#i literally ran out of layers thats never happened

[noisemachinedotcom]

I FINISHED THE SOUNDTRACK!!!!!!!!!!

#fuck me that took forever #really came close to the deadline too #1 am the night before #can i get a sloppy handshake or some shit #what a crazy fun challenge #the screening is tomorrow #shitting bullets thinking about being in public with my work broadcasting out to a Whole Audience #text #very proud actually #16 layers. fuck with me #8 minutes of audio. FUCK! WITH! ME~! #i literally ran out of layers thats never happened #ohg. relief. joy actually

[spidermanifested]

remember when i said in my post about how bido is unappreciated that id talk about why greed/bido is a good and important ship but thats a whole other post. well This is that post

the first and most important reason that greed/bido is a good ship is very simple and that reason is Bido Was In Love With Greed The Whole Time And Nobody Noticed?????? how come nobody noticed. i mean SOME people noticed but nowhere NEAR enough people noticed

when greed compliments bido for successfully proving that alphonse is just a soul bound to a suit of armor, he blushes and acts very flustered and happy. unfortunately this scene is not animated in either show (bido talking to greed is changed to be over the phone in 03, and in brotherhood the scene just gets skipped, HOWEVER theres a single shot of bidos face in one of greeds flashbacks that shows him blushing and looking directly at the camera. ie at greed)

also in the manga his first thought when the military shut down the nest was to worry about whether greed SPECIFICALLY was okay (i used this page in my other post as well but its important)

and in brotherhood he was shown to have actually followed greed through the sewers during his fight with bradley but could only watch from his hiding place as greed was defeated and taken away; remembering this is what gives him the determination to hitch a ride to central to look for him

did i mention he went all the way to central to find him!!! clinging to a MILITARY TRUCK no less. as a very obvious chimera if he had been found by any of those soldiers it would have been horrible for him and every other time we ever saw bido faced with danger he ran away from it. but he was brave For Greed. he went into the labyrinth under central For Greed, and didnt try to escape until he was convinced greed wasnt there. and when it turned out he WAS there (and had lost his memory and had been trying to kill him) he immediately dropped his guard and walked closer to him because that was greed and he trusted him despite everything that had just happened. in the manga he grabs onto greeds coat as he dies and it is just about the saddest thing ive ever seen in my whole life

and then of course greed starts physically shaking because what he just did was so awful his body knows he fucked up before his mind even remembers Why it was fucked up and he cradles bidos body in his arms and screams. unfortunately if we are to acknowledge bido as the gay icon he was, we also must acknowledge that he was buried

(by all rights bido SHOULD have survived. where is the fanfiction where he survives fullmetal alchemist fandom or are you too busy writing the same royai-gets-married-and-has-babies fic over and over again. actually never mind i greatly prefer that to all the pedophilia. but thats another Other post, that unlike this incredibly niche topic some other people have almost definitely made before me)

the thing about grido is you could make a huge tragic thing about it being unrequited and frankly thats Fair, greed does not seem one to settle down in a relationship and bido likely has a lot of self worth issues that would prevent him from confessing his feelings. but you cannot deny that greed cared about him. he praises him, he pats him on the head (!!)

he COMPLETELY breaks down after he realizes he killed him. bido was so important to greed, as were the rest of the chimeras of course but i think theres a valid argument to be made that bido in particular was special to him. theyve got a few things in common actually that i find interesting:

both like to just chill on roofs??? when greed is in lings body he sometimes just hangs out on top of a roof. bido does this too

they could have hung out on roofs together.......maybe thats why greed likes to be up there. because he hung out with bido on roofs a lot. please consider this possibility

both of them are accidentally rude to children. the same children in fact

greed is like 200 and looks 30 while bido is middle-aged and people think he is a baby for some reason?????

okay this is just straight up a headcanon and has no actual basis in the text or subtext of fma but I Think Bido Is Trans and was cast out by his family in his youth and greed would understand that experience!!!! having left his own terrible family because they wanted him to be someone he wasnt

and then there are the differences:

greed is very outgoing and bido is mostly pretty anxious, though he has outbursts of confidence; that might be because greed being nice to him has built up his self-esteem (the way he calls himself cool/awesome when he escapes from the elrics, directly followed by greed complimenting his skills, really makes me think this is the case)

one is tall and lean........the other...is short and fat....... i know its cliche but let me have this

bido overthinks things. greed is a jock. with their powers combined they can do things at a mostly reasonable pace (as long as bido doesnt just go along with whatever greed wants which is probably most of the time what happens)

bido is outwardly inhuman and weird-looking but is incredibly caring and hard-working and loyal and sweet. greed is the sexiest motherfucker alive but hes literally the personification of a deadly sin and at his core he is technically just a rock made of pain. but below these layers both of them want the exact same thing which is to care about others and be cared for in return

also you know that post about how ships between immortal people and super young adults (or worse, teenagers) are OUT and instead we should have stories about immortal people dating 40-something accountants. bido is the 40-something accountant. except not an accountant. you know what im getting at though hes an Established Adult 

and bido DESERVES it, he deserves to be loved by the person he cares about more than anything, he has been through so much and gotten nothing but pain and he needs something good for a change!!! and greed DESERVES someone who will love him with all his heart and make him feel wanted no matter what. just, listen to me okay, they would make each other so happy

so!!! there are MANY reasons this ship is interesting and a million different ways you could go about exploring it and there is just NONE of it out there. for some reason the chimera that gets shipped the most with greed is dolcetto (though ive seen martel as well) and i think that is probably because they are more attractive to people (and also id wager more than a few dollars people simply see a dogman and his boss and go wild for the petplay angle). like you dont see any greed/roa either and thats very telling since roa appears with the other two almost every time and nothing about him is different except hes older and not as. pretty i guess???? in my humble onion hes hotter than either dolcetto or martel but thats neither here nor there

the important thing about bidos relationship to greed is that he might not have been transmuted with an animal with a strong sense of loyalty, but he didnt NEED to be, to be loyal to greed. he loved him entirely because he was human. and in the end he did the most for him out of any of the chimeras. unfortunately it was via dying but through the power of imagination we can collectively ignore that and pretend both he and greed survived, and greed went back to his original sexy, sexy body, and they made out on a roof for several consecutive hours. thats how im coping at least. thank you so much for listening to my unhinged rambling about lizard man who dies of fullmetal alchemist (gay edition)

#fullmetal alchemist (fullmetal alchemist) #bido #fma greed #grido

[canumoveurseatup-no]

listening party

summary: he can’t get enough of you and the others like to hear it.

word count: 1.9k

pairing: bruce x black!reader 18+

warnings: straight up smut, rough sex, Daddy kink, age gap (18+), exhibitionism(?), voyeurism(?), slight subspace (pls remember subspace is different for everyone so if the descriptions in this don’t match your experience- doesn’t mean it’s wrong) this... is just about to be nasty. i have a crying during sex kink so yeah that’s in here good

a/n: i want bruce to ruin me. that is all. also, this was very last minute so i am sorry if it’s not the greatest.

————

“The rabbits are going at it again, I would not suggest going down that hall” Sam warned.

“I can hear them from here- what difference does it make?,” Tony scoffed.

You were the apple of everyone’s eye, but only Bruce caught your attention in that way. You found it amusing that everyone thought Bruce couldn’t keep hulk contained in bed but you hit them with the

“Who says Hulk isn’t present anyway?,”

There was nothing extremely exclusive about you and Bruce, no dating, nothing, just him rearranging your guts whenever you two were in the mood. Everyone knew not to go anywhere near you, despite them wanting a taste.

“Are we gonna have another listening party? or are we going to mind our business this time?,” Wanda played with a straw in her cup while the others shrugged.

“I don’t know, guys,” Steve shrugged, “Don’t you feel it’s a little invasive to listen in?,”

“Invasive my ass,” Bucky chuckled to himself, “This is the closest we can get to actually being with her and don’t act like you don’t blow a nice one when you finally head to your room,”

“Buck!,” Steve frowned and scowled at his best friend putting him out there like that.

“Plus I’m sure they know. Y/N is a fan of exhibitionism so,” Natasha smacked her lips and made herself comfortable in her seat on the couch. A comfy position where she could clench her thighs together and get enough friction that she even has a mini orgasm right with you and Bruce.

“Fuck!,”

Your voice rang through the room and Tony muted the television and sat with a bowl of popcorn in his lap

“Let the show begin,”

————

Bruce pretty much had you in the shape of a pretzel, legs crossed at your calves and pushed towards your chest, the burn in your thighs was ignored as you felt Bruce deep inside.

“Hhhhhh,” you whined, “Don’t stop! fuck, please don’t stop!,”

You could never get enough of practically feeling him in your stomach. He loved watching the way your eyes rolled, he loved the way your breath hitched, he loved the way tears ran down your face because he made you feel so good you could barely comprehend it.

“You’re so fucking wet. Who did it?,” He couldn’t help but taunt you, knowing you were a good girl for him, always answering his questions despite his dick being buried deep inside you.

“You! Only you,”

“That’s right. That pussy is so wet it’s soaking onto my sheets,”

“S-sorry Daddy,”

You knew he meant it as a good thing but damn you couldn’t help but put on a show of innocence. You loved that he made you feel so small in these moments. You were a sucker for a greying, well established man who put you in your place and took you to ravish as his own.

“Look at that little pussy taking all of me in,” he groaned and you felt your walls spasming at that sound. If it were socially acceptable, you’d have his moans and groans set as your ringtones.

Bruce wasn’t abnormally huge but a good 7 inches had you swooning, especially since he was an older man that still knew how to use it.

“You’re gonna make me cum, again,” you sobbed.

Bruce smiled at your tear smeared face and hiked your hips up a little higher and that had you speaking in tongues, screaming so loud it echoed down the hall.

“That’s right, baby. Scream,” he grabbed your face in his hand and his eyes bored into your soul which was halfway fucked out of your body, “Look at me when you cum,”

“Yes yes yes!,” you wailed. You could barely keep your eyes open as your jaw dropped as your body gave in, succumbing to his ways and convulsing in an orgasm.

“Keep cumming. Love feeling your pussy pull me in,”

God, he looked so heavenly above you, hair on his chest, glistening with a layer of sweat. Your toes curled so hard they cracked and it felt like you were experiencing astral projection.

“Come back down, baby. I’m not done with you yet” he pulled out and looped his arms around your thighs to pull you right to the edge of the bed so he could bury his face right in your pussy so he could devour you until you see the planets swirling around the room.

Bruce had a skilled tongue, and the way he flicked your clit had you flinching away from him. Another pit formed in your stomach and had you grabbing for your breasts for leverage. Two of his thick fingers easily pushed in you, curling up and moving back and forth in a come her motion. It made you weak every time. Fingering was a big weakness and had you gushing each time.

“Bruce!!,” you looked down to see him smirking at you, you both knew he was your undoing, “just like that, just like that, don’t stop, baby please!,”

Your clit throbbed in his mouth and he slurped up everything you had to offer, “Fuck, I love how good you taste.”

