#alleged dog fucker

[theprogressivesadist]

Meanwhile on Twitter

#alleged #alleged dog fucker

[cvntkisser]

just want to remind y'all that this

is Fyodor's reaction to Nikolai being the person to willingly intentionally kill him. and that his ability allows him to basically use whoever willingly kills him's body to morph into his new one. so technically this is his reaction to the idea of being inside Nikolai and then becoming him. he looks genuinely fucking blissful. at the idea of sharing Nikolai's body. at the idea of being inside Nikolai. there's fucking sparkles in the fucking background.

#fucker is NOT beating the gay allegations #bungo stray dogs fyodor #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyolai #bsd nikolai #nikolai gogol #fydor dostoevsky #mykola bsd #mykola hohol #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #bsd manga #bsd fyolai #bsd theory #chapter 114 #decay of angels #bsd doa #bsd dostoevsky #bsd gogol #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbtqia+ #mypo)t

[fitzs-space]

Watched Labyrinth last night with @galacticjay1, and my brain worms took over.

So woe, hermitcraft Labyrinth au be upon ye

Gem as Sarah, main character energy unfortunately but someone's gotta do it. she's the type to just end up in situations. that way the baby Toby can be her puppy Winnie. [alt option would have been Scott, cause Scott's got the vibe to just be in places, but he could not be bothered to actually go through the labyrinth]

Bdubs as Hoggle, just look at him. the tolken short guy whos forced to help and will complain every step of the way about it, and will completely kissass up to their boss. Also both having a prized possession always kept at their side [the Clock, and the bundle of jewelry]

Scar as Jareth the Goblin King, Yea. Who else.

Etho as Ludo, just vibes really. Quiet dude willing to help and can just do wild shit for no good reason. [alt option was Doc, cause he's got the tall brute force energy to him as well, by they said it didn't fit. Docs got more of a higher energy to him then what would fit]

Rens Sir Didymus, Dog Knight. eccentric mf who screams out soliloquys going on about saving the fair madden they have devoted their time and service to, is that Sir Didymus or Ren? yes. Ok those are the main ones, now onto the other characters met in the labyrinth in approximate order of appearance

Xisuma is the worm. look at that mf and tell me I am wrong, one of the lines is this dude asking Sarah to come in for a cup of tea. Id apologize to the Xisuma enjoyers, but this is tumbler and people know he's a bit of a wet paper bag kinda guy.

Impulse and Skizz are the door Guards, The guards have no idea what's going on and neither do those two. I know its Technically the "Four Guards" and It could be team Zits, but the vibe isn't there fully. the type of mfs to mislead someone by pure accident[Skizz], and also cause its a lil funny[Impulse]

Martin as the False Alarms, their entire roll is to dramatically shout false warnings at the people who pass. If I didn't make the man who abuses the voice effects on his GoXLR as the rocks who wait to shout at people, I'd be making a mistake. [listener ass bitch] Also there is straight up a line where one of them goes "oh please, we don't get to shout these very often, its only our job" in some posh voice, then go back to the deep dramatic shouting. and that's just Martin man.

Grian and Mumbo as the Door Knockers, vibes [its also funny to make everyone's favorite guys as characters only seen for five minuets at most] If any two guys are going to be subjected to living their life forever constantly shouting at each other barely being able to understand what the other is saying, it'd be those two. Grian would be the Left, would also scream if he couldn't hear someone [Watcher allegations also] Mumbo as right because the ring in his mouth could be drawn as his mustache

Tango's a Firey, look at him. Cartoon ass bitch, the entire scuffed greenscreen dance sequence is on par with his thumbnails. I know there are supposed to be five of the dudes, but shhhh Zedaph would also fit with these fuckers. the type of guy who could probably detach his head, but still knows that there are manners and its rude to throw someone else's head

Pearl as the Junk Lady, she's the cleaning lady and collects trash, was it ever a question? And Pearls gremlin voice is the exact same as the Junk lady's voice

Doc's the lil fairies at the beginning of the labyrinth, everyone say thank you to Doccy for butterfly truthing Doc.

Jellie as just all the goblins, Scar the Jellie king instead of the Goblin king. The threat of Winnie getting turned into a cat is kinda funny, also there's the Humongous? that's a Jellie panda

the only main characters Im missing is the Wise Man and the Hat, I just do not know who to put them as, maybe Xb and Keralis cause of vibe? or Xb and Hypno cause of the horsehead farms bit. I do not know.

All that will come from this is me maybe drawing Ren and Scar as the characters, feel free to do what you want with this, my brain just needed to scream about this really

#hermitcraft #hermitblr #labyrinth #dont ask man #Hermit labyrinth au #got my grubby minecraft enjoying hands on the silly david bowie puppet movie #im not tagging the characters

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for not believing that someone was dead and digging up their grave to prove my point?

(AU/Fanfiction post)

Okay, I know the title probably makes me sound bad, but hear me out.

For context: I (43M) have been trying for almost eight years to expose and kill the man, a person I’ll just be calling J (40M), who caused the death of my wife, B. That bastard did things to B that I can’t say here, but she’s been missing for eight years, the police think that she’s dead, and I won’t ever be convinced that J isn’t the reason she’s gone.

The problem with just putting J’s head on a pike in Central Park like the fucking animal he is was that he was a world-famous superhero, and he was a pretty goddamn powerful one. Flight, laser eyes, impenetrable skin, superstrength, all those works, and he’s backed by a massive corporation (we’ll call them V) which will cover up everything he does, which includes what he did to B. And apparently, J’s corporate creators have thrown everything they can think of at this fucker to see if their science project was a success, and none of it put a dent in J. If I was still a believer, I’d say that God is laughing His white-robed ass off at my expense.

J sounds like the kind of wanker that could never be killed by anyone, right? That’s what me along with all my friends in on the plot to take J down thought too at this point. I’d just given a contact in the CIA some incriminating evidence about V’s corruption, only to be seemingly proven wrong. V announced that J had been KIA by some bullshit rival organization with a potent nerve gas.

Nerve gas, killing J. What a bloody joke. I didn’t believe it for a second, but the others? They all were happy to accept it and move on. To them, J was dead and V was being nailed to a plank like Christ on Good Friday after their shitstorm was exposed to the public. But I still wasn’t happy. Despite what my friends and the CIA tried to tell me I didn’t believe that J was dead. V saw what was coming and gave J some bullshit fake death and now he’s living somewhere in the Caribbean or somewhere like that getting lap dances from a conga line of exotic tarts. I would have bet my left bullock on it.

The funeral was soon after, almost too soon, and it was diabolical. V threw a lot of money I didn’t think they’d have after all the allegations into this thing. A gold-plated coffin, massive service with J’s ex delivering the eulogy (judging by her face and flat acting I’m pretty sure she was forced by V) along with a fling (we can call her S, she was on J’s team too) of one my friends performing a music number in J’s memory. They even had an American flag draped over his coffin along with the flowers, like J was some great military leader and not a spoiled manchild they fed powers to out of a bottle. Over the top cock-up, if you ask me.

But I was gobsmacked during the wake to see an actual body in the casket, I was expecting it to be closed. It definitely looked like J, down to every last detail, V had him in that stupid hero uniform and everything. He looked almost like he was peacefully sleeping. I wanted to jab at his skin with a pin from my sister-in-law’s hair to see if it would go through, I would know then if it was really him because there’s no way a pin would be able to go through J, even if he was dead. My in-laws and the friend with me wouldn’t let me though, bloody cowards that they were. They just forced me to give my SIL her pin back and to go sit down with them.

I watched the whole service, watched them carry out that golden monstrosity and lower it into the ground. I even stayed after the service to watch them pour dirt into the grave. It wasn’t enough. I’d seen J’s body, but I still wasn’t sure that it was actually real. That it wasn’t fake or some kind of double. Everyone thought that me going to the funeral would give me closure, but it only did the opposite. Even going to my aunt’s house for a cuppa and seeing my dog wasn’t enough to calm my nerves.

It was after a few pints and getting proper trollied that I got the idea to go back to the city and then break into V’s tower for some answers. So the next morning I took my pistol and crowbar and got into the tower, but I guess I wasn’t careful enough and set off an alarm or maybe walked past too many cameras because their security caught me before I could even make it halfway up. I may have lost the plot a bit, I may have threatened to kill the rest of J’s team, the police found my pistol on me when they got there. They charged me with felony trespassing and, later, tacked on assault for shooting S with my rifle in an earlier incident (she has powers just like J does, give me a break) after she ID’ed me. I got five years and a pile of restraining orders.

