everywhere. Fail.

Seb's right, this artstyle looks *just* like BtAS.

Me: Wait go back, *what* happened and everyone lost their memory? *rewinds* Oh, right, nothing happened and everyone lost their memory.

Roger returns to his home and talks to his butler, who informs him that a young lady has come to see him. It's "Dorothy," the android that isn't the old dude's daughter. She says that she needs Roger to be her bodyguard and refuses to take no for an answer.

Seb: He does have like the yaoi proportions

(During an important action scene, Seb and I got the giggles and suddenly everything that was happening was the funniest thing ever.)

Roger and Dorothy go to an abandoned warehouse, where they find the old dude dying. He greets Dorothy as "Dorothy II" and says she's his real daughter (??) and then fukken dies. Roger gets an alert on his "about to be hit by a missle" watch and shoves Dorothy out of the way, then tells her to go and be bait for the bad guys since she's an android and she's stronger than a human.

Dorothy runs superduper fast as the bad guys shoot at her. While they're distracted, Roger blows them the FUCK up with two missiles shot from his car, which is something his car can do apparently. Then they get word from their cop friend-- a giant robot is attacking the Mint!

They get in the car and floor it to the Mint, where a giant robot is indeed trying to get the minting plates. Dorothy says something like "father, stop this!" and Roger gets out of the car, turns on his watch, and summons a giant robot.

(the crowd goes "yaaaay!" which was particularly funny to me.)

Big O and Crab Robot (also known as Dorothy I) battle in the street, wrecking a bunch of buildings in the process, which is probably bad. Dorothy II is still freaking out and goes running towards them, her arms making unsettling jiggly motions. The cop friend chases after *her,* telling her to get out of the way.

Meanwhile, Big O blows a hole in Crab Robot's chest. It falls down, straight towards Dorothy I and cop friend, while Roger goes "oh no!!" as if he's not sitting in the cockpit of a giant robot that could easily stop them from being crushed.

...why does the ending theme sound like a Boys II Men/Mariah Carey collaboration

Thoughts: This anime absolutely doesn't take itself seriously and I love it. The artstyle is fun to look at, though the action scenes are a little lackluster. The giant robots don't really have a big fight, they just kind of grab each other, which I guess is more realistic but not as exciting to watch. Still, I'm sure they're gonna get up to some interesting shenanigans over the course of the series. Of the two, I’m most interested in what happens in Lain. I hope Big O gets more exciting as the series goes on.

#anime club #serial experiments lain #the big o #tw suicide mention