He removes his fingers and pushed them past your lips, ever the sharer he was. Watching his pink tongue swirling around your pussy, kissing your chocolate lips, with his fingers in your mouth that were once covered in your juices until they coated your tongue had you cunning in no time. Both hands on the back of his head as you announced another orgasm.

“That’s it baby, let them hear it. Let them know who you belong to,”

———

“Daddy, fuck!,”

“I told you they knew!!,” Steve hisses, “Now they’re gonna think we’re perverts for listening,”

“We literally get off on hearing them fuck- though I doubt they’re thinking that of us- they wouldn’t be wrong,” Tony adjusted himself in his jeans, and rested his head back against the back of the couch with a scotch in hand, “Little dove knows how much we wanted her so of course she’s gonna beg him to bang her brains out, it makes her loud and if she’s loud, we hear and if we hear, we crave her more. Attention greedy little sub- it’s quite cute,”

“How do you know she’s a sub?,” Bucky asks

“She’s a junior intern in college with a daddy kink. She’s had heart eyes for ‘Brucey’ ever since she walked through those doors. She loves older men, that’s why she likes to tease Tony too,” Natasha’s thighs clench at your pleas to be fucked faster, wishing she could just go get her strap and give it to you all night, “So I think it’s safe to say, little dove is a sub, a bratty one at that,”

Everyone knows of the times you’d purposely sass Bruce so he’d put you in your place, in front of everyone or not. No one really remembers how you two came to be, just one night they heard all the ruckus from Bruce’s room and the next morning you stalked out of his room, curls matted to your head, walking with a limp and marks covering your chest. You were grateful your class was cancelled that day.

“Choke me, Daddy. I need it- want you to feel my pulse pound for you... want you to f-feel it against your fingertips,”

Clint groaned and shook his head, “This girl is going to be the death of me,”

————

“Thats right, little dove. Your pulse pounds for me and only me,” nose touching yours, your held his hand tighter around you neck, wanting to see the Big Bang happen right in front you, you wanted to be choked out so hard you saw the universe being created.

“You look so pretty smiling while my hand is around your throat, cheeks damp from me fucking those cute little tears out of you,”

Your teeth dig into your lip as you looked up at him, body moving back and forth m the sheets from the force of him fucking you relentlessly. Your eyes began lulling closed so he removed his hand, your back arching off the bed with a gasp big enough to create a whole new generation.

You saw the Big Bang right in front of your eyes. Seeing a bunch of pretty colors, adoring the creation of the stars and planets.

“Oh, God,” Bruce moaned to himself. He was close. He turned you on your side, you curled your legs into your chest for comfort as you were getting the life fucked out of you to the point where you saw all your future lives- the lives after this one.

“D-Daddy I can’t take it- not another!,”

Your body was preparing you for another orgasm but damn, you were spent, over stimulated, you’d fall right into subspace and it wouldn’t take much right now.

“Be a good girl and take it, dove. You wanna be my good girl, don’t you?,”

———

“Y-Yes yes yes, daddy I d-do,”

“Oh she’s deep in it now,” Wanda smirked.

“That’s record time isn’t it?,” Sam looked at his watch. You two were going at it for a while before they decided to sit here and listen but by the sound of your shrill mewling, you’ve hit euphoria. They know just by your noises when you’ve hit subspace.

“Seriously just about to have a hand free orgasm because she... is killing me,” Tony ran a hand over his face and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I would be grossed out if I wasn’t in the same boat,” Bucky muttered.

Small mumbles of “me too” and “same” We’re heard from around the room.

“Cum in me, daddy. P-please!,”

“Oh God,” Nat hissed, hips bucking up into nothing

————

“Want you to come for me one more time before I give you what you want, baby,” his lips kissed your cheeks and shoulder, soothing you, knowing you’re feeling a million nerve endings being set on fire in this moment.

You couldn’t even announce that you were cumming, the words wouldn’t come. You became incoherent while your ears began ringing. The rhythm of his hips stuttered as your pussy gushed all over him.

You couldn’t even hear yourself as you let out the cry of a banshee.

Bruce bottomed out to cum deep inside of you.

“Such a good little dove,” he have a hard thrust, making sure to get his seed deep inside you. His body fell on top of yours while you whimpered and shook in cold chills. Bruce wiped the sweat and tears from your face to hold

It in his hands and pepper kisses here and there, “you did so good, dove. I’m not going anywhere,” after a few minutes, he pulled out and just laid beside you, massaging the convulsions out of your body and giving you sips of a drink to hush your hiccups and replenish any energy your lost.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,”

————

“I’m ashamed,” Wanda covers her face and walks away to her room.

“I’m not,” Tony shrugs, “That shit’s hot as fuck,”

“I’m... going to my room,” Steve rushed away and they all filed out one by one to their own rooms to either wash their shame away or add to it.

Tony say comfortably on the couch and chuckled to himself.

“Friday!,”

“Yes, Tony?,”

“Save the audio from Banner’s hall to the ‘listening party’ file, please”

————

i know it’s short and i apologize!! but i will make up for it 😭

PLEASE REBLOG AND COMMENT!!!!

tags- @blackreaders-assemble @vozit @yournonlocalpoc @retroxvailles @valynsia @valkyriesnymph @here-for-your-bullshit @dumbchick @warmchick @veryhellshdia @chonisberonica @valentinevirgo @crawlingnightmares @hisxblackxqueen @mbaku-babygirl @xye-weirdo @spideys-wife

#black!reader #avengers x reader #mcu imagines #mcu x reader #black mcu imagines #marvel imagine #marvel one shot #marvel x reader #poc!reader #poc reader #mcu smut #marvel smut #avengers smut #reader x bruce banner #bruce banner x black!reader #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner imagine #bruce banner smut #bruce banner fanfiction

[exhaustedauthor]

Spreading Like Poison Ch. 4

Ch. 1   Ch. 2  Ch. 3 

Another chapter! Wonderful, go me. I literally wrote this during my online classes lmao. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter. I'll link the other chapters later, when I'm on a computer. TW'S ARE VICTIM BLAMING, SELF HARM, SUICIDE, BLOOD MENTION, AND ARGUING. Pretty sure I spelled something wrong lmao

Janus sat in his bed and cried. He couldn’t get the image of Virgil, eyes glassy and blood pooled around him. He could still feel Remus’ eyes staring at him, ripping through all the layers of his facade, straight through him. 

Remus’s anger was cold. He never outright said that he was angry, but he would always pull back on his Remus-ness. Less chaotic around you, less touchy-touchy, less talkative. Janus had only had him mad at him twice, when Virgil left and when Janus had called him the evil twin. 

And Remus still wasn’t fully over that, he could tell. So now Janus had him doubly mad at him, and he didnt know if he could handle that. 

The next thing he knew, it was 3 am and he was dry sobbing into his pillow. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he grabbed a water bottle from his desk. 

As he looked into the mirror, he was disgusted. The human side of his face was blotchy and red, and on his reptilian side, his snake eye looked horrid; red with a yellow iris,  little bits of red poked through from the cracks in his scales. They were wet and shiny, with obvious tear tracks. As he was rubbing his face, one of the scale ridges caught on his gloves and it ripped it off. 

He yelped, tears springing to his eyes once again as the pain shot through him. 

The action caused the scales on his face to shift, some poking into the hole in his skin. 

He breathed heavily through his nose, resisted the urge to gasp for breath. 

Janus got his breathing under control, squeezing his eyes shut. He was thoroughly exhausted, so he crawled into bed, his head feeling like cotton. 

When he woke up, Remus was sitting on the end of his bed, facing away from Janus. 

“R-”

“We need to talk.”  His tone was apathetic and serious. “Can the others come in?”

He was startled by the lack of emotion, but he managed to mumble a ‘why not.’ 

Remus pointedly did not make eye contact, even as Janus silently pleaded with him to reassure that he wasn’t mad at him.

As Remus opened the door, the first thing that stood out was Roman. He glared at him, though not saying a word. 

Patton stormed into the room and clenched his fists. “You should break up with Virgil,” he snarled, jabbing a finger at Janus. 

He looked down, hearing Logan stride across the room. 

“Patton, please refrain from lashing out. We need to take a logical approach to this, even if we are angry.”

Roman stomped his foot. “Like hell we’re going to be logical! Virgil almost killed himself because of what Deceit did!”

Janus huffed. “I know what I did. I’m really sorry. But you guys didn't know the situation I was in! He-” 

“ALMOST KILLED HIMSELF!” Patton screeched. “I’m sure if you hadn’t kicked him out, he would’ve ran away from you, you monster!”

That took Janus’ attention. “I was GOOD to Virgil! I loved him then, and I love him now!”

“Then thats the problem!” Roman snapped.

Logan cleared his throat. “Everyone, please, calm down. Yelling and arguing will not help anything. Janus. Please look at me.”

Janus stayed staring firmly at his sheets. 

He sighed. “Fine. As you have seen, Virgil harmed himself last night after Remus and him had an argument. When he regained consciousness, he said that it had to do with Remus saying that he was ‘toxic and unsympathetic,’  and ‘thats probably why Janus kicked you out.’ He said he worked so hard to be accepted and even to forgive you for kicking him out, and apparently it took a toll on his self esteem. He does not want to be seen as ‘toxic and unsympathetic,’ as Remus said, and his combining the two was too much for him. We do not blame Remus for this, however, because he wasn’t the one whose actions were the root of this, the actions were yours. 

“Now, I have no knowledge of how Virgil acted while he was living with you before, nor do I claim to. But from the stories he’s told us, you had a good relationship with him and he seemed almost like he does now. And while he does lash out at times, yes, we do not blame him for it, since we know that having anxiety can be.. Detrimental at some points. So please, explain why you kicked him out and we will talk more.

Janus opened and closed his mouth, staring at Logans tie. “If I’m going to be completely honest-”

Roman snorted, and Janus glared at him.

“If I’m going to be honest,” he reiterated, “I don't remember much. I know we fought a lot towards the end. We argued almost any time we saw each other, then he started ignoring me. I ignored him right back, and that made him mad, and he finally confronted me about it. We argued again, and he called me manipulative, so I told him that he was being toxic and if he hated me so much he could up and leave, since he hated me so much. And he did. Nothing more to it.”

“I see. Yet you patched things up now, so to speak?”

He nodded. “Yes, and he… forgave me for that. I don't know why we were arguing so much at the e nd.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. 

Logan shifted. “You know what the others think. That you should cut it off with Virgil. I think that he has now formed another emotional bond with you now, and you cutting it off, especially when he’s in a fragile mental state, might not be the best for him.”

“...Right.”

“Now, I think that we should all leave Janus be, and leave him to think things over a bit more.”

Patton nodded, breathing out of his nose. Roman looked unhappy, but he nodded nonetheless.

Remus sighed. “Can I talk to him? I need to say something, preferably in private.”

Somewhere in the back of Janus’ mind, he acknowledged the more serious vocabulary Remus was using. 

Logan nodded. “Alright. We’ll be in Virgil's room if you need us. 

Remus nodded. “Right.”

Logan led the others out of the room and shut the door behind him. 