I was out on parole after almost two years, so as soon as I got my clothes, money, and the rifle I hid I cut my ankle monitor and legged it. I was on a mission; I was going to find out what killed J, if he was even dead at all, and my friends were going to help me. It wasn’t hard to find them, they’d scattered after J was announced dead but apparently decided to have a meeting of sorts after hearing about me getting out of prison. S was there, so I ended up violating my restraining order, but what the fuck ever. We got into an argument and S threatened to drag me to the nearest police station. It turned into a sudden intervention with everyone insisting to me that J was dead and that I had to let him go. S kept vehemently insisting that he was gone, that he was never coming back. And then I got a call on my cellphone.

My first thought was that it was my SIL or maybe my aunt, so I answered, ready to have to defend myself for violating parole. It wasn’t any of them though. I knew that voice, that fucking voice. It was J, saying my name like he wasn’t sure it was me he’d reached. It was him, I swear on my dead brother’s grave that it was him. My first thought was that J called to taunt me and the first thing I asked him was what the fuck was going on. He didn’t taunt me though. J sounded… scared. I’ve never heard him sound like that, not even in any of the movies he’s starred it. That wasn’t right, J doesn’t get scared. He told me that he couldn’t think of anyone else to call, that V were pieces of shit (no kidding), that his teammates betrayed him, and that he was being held against his will out of the country and some pretty awful things were being done to him. J was calling me from a payphone and the call cut before I could get any meaningful information out of him.

I was raving at that point. S had gone quiet, but the others were trying to convince me that it must have been a prank call, with the one who went with me to the funeral pointing out to me that we saw the body. That made me remember the body, and I yelled at S when the realization hit me before running out of the room. I took some tools and got back into my car before peeling off to the cemetery J was supposedly buried in.

It was right in the middle of January in New York when this happened, so actually digging into the dirt after I’d hopped the cemetery wall and found the grave was a bitch and a half. I used a pickaxe to break apart the frozen dirt, then the shovel to scoop up the pieces and toss them aside. My friends showed up soon after, I guess they followed me. S wasn’t with them. They kept on trying to get me to stop digging and kept calling me crazy. They must have accepted that I wasn’t letting up though when I just kept digging and let me keep going, but they kept telling me that if I turned out to be wrong they were going to turn me in themselves. I just told them that it was a good thing I wasn’t wrong then.

It took me all night, but I got all the way down to the concrete box the casket was in, and I busted the seams with a sledgehammer before having one of the others who has superstrength help lift it. The others just wouldn’t shut up about how messed up this was as I used my crowbar to pry open the coffin. The body was all sunken and decayed and smelled like shit, but I just slid down J’s uniform and exposed his chest. I couldn’t help but hold my breath when I hovered my pocketknife over the body, then I sank it in.

The skin broke with little resistance. I knew right then, but I cut the chest all the way open just to prove my point. The others didn’t seem at all convinced though, so I cut off one of the body’s fingers and put it in my coat pocket and took some pictures of the cut open chest. We all left after that; the sun was rising and we didn’t want to be there when people started showing up.

After that, I found my CIA contact, R. I couldn’t just walk into her office, I was already wanted for my parole violation and apparently the security cameras at the cemetery caught my face, so I was also wanted for “desecrating the resting place of a national hero” (the media has always been V’s personal ball-ticklers). So, I got into the back of R’s car and waited. It didn’t take long for her to show up and start driving, I guess I scared her when I sat up because R almost crashed the car, then she started yelling at me and made a U-turn, telling me that she was going back to the station to turn me in. She changed her tune though when I explained the phone call from J that I got, showed her the pictures, and gave her the finger to take and run a DNA test on it. She made me get out of the car, but agreed to test the finger under the same conditions my friends gave me: if I’m wrong and the DNA is a match for J’s, I’ll spend the rest of my life in a black site.

To make a long story shorter, while we were waiting for the results to come in I had one of my friends, F, pull some contacts and trace J’s call, which we tracked back to a payphone in Russia, and S fessed up to V getting sick of cleaning up J’s messes and agreeing to sell him out to some private research company based there. Everyone on J’s team was in on it because of how he is, the only one who wouldn’t agree was blackmailed. S insisted that she didn’t know anything about J possibly being mistreated, and that she’d been told that he was going to be held in a maximum security prison for supes with experimental technology to keep him contained. That still might be true, we don’t know for sure yet. All I know is that J sounded terrified of the prospect of being caught by his captors and he described some heinous things being done to him. If J was lying and pretending that he was being treated horribly, I don’t think he’d pretend to be afraid, his head’s too inflated for that; he’d pretend to be righteous and angry about it.

It only took three days for R to get back to me with results from the DNA testing, and I put her on speakerphone with everyone except S (she had to go back to V’s tower) in the room. She confirmed my suspicions; the DNA did not match. In fact, while the DNA did match with someone in the database, it wasn’t J. It was another supe, one with shapeshifting powers. Apparently V made them take the form of J, then they killed them so that they’d have a convincing corpse to put in the casket and show the world in order to convince everyone that J had truly died.

Despite me being right though, my friends are still looking at me weird and calling me crazy, saying that I’m bonkers. I turned out to be right, I don’t think I did anything wrong, but they won’t let up. So, am I the arsehole?

TL;DR: scumbag’s corporate overlords claimed he died and held a funeral, I didn’t believe that bullocks so I broke into their tower, got thrown in prison for it, then once I was out I cut my ankle monitor — because fuck parole — and dug up his grave. Turns out I was right, but everyone else thinks I’m crazy.

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

"racist show" ??? find me a less racist show right now. I can't even think of a tv show that isn't unintentionally racist in some way. new iwtv? no, it's good but it's definitely got some unfortunate bits. reservation dogs? nope there's a video on youtube calling it anti-black. black sails? doctor who? noughts and crosses?

what is this even about? Ed being "too violent" ? there is no way to avoid every possible racist interpretation someone might have.

Oh it's because the historical guy they stole the name and not much else from to give to OFMD's main character owned slaves irl. which I consider to be a valid argument when its brought up in discussion of the show by people who actually want to discuss the finer points of historical fiction and what goes and what doesn't and completely disingenuous when it comes from tumblr anons and in blorbo brackets and the like. Every single piece of historical fiction from that general time period is haunted by the specter of slavery. Ofmd is no exception, I feel like they handled it well and they handled it well specifically because they made sure to have the perspectives of the descendants of enslaved peoples in the writers room, which many many many pieces of historical fiction like Black Sails and doctor who have not done. I think it's very important to have characters like Oluwande and Frenchie and I think that while I sorta wish they'd changed the name they altered the story so much from reality that that's just a fucking original character with a name ripped from a historical guy.

Edit: the reason I consider it to be pretty disingenuous is because I don't like it when fucking genocide and racial trauma is used cynically to dunk on people you find annoying and no one is ever consistent about it. Like Black Sails is way worse at handling the Slavery thing and yet Stede was the one who had to beat the allegations in that Flint V Stede poll that broke containment for example, People will compair it to Hamilton despite the fact that they're only really comperable in the fact that they're both historical fiction (OFMD is about people you've never heard of, Hamilton is about fuckers who still effect legislation to this day. Hamilton sticks to history pretty closely OFMD says fuck history the pirates are kissing. Hamilton is a biographical broadway show and OFMD is a Television Romantic Comedy. It even takes place on opposite ends of the 1700s. there's no comparison unless you want to lump Bridgerton and Black Sails and Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter and Six (the musical) and Dracula Untold and so on and so forth). Basically there's a ton of historical fiction for which the problems OFMD has are also criticisms that could be applied there and I tend to notice which ones people apply them to. Usually if there's a prominent person of color who's kind of a nerd attached to it, it draw tumblr's ire and if there isn't they get to skate by and Tumblr doesn't even notice it's existance. I don't know if that's because we're all self hating nerds and we hate to see another nerd winning because it invokes the self cringe or because of racism (tis definitely the racism) but it's true.

[masterqwertster]

2 and/or 47 with Ashton and maybe Orym?

Prompt You know, I haven't actually written anything in the Bells Howls AU, so I think I'll give that a go. 2 Running fingers through hair 47 Touching their elbow to get their attention

Ashton feels a wet nose touch their elbow as they drain yet another bottle of alcohol.

A glance down reveals a fuzzed out Orym making big sad eyes at him.

"What?" Ashton irritably asks.

Big green eyes flicker to the bottle in their hand, to them, to the bottles strewn before them, and back up to Ashton's own mismatched eyes.

"Fuck off," they growl, their own wolf apparent.

Orym maintains his silent, wide-eyed stare.