Remus turned to Janus and looked him in the eye. “Thats not what happened and you and I know it.” He said harshly, eyes staring into Janus’ soul. 

#toxic anxceit #abused janus #unsymp virgil #u!virgil #u! portrayal of the sides #exhaustedwrites #spreading like poison

[mercifuldeaths]

The Heat that Drives the Light

Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary: Michael hasn’t been himself having to literally carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. Because Michael hasn’t been okay, you haven’t been either. 

Notes: Just a blurb that got out of hand. Was originally supposed to be really smutty and about distracting Michael while he worked...but this came out of that. I think it’s a little more interesting to take down the walls that Outpost!Michael puts up and get a little more into his psyche. Sorry it’s a bit sad and not smutty at all, but I hope you enjoy, nonetheless. 

Warnings: Sad cockwarming. Because apparently I’ve made that a thing. 

Word Count: 3K

Credit to @yourkingcodyfern​ for the beautiful gif.

Being underground was suffocating. The walls closing in, high ceilings not doing enough to clear the air and you felt the dust settling in your lungs. Outpost Three had become something strange to you. Having spent happier times there with Michael when things were simpler placed fond memories in certain corners where he had hiked up your skirt or placed little nips on your neck. But now, it reeked of desolation.

Sure, there were the Sanctuary candidates, but did they really matter? Gone were the warlocks that Michael had called his friends, his teachers, your mentors. All that remained were the near-empty hallways. Modified victorian dress rather than the Hawthorne uniform you liked to remember Michael wearing, his hair still short, and eyes still bright.

He had hit something of a wall. After traveling to all the outposts, each of them overrun, each failing his father a little more, Michael started to turn inwards-even to you. You knew it wasn’t you nor him. It was the stress, because that’s all he could be described as of late. He hid it well, you admitted. Perfectly coiffed hair, tailored suits, and a cocky grin on his lips all made up for the man you knew was crumbling under the facade. The crushing guilt he felt for not carrying out his father’s plan to perfection.

It really wasn’t that bad...it was just one of those nights. A night where Michael was overwhelmed and working himself into the ground. He had been sat at the desk in what was his former dormitory when he was a student. He opted to take that one, refusing another Outpost guest to take ownership over it. Sentiment, you supposed.

Regardless, he sat there since dawn, or what you imagined was dawn as it was impossible to tell in the claustrophobic bunker. He had refused meals, even offering something from the stash you both had packed from the Sanctuary, and only accepted coffee. Just something to keep him going. You knew this wasn’t how he had intended to spend the day. He was dressed in his usual tailored shirts and jacket, ready to face the guests. But he hadn’t stepped outside the bedroom. And on days like that, he usually would stay in his sweatpants, hair tied in a bun, and shun the world from seeing him like that. Vulnerable. Out of his armor.

He was growing distant. Again, not at his fault and probably rooted in your natural insecurity of the relationship. It wasn’t easy being the partner of the Antichrist.

You continued to roam the halls, anything to do at this point ,having read all the interesting books in the Hawthorne library ages ago. The other guests of the Outpost were asleep, mandated by Venable’s strict schedule. She knew better than to say anything to you.

Your shoes clicked on the polished marble of the floor, almost comforting you. You felt less alone, in a sense. The sealed corridor that lead to the room Michael performed his rituals in was slightly pushed in, reminding you that maybe he had started one. That’s really all he did. Work from his computer, work with the other Cooperative higher-ups, and work for his father under the guise of asking for help. You knew better than that.

It was maybe the third time you had to pick Michael up off the floor, blood still painting his skin and the floor around him, you asked him to stop. He had passed out. Weak from blood loss, dehydration, probably malnutrition. You begged him to slow down, to take a break. He couldn’t. He literally had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You could tell it was getting to that point again, because it did ebb and flow depending on the state of the world, the outposts, the competency of the Cooperative that week. It was understandable. Outpost Three was a success in some ways. But others, a massive failure. Nobody was making it to the Sanctuary. He had closed the book on every person left in the world. Made his final cuts, and was now weighing the decisions heavily in his mind. It was extremely successful because it was still standing, almost everyone alive. And then there was that Mallory he was trying to figure out-sitting on his knees, blood pooling as he screamed for help, screamed for answers. You weren’t sure if he was actually asking his father for help or just needed to scream his frustrations. There was a feeling sometimes that Satan had given up on him, left him here to flounder until everyone on the earth, including Michael, was gone-given into the fire and disease around them.

With really nothing else to do, and nobody to talk to, you meandered back to Michael’s room. Even if you shared it during your stay at the Outpost, it would always stay as Michael’s dormitory in the back of your mind.

You took the long way. Passing by your secret corners, the library shelves you’d hide behind, the kitchens where midnight snacks were shared...anything to remind you of the Michael that stole your heart and soul.

You sighed before opening the door, not bothering to knock as he had probably already heard you. Preparing yourself for the image of your overworked Michael, a sight that saddened you just a little, you opened the heavy door.

As you expected, he was sat there, typing away on his laptop. The blue light of the screen cast ghoul like shadows on his features, reminding you of the demon’s face you had only borne witness to once. That with the warm light coming from the candles and fireplace set Michael in a strange light. Regardless, it accentuated the stress hiding in his shoulders, between his brows, his tightened lips.

He didn’t look up, but did spare a, “Hi, my dove,” as you headed over to the bed. Changing course, you decided to walk over to him, your Antichrist who seemed so small lately. Feeling a little selfish, you ran your fingers through his hair, something you knew would distract him but also something you needed.

It had taken a toll on you, the only person you really trusted, to abandon you, in a sense. You just wanted to feel him. Touch him. And judging by the way his typing slowed and he leaned into it, you suspected he needed the same. His eyes closed lazily, sleepily, as he rested his cheek against your palm. You rubbed soothing circles into his cheekbone, admiring the beautiful face that was hidden under the layers of stress, under the pressure put on him. When he was himself, his face was soft-no tension, pure radiance. Eyes not shooting daggers, no snarling lip, venom in his voice. Just a man who was forced to grow up too fast, thrown the world to carry, and nobody to help him hold it.

You’d said it a million times to him, but it didn’t stop you from muttering a small, “You work too hard, Michael,” while still stroking his soft hair.

“I know,” came the familiar reply, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“But you have to,” you said before he could. You knew the script by then.

“...But I have to,” he echoed, typing stopped for a moment, his hand coming to meet yours that had somehow settled over his chest. “I know I’ve been….absent lately. You know I don’t want to be doing this, right? I didn’t know it would be like this.” He looked to you, bloodshot eyes starting to tear. Before any could fall, she shook his head to refocus and let his eyes look over to the small collection of empty mugs that covered the desk, so very unlike Michael’s usually neat freakish tendencies. He picked one up, dark, cold coffee sat at the bottom, obviously abandoned quite a while ago. He knocked it back, grimacing at the too strong, bitter grinds that had made it into the cup. You saw his hand shake, just the slightest amount.

“Maybe no more of that.” You took the mug from him and replaced it on the desk, further from the others and his collection of files. “Come to bed, it’s late.”

He hesitated and you already knew the answer. “I just need to finish this. Then I can sleep.” He nodded, almost trying to convince himself that he’d be sleeping next to you soon enough. “In a few minutes… get in bed and I’ll meet you.”

He tried to smile. It wasn’t like he was unaware of what he was doing to you. He saw the way your heart seemed to break a little more each time he had to choose work over you. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t in his plan. His nor Satan’s. Michael knew deep down that he was never supposed to fall for anyone-he hadn’t the time.

But had happened. And you were his.

He wouldn’t change it for anything.

“I’m not sleeping without you tonight,” you mumbled, leaning over him from behind and gently kissing his neck. Just a small motivation to get him to relax, just a little. You untied the messy bun his hair had been pulled into, loving the way it fell to his shoulders and framed his face against the contrasting lights.

His eyes remained unfocused, looking away in guilt. He wanted you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want you. It was that there wasn’t enough time and for all his planning everything remained a failure. He supposed that maybe he deserved this as punishment. Working every day, nonstop, while his love was there and waiting for him. A sick mockery of Hell itself. Michael suspected that it was his father’s doing. Allowed to remain living as a reward for bringing the end times but punishment for not doing it well enough.

“I’m so-sorry,” he choked out, voice still rough and cracking.

Coming around to stand in front of him, you tilted his head up to look at you. No more words were needed as you leaned down to place a gentle kiss to his full lips. You felt a sigh come from him, a small amount of tension leaving. He couldn’t help but move against you, hands reaching to your waist, your cheek, anywhere. He needed to feel you. Feel how you moved, breathed, radiated energy. Just to feel something living and breathing in this cold, dead world he had created.

Before even thinking, processing that he was still busy, you slipped off the dressing gown you had on as coverage as you meandered Hawthorne earlier. Michael settled his hands on your hips, thumbs tracing small circles as you stood before him, in between his spread legs and his desk. He leaned in, lips and tongue tracing your stomach and sides. Unable to stop himself, he pulled you in, arms wrapping around tight, until you were settled straddling his lap.

You continued the open but small kisses to his neck. Unbuttoning his shirt, you slid it down his shoulders, knowing full well that he wouldn’t fully undress but needing to feel his warmth against your cheek as you rested on his shoulder. He was hardening under your ministrations but that really wasn’t your intention as you just needed to feel him. Not even sexually. Just as another person. His warmth. The rise and fall of his chest, his breath.

Knowing you were causing just another distraction in his already busy life, you stopped your small movements but couldn’t find it in you to climb off, reveling in the sensation of him against you. He felt the same. Your weight on him a reassuring presence that maybe he wasn’t as alone as the thought.

Taking a moment from the small bites he was leaving on your shoulder, he looked past you, eyes settling on the open laptop. You felt him sign under you, already defeated. His hands hesitated over your hips, refraining from grabbing you like he wanted to.

“Michael. Look at me,” you whispered, the room only full of the sounds from the crackling fire. Your thumb traced over his cheekbone, eyes pleading for him to just relax for even a moment. “Please…”

He couldn’t, ashamed that he’s let it get this far. Let himself get so caught up in work that you were neglected...that he, himself, was feeling neglected. He sighed, eyes still downcast. “I have to. I know we’re both feeli-”

“You can keep working. I know how important this is. I just wish you would let me help you relax a little.”

“I miss you.” The confession dropped from his lips. Despite spending every day, almost all day, at his side you missed him, too. Even when you were sitting beside one another, laying in bed, even occasionally while intimate...he felt miles away.

“You don’t have to miss me anymore. I’m right here.” You resumed placing small kisses onto his temple, jawline, all the places that made his eyes flutter shut and heart full. His hardness still pressed into you and you reached to cup him through his tailored trousers.

“Y/N….not tonight,” he choked out, looking broken.

“No. I don’t want you to fuck me, I just need to be close to you. I need you.”

Michael nodded slowly, recognition setting in. He allowed you to remove him from his confines, breath already coming faster now that your hand was gripped around his length.

“I need you, too. Please. I need to be in you,” he murmured against your lips, sounding more desperate than he cared to admit. You nodded in response, noses brushing innocently, and placed another kiss behind his ear, over the mark of the Beast. The very thing that defined him, made him what he was, who he was. The reason he was this overworked shell of himself. You couldn't help but still love every part of him.

Not completely free of bad intentions, you pressed yourself against him so he could feel the slick heat of your core against himself. Michael let out a soft moan, his mouth occupied toying with your nipple. You felt him shiver under you and tingles resonate up your spine. As much as you wanted to, it wasn’t the time to play cruel to your Antichrist.

It didn’t take long for you to line yourself up to him and before you could do anything, Michael’s steady hands gripping your waist forced you slowly downward onto him. Once fully seated on him, the two of you let out contented sighs. His head rolled back and your hand instinctively went to catch it, supporting his neck. You took the opportunity to nip on his full bottom lip, but smiles bloomed over both of your faces. Finally home.

“You...still need to work.” The spell remained unbroken, however. He nodded reluctantly, head now resting on your front.

“I know,” he resigned and you felt his hands leave your body, cold rushing in where his touch left. It was mere seconds later you heard the quick taps of his nimble fingers over the keyboard, the shuffle of paper.

It was irrelevant. Everything was except the warmth you felt radiating from him, the stretch of your cunt around him, his body inside yours. Physically as close as two people can be. Emotionally...you were getting back there, you could feel it.

He showed it in small ways. A small kiss to your palm when you’d graze a hand over the velvet of his jacket, the softening of his eyes from across the room when dealing with Cooperative business or reprimanding Outpost inhabitants. It was there and always would be. You knew the shroud was lifting and it would be back to hiding in the corridors of Hawthorne, his laugh radiating and a perfect match for his boyish grin.

One of his hands removed itself from the keyboard to caress down your spine and settled at the base, warm and firm. You breaths matched, each sigh shifting him inside you, hitting a new angle, making you feel even closer than before.

The keyboard clicks continued, slower due to the fact the one of his hands was stroking the soft skin at your hip. Michael’s shoulders dropped a fraction when you placed your head on his shoulder, nose brushing the sensitive spot under his jaw. His eyes lowered, breath softened.

Over the course of the minutes, he would occasionally drop a kiss onto your shoulder, soft and awfully chaste considering the fact that he was buried in you. But it wasn’t about that, that evening. It was about Michael and who he was and his breath and movement and reminding him that maybe things weren’t so bad in the godforsaken hellscape he was responsible for. That there was still some good left, despite the original goal to strip humanity of that.

And he knew it. He felt it from you. The undying love that you held for him and he could only be reminded that there was good left. And that he loved you, the same.

The typing continued even after Michael dropped a cheek to your shoulder, head tilted, as he somehow continued working through his drooping eyelids.

“Mmmmmm,” he mumbled into your skin, exhausted.

“I know.” He didn’t need to speak, you already knew what he was trying to say.

His other hand settled on the back of your neck, the only sound being the crackling fire and candles. You shivered and he pulled you in, bodies still connected.

“Michael,” you whispered, going to suggest that maybe you two go to bed, but the small shake of his head told you that he’d rather stay put.

His breathing evened out, face still resting on your shoulder. All his muscles relaxed into your touch. Finally at ease.

Your fingers threaded through his hair and you considered waking him to move to bed...but you were comfortable too. Warm and finally feeling a little more complete with him inside you. Perhaps closing your eyes for just a few minutes couldn’t hurt.

Tags: @ccodyfern @langdonsinferno @langdonsrapture​ @starwlkers​ @michael-langdon-appreciation​ @babypinkstyles94​ @i-will-die-for-jim-mason​ @langdonalien​ @katiekitty261​ @duncvn​ @wroteclassicaly​ @lvngdvns​ @aveiangdon​ @americanhorrorstudies​ @sojournmichael​ @1-800-bitchcraft​ @nana15774​ @langdonsdemon​ @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul​

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon smut #ahs apocalypse #ahs fanfiction #ahs coven #cody fern fanfiction #jim mason #duncan shepherd #langdon #outpost michael #sad michael langdon makes me sad too #why do i write sad things all the time idk

[amazable01]

And The Puppets Danced- Chapter 2

A03 Link Here

Notes: Here it is! The long-awaited return of And the Puppets Danced! 2019 starts a new chapter in my life, so it’s only fitting you all get a new chapter, as well!

If you need to catch up, the link to A03 has every chapter, and all chapters, of course are posted on my writing blog @anamazableauthor. Enjoy!

I walk into the library, humming as I practice the motions of the waltz that Patton and I have always known, methodically remembering the steps. “One two three, one two three, pivot, one two three, spin two three, one two three, dip.”

Each step is precise and neat, fluid movements pulling me into the artist’s world of expression. Clean and messy. Taking both emotions and logic to complete the dance.

It’s no wonder Patton and I are such a good partnership.

I bump into a bookcase, and blush, silently glad no one else is with me, as of the moment. I reach to steady the shelf, before going to tidy the books.

Since my creation, I’ve always found something alluring about libraries. The calm silence helps me think, helps me to process things I would not be able to, otherwise. The smell of old books, candle smoke, and ink is the most satisfying scent I’ve enjoyed thus far in my life.

I look at a book, with runic titles across the front. I brush my hand across the faded leather, removing a layer of dust from the cover. The runes translation has been lost to time, but the pictures are as clear as day.

The first page shows a picture of gods, monsters, and humans in the middle of the two. Swirls of gold and silver paint laces the pages with shimmer. “So this is the Creation. I’ve heard about it in legends, but it’s never specified what happened.” I say, flipping to the next page.

A benevolent looking figure stands in front of bowing humans, a golden eye illuminating on his face. “That must be m'lord coming to save the humans.” I realize. “He must’ve had them be under him so he could lead them to safety and prosperity.”

The next page shows the green and health of the land turning to purple and brown. The colors of death and disease. I wonder what happened…

The last pages are torn out, and probably removed from time. I close and re-shelve the book, becoming resolute to ignoring the gnawing thoughts surrounding it. What DOES it mean…?

I walk further into the library, scanning my eyes over the colors and bindings of the tombs that exist in my world of knowledge.

What books lie outside these walls, I wonder.

“A good question, Logan.”

I jolt, turning to see our creator behind me. I blush, noticing I said that out loud. “My apologies, m’lord.”

He waves the apology off. “No need to apologize. I made you to be curious about the world. Patton is kind, passionate, reliable. A person who works well with people. He likes to learn, but not in the traditional sense. He’d rather experience something than read about it. He has a literal heart of gold, but the head on his shoulders is quite naive and less intelligent in the typical sense.

“You, on the other hand, have a sensible mind. I created you to be clever, resourceful, and intelligent. Patton’s perfect opposite, and his missing piece. You two eternally complete one another, in the most artistic way. You were made to be one.” He sighs. “Unfortunately, you were the last perfect one. I had the spell stolen when the rebellion ran from the castle. They thought the spell holder would control you, but it was the spell caster. However…” He looks away. “There was another. A third puppet, a beautiful companion. It was stolen from me, before it could be completed.” He growls. “All that work, for naught!”

I flinch a bit. “I’m… I’m so sorry… That’s horrible.”

He smiles, turning to me. “It’s no issue, because I have you, now.” He smiles. “You and Patton can retrieve it for me, to complete my last puppet after so many years.”

I nod. I feel something deep inside of me crumbling, spiralling deeper and deeper into a pit of black.

“What is it, my little crow?” He asks. “Why do you fear?”

Fear. A feeling of dread commonly associated to a specific thing or event.

Yes. I am afraid.

“I… do not know…” I respond. “I do not know, because I do not understand what I am feeling. What this fear is for. Why I am afraid. Who I am afraid for. I cannot put a label on it. I cannot understand it, and I am afraid.”

He nods. “The fear of the unknown. That is perfectly understandable. You’re not used to this feeling. The freedom of choice, of expression. And I’m sure you don’t understand this pain, either. The pain of living. Of choosing.” He sighs. “It is what I had most feared about you leaving. If this would hurt you. If this would destroy you. Which is why I am giving you this.”

He pulls two necklaces out of his pocket.

One was a handcrafted golden chain with a heart half pendant. Pearls had been insetted to form a beautiful rune script, and the side has a latch to connect to something else. Patton’s name is engraved on the back, and the gold shimmers in the light like Patton’s brilliant hair.

The other is a black metal chain, with a pendant showing half of an open book. Sapphires shimmer, another rune on the metaphorical page. My name is engraved in a neat font on the back, and another larch is on the opposite side as Patton’s.

“Thank you.” I state. “But what are these?”

He smiles. “Protection charms. Latch them together, and you have a powerful shield. Apart they are beautiful trinkets designed to look perfect on you.”

I blink, slipping mine on. I rub it softy. “It’s astounding. Breathtaking, even. I don’t know if this is quite deserved.”

He waves it off. “Do not fret. It’s a token, my crow. Now, I’ll leave you be.” He leaves the room, and me to myself.

“Huh.” I say softly, holding Patton’s trinket. For now, I think I’ll keep it safe.

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[harlockauxillia30k-blog]

The Siege of Terra

The Imperial Cruiser Angelus had rotten luck, it had to be said.

Exiting warpspace after a semi-blind jump into the system, the Angelus emerged amid a traitor crusade battlegroup of multiple battlecruisers. After a minutes delay, the Angelus’ void shields began to be battered by multiple close-in broadsides. Though it tried to answer, the ship was completely outmatched and outgunned. Though those aboard it had little-time to take it in, the Sol system was a complete mess. Imperial defense had already fallen back to Terra herself, already legions of steel were dueling on Mars. Already a dozen other rocks and planetoids had been invaded. Now, Terra stood, a gleaming golden pearl bleeding red, as vast swathes of the ecumenopolis burned from planet-wide fires that consumed entire hab blocks. Dead dreadnoughts careened into the planets surface, smashing layers of cities down into silent dead rubble. And all along it, along with the glimmers of cities, small lines drawn haphazardly in all directions denoted Imperial forces fighting the traitor legions bitterly for every square inch.

Harlock marveled, even as rounds impacted the voids in front of him. He saw hundreds, thousands maybe, of smaller ships as they dueled in strike craft knife fights in the silence of the void.

When he came to his senses, he saw the characteristic signs of a failing void shield, and turned to his survivors. There was the handful of Centauri riflemen, most of them bandaged and on painkillers, and Melissa, who was having a significant emotional moment as she watched the human race tear itself asunder before her very eyes.

“Listen everyone. In a minute the captain will call for the ship to be abandoned. We will land on Terra. We may be separated. If I don't get to meet any of you again, I want you to know, that it has been my god emperor damned privilege to serve with each one of you. No matter what happens.”

The survivors nodded. Sergeant York spoke up. “Served with you for about a year sir. No finer officer in the star rifles there was, before or since.”

Private Sam bit her lips. “Feth. It’s going down like this. A-alright sir. Thanks. You pulled me out of a burning wreck on Tarentum IX, i still got the scars. Lets pull the Imperium out of hell, yeah?”