And it's not fucking fair how sad and pathetic the halfling can look when he's wolfed out. More like a fucking pet dog than a humanoid-level intelligent apex predator. And sure, the little fucker can still talk like that (all werewolves that aren't full-on feral can), but Orym's fucking weaponized his silences in combination with puppy-dog eyes.

Asthon grumbles as he sets the mostly empty bottle down and begrudgingly pokes it further away from himself.

"Happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Orym flatly replies. "Here."

A water bottle is held out in a fuzzy hand. Ashton takes it with a put-upon sigh, draining it all in one go.

Orym hands them another water bottle that they nurse at a much slower pace. Then he makes himself comfortable, curled up on the couch beside Ashton, head resting on their thigh.

After a while, a heavy hand settles on Orym's head, gently petting from the crown of his fuzzy head down the line of his neck to his shoulders. Fingers dig into his ruff, and the scratching feels nice enough that Orym leans into it to increase the pressure. Even his wolfen strength isn't enough to move the genasi's hand if they don't want to.

"...You know you're not beating the therapy dog allegations like this," Ashton rumbles.

"I don't mind that," Orym says with a yawn, wiggling to get even more comfortable. After all, Ashton is less tense and miserable than when Orym had first poked him, which had been the goal in the first place.

"Weirdo," Ashton murmurs affectionately, scritching behind Orym's ears.

"Mmm," Orym contentedly hums, eyes drooping closed.

It's nice when "dog" therapy is a two-way street.

#MQ&A #MQfic #touch prompt #MQ AU machine #bells howls au #ashton greymoore #orym of the air ashari

[shrimpmandan]

I think it's interesting how pre-2022 or so when the average person heard "paraphiliac" they'd picture objectums and/or dendrophiles (writing this unlocked the staggering memory of watching a guy reacting to wikipedia's paraphilia list like cringe compilation style), while now everyone associates it exclusively with pedo/necro/zoophilia and reacts with hatred to the most general mentions of it... I don't actually know why this happened but I'm not a fan

I think it really is just because paraphilia discourse picked up steam in the last couple of years, and a lot of people who do have potentially harmful paraphilias just say they're a paraphiliac as a way of keeping themselves safe. Hell, it's what I do. Being specific would just result in targeted harassment, so it's best to be vague so that people can't use that information to hurt me. And of course, what naturally happened is people began to assume that anyone calling themselves a paraphile in a broad sense was trying to hide something in that vein.

That, and it's not like people ever really liked paraphiliacs to begin with. BDSM is still highly stigmatized, a lot of other unusual fetishes (feet, inflation, feederism, piss/scat, etc. etc.) are pointed at as being "cringy" or "perverted", and that's not even touching on the few paraphilias that sometimes result in criminal behavior, like (nonconsensual) exhibitionism, voyeurism, and frotteurism, and of course pedo/zoo/necrophilia. A lot of people will just assume that because you have a fantasy, that it means you intend on acting on it, when in reality that really isn't the case. It's just that there's far more coverage on offending paraphiliacs (especially regarding the big three) because most would not out themselves publicly in their right mind. Which of course means most paraphiliacs are only outed when they're caught actually doing something heinous, such as looking at CSEM or defiling a corpse. This makes the ratio of offending vs. non-offending paraphiles feel signifcantly higher than it actually is.

That, and of course, criminal behavior of all types is sensationalized. People will go on for weeks about this YouTuber or celebrity admitting to fucking their dog or whatever, because it's good drama. It's basically free money to talk about it, AND you can warn others about a potentially dangerous person. But it still has the unfortunate side effect of dragging other paraphiliacs down with them, because things like animal and child abuse are especially topics that trigger a lot of strong emotions, and so of course people are going to react viscerally if you come off like you're trying to excuse or sympathize with the behavior even the slightest bit. Comparatively, a YouTuber/celebrity being outed as liking feet or inflation is far less likely to get a reaction, because even if it's considered "weird", at least it's not something potentially or tangibly harmful. Exceptions made, of course, for people like Dan Schneider who involved underage persons in his fetish. Sexual abuse is a sensationalist topic. That's why grooming allegations get hundreds of thousands to millions of clicks. That's why the guy who gets outed as being a kid diddler or a cat fucker gets far more negative traffic than the guy who admits to having a piss fetish. That's why paraphilias in general are far more associated with criminal behavior than they are with "fetishists in general".

It's also difficult to talk about how paraphiliacs are treated at all because you'll either have bad actors trying to force themselves into communities that they aren't apart of, or other people misconstruing them as doing that. For example, the times certain pedophiles and zoophiles tried to worm their way into the LGBT community have basically destroyed any conversation you can have about how paraphiliacs of all stripes are sexually oppressed and stigmatized. Or how some people will hear about how paraphiliacs are subject to ableism and take that as somehow comparing disabled or mentally ill people to abusers. This is such an inherently sensitive subject that requires a lot of tact to discuss, and the unfortunate reality is that a lot of people simply don't want to hear it, or the conversation was made infinitely more difficult by genuine apologists and bad actors trying to hide behind paraphilia advocacy as a way of receiving encouragement to abuse and even access to potential victims.

Hell, something interesting I've noticed is the few times I've accidentally stumbled across zoophilia/bestiality forums, wherein anti-contact zoos were basically treated like "pick-mes" trying to appeal to broader society. It's fascinating, and many paraphiliacs (particularly pedos and zoos) tend to not even act maliciously. They genuinely believe the objects of their affection can consent, or that they aren't doing any harm, and so they're forced to maximize their cognitive dissonance and surround themselves with yesmen in order to avoid confronting the harm they've caused. It's... genuinely pretty sad, I think, and is a lot more harrowing than the "these people are just evil and are hurting these vulnerable people/creatures for selfish reasons!" narrative that dominates most outside perspectives of paraphiliacs and sexual abusers.

So between sensationalization, demonization, and flat-out misinformation: of course pedos/zoos/necros are singled out. Those three paraphilias are among very few that are absolutely never consensual, and many people object to just thinking about them because the idea of a child, animal, or deceased love one being violated brings up a lot of visceral emotions. Other paraphilias are easier to justify; "kink is just two consenting adults, why are you so pressed about it?", whereas people are far less likely to jump to the defense of even things like lolicon/shotacon and fictional bestiality or necrophilia porn, because of just how deeply stigmatized they are even in theory. Even when it doesn't harm anyone, it's still seen as decrepit and dangerous, because Westerners especially are conditioned to gauge pretty much everyone by how much of a "potential threat" they could be-- whether this be due to someone's mental illness, race, gender, or any other amount of uncontrollable factors that inevitably lead to you being profiled as being a dangerous person or not.

Anyways I'm genuinely sorry about just how fucking rambly this is. I know there's big blocks of text and it's not really cohesive, but hey, I can barely focus and this gave me something to respond to that I like talking about. I really appreciate this ask in particular, as it's something I enjoy talking about which is why I started sperging about it C:

#anon #asks #paraphilia discourse #sexology #saucyish

[kaiisens]

the idea of the boring long winded unoriginal gay poetry guy being more upset that someone made fun of their poetry then decided to ignore the DOG FUCKER allegations is truly frightening i wish i could shoot people through tumblr

#text.

[serifsans]

1977

A rhinestone studded heel presses painfully into his chest, but all in all, Jean-Paul’s pretty certain he’s winning.

After all these years, Oberyn (That’s what he’s calling himself now? Pretentious little fucker.) is still all bark, all bite, and absolutely zero thought, the quintessential vapid vaporvolph whose intellect only extends so far as contemplating the next toy to rip apart. He’s always been so stupid. Back on Vampiru, he might’ve had the advantage of size and strength, but Vivi knew the real way to win any spat: fake a limp and cry softly to the nearest vampire.

“Familiar position, innit?”

Oberyn grinds his heel into his sternum and fuck, ow, uncomfortable. Jean-Paul dissipates and then knocks his scrawny legs out from under him. Fucker collapses like a house of cards. Idiot. Oberyn could pin him down with a single paw on Vampiru but this volph doesn’t wear a collar anymore.

"Oh, do you still think about pinning me down after all these years? I’m touched, darling.”

“Fuck you, Vivi,” Oberyn snarls, lunging at him but meeting only pink vapor.

"I bet you spend all your time thinking about me. I bet it pisses you off that I’m doing well. I think that’s so funny,” JP continues. “I don’t think about you at all.”

The brief flicker of dismay is absolutely worth Oberyn grabbing a handful of hair and pulling as hard as possible.

“Come now, love,” the alleged rockstar says. “All you did was graduate from being a vampire’s pet to being a human’s dear little -oh, up yours, asshole.”

Jean-Paul grins triumphant around a mouthful of volph arm that quickly dissolves into candy-colored smoke. Oberyn solidifies again and grabs him by the necklace and oh no, no, that’s Vivienne Eastwood. Jean-Paul yelps and tries to bite his nose. He doesn’t succeed.

“Face the facts: you’re jealous that I’m living the high life and I don’t have to do tricks all day, you glorified circus dog,” JP says, trying to jerk away from the other volph’s grasp.

The necklace breaks off in Oberyn’s hand and Jean-Paul thumps backwards. Ow.

“Should I be jealous of you? Keep your retirees to yourself, pinky. Think I’ll stick to my foxy wife.”

Oberyn takes advantage of his momentary disorientation to pin him by the arms but that just means it’s easier to knee him in the balls. He howls in pain. God only knows what the rest of the party guests think they’re doing in here.

"Oh, this is what, your fourth marriage in ten years? Do you suppose this one will divorce you too? Let’s see, last one divorced you, the one before that divorced you, and I’m just guessing that the one before that also-”

Oberyn’s fist hits his nose so hard that the only thing saving it structurally is the fact that he can shapeshift. Jean-Paul’s too stunned to take advantage of the momentary freedom before the other volph pins him by the hands again.

"She’s dead, fucker,” the volph snarls (shit, he didn’t know that) and oh, they definitely aren’t playing. “Don’t say another word. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”

Jean-Paul’s provoked (and subsequently ran off crying for sympathy and pets) the other volph for fun over the years but there are still limits he doesn’t want to step over, buttons he doesn’t want to press. Pink ears manifest, flatten down against his head, back arching up to show off his belly to let the other volph know he’s sorry, he didn’t mean that, please don’t hurt him, a quick lick to the cheek when Oberyn leans in close to bite his ears. This is a lot more homoerotic in human shape, isn’t it? Jean-Paul considers quipping about that but decides it isn’t the time and ow, fuck, that hurts a lot more with dull teeth. JP squirms while he lets the other volph chew on his ears for what seems like an appropriate amount of time for the offense and then floats up through his body, sitting cross-legged on his back.

“There’s nothing you do that T. Rex and the Stones haven’t done better,” taunts Jean-Paul as he yanks a handful of hair. What the fuck even is this hairstyle? A shag? Damn, the man can take any shape he wants and his hair’s still dry as fuck. Disgraceful.

“Mick Jagger can’t hold a note to save his life, you daft little muppet.”

Jean-Paul falls on his ass as the other volph phases through him in return and puts him in a headlock. This might be more intimidating if Jean-Paul couldn’t snap his body like a twig, which is really quite remarkable because JP himself is a tiny, scrawny little thing.

“I bet you listen to the Carpenters,” Oberyn says smugly. “I bet ‘We’ve Only Just Begun‘ makes you cry.”

 Jean-Paul’s so confused that they stop trying to wiggle out of his grip.

"What could you possibly have against Karen Carpenter?” he asks. “She seems like a nice lady.”

Oberyn grumbles something vaguely obscene (which means that JP’s properly shamed him) and eases up on his headlock just enough that Jean-Paul can wriggle free and slap him with the nearest object, an empty record sleeve. It does as much damage as you might expect out of a piece of flimsy cardboard.

“Be a cheeky little prick all you like, Johnny,” Oberyn says, snatching up the record sleeve. “At the end of the day, I’m out there living like a king and you’re still you.”

Oberyn moves as if he’s going to hit him back with the sleeve and then throws it over his shoulder, evidently deciding that he’s not even worth the effort.

“That’s not even an insult,” Jean-Paul says with a laugh like that remark isn’t crawling under his skin right now. “You can do better than that, darling.”

Oberyn stands up, too tall in heels that make him even taller. He’s always insisted on being so much bigger than him.

“Oh, sweet little puppy, still so yippy,” he says and JP hates that not a rhinestone is out of place. “I am doing better than that. This has been a nice bit of fun but I’m afraid I must be off. Dinner with the missus. Hate to stay out late partying when she’s expecting, you know how it is. Oh, give my regards to your children, won’t you?”

Oberyn prances out with a cocky swagger and leaves Jean-Paul absolutely fuming.

#ooc #drabble #just two volphs being mean and hitting each other #as one does

[floatingcamel23]

why i hat the UTTP

im at my fucking boiling point so if anyone is offended by my profanity, i apologize.

it was a beautiful day today. bird were singing, people playing outside, the temperature just right, a lovely day in march. UNTIL, i see a video like this:

this peice of shit pops up while i scroll through tributes of matpat-

this channel named BMTSINFERNO was part of the internet gang that is on the rise: UTTP.

this sick fuck even has a video like this.

WHO IN THERE GOD DAMN MIND PUTS A VIDEO OF A WOMAN CRYING CUS HER DOG GOT PUT DOWN-

THIS SICK, TWISTED, PEICE OF SHIT IS NOT THE ONLY ONE

this is them. they go after people they deem "cringe". the shorts wars youtubers, matpat, parlo, etc. the people they target are not even cringe yet they target and harrass them online. what they said abt matpats kid is even more disgusting. the messages are from there discord. they wish little ollie that he die in many twisted ways. WHY THE FUCK DO THEY HAVE TO GET OLLIE IN THIS MESS- they also have been under allegations of a certain type of porn thats starts with the letter c and ends with a d. following pics are from parlos video.

these sick fucks seem to like to make children commit self harm. THESE FUCKERS HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SAY THEY ARENT R*PIST AND GR*OMERS-

so what do you do if you see one? my advice? REPORT THERE ASS. these degenerated kids and bigoted adults need to be stopped.

if you want me to take this post down any mod, i will do it. but if any UTTP member sees this and call there shitty little friends to go after me? go fuck yourselves.

anyway tribute to matpat coming!

#fuck the UTTP.

[izukult]

IN REGARDS TO THE DISCOURSE.

cw/ mentions of racism, fatphobia, pedophilia, beastiality, death threats, hate, manipulation, etc

1. allegations about me, @/junisfics (she has me blocked), and @xenihime

—the first and most talked on allegations were calling me a racist. i would like to start with a very clear, transparent disclaimer: i am not. i am so offended and disgusted by the behavior on this app, because i continuously do everything i can to help against discrimination with my white privilege. i have made multiple posts on my blog before this incident (including literally two days ago) about how white people cannot decide what is right and wrong in race issues, but they should do everything to back up and support poc. i think it is intolerable that you are willing to throw such a heavy word around like it is nothing.

in my original post, i included this screenshot

when juni reblogged my post, she referred to my comments on skinnyphobia, saying she didn’t believe in skinnyphobia and knows it isn’t real. as a response, i cropped the image to try to show the ‘im skinny and skinnyphobic’ line, but i have an iphone and you can only crop to a certain size. when i showed that, juni referenced her comment. it is still not my issue to speak on or discuss, but you can see here for what started the conversation, why the screenshots were posted, and juni’s responses to it. i never once spoke on race. i never once told someone what they could and couldn’t reclaim. i never once invalidated someones heritage or ethnicity and i would never do that. in the screenshots, juni is saying she is white and then immediately following with a slur. that is what i posted. yes, my “this you?” comment was snarky and yes that was the intention. i apologize if my actions added to the normalization of embedded racism and micro aggressions, but it was not meant to target that. i completely understand that it did offend some people, and juni and i are both aware my intention was not to downplay her race. i stated multiple times that i was white and it wasn’t mine to speak on, and i am truly ashamed that people immediately piggybacked on that and tried to paint me as something that i would never be.

—the allegations about juni. i havent actually seen this, as i have been at work all day, but i have heard multiple things. where the fuck do y’all get off? i am genuinely wondering if people here never bother to use their brain. but, just to clarify, juni is not a dog fucker. that’s a pompous ass accusation and y’all should be ashamed of yourselves for latching onto it with no proof.

—the accusations about @xenihime again, i am disgusted. as a victim of sexual assault, and as someone who had adult abusers as a child, it sickens me to see how lightly people throw this word. i want to make it very clear that you should always believe the victim, but that can’t even begin to apply here. there is no victim, no one is coming forward, and how dare you link the word pedophile onto someone for no reason. it’s deplorable what some of you will say to get the last word. if you are one of the people who started that lie or spread it around, i genuinely hope you read this and learn from it. and to clear the air: xenihime obviously isn’t a pedophile. more on this here

ALL OF THE CLAIMS MADE AGAINST PEOPLE WERE FALSE WITHOUT A DOUBT UNLESS THEY WERE RELATED TO FATPHOBIA. I AM NOT SAYING EVERY CLAIM ABOUT FATPHOBIA IS CORRECT, IM SAYING THATS THE ACTUAL TOPIC OF DISCUSSION.