Corporal Hayes grunted. “With respect? I always thought you were a son of a bitch that was trying to get us all killed with all the crazy shit we had to put up with. But some of us survived this long. Damned if that isn't providence. Hail the god emperor. May he welcome us all at his side as the heroes who died to save Him.” Hayes produced a small golden bauble, like Harlock’s, and Harlock fished his own out, nodding at the man.

Melissa, in catatonic shock, tore her eyes from a massive imperial superheavy carrier slowly shatter and die as her bow was lanced by a formation of traitor ships.

“There is no god in this universe. No benevolent ones. Not if THIS is what the innocent deserve!” she was shouting, and she wouldn't soon stop. Anyone could see that.

Harlock walked up, calm, and planted a kiss on her lips. “This will be the last time, Klicke. Who said anyone was innocent, here?” and then let her go.

[Musical cue: this track]

“Soldiers of the 2nd Centauri Star Rifles, this regiment has lived for-”

A massive explosion just rocked the ship. The shields were out. Klaxons blared.

“...has lived for over eight centuries. From its first founding, I have fought under its banner, bore witness to its great heights, during the Ullanor wars, on Feros, upon Hesperax, fighting under a dozen legions, regarded and recognized by primarchs and generals. Under this banner have a thousand villains and a million heroes served. It is with my deep resignation, I formally retire the 2nd Centauri Star Rifles. Soldiers of the emperor, present arms!”

The remnants of the regiment saluted and presented arms perfectly in the corridors of the Angelus.

“You are all for a final time DIS-MISSED. You are free citizens of the Imperium. Seek Army logisticians and financiers should you survive the coming trials for your mustering pay and backpay. You are hereby retired. God bless you all, and good luck.”

There was a moment to let that sink in, as the ship rocked and groaned and armsmen and crew dashed about the sad band of veterans.

“Get to the evacuation boats and drop pods men. You too, Adept. If we somehow survive this,the rally point is the Pistoliers Saloon in Port Vangelis, August 3rd, for war stories and drinking contests.”

With sad grins, and a hug or two, the soldiers split up. Some teamed up, hoping in numbers they would survive. Harlock looked at Klicke.

“The adepts have a good chance of having a superior escape route, and may be able to land you in safe imperial territory. Go to them. I’ll find my own way. I always do.” Harlock said, grimly. He was quite certain this was the day he would die.

Yet, he saw no reason to die aboard some random starship. He joined the throngs of soldiers who clamored for the drop pods, launching them immediately. Eventually, he came upon a man in a wide brimmed hat, a captain of armsmen, who commanded a group of terrifying youngsters guarding drop pods. “Officers and men of rank first! The rest of you degenerates second! Wait your turn and be processed, or I’ll process you!”

A man broke from the group and ran for an open pod door.

Zzot.

He lay motionless on the ground, his head smouldering.

“anyone else want to question ship policy?! You!” He pointed at Harlock.

“Thats an officers uniform alright. You’re in Pod 3C. Get moving, your going to be stuck with some commoners though. Can’t be helped.”

Harlock nodded, and walked on, getting in 3C and clicking himself in. He silently thanked that he hadnt ate anything that day; there would be no need to fear throwing up.

The soldiers in the pod were scared out of their minds. One young girl, an armsman, wept as silently as she could. Another, an army trooper, looked like he was going to bounce out of his seat. “Oh come on, let me get some! LET ME GET SOME! HORUS! COME ON!”

Others were in prayer. At least one was, somehow, impossibly, soundly asleep, his vest adorned with a half dozen melta charge cells and a meltagun secured at his side.

Harlock said nothing, and nothing was said to him. In a few moments after securing himself, the pod was launched, and Harlock got a look at just how bad the Angelus had taken it. In another minute or two, it would begin to snap and break apart; a sure sign of complete loss of all hands remaining. Harlock hoped his friends made it out.

Other pods were certainly not lucky. Chaos fighters shot them out of their descent with glee, while one actually impacted an unawareimperial thunderbolt, sending both tumbling on fire, badly smashed into pieces. Harlock’s own had a rocky ride, being struck by hundreds of chunks of space debris from the orbital battle as he approached the burning, glowing city-world of terra.

Harlock closed his eyes as he felt his pod become rocked by traitor flak guns which begged his pod come apart at the seams. It would be a bad landing. It wasnt the best possible transport for the job either. But it would happen all the same.

With a mighty thud. Harlock’s pod smashed into the smouldered, melted remains of a triad of hive spires, flattened and pancaked into a kind of artificial smolten plateau, along with hundreds of other such spires. The landscape was awash with agony, as the occasional skeleton fragment poked out of the ash of the spires occupants and the twisted corrugated metal of towers that once accurately illustrated mankinds unbound ambition, now collapsed to absolute ruin. In the distance, perhaps a few kilometers away, the Imperial palace stood, golden and beautiful, as dark forces and entire titan legions descended upon it. To recount what one could see, even this far away, is the recount the stories of literal angels and demons. Titans fought there, not mere men.

[Musical Cue: this track]

Harlock’s pod opened. The trooper who prayed was given what she had likely asked for, a swift death, as a support beam of the now badly mangled drop pod was planted into her skull, likely killing her mercifully quick. Another soldier was crying as he tried to extract his leg from depressed metal. Harlock knew in an instant his leg would not come without the pod being dismantled. He was as dead as the devotee, he merely did not know it yet.

The one next to him that had shouted lived, however, and had unbuckled himself, kicked the pod door open, grabbed his gear and began sprinting off like mad in the direction of the palace. The sleeper had awoken, presumably when the head restraint on his seat gave way and broke his neck from the whiplash of landing. Now he and his meltagun rested un-used. Harlock picked it up, remembering his dead friend, Tech Sergeant Dienes, and collected as much ammo as he could from the man, before stepping into the burning sunset of the fall of mankind. There were other imperials about too, either from pods, or who were here before, who knew. And the astartes were here. Not the friendly kind, of course. Never them.

Harlock watched an Iron Warriors terminator, strangely alone and separate from his kin (a failed teleportation, perhaps) fire his assault cannon across the plateau, killing at least five imperials that Harlock could see, and immediately dived for cover; a natural bend in the cooled melted slag of the spires. It would take quite a bit of fire from his meltagun to do it, but he was confident this terminator could be killed.

With the courage of a man who knew he was destined to die, the Major dashed forward, meltagun in hand, charges wrapped around his chest like a bandolier. Diving to the side while it strafed opposite Harlock, he fired his first shot in the terminator’s exposed leg joint, near the knee where the armor segmented the most. It was a cheap shot, as the terminator did not see Harlock approach, but effective. It was not clear if the terminator immediately lost use of his leg, or if he melted the servos, but the iron warrior was rooted in place, forced to drag the titanic dead weight of his leg as he turned, assault cannon spinning to attack his assailant. Harlock evaded a swing from his other hand- a powered fist capable of killing him in a single hit, and fired another charge of the meltagun at the terminator.

Another man, bulky, with no sleeves and a red bandana across his forehead, charged with a guttural scream, his flak jacket swinging with his dog tags in the wind, a meltabomb in hand, up to the terminator. Harlock and the terminator ceased their duel, and the major immediately dashed back, diving behind some slag. He heard the assault cannon spit out hot lead, a groan, and a click.

Immense heat washed over Harlock’s body, making him groan. He ached. His soul was broken into pieces. He now simply did as he was meant to. Kill. For the emperor.

With a grunt, Harlock pushed himself up again, supporting himself on the rubble to see what had happened. The terminator was a mess of steamy red ooze and gore as his armor had exploded into pieces. Harlock couldn't find the imperial who did it, until he noticed a lone leg, its owner long gone, hanging off a piece of rockrete.

In the distance, a chainblade whirred, and a warrior of the World Eaters legion stepped forth.

“I know you. You were on Ferros. Come, duel with me, without that weapon. You who would dare kill a brother of mine in close combat.”

Harlock remained silent, and knelt, shielding his body from the marine. After a moment, it charged, firing its bolt-pistol towards Harlock as he whirred up the meltagun. The marine dashed overhead. Harlock pointed the weapon up, and fired... hitting nothing. The world eater had dodged it, and now smacked the weapon out of Harlock’s hands with his boltpistol.

“Khorne will be pleased this day, one way or the other.” the marine growled, assaulting with the fury that would be expected of a berserker warrior.

Harlock dodged and parried, his blade intercepting assault after assault, being forced to dodge point blank hits from a bolt pistol. The marine laughed, seeing Harlock so desperate.

And then in a flash it was decided. A carefully considered shot at the marines melee hand from his plasma pistol sidearm, a parry of the bolt pistol, and a final shot to the head.

Harlock took a side step as the smouldering, twitching body of the world eater died before him, and with a limp from a minor sprain in his legs from the dodging, he picked up his meltagun.

It had been weeks since his last juvenat injection. He had never felt so old and alone. With his melta, he leaned against some of the rubble-slag, and sighed in exhaustion. He had been tired of fighting for so many years. He didn't care anymore. There was nothing left to fight for.

He wandered his plateau, creeping from cover to cover as more marines, seemingly at random, arrived. He ambushed another iron warrior kill team, killing one marine with a good melta shot to the head, a sturdy krak grenade for the next, and a final duel resolved only by stabbing his knife, given to him by an old friend in the auxillia, through the reinforced body glove covering the marines neck.

For hours, he fought. Sometimes, he would find a random imperial army trooper, assist them for a time, until eventually they died. Harlock remained there, waging his own private war as if on a chessboard, ignorant of the greater struggle. Unaware that at that moment his god emperor was aboard horus’ flagship, or that there had been a godlike defense of the palace gate, or of the heroism of the imperial fists... none of it was clear to him, as he watched the wrecks of ships smash apart spires, as deathstrike missiles detonated atomics in the distance, as millions upon millions of warriors fought below and above, here, in this strategically insignificant spot harlock deemed his final stand, Harlock fought quietly. Desperately. Like the killing machine that 800 years only of war reduced him to. A broken spirit. A broken man.

Eventually, days and days later, Imperial recon teams sweeping areas of the planet for survivors and enemies, found Harlock sat upright, in the middle of the plateau, surrounded by the dead. The old, ancient haggard man appeared to be dead, surprising the team upon his eventual glance towards the Imperial Army troopers. Had it not been in the wake of the Horus Heresy, had it not been for the wounding of the emperor and the bloody aftermath of the traitors demise upon Terra, Harlock would have been given a medal for the things the imperials saw on that plateau of corrugated metal and ruin.

But alas, it is the fate of the infantryman to be unsung, and often unmourned.With the aid of anotherman, Harlock limped to a rhino, and spent the next three months in medical care, recovering in a mass hospital that had been converted out of a shopping district.

The Siege of Terra was over. The Horus Heresy, in its most dramatic act, was over. But the galaxy fought on in bloody wars anyway.