2. the original post, the intentions, the publicity of it, and the loss of the point.

i have deleted my original post after getting multiple requests to, but i know it is still reblogged on other people’s accounts and i took screenshots of everything (including juni’s responses, i want to be thorough and honest when i talk about this.). from the start, i’m going to ask that if you have questions to dm me and ask me about it. i am fed up of flooding the dash with this, especially if you guys keep going on about how i should stop bringing juni up.

my original post was what i believe a properly written and, admittedly, angry post about the repeated behaviors i have seen from both of those blogs, and how they continuously get away with harming others. it was also about their self obsessed attitudes, lack of empathy, and dismissal and manipulation to every complaint they get. but the main point of it was the fatphobia juni and mika were both aiding in, even if they ‘didn’t mean to’.

multiple people asked me why i didn’t handle it privately— but the point was to make it public. i am tired of blogs with a larger following (see in point three my stance about big blogs / small blogs) getting away with saying whatever they want because they have a “fan base” to back them up. i believed that juni and mika’s actions needed to be called to attention, and i still do. if i were one of their followers, i would want to know who i was supporting.

however, i would like to apologize for not putting proper trigger warnings on it and tagging it under x reader tags. it was an extremely heavy topic and i should’ve been more considerate, i take full blame for that.

i will not apologize for my post, though. i stand by almost everything i said, and i showed proof to back it up. some things were shown to be different than i thought (i.e. juni’s skinnyphobia comments), but i still believe that that was contributing to an issue.

i absolutely believe in coping with trauma with humor, and i’m not saying they don’t deserve to do that. i’m not saying they have to be perfect people and that they weren’t hurting, i’m saying their hurt isn’t an excuse for their behavior. while i believe in coping with trauma with humor, when you do it publicly (especially when you have a large base of followers who see it), it becomes an issue of insensitivity.

furthermore, when someone comes to you with why your public jokes are actively and currently hurting them, and you dismiss them by saying (and i quote) “i apologize if you are disappointed in me or junis for our past but that is not our problem…” (…nor were we acting as if eating disorders were a laughing matter) you are continuing to worsen the stigma behind fatphobia, even if it is unintentional. while i completely understand juni and mika’s points, and i sympathize with them for having to go through something that i know firsthand is so painful, i still believe the situation was approached in an egocentric and painful manner and i am going to speak against it.

the actual issue of fatphobia— direct or indirect— got ignored and pushed to the side immediately when the allegations started. my only intention was to speak about the issue at hand (fatphobia) and i repeated multiple times that’s all i wanted to talk about. i am revolted at the lack of ability to discuss actual problems without deflection, blame, and copious amounts of hate.

3. “big” / “small” blogs

—i’ve received a lot of asks telling me i’m obsessed with big blogs or jealous because they have a higher follower count than me. i’d like to start off by saying: i don’t care. i’ve passed 1k followers, and i’m really proud of myself for that as is. i’m surprised i got this far, and it’s enough of an accomplishment.

my issue isn’t with bigger blogs or more accomplished blogs. my issue is, they are always coddled whenever they do something wrong. when a smaller account gets called on something, they are almost always held accountable, to an outstanding front and typically in an unhealthy way (i.e. huge amounts of hate regarding death threats etc). when “big” blogs get called out, however, there’s always a backlash like this. and that’s well known (see screenshot below, i only have one left up but i received asks saying basically the same thing yesterday)

i believe that everyone should be held accountable for their actions. and in the way y’all are in my inbox, it seems you do, too. so i would really appreciate it if you matched that energy with your favorite blogs.

4. the hate anons

now, this is just fucking childish. i often wonder how y’all sit there and feel good about yourselves as you call me fat, and tell me to kill myself, and tell me i’m ugly, and sexually harass me, and tell me you hope i get murdered or hit by a car, and tell me my friends don’t care about me, and insult my friends, and tell me to deactivate, and so many other things that i can continue to quote if you’d like. so many people talked about how large i made the problem, but i have to wonder why i’m getting blamed for getting death threats?

if you left any hate, i can assume you’re not really gonna care about this. but, if by a strike a luck you do, please block my blog. please just get the fuck away from me. and anyone else who leaves hate anons (because i am still getting them), i will simply block or ignore.

also, the hate left on xenihime, izukine, rintarouss, and junisfics accounts (and if there were any others,) was never the solution. you cannot say you hate the problem when you are so horridly contributing to it. you were urging the unhealthy discussion, as well as trying to force me to speak on things that i numerously stated i couldn’t speak on and refuse to speak on. the desperate attempts to paint me as racist are so not only saddening to see, but horribly embarrassing.

5. apology / wrap up / explanations / etc

i have stated before in this post, but i would like to reiterate that i apologize for any of the people i triggered and hurt, and for flooding the dash. i’m sorry to anyone who received any hate involving the matter, because i absolutely do not condone that. i am a firm believer of saying what i think and standing up for what i believe in, and i would never be as cowardice as to leave hate on anon and i think anyone who does is genuinely pathetic. i do not apologize for my post. i apologize for the composure i started to lose when i got an influx of hate anons, and also for urging them on with no mind by paying them attention. no matter what, though, i will not say “i apologize for being racist” because i was not. i will not attach that to myself, and i will not “take accountability” for something i did not do.

i will not speak on issues that do not concern me unless a group of people are asking me to help them and stand with them for their safety and well being. that goes for any matter, so please know i would not speak on eating disorders and fatphobia if they did not affect me.

i would also like to mention i do not think eating disorders are fatphobia. i posted this multiple times on my blog, but the eating disorder we were discussing (anorexia) is rooted from fatphobia because of the societal standards and pressures to be beautiful— which is perceived as ‘skinny’. diet media and the beauty industry are consistently profiting off of fatphobia, and anorexia is a direct effect of that. i am not claiming everyone or anyone with anorexia is fatphobic or awful. as someone who has struggled with anorexia for years, i’m saying it changes your brain (as a mental illness does) to subconsciously promote a fatphobic mindset because of the general fatphobia that caused it.

if i missed anything, please let me know in a calm manner and i will touch back on it.

#tw discourse #important #will be pinning this post for tonight only #then i’m moving on #it will still be up but u can find it on ur own time

[napoleoninrags]

President Barabbas

The mob chose a mobster. Elections have consequences.

by Greg Olear

"Easter is a very special day for me ... Easter Sunday, and you'll have packed churches all over our country.” —Donald John Trump, 24 March 2020

I WAS RAISED Catholic, which meant that every Sunday, come hell or high water, we went to church. The Catholic Mass is extremely rote. There’s a lot of call-and-response, a lot of standing up and sitting down, a lot of the same material, repeated over and over and over again. The Apostles’ Creed, for example, has been recited at Mass, in much the same way, since it was codified at the Council of Nicaea during the reign of Constantine the Great, a mere 17 centuries ago.

The best day of the liturgical year, in my recollection, was Palm Sunday. The priest always shared the same story: Pontius Pilate, the Roman prefect, appeared before his subjects in Jerusalem on the occasion of Passover, and agreed to free a single Jewish prisoner. The mob had to choose: should Pilate free Jesus, the alleged “King of the Jews,” or Barabbas, a notorious criminal? Whereupon we, role-playing in the pews, would cry, WE WANT BARABBAS! My brother and I shouted with gusto, to my mother’s extreme annoyance: WE WANT BARABBAS! And so the killer was set free, and Christ condemned to die.

I didn’t know at the time that this passage, perpetuating as it does the “Jews killed Jesus” myth, was used for centuries by anti-Semites to justify their despicable deeds. I never interpreted it that way. To me, the story is about how mobs, led as they are by riled-up morons, can easily be fooled and manipulated into voting against their best interests.

The 2016 election is a recent example of how the angry masses, presented with a clear choice of good guy versus bad guy, chose unwisely. It’s not fair to either party to compare Hillary Clinton with Jesus Christ, and Pontius Pilate did not use the Electoral College system in determining whom to pardon, but notorious criminal Donald John Trump is absolutely President Barabbas. The mob went with the mobster.

Three years into the Trump Administration, and a shocking number of the president’s associates are either in prison, about to head to prison, under indictment, or under investigation. There is Paul Manafort, Trump’s campaign chair, currently incarcerated. There is Michael Cohen, Trump’s longtime personal attorney, fixer, and bagman: ditto. There is the treacherous Michael Flynn, awaiting his sentence (or, perhaps, his pardon). There is Trump’s longtime buddy and shadow campaign advisor Roger Stone, soon to toddle off to the hoosegow. There’s also those who have not yet been indicted because of the nefarious machinations of the corrupt Attorney General, William Barr: Rudy Giuliani, Jared Kushner, Mike Pompeo, Mike Pence, Mick Mulvaney, Erik Prince, and Trump’s lousy kids Ivanka, Eric, and Don Junior.