Colonel Harlock was given command of the 93rd Centauri Star Rifles eventually. He never knew what became of the original survivors. He never truly wanted to know. All that was certain was that on August 3rd, in Pistoliers Saloon in Port Vangelis, one of the few cities not to be completely obliterated by Imperial forces in the reconquest of Centauri Prime, Harlock sat alone, consumed by thought, and deep pain. He spoke to no one, and after the day concluded, threw on his colonel’s cloak, and prepared to depart for the planet Hesperax with his new regiment. There was a chaos insurrection to put down, and the 93rd would do it- or be put to death.

[Music Cue: this track]

///

Imperial Historical Footnote: Almost no record of the 2nd Centauri Star Rifles exists today in the modern Imperium at large. Its deeds, and sacrifices, are preserved only in a small monument erected on the world of Titan-Secundus, which reads as follows:

“The Soldiers of the 2nd Centauri Star Rifles fought and bled here. We shed our lives for the Imperium and her emperor, so all men may live free, and that precious few need to sacrifice as we have done in the future. Mourn not our fallen, Remember not our deeds. Know only this, reader: great men have gone before you to sacrifice for this, our Imperium. Do not let our sacrifices be in vain.”

The monument now rests in front of the Titan-Secundus Schola Progenium in its courtyard.

///

#post #this game me feels to write #I hope you like it #This is the second to last post #May the Emperor show you his divine love #And may our Imperium live forever

[callonb]

GYBurst of Inspiration/Motivation

Where does inspiration come from? - Snacks I recorded a song with Samuel Hawkins recently and that was the first line of his verse. Lately thats been on my mind more and more. Where does my inspiration come from and why cant I always bask in its motivational energies? Seems that my drive comes and goes with the moon phases or as planets enter and leave our orbit. Could be the skys dictating my moods and movements (which i think it does have an effect) or it could be the mass amount of coffee and tea i drink a day. Definitely important factors but not quite the source. My mom definitely motivates me, she believes in everything Im doing and helps every way that she can. Its not financially but sometimes emotional support is more important. Shouts out to Momma B you the realist. Same for my homies and not homies as in people i force myself to be around, cuz having friends is what you do. Actual family that i grew up with and have developed a relationship with, the GYB family. The ones who sat me down years ago and was like dude...... you need to take this rap shit seriously. The ones who are now getting more and more involved with the movement every day, pushing everything to the side and riding along with my dream and making them their own. Everyday the homies are pushing to help me create this vision for you guys as they've adopted it as their own. Like minds on the prize, Shouts out the Layer homies. That only seems to be half of it tho, and Ive never felt this type of fire burning inside me before so what is it? Magazine drama and BS doesn't motivate me, Music doesn't seem to hit me the same way anymore. I used to listen to music constantly, new rap definitely doesn't do it for me.....makes me feel lower. New tv shows dont do it for me im bored with most of the popular shows out. Same for games or just typical activities that people partake in. Partys, drugs, random hook ups...It all seems so blah to me and im completely uninterested. I learned I have to stop feeding my lower self and focus on my higher self and what that part of my being truly wants and thats to CREATE!!! Whenever im around an environment that drives me to create and push myself i perform better. So i guess i just realized what really inspires me, and thats a creative environment. Who is responsible for this? Well I saw the Rotunda Project last weekend at Maiden Alley, a collaborative piece by Fairseas. The Fairseas are a group of musicians named Jeran Simmons, Bobby Dowell, Codie Franklin and Shanden Simmons. I watched them plant this seed years ago and now its a giant tree that you can sit back and marvel in its greatness. The main theme of the film was collaborating with your community. I cant lie ive had many many thoughts of leaving my community to collaborate elsewhere but ive came to a realization recently that it isnt necessary. To my surprise and probably a lot of people around here, there is a bubbling hip hop scene around here that is about to explode. Ive started to invest my time and efforts into this scene now and received nothing but results. Shanden has been a major influence in my artistry because he is always honest, encouraging and persistent....three very important characteristics to have in a creative environment and on top of that has become one of what i would consider my best friends. I look at him as one of my GYBrothers. On to the hip hop scene around here tho..... mysterious person named "A" aka the Hollow Man and he is one of the most promising producers/writers around. His solo stuff is outstanding and the collaboration effort we are working on "A & B: The Empire" is next level. Its been well over a year in the making and will shock most people when they hear the new styles i bring to the tape compared to my previous work. A always challenges me to be very intelligent when I piece together my verses and I like that. He makes me want to grab a dictionary and start reading so I can match his extensive vocabulary.....and maybe I have done that lol. Im the ONLY artist that the mystery man works with at the moment and that hits me now in a way it never has before. Like why me, do I really have something in my music that would make this beyond talented artist spend his time and efforts to make beats for us to collab on and want to include me in everything he does? His beats are above any producer Ive ever heard even in the big leagues of the rap game its crazy but he will prolly have his own GYBlog entry about him eventually. I have to move on before i make this to long lol. Next is JSkrilla, I have met the Skrilla a few times in passing but i dont think we realized what each other really could offer the other. Until i ran into him at the damn ROTUNDA PROJECT.....back around full circle. After that we decided to get together. We showed each other some of our music. I didnt know he made dope beats as well as spit hot fucking fire but he does. We shared our philosophies for our craft and talked hip hop and all sorts of other randomness. Then we picked a beat and wrote a song on the spot. Bar for bar back and forth. J stressed to me it had been a LONG time since he had been able to just sit down and write with another emcee that wasnt intimidated by his ability to write on the spot, or to match his caliber of wordplay and rhyme schemes. To both mine and his delight I delivered. Skrilla really challenged me tho, most artist get so caught up in the main stream BS or conforming to certain concepts and topics in their verses that it had been a while since I had felt pressure when writing to make sure my bars are up to par. Felt good to feel that energy again i had been missing the want to become better and that leads me to the main cause of my motivation and my improvments or just overall attitude change whatever you want to call it. the TRYBE!!!! Snacks, B. James, and Waun D. are the Cerberus of this rap shit. I have a lot to owe to them. GYB and Trybe share the same values as far as what we hope to contribute to the culture of arts and musics and how we hope to impact the hip hop community as well as the communities we all live in. I have done one show with them and have multiple other ones lined up with them. As a matter a fact i cant see myself doing a show with anyone but them from here on out. Once again them as well as JSkrilla could have their own full length blog entry but i digress for the sake of your attention lol. The Trybe challenges me to be a better emcee by making me freestyle. Which if you have been around me doing music ive never been a good freestyler.....UNTIL NOW!!! They have cracked that shell and brought me out of it. Making me partake in their cyphers everytime we get together. Soon Ill be as smooth off the top as i am with the writtens then its over for everyone! Sharpening my skills is not something that other rappers really push you to do. Rap is very competitive and braggadocios so pushing someone to improve and possible be better than you is unheard of. The Trybe doesnt see it that way though, they want us all to grow together. With a shared love for hip hop and me and Snacks shared love for Anime we can talk for hours and hours before we realize we havent done any music lol. Everytime I hear a new Trybe song i feel my artistry being challenged. The message in their music makes me want to really focus on the concepts i present in my music and start challenging my self to pretty much step my game up. Between Skrilla, "A", and TrYbe, everything new I hear makes me question my latest bars which is exactly what I need. Hip Hop is my life and my love and above any amount of money i can potentially make off this art is the desire to be the best emcee to ever grab a mic and thats the same mindset i had when i originally picked up the pen and decided i would be a rapper. Before i saw 8 mile and realized that being a white rapper wasnt necessarily accepted, before all the laughs, all the hate and just general shade i received for my dreams. Being white in this game is a roadblock but for the first time these guys made me realize that i have overcame that hurdle 100 times over. I had a long talk with the Trybe last night and they gave me a boost of confidence that finally fully ignited that fire i had lit but tried to conceal. Im no longer worried about what is cool or what people want. I just want to create and you will more than likely like it because I do have skills that i myself had been sleeping on. I hear these artist like A, Skrilla, and Trybe and i felt underneath them but now i see my self as an equal. We all have different things we bring to the table that compliment each other and its time to put it all together and make it happen. Plus we all just fucking dope and there is no denying. This is my new goal. No more time wasted on what i "think" is the right move. Im going to follow what i KNOW to be the right path and follow my heart. Thats challenging myself with these artist and like minded individuals to always be better. Also as Snacks has said before "move at LIGHT SPEED" thats just what Ill do with my light brothers here. We like some damn warriors of this rap shit waging war against a evil corrupt entity but thats also for a whole separate entry lol But no war of this caliber is complete without a general so shoutout to SirDuke. Ive also recently became friends with this crazy dude and he has shown me in just the short time ive known him more love and support than some people ive known my whole life. He also inspires me because he has dedicated his life to serve and protect (literally) and most importantly LEAD. He has an army of pretty much every hood and every rapper in each of them just waiting for his call. and he is not leading them astray, Shoutout the Kollektiv. Duke is also a talented singer and emcee. He has a show with me tomorrow at the Hangover in Murray MAKE SURE YOU COME TO THAT AND SEE MY NEW ALBUM CONSCIOUS TRAP PERFORMED LIVE starting at 9pm. but yeah Duke is dope and I can appreciate his leadership skills and what he hopes to accomplish in his community by cleaning it up through music. He is rubbing off on my and motivating me to hold that same position with my Layer army of GYB homies ive assembled. Most of them are clueless about the industry and music so its up to me to guide and lead them so they can be their own selves and make it in this world without the middle man down your neck. Im going to wrap this up because it ended up being way longer than i intended but i wanted to also say to my fellow collaborators and friends above all. Wolf, Golden Wrist Banks, Trevell, Dope, Simple, Benji and Angel Mascato. You guys have MAD SKILLS. You guys inspire me too because I hear something different in your music than i hear from most. I want you all to continue to grow and expand your creativity to new levels. Tell YOUR story. The same story is constantly told but how will you tell YOURS in the true challenge. So i encourage you guys like i have been recently, step outside of the norm and do what you truly feel in your heart that you need to, fuck what everyone else wants from you just create the way you feel appropriate. A lot of you are working with Duke regularly and I think he will tell you the same thing I am now. Even if its certain people in your lives holding you back, they gotta go. Surround yourself with positive people that want to grow with you instead of out grow you and you will see the same results. Probably why you guys were all on my latest album, except Trevell im sorry and you should have been but you know the deal homie its all love. Frank.....dammit man just rap lol but anyways ill end it on this note. Getting in touch with that child like mind state and that pureness of love in my heart again. Losing all my intentions to want to be better and out do someone but rather COLLABORATE with like minds in my community has already in return pushed me forward in a lot of ways. Seems almost as if they had been waiting on me this whole time. Its certain that my actions are now speaking louder than my words and everyone is starting to catch on. including myself finally. If you read this far thank you and I love you. Youre more than likely part of the reason why i typed this or why i even continue to do what i do. I trust you guys just as much as you trust ill deliver. Have a great day, maybe you can draw inspiration from this or some of the same people or things that i do! So put down that magazine full of empty content and read something meaningful that you are interested in, turn off the news and watch some anime, stop playing shooter games and play final fantasy, stop eating out and prepare your own meals, dont listen to music just play instrumentals and freestlye every day or just make your own, quit scrolling on facebook and take a stroll around the block, only spend time with those that help you grow rather than keep you low. So much inspiration out there sometimes we just have to break away from what we are used to in order to pull from the experience. Now im really done. and excuse my poor grammer and probably a shit load of spelling errors. That wont ever change, these blog post are run on sentences of my thoughts that pass through my head every day. Sometimes i just take the time to jot them out as they pass. PEACE LOVE AND GYB!!

[thenameisbinx]

Blame Monday

ive been wanting to write down this entry since tuesday but i was busy trying to regulate my thoughts. Writing has always been my point of solace where in i find peace of mind and a completely different outlet as to talking to my friends about what im going through. i’ve set to making this entry in defining my roles and the effect of them. however, i ended up realizing its too complicated to describe. 

so let’s start it like this instead. 

Facade - a false, superficial, or artificial appearance or effect

OK. let’s not waste anytime by letting people see who you really are.  Smile for the audience and don’t show that your hurt, in pain, or depressed. Keep moving and show that you’re fine. be in everyone’s good graces. please them like a slave. adapt, change for them, plead for their acceptance. All the while, bury your thoughts of reality within you. you’ll get to that stage where youre always wanted. 

Reality bites. you keep wearing a mask for too long that you forget how to be weak, to be vulnerable. i learned that word when i was seven. one of the words you learn at that age where words originating from the french language. it was along the lines of “rendezvous” words or english classes that tries to teach different sounds of words that has literal sounding letters. When the teacher told us what it means, i always thought it was acting. Facade is a character that you want to play but not in a movie, but in your life. it dawned on me that ive been doing that awhile. since i could remember. Then i keep just playing along. 

Before, i would bring the sadness of my day by showing to the people that i’m ok. That it doesnt hurt. My mom pulled my hair and complained how thick it was, even if i was sitting still not wanting her to try to do my hair. called me, “worthless” and “incompetent”. instead of crying, i’d laugh and play around with some classmates the moment i get to school. Or the time that my sister made fun of how ugly i was in front of her friends, that i’m just an orphan. I just talked back and said, “Well, at least im not fat.” Then, there was this one time that my dad scolded me for trying to play in my undergarments, i wasnt naked but i was wearing a thick white top under my uniform and some thick shorts thats long enough to touch my knee under my skirt, like my friends were doing at school. i wore three layers everyday and wasnt allowed to take it off till i go home but i saw some kids doing it. took a layer off and played. i was 6. Dad dragged me out of my school yard and slapped me right in front of the guard. Don’t get me started with my brother. let’s just say, he never made me feel like im important in the family. he’s the only person that treats me like im nothing and no one until now. like my opinions didnt matter, or as if what i do doesnt have any relevance. yet, i’m the jolly one. the funny one. the energetic one. the loud one. the push over. easy definition, the masochist. Harsh but partially true.  

Now, implications. still, verbal cues. like, “lazy”, or “stupid”. in the family, its more verbal but emotional responses. Mostly they cuss, or scream or yell. If i reciprocate the same but not intentionally, i still get scolded. i cant talk back because im just the help. i’m obligated to do what they want me to. Even if im tired from work. Even if i just got dumped. Even if my mind is going through some stuff. 

what you dont know. i go through these every day and i don’t bring it at work or when i go out with “friends”. I’ll go to work with a smile on my face like nothing bad ever happened to my life. i’d put that big smile on my face and just laugh things out. Remember just the little good things that happened and seemingly move on, but i don’t. its slowly sinking into my chest. Subconsciously weeping like a baby, consciously aware that during a meeting i’d want to cry just because i couldnt keep it in a box. i’d clench my fist as if im waiting for my palms to bleed because it crate wasn’t chained shut. it oozes when you can’t regulate. 

Obedient -  submissive to the restraint or command of authority

the words “dont” and “do” are basic commands to me. any question that has “did” are immediate doubt on me or even the start of the sentence “have you” makes me quiver already. i was taught to obey a form of authority. Parents, older siblings, uncles, aunties, prefects, teachers, apparently, anyone who is older. so when someone says, “believe me” or “did you know”, i immediately am in awe. i believe them. the fun fact is stuck in my head. i pass down the knowledge or experience. There’s another word for obedience, gullible.

i was once asked by my brother to go through trash when i was a kid. because he threw something he shouldnt. i was asked to do my sister’s homework because my mom overheard her asking me to do so. i was told by my so called friends to ask people for their numbers for them for their friendship in exchange. I have reached the point that i feel guilty when im not doing what people ask me to. 

imagine working. imagine dating. imagine meeting new people. i can paint a picture but it’s too painful. Subconsciously, i thought i have removed that side of me. unfortunately, reflecting on the past few days, NOPE. i thought my defensive stature in every decision ive made was and the only way to take off that obedience or gullible card. Looks like i have been. being conditioned this way from the very beginning makes it seem impossible to take off. Obedience equals to gullibility. Refusal equals to guilt. 

my dad comes home drunk one time, asked me to give him his gun to point at my brother. i said no, he shook me. no one else stopped me but i obeyed. i talked to my sister’s friends once. she told me never to talk to them and beat me up till i had bruises on my stomach. i wanted to cry when one of her friends talked to me. so i ran away. i wasn’t allowed to sleep until i memorized multiplication set of 9. it was 3AM, i woke up on the bathroom toilet. my mom woke up and asked me to recite it. closed the door and told me to recite it till i said the right answers. there’s consequences if i dont follow. i took that till adulthood. 

i have guilt if i don’t do what i was asked to. more guilt if i really decide not to. it consumes me till i finally give in. i feel regretful right after. then, i completely try to forget. that never happened. ever tried telling your boss no? i learned how to say no last year. i had multiple speeches dedicated to me with people saying, “Do you even know how to say no? do you even hear thank you?” i feel obligated to do what people want. i feel obligated to give what people want or need without being asked to. let’s stop there. i sound stupid. 

Strength -  legal, logical, or moral force;  degree of potency of effect or of concentration

People see what i want them to see. Facade comes into this picture. i’m always strong. can never show my weakness. if i do, i lose. if i don’t, i lose internally. i’ve been playing the supergirl card all my life. issue is, i’m always alone. always the savior never the saved. 

Superhero syndrome. ever heard that song Superman? 

It may sound absurd but don't be naive Even Heroes have the right to bleed I may be disturbed but won't you concede Even Heroes have the right to dream It's not easy to be me

my whole life revolves three things; work, home, friends. i always wanted to be alone, but i don’t survive it much. never felt wanted anywhere, even if its family or friends. then, work came. loved it because it was the only place the NEEDED me. but seems that i wear my cape there everyday. to the point that i couldnt be clark kent there either. always strong, never vulnerable. 

been saying lately, im tired of being strong. then Monday came. That’s that for strength, it’s pretty self explanatory on my side. it’s too literal of a section so i hope this would suffice. for the last of the entry. 

Tired -  drained of strength and energy

Trigger : work

Action : Resignation

Symptoms : Nausea, shaking hands and knees, vomiting, clouded vision, crying, Lack of sleep, loss of appetite, lack of motivation, heavy breathing, sleep paralysis, sleep apnea

Diagnosis : Unknown

Working Impression : Panic Anxiety Disorder

i’ve defined some of my roles. a glimpse of my mind and soul but to the people i’ll be send a link of this too, i bet you only know some. some, would even say they never knew. you know, i dont share my feeling or these heavy stories. seemed irrelevant. one time, 1st grade. i shared a problem about the family to a friend. This ‘friend’ made it seem too petty to the point i avoided sharing problems since then. i feel like any problem i have has no value to others. so i keep it in. just me. maybe a few blank pages. some ink. mostly tears. by myself. on my own. 

when i feel bad, or depressed when i was a kid. i would cry faintly inside my closet. come out after an hour or two. wiping tears of my face. i got caught once, by my dad. i just said, nope i was just checking my closet. i acted as if what he said before that point was ok. i step out when i feel weird and want to cry. ive learned how to cry heavily without showing an expression or even in a quiet manner. Congrats to me, i brought that till adulthood. 

Until Monday. i tried to put up my mask. but couldnt. i tried to be strong. but couldnt. i tried to obey. but couldnt. i remember asking my boss recently, can i be selfish? all my walls broke down in one day. all my optimism. my positivity. and i thought that i can do it. what people saw of me, they couldnt recognize me. 

i showed me. the weak one. couldnt even get myself to fake it. fake being strong, fake happiness, no mask. i couldnt even try. i was just done. even basing on what ive written on this entry, getting tired wouldnt be an option just yet. i didnt even talk about love or difficulties. i only got to write down instances. i was just done pretending.

since that day, i couldnt regulate. i associated almost everything and get anxious about everything. seeing the exit to my work makes me tense. walking to the building tightens my chest. getting inside makes me palpitate. claustrophobic. i dont usually breathe heavy but the doctor said breathing exercises would help. SOMETIMES it does. but not everytime. 

it took years to learn how to regulate these thoughts that i experience daily and i feel like i have to go through two decades again to learn how. i didnt lose myself, thats for sure. but i feel like im not strong enough to stay in one place anymore. to have the same people in my life anymore. i want to leave. i want to disappear. 

you know what i did after i broke down on my boss? i sat in a Starbucks branch in Molito. and starred out the window for two hours. spaced out. even my friends knew i dont do that. i felt like i died and im just the undead walking around doing my daily routine. 

why am i writing this? it’s 2:35AM. nearly sleepy by the way. i’m writing this for me to realize something. i already just did. i just realized that what people knew of me, wasn’t me. what you see and experience of me now, is the true me and i dont like it. i want to be wild binx on good days. bea when im home. bianca when im at work. looks like i can’t be that for a while. 

to those im sending this link to, i hope you read the whole thing. so you really know where i’m at. youre worried or concerned yea? well, here i am. here it is. i’m sorry im dumping my indifference this way. i’m sorry that im burdening you of my petty problems. i’m sorry i cant be myself. i’m sorry i cant be that person you knew. 

blame Monday. 

#anxitey #define me #monday #mental breakdown

[frankthomas090-blog]

abby winter yoga - The New Angle On Abby Winters Lesbian Porn Just Released

In town for a bit on business, he wants to have some casual fun. 5 inches and THICK- his emphasis. Hes at the top end of length for my preference, but self describing it as thick got my attention. Sometimes theres just an instant connection or chemistry, drawing you in so fast with a new person you just kind of dance around the usual screening process.

Described his cock as 7. Average height, better than average build, green eyes. Hes my age, 31, but with the right combination of personality and body- I can look past it. Gimme that thick dick. This Ginger was respectful and straight to the point from the get-go on Plenty of Fish. Hes former Army- he had a pic up in his dress uniform. He sends me his number, we text briefly, and make the plan to meet that same day.

I appreciated his ability to be direct without being rude or vulgar. I like em young and hung! Also, I give it a 95% hes well endowed- orange is the new Black. At no point did he ask for nudes, or ask endless intimate questions- I give it a 50/50 chance of being a satisfactory encounter given our lack of communication beforehand, but I cant resist a Ginger to save my life.