What is remarkable here, aside from the obvious fact that Trump cavorts with an uncanny number of crooks, is that none of these people has flipped. Manafort pretended to, only to ratfuck the FBI. Flynn, too, lied to investigators. Only Cohen gave up some dirt—but how much did he really surrender? The thing is, the rest of these people aren’t nearly as hard. Trump wants to pardon Roger Stone because he knows him well enough to know that he will sing to stay out of the Big House. Jared Kushner, aka Boy Plunder, has done so many illicit things that he will keep FBI agents busy for years; is Mr. Ivanka really not going to flip to avoid prison? And I can’t imagine Don Junior exhibiting the same trollish swagger around Cellblock D.

Trump’s partners in crime are all selfish assholes. They have no real loyalty. Giuliani, for example, loathes Trump with every fiber of his noxious being. He’s only protecting him out of his own self-interest. At some point, to preserve themselves, these fuckers will all turn on each other, and it will be the end of Reservoir Dogs all up in here: a bunch of petty crooks threatening to take each other down.

So why haven’t they?

A big queen sits in the middle of the stalemated chessboard, preventing all movement. The queen’s name is William Barr. He is the titular Attorney General of the United States, but his actual function is to slow-roll the Department of Justice from its takedown of Trump and his co-conspirators. To that end, he holds up witnesses. He stymies evidence from being sent to prosecutors. He cock-blocks US Attorneys, sure as he cock-blocked Mueller. He kicks the can and kicks it again and again and again, hoping to run out the clock. Barr has been so successful that the GOP is not even remotely worried about the bad stuff coming out. He’s gummed up the works so badly that we couldn’t even get witnesses at the fucking impeachment trial.

With a big, fat cork in the bottle of evidence, Trump and his fellow criminals do not have to fear retribution from law enforcement for as long as he stays in office. The only danger now is if they turn on each other. If they respect omertà, they are golden. Thus it is in all of their interests—Trump’s, but also Pence’s, McConnell’s, Pompeo’s, Kushner’s, and so on—to stay the course. These people will do anything, including exacerbate a global health crisis, to not get caught. They don’t care if we die. Repeat: they don’t care if we die. As Mr. White says in Reservoir Dogs: “The choice between doing ten years and taking out some stupid motherfucker, ain’t no choice at all.”

What are they hiding?

In Trump’s case, generations of criminal involvement with the mob—first La Cosa Nostra, later the Russian mafiya. His grandfather was a minor pimp at the dawn of the organized crime era, but Donald’s father, Fred Trump, was, as Lincoln’s Bible tells us, “a businessman front for the Genovese crime family.”

To best understand Fred, just track his rise from single-family home construction to big residential developments. From Shore Haven (1947) to Beach Haven to Trump Village, all were done with known mafia partners, in Genovese-controlled territory, and eventually with a fully Genovese-owned construction company (HRH Construction).

When the Russian mafiya began rolling in, they landed in Fred’s properties and partnered with the Genovese on some big ticket scams. This was also during the time that Fred and his attorney Roy Cohn set up S&A concrete (via Nick Auletta)—a joint venture between Tony Salerno (Genovese boss) and Paul Castellano (Gambino boss), so that donald could build in Manhattan. Remember donald’s quote, “Even my father, he said, you don’t want to go to Manhattan. That’s not our territory?” That’s because Manhattan, for construction, was Gambino territory. They controlled the concrete and unions. And Fred was a very loyal, shrewd front for the Genovese. To get his idiot, greedy kid into Manhattan, Fred and Roy Cohn had to get those two mob bosses to agree on a joint venture.

When the Russian mafiya pushed out the Italian mob after the fall of the Soviet Union, Donald Trump began laundering money for unseemly Vor associates of Semion Mogilevich. The Russians extended him credit when no US bank would touch him, and he remains in their debt—a fact the Mazars and Deutsche Bank documents will reveal, which is why Trump has moved heaven and earth to keep said documents secret.

Because the Russian mafiya works hand in glove with the Russian government, Trump is also, as Hillary Clinton correctly told us four years ago, Putin’s puppet. His ties to Russian intelligence (Putin, remember, is ex-KGB) go back decades. Recruitment of Trump by the KGB began in the Reagan Administration; for all we know, his succession of ex-Soviet-bloc wives better reflect his allegiance to the Soviets than his taste in women. He is also connected to the Russian organized crime via his friend Jeffrey Epstein, a collector of kompromat and money launderer for arms dealers; Epstein’s longtime partner was Ghislaine Maxwell, daughter of Robert Maxwell, the spy and former business partner of, yes, Semion Mogilevich.

Trump’s underworld ties were all there in 2016, barely below the surface, for all the world to see. Wayne Barrett wrote about them for the Village Voice. Robert Friedman alluded to them in Red Mafiya. Craig Unger covers them closely in House of Trump, House of Putin. The mainstream media knew damned well what the guy really was, but chose to equate Trump’s years of actual mobbed-up crimes with HRC’s email server. The result? Every half-wit Fox News watcher proclaims, with a straight face, that Hillary, not Donald, is the crook!

Truth: Trump is a notorious criminal, a serial rapist and sexual assailant, wholly owned by the mob, controlled by the underworld and the Kremlin. He is a latter-day Barabbas—and because of the whims of a riled-up mob, he’s now, somehow, the President of the United States. Make no mistake: If he thinks it will help him avoid prosecution, he will order the churches open for Easter without qualm or hesitation. In his calculus, Jesus gave up His life for us, so we should give up our lives for Trump. He will happily pervert the holiest of Christian holy days to get what he wants. To this monster, nothing is sacred..

[lokilickedme]

Part 2 of Read By Loki Laufeyson - High Rise

By request

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own in 2016 (no longer available there) 

Rating:  Mature

Archive Warning:  No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:  F/M

Fandom:  Loki - Fandom, High-Rise (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom

Relationship:  Loki/His Book

Character:  Loki (narrator), Robert Laing, Richard Wilder

Additional Tags:  Explicit Language, Loki Has Issues, Spoilers, Loki Does What He Wants, stick to the damn book Loki, lewd passages quoted from the book, references to bestiality and incest (thanks a lot for that, Ballard. You’re a dick)

Series:  Part 2 of Read by Loki Laufeyson

Stats:  Published: 2016-02-21   Words: 1220 (original version)

Part One: Loki Reads Chapter 9 of The Night Manager

  High Rise, Read by Loki Laufeyson 

by lokilickedme 

Summary:  Loki narrates another audiobook.  Apologies to JG Ballard, though not very sincere ones.  In fact I take it back, I’m mad that I ever had to read this.

Notes:  See the end of the work for notes 

  Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog... 

Well shit, lets just not waste any time at all getting to the good stuff, shall we?  When a book has the unmitigated balls to start off with a barbequed canine for the first course, you know you're in for an entertaining evening chock full of questionable culinary choices written in dirty grey prose, which we all know is just a gateway to every sort of perversion familiar to man and a handful or two heretofore known only to the Aesir - and I’ll tell you right now they get up to some kinky shit that’d make you want to tie your ballsack to a goat.  That’s not a metaphor, they’re known for literally tying their ballsacks to goats.  Okay, one of them is known for it.  Okay, I’m known for it.  It was me.  So once one has committed to snacking on the family pets, what comes after the appetizer, sex with a budgie?  What sort of sauce is the fellow using?  Did he sautee the dog or is that fucker deep fried?  Or am I missing a particularly rude innuendo here and he's actually giving the beast a blow job?  If that's the case then this might end up being a worthwhile read after all, and I can’t think of a much more romantic place than the balcony if you’re actually going to commit to pleasuring the wife’s poodle.

 ...Dr. Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.  Now that everything had returned to normal - 

Hold up.  NOW everything's returned to normal?  You're eating a fucking dog, sir, either that or you're fellating it.  In what twisted realm is either of those scenarios considered normal?  We’re not counting Asgard, by the way.  And I'd rather like to know which part of the beast we're talking about here, I mean if it's the drumstick or the tenderloin then I hope you basted it with some herbs and a bit of olive oil before you slapped it on the hibachi.  If you're committing cunnilingus, then I'm presuming you know which part you're dealing with and I'll leave you to it, though the olive oil could serve dual purpose here.  But it does beg the question - is the beast male or female?  Not making a judgement, just getting the visual.