He passed with flying colors. Im telling you, this isnt rocket science. I feel my lady business respond immediately. In our very brief texting we went over our Dos and Donts, as well as both agreeing we like aggressive AND passionate sex. Dont ever forget that.

The way hes kissing me I can already tell this will likely be a very good encounter. " Its early afternoon, what a great way to spend it. Upon his arrival I am freshly showered, bed is made, and Im wearing t-shirt that says "MEETS OR EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS. He sits next to me, we awkwardly exchange hellos, and then he moves right in to kissing me. Not overly eager, not sloppy, makes you want it right meow.

Hes not pushing my body down while shoving his tongue down my throat. He starts lifting up my shirt after pawing me and groping for the goodies- having discovered my nipples are pierced and briefly sucking them, its time for layers to come off.

He peels his layers off as Im taking mine off and comes right back to mauling me so expertly I couldnt resist. Hes kissing me like hes excited to see me, and hes real good at it. Hes maneuvering me onto my back while he takes a top position.

Moving his head lower he pulls my panties off but with such reckless abandon theyre still on my left leg. Good kissers are also known to be good lovers, from my observation. Youre taking your clothes off, too. I dont recognize the alphabet hes writing, maybe its Spanish.

The moment he kisses my thighs its all over. His eagerness to put his mouth on my slit is palpable. He didnt just dive face first into my nonsense salad- first he ran his tongue up my outer labia on both sides and it felt soft and gentle and GIVE ME MORE. Fuck God sounds totally different when Im cumming and yelling nonsense. Right around now is where I learned Im actually bilingual, but whatever language I was stuttering out can only be whispered or shouted; theres no in between.

Oh my god hes licking my asshole- I have sex Tourettes. Do you think Jesus and God can tell youre not swearing AT them? he pushes my legs up and licks up and down, then just down. I can barely take it, stretched to maximum capacity for comfort, and even then hes mildly uncomfortably large. And it consists mostly of very short, hostile sounding 4 letter words.

DONT STOP, DONT STOP, DONT STOP. Once he was done tracing and teasing I felt the warm, wet touch of his whole mouth open around my clitoris, moving his tongue in ways I cant imagine or describe. Holding my body close to his and pushing his hips up into me, my limbs instinctively wrap around him like a slutty octopus. His length is perfectly spot on- any longer and he just wouldve www.abby winters.com been too much.

GOD DAMN YOU HAVE A BIG DICK. Pushing my limits for size, I question if my lungs have enough room to inflate fully while hes all the way inside. Id put him right around 7 inches in length, my preference being 6.

With my pelvis lifted to the right level, hed shove his tongue in me as my insides start to contract with the orgasm. Literally cumming on his tongue. For sure hes wearing the biggest condom commercially manufactured, or a trash bag. My hips would buck but his arms would find their way around them and hold them in place, while my legs stretched upward trying to walk on the ceiling. We didnt transition out of missionary, he sat up and spread my legs wide while plunging into me with force and conviction.

He rolls on a condom and pushes himself inside me- my eyes rolled back so far I saw memories from my childhood. I sound maybe like a dying rabbit as my fingers pull his short hair and hold his head firmly in place. I didnt keep count, I was much too busy screaming his praises to the Gods.

He gets his and we collapse away from each other. As soon as I begin to cum, back go the legs, down goes the head, and hed ride my climax on his face. When I would start to climax, hed withdraw quickly and push my legs up around my head. He puts his underwear back on and Im guessing hes leaving now, sad times, but then he hops back onto the bed and I take the opportunity to snuggle up into his armpit and touch on his body while I bask in the afterglow.

He does this for every single orgasm. Im wrapped around him and mostly content. I cant get my mouth around it right, my hand doesnt wrap around it. Its awkward to handle, do I need a license? I feel like my certs are out of date because this newfangled cocktraption is just outside of my scope of experience.

Good Lord, who taught you to do that? I gift him my mouth because hes more than earned it. I could definitely go for more, but hes not some 20-something with endless stamina. He pounds away at me from different positions, I like him behind me because I like his stroke and how he braces himself by holding my hips down. Clearly he gets most of his satisfaction from pleasing his lady.

Im not going to argue, and somebody has been listening to my thoughts and dreams again because this man was made in a fucking lab just for me. The sun goes down around 4pm right now so thats not a good indicator either. what even is time, man. Im amused I come across that way- Im all about those afterglow cuddles.

Between our rounds we break for cuddles and snuggles- he confesses he assumed, from my profile on PoF, that he was to go after the first round and I wasnt much for affection or cuddling afterward. He enjoys the cuddles too, and doesnt like to just leave after a hookup unless thats her preference. Please me you thick dick Georgia peach!

Take care of your partner after you fuck them. He enjoys my head game but it just makes him want to fuck me. He gets off twice more and I have no idea how much time has passed. HOLD MEEEEEEEEEEE, pet my hair and tell me Im pretty. Fool I dont get to round 3 very often with men in their supposed prime, so whos more thrilled! Hes an intuitive partner and he reads my cues very well, plus he just wants to bring me all the pleasure.

Apparently he doesnt get to round 3 very often, and hes kind of thrilled about it. His size is intimidating and hes more shaped for vaginal feel goods. I like how he lays it down, and I like anal with the right partner. He admits hes never been able to have anal successfully, and I can understand why.

The way hes shaped, getting the head in is not the hard part- he gest wider towards the middle and base, like a fucking road cone. I dont doubt that hell follow my lead and respect my signals if things get too intense. The last time things started heating up Im on my belly and hes pressing the head of his monster cock on my asshole- Im doing word problems in my head about the likelihood of this being a good idea or not.

He apologizes for cumming too soon- I had to hold back my school girl giggle. He flipped me over and fucked me hard up until I told him to say my magic words. What a dear, sweet lover. He actually thought he owed me an apology after our FOURTH consecutive romp. Tell me you love fucking me. Ive got shit to do as well. 10/10 would fuck again.

I tell him point-blank Id like to see him again before he leaves, he happily agrees. We were unable to make it happen, he was just too big and we didnt do enough warmup, but I took about half of him before tapping out. He texts me asking what my plans are for the evening, as hed like abby winters galleries to grab a couple of beers and a late dinner.

Fast forward 24 hours. When posed with options like this, I always ask WHY NOT BOTH? I tell him Im going to shower and meet him at the restaurant bar near his hotel, he instructs me to bring my lube. I dont really do compromises. Or I could come over to his hotel room after and he could just fuck my brains out all night.

Maybe Id like to join him? In the time it took me to excitedly shower and keelhaul the warts off my body, my phone starts showing notifications of other interested men folk. The words fall out of his mouth and he explodes seconds later, to his own surprise. why end with a OR when theres always an AND?

He tells me I cant miss him at the restaurant bar- hes wearing a cowboy hat. (You thought that hyperlink went to the movie reference, didntcha? CANT TALK NOW, THICKEST DICK EVER WANTS TO TAKE ME TO POUND TOWN! Oh goody, I know what Im wearing later. Can honestly say hes a good one.

Test me, Ive got true grit. ) The company was great, hes fun to talk to. Cleaned up, its time for him to go he has things to do. As were leaving I ask how many Magnum XL condoms he has- he says 4. He confesses he doesnt generally have his lady spend the night because hes very affectionate and waking up next to someone hes spent the better part of the night pleasing, can lead to him having feelings.

We need to buy more, STAT. I feel like a teenager again. We talk about our kids, divorce, he tells me about his previous military experience, and what hes doing now. Rolling into Wal-Mart at that hour, with giant shit-eating grins on our faces, buying only condoms.

You think youre big, you aint big until you must have custom condoms. I get what youre saying, were gonna fool around and then I gotta GTFO. Sexy Ginger man with a good head on his shoulders and giant cock, somebody please snatch this man up quick haha or dont, and let him keep sharing that beautiful endowment with all the ladies.

Back to the hotel room, we barely make it to the bed and hes on me. Details from here are fuzzy, but he went down for ages and we fucked around in every position. Dont get it twisted; theres approximately 10 million condoms in my purse, but they wouldnt fit him. Remember, if youre hard to size on either end of the spectrum theres a UK company called TheyFit that you can enter your measurements into and theyll get you fitted with one of their 66 sizes.

We took a smoke break before trying www.abby winters yoga abby winters.com (linked site) again, and he tells me hes half Mexican. This perfect Ginger man is also a beaner. He was made just for me. While he was behind me licking and sucking my clit, shoving his tongue inside my pussy and my asshole, I hear the top of the lube bottle click. At some point I wore his Stetson when we come back inside, naked.

He positions himself at the backdoor and gently adds pressure until I whimper or tense up. Working together slowly, gently, following my vocal cues I take him to the base. Pushed to the hilt we pause. Its more than mildly uncomfortable, but if we take it slow itll feel great.

I can feel it cold and slippery, then hear him stroking it on himself. I swear to Kylie Minogue I cant make this stuff up. Im a little drunk- 3 drinks on a mostly empty stomach, Ill sit on your lap and call you Daddy if you want. He picks up the pace, we start talking dirty to each other. I have not been quiet at all during any of this, but now Im incapable of controlling the primal animal noises Im bleating into the bedding.

He was having some performance issues but was bound and determined to make sure I enjoyed our time as much as possible. I can feel him shaking a bit, hes going to cum soon. Its late, the booze and orgasms are sedating me.

Hes down close on me, wrapping his big hands around mine, entwining our fingers, crossing arms under my chin as he grinds into me. I tell him to withdraw slowly. I wake up hazily to roll over and his arms find their way around me again, hes a perfect big spoon. After several loud, amazing orgasms, he gets down close and pushes himself inside me all at once.

Rocking into me Im wrapped around him in my koala hug. Hes holding me and Im lost in it. I awake fully to him sliding down the bed, tossing my right leg over and burying his face in my morning pussy. Digging my fingers into his back and pulling his short hair, I dont want it to end. Im cold and reach for a sheet, he covers us immediately and Im back out like a light.

He slows down but hes plunging into me with the kind of force and quivering body that lets me know its now. Pushing my skirt up, pulling my panties to the side, he takes my box in his mouth and I hold on for dear life, staring up at the mirrored ceiling I get to watch myself almost cum in his mouth.

Morning sex was more passionate, and a bit briefer. Hes even kissing me with my dragon breath. We havent even hit the floor button yet. When we get to the ground floor we smoke together outside, recap our enjoyment with each other. My back hurts from how he so violently throws my legs back to eat my pussy while Im cumming, both my pussy and asshole are recovering from their respective stretching and beating, and Im walking on a broken toe.

We get dressed together, and he goes to walk me out but as soon as the elevator door closed he dropped to his knees. He tells me after two days with me, he wont be able to fuck for a week. God damn that was good. He reaches up, hits L, and continues his works. 10/10 would fuck any time. I am completely satisfied. This will happen one week from now, when he has free time again.

I scamper home to sit on frozen bags of peas, pound water, and cuddle all my pillows. tt/2i9A4Cy /u/DDfnord Link is directly to this story http://ift. This entry on my sex blog has hyperlinks, if youd like to see it in full I write on WordPress and the blog name is All The Dicks.