While we're pondering that, I'm going to do us all a colossal favor and skip ahead a bit.  This book really is difficult, and by difficult I mean I've had torture sessions on asteroids that were less annoying.  The story itself is good, heaven knows I enjoy chaos and mayhem and bestiality as much as the next power mad despot, but word for word this tale reads a bit like Lewis Carroll and Roald Dahl having the slowest orgasm in history during a mutual masturbation session while smoking Edgar Allen Poe’s gym shorts.  I actually think I might be having the slowest orgasm in history.

 'Come whenever you want to.'  Laing put his arm around her shoulders, steadying her in case she lost her balance.  In the past he had always felt physically distanced from Alice by her close resemblance to their mother, but for reasons not entirely sexual this resemblance now aroused him.  He wanted to touch her hips, place his hand over her breast.  As if aware of this, she leaned passively against him. 

And there it is my friends.  All good stories need an element of the forbidden, and it looks like sister-diddling wins the perversion jackpot for this evening.  This Laing fellow has the whoo hoos for big sis.  And you people give me shit over my "alleged" deviant relationship with my brother?  Last I recall adopted siblings were free to black hole it all they want, yet here we have a pair working out a tag-up without the benefit of notarized adoption papers.  Since we seem to be condoning this, lets all remember our hypocrisy the next time I'm catching grief for banging Thor, shall we?  And while we're at it, are we all just ignoring the Oedipus train wreck this man just owned up to driving straight into the wall?  'Big sis you look like mummy, here let me drug you and keep you as a sex slave while this whole place goes to hell around us.'  I may or may not be skipping ahead but I'll save you a little time and drudgery - it goes there, people.

 He pulled the drawers on to the floor, heaved the mattresses off the beds, and urinated into the bath. 

Ah, Wilder.  I do love a good silly mustache-twirling villain with self aggrandizing dreams of conquering worlds several floors above his own social status.  Because in the end we all want more than what we’ve got, don’t we?  Thrones, love, respect, use of the penthouse, a herd of stoned females.  At least he didn't piss on the mattress.  Nobody likes a bedwetter, even in hell.

 His burly figure, trousers open to expose his heavy genitalia, glared at him from the mirrors in the bedroom.  He was about to break the glass, but the sight of his penis calmed him, a white club hanging in the darkness. 

Yes my good man, welcome to the fellowship of the knob, our universal handshake is to sit on the sofa with one hand down the front of our pants.  Our penises calm us all.

 He would have liked to dress it in some way, perhaps with a hair-ribbon tied in a floral bow. 

Huh.  Just when I rather think I like this Wilder fellow and his obvious off kilter mental status, he shows us his wiener.  Which was more than enough in itself, thanks so very much for that.  Elegant move there, dipshit - whip it out and slap a bow on it, for times when you really want to class things up.  I for one can't think of anything more entertaining or intellectually fulfilling on a Friday night than tying a pretty ribbon on my schlong and running about with it hanging out of my trousers while I harass and terrorize feral women in derelict apartment buildings.  Sometimes I like to really mix things up by borrowing a pair of mother's clip-on earrings and dangling them from my testicles.  It makes me feel so fucking manly.  You know, for those times when you really want to bang your sister who looks like your mom and you know you stand a better chance of scoring if you really put in some effort with the self decor.  Or you could go all out impressing the masses by tying your ballsack to a goat, but granted, it’s not for everyone.

 This ultimate role had helped him on one occasion, when a marauding band of women led by Mrs Wilder had entered the apartment.  Seeing Laing being abused, and assuming him to be Eleanor's and Alice's prisoner, they had left.  On the other hand, perhaps they understood all too well what was really taking place. 

Yes, what was really taking place was this fellow Laing got himself a couple of kinky babes who were willing to tie him to a chair and beat him with the hind leg of an Alsatian.  I mean, who doesn't get off on that?  I tip my cap to you, Sir.  Never go fifty shades with one woman when you can go full-on Marquis de Sade with two.  And seeing as this merry band of female visigoths was led by that Wilder chap's wife, one can only assume he pilfered her pretty hair bows one time too many and the poor woman felt compelled to start tucking the ginsu’s into her gingham apron and go on raiding parties with her Wednesday night book club group.  Or perhaps it was the 'heavy genitalia' on display out of the front of his pants that drove her over the edge.  I understand leaving one's trousers open while traversing rapidly declining self-contained bastions of reverse civilization is valid grounds for divorce in some states.

 First she would try to kill him, but failing that give him food and her body, breast-feed him back to a state of childishness and even, perhaps feel affection for him.  Then, the moment he was asleep, cut his throat.  The synopsis of the ideal marriage. 

What - all marriages aren't like that? 

I’m going to stop right here so we can all go take a break, order in some Alsation, chase our sisters and next door neighbors around the room with gardening implements and figure out where we hid our morphine stash - which sounds disconcertingly like a typical Saturday evening in Valhalla to me, quite honestly - and summarize the rest of the book, which goes a little something like this:  Madness, mayhem, perversion, murder, violence, death, and why the fuck don’t these people just walk out of the damn building?  Yes I know, it’s an allegory on class warfare and societal prejudices and the shitty tendency humanity has to turn on each other and finally itself when faced with a breakdown in the decency and polite behavior that tentatively holds people at arm’s length until the shit hits the fan and everyone starts coming at each other with golf clubs.  Humans have a disturbing desire to go all Lord of The Flies the moment order breaks down, and this book casts a bloodshot eye on the fucked up results.  I’m telling you though, it’s nothing a good tug’o war match with a goat couldn’t have fixed.

All in all I would say this book is a challenging read, but worth it in the end if for nothing other than the visual of that guy with the bow on his schnitzel.  Best read while mainlining household cleaners directly into your lungs blindfolded and waterboarding yourself while listening to Raul Julia sing the Ave Maria on 45 rpms.  Trust me, you'll understand once you get to the part where the old ladies in cocktail gowns are brawling over use of the elevator. 

 End Notes 

Passages in italics are the property of J.G. Ballard from the novel HIGH RISE, copyright 1975.  I don’t own them, I didn’t write them, and dear god please don’t ask me about the dog.

#Loki Reads #Part 2 #High Rise

[entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys]

??? wtf

i want to first start his post of by saying i haven't the Slightest fucking clue what it is 

There is a paranormal - Brown darkness - on the out skirt’s of are reality 

i don’t know what going on but there is a some what Demonic Force heading tord’s earth or is being intertwined with this reality 

yes, i said brown darkness not black - like i said i don’t what the fuck it is - 

but i can tell you, there are very negative and highly paranormal .... force’s as work upon the earth weather round or flat the - point is there is more strangeness Going On - as if the Mendel effect wasn’t odd Enough - 

the brown darkness is psychic, and at that it’s used it psychic as a nerve 

i talk about the shadow’s and the shadow people, but i can’t ... i don’t get it why are there so many alien’s after earth ??? 

Why ?! - is earth so attractive to many form’s of life ... 

that might just be a Moot Point - either Way - the brown darkness ... swirl’s and it’s either uncompilable, annoyed, threatened, hungry and or ready to do something - and warning the brown darkness is a psychic vampire 

Be Aware of it but do not look at it if you can feel it never look in the direction of it  - 

and you might hear some hissing only animal will be able to share what you hear do not .. react when it hiss’s ... it will attack any one that Emit’s fear 

dead or alive - 

i say again of the paranormal realm i don’t know what IT is but i can say it’s big .... Very big and it's being pulled to earth by ... cult’s 

it’s a monster ... and it’s constantly Unstable - only light a candle, if it’ s dementor-ing you or semi possesses you and draining you - the fire will draw it out - and give it a source of life the con is it will spread out and make the room sticky - and the humidity will increase - and the bad luck will be all around - But you’ll live and be able to think again, other wise it will drain you till you unable to think or even from a fucking thought - Your Neuron’s will not have and Strength to even hold memory - correctly or at all it will take you year to recover the damage it did to you 

if you can see the brown darkness it look’s like a flow of creepy brown shadowy sewage, that wavy with a light brown cloud around it ... 

it flow’s like a syrup, Thick and Cold, and attracted to anything warm  

it’s repelled by light, but not a 100% if you are in total darkness - it will take you and possess you, and your mind is like a computer and it will go threw all of your thought’s like a hacker downloading a entire computer’s Hard drive as it implant’s it self it will monitor your process’s omni of them 

As it drain’s your battery - 

( Again, i���m using metaphor to try to explain ... it’s effect ) - 

and if you see it .... your going to have a nightmare as it talk’s to you 

about you saw nothing ... and it doesn't want you to talk about this 

it look’s like the entire masked man from Mark twane the mysterious stranger 

But as you go threw this alleged dream it feel’s more like a Astor projection 

and the entire realm is brown with a minor color of the fire and other’s thing’s 

As you try to move it Feel’s Like your flowing threw ... sewage mixed with mud  

and a odd gas so thick you can almost swear it was ... .. never mind the gas will Choke you, your not even aware and you gasping for air ... as the reality melt’s away and the creepy Fucker keep’s smiling - harder and harder till you wake up ... drained and you keep hearing a hissing a loud hissing and the dog’s are freaking out ... a very loud and very powerful ... wale of energy 

i don't Know what the brown darkness Entity is - but i can say earth is getting highly flied with ... paranormal freak’s - i’ll post a vid on a few of them 

be aware, earth is no Longer “Normal” earth is different 

either wake up or die, dyner’s are Either retarded or there stupid, or mentally ill 

either way ... it’s law of the jungle - 

oh ! and it’s hypnotic, it will tag onto you and semi possess you and Get you to do thing’ s in order to hurt your self or your life, and it will fog your mind, a lot 

it like’s to control it victim's with psychological fogging, but it waver’s 

it flow’s from one part of the world to the next . . . 

i don’t know wtf it is .... i think i one time said it came from the void, or A void ... either way ... the part that possess you is just a spark of it’s true mass it brake’s off piece’s of it’s self to possess and zap an sap, it’s pray as it go’s the brown cloud, and it’s look like a metallic many swirl’s of different shade’s of brown ... 

if you see it ... it don’t just haunt one person is haunt a entire area 

it’s also known for give extremely bad luck, and getting to control people to ... put them self as a constant inconveniences or just a few - like Losing something or force Some one to forget what thay where doing, it may repeat the process with laughter as it go's’ deeper and deeper till you kinda black out for a few second's - and as you try to boot back up it will do a massive power surge ... as it drain’s You - 

[illusivexemissary]

Gabriel’s reaction to the end of 13X21

Since we didn’t see his face on-screen when Sam and Lucifer arrived, have this excerpt from an rp with my mainverse Castiel

Gabriel barely laughs, and kisses Castiel’s cheek before he descends back on the balls of his feet.  

       “Knock it off, we’re talkin’ about you right now.  You an’ your boys.” ”  

He uses the word “boy” plurally with marked tenacity, and a slight incline of his head.  It’s an homage to Sam, to his memory, to his enduring presence in their lives; Sam is not the first brother in arms Gabriel has had to mourn, not the first impromptu funeral he has had to officiate with his silver tongue, and he will surely not be the last.  

Sam was the one who believed Gabriel capable of redemption, salvation, closure, freedom. Sam was the one who nourished him in the Bunker, aided by his little brother, before he would allow himself to be seen by his wife and children; Sam was the one who always understood Gabriel’s desire to untether himself from an oppressive family lineage: Sam was the thinker, the one who hesitated to draw weapons or blood; the dreamer, the hoper.  Sam.  Gabriel’s grief is not as acutely personal as Castiel’s, but it exists, because Gabriel was trying not to piss his pants in that cave full of vampires that, in another life, he would have easily seared to cinders with a glance, and Gabriel knew Gabriel could not save Sam, or even himself, and so like a frightened dog on its belly, Gabriel scurried after a solemn Castiel and a shocked Dean, to safety.  

Gabriel is ashamed of his weakness; Strength of God, the name he bears at his core seems almost a mockery of his trauma, a firebrand of a reminder, a welt on the skin of his mind, f a i l u r e ,  s c r e w- u p ,  J o k e.  You could not even save your own fiercest advocate on this team.   The thoughts gnaw at him like a bath of acid corrodes copper, leaving indelible incisions, an aquatint on which is displayed a slaughtered battlefield of his demons, who yet remain so vocal, and so powerful. Castiel will be able to see it, in the way Gabriel glances too long at inanimate objects, and fumbles with once-sure hands, and loses his train of thought altogether.  

His own collapsed star, in his own chest.   But then the chimes sound the alarm of intruders.

Gabriel glances at Castiel, seeking an order; it is the most un-Gabriel impulse conceivable.   And when none comes, tentatively, he squeezes Castiel’s arm and steps ahead of him, back into the clearing, circled by a wagon train of old gutted vans and a log cabin.

There he is, the boy, the Thinker, the Dreamer, the Pacifist, his Advocate, the one he could not resurrect. Sam.

But Gabriel is unlike Mary, or Dean, or Castiel, or Jack, who collectively gasp in elation.

Gabriel, the Joybringer, who has been in hell for seven years, who knows what comes after pain is only more pain, is not  fooled by the lapse in suffering, or the alleged “good news.”  

Gabriel knows there will be a catch.

And there he is: in this form, a six-foot, dishwater blond, with blunt features and palest ice eyes, and, for all his feigned sentimentality, an air of nauseating, intrusive, rapey entitlement.  

Lucifer.

Oh, the fucker.

Gabriel, whom Lucifer raised, knows right away, what the others only dread.

He knows there are strings; this is the rotting mauled shell of the Lightbringer, who was capable of creating Asmodeus:  Asmodeus, who mutilated Gabriel and debased his Grace every day for seven years, and would have done so until Gabriel collapsed or committed suicide.

The bigger monster, who begat the smaller one, and still consoles himself that he is not to blame, for anything.

And still tells himself, “I want this child, and I can hold the life of my previous victim hostage to ensure what I want.”  

That is who Jack’s father is.

And at that moment, from within Gabriel’s weakness, grows a

righteous FURY.  A need to obstruct and obfuscate his

older brother’s mission, at

any

personal cost.  

       {I am Gabriel. }

He meets Lucifer’s eyes.

{I stand in the presence of God.}

He hangs back, behind Castiel, now, but he points two fingers at his eyes.

And then he points two fingers at Lucifer.  And smiles.

{And I have been sent to speak to you.}

He turns his gaze on Jack.

{And to tell you this good news.}

The Truth will be known.  

The TRUTH will be known.  

#Gabriel #spn spoilers #meta #Lucifer

[talknow]

Another OFFENSIVE MPD OFFICER Vehicle 1410 by InDaCarSeat DaTGUY

Vehicle 1410 MPD again - how do I know because once identified the whiter gang sends their prostitutes to follow the journalist Terry Dwayne Ashford and that brought the BITCHBOY Officer.

The white guy with the gray winmerier dog was the one identified the black man in the White House within the week. Tag for the police vehicle is 12661 - was located block from the InDaCarSeat rest spot for internet connection at 10th and Shepard. The officer was seen waiting and signaling white men at Randolph and 10 street NE stalking the location when the victim is not there. The journalist walked to the MPD vehicle and stood on the corner in front of the stop sign as the officer pulled himself together after chasing the white MEN. Dude this is a goddamn COP that is tasked to protect and be for all people while in uniform. And this one was not only in uniform he was using public vehicle and WEARING a badge. And worst of all - the goddamn FAGGIT has a weapon to use against the public even when the BLACK ass N8GGER H9NKY-LOVING OFFICER gets HORNY for WHITES. We can’t trust these N8GGERs with badges. Get rid of these H9NKY-biases HOES carrying GUNS! Get Goddamn rid of them!

If a N8GGER have such low regard for the GUN he carries, for the BADGE he is wearing, for the uniform he uses to protect, for the vehicle he drives, for the public dollar that pays his check, for the feelings of all he blacks he is UNDER OATH to service equally, then this OFFICER is UN-FIT for duty. He can’t serve Women or Blacks in an equal manner due to his N8GGER racist urges.

We are not trying to change these N8GGERs we are just getting them OUT of positions that hurts decent innocent people. Get the FUCKER OUT and OFF of that police force NOW!

Actually stalking locations guess what else when the whiter FAGGIEs rolled pass he turned the RED lights on in his car signaling to he identified white male. And it’s a total bait. We want surveillance from inside the MOD vehicles. Forever. Time 840 pm. Stalking locations as soon as InDaCarSeat DaTGuY leaves that location. Black N8GGER Officer. Sickening ones signed- Terry Dwayne Ashford see photos. We have the white male with the gray dog was there and another fatter white male waiting - and we have the OFFENSIVE GAY BLACK MALE OFFICER in police vehicle number 1410 tag number shown 12661. And you aren’t offensive as a N8gger!

Notice the red light inside of the vehicle that THE OFFICER was flashing to the white male who had been identified as stalking the journalist and seeking black MEN who hated blacks. And here we FOUND this alleged gay officer in vehicle tag 12661 MPD vehicle NUMBER 1410.

Then TELL the N8GGER Officer that InDaCarSeat DaTGUY reporter said “Hunt another H9NKY in public EYE in UNIFORM! Please BITCHBOY please!