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doodle-pops · 4 months

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House of Feanor | Having A Human S/O

Request: Can i request a feanorian group headcannon about having a human lover? — @misfortunateleprechaun

A/N: I couldn’t resist including a short reader in the mix because I know most of us are tiny beside these elves :)

Fëanor

Curious to learn all there is about you. Whether you’re naturally short, how you age, your life span, your features, culture, linguistics, everything, you name it. And when he does, it pushes for him to become even more intrigued with YOU.

Wants to follow you around as much as possible. Just picture a short you and a giant elf nearly 8ft trailing behind you asking millions of questions or silently observing you in your natural world.

Understands that humans are delicate and much more breakable than elves, so he treats you with the same care as he does for his jewels. You are fragile and deserve the utmost protection and care.

With that being said, you are not spared from being blessed with the great riches he is endowed with. Showers upon showers of gifts bestowed to make your mortal lifespan enjoyable and full of luxuries.

An enjoyment of his would be your vast size difference, as would all the elves when you lie, sit or walk beside him. Even when he needs to make jewellery, he marvels at the sizes and concludes that you are no larger than an elfling.

He will keep to himself knowing how you react when being compared to an elf child…or he might mention it because he enjoys your responses and phrases unheard of to elven ears.

Feanor takes great pride in having you as his S/O and accepts no criticism from anyone. He adores you with every fibre of his being and will worship the ground you walk on.

Maedhros

“Why are you so tiny, unlike other mortals I have come across?” That would be words spoken to himself upon meeting you because he’s already a freaking giant. It’s worse when you must stand on objects to meet this over-eight-foot-tall figure.

Holds out his hand and watches as you wrap your entire hand around two of his fingers. He has to bite his lip to hold back the laughter, because you attempt to guide him, and it looks like a child leading him off to Eru knows where.

Prefers when you sleep on his chest while (awake) he reads or relaxes on the balcony. Never allows you to close when you’re sharing the same bed and he’s sleeping. Do you want to go flying through a window with one of his kicks? You’re fragile babes, sleep on the floor.

Deep down, he believes that you deserve a lover who doesn’t have to place a restrain on everything they’re doing to prevent hurting you…physically. Play fights are a thing that happens rarely because you once knocked your own hand on the bedpost, and he blamed himself for forgetting your fragility.

With that being said, he gets worried about you when you accidentally injure yourself because you’re a mortal…soft, squishy and delicate. Please, don’t make him wrap you in the duvets like a burrito for your safety.

Since your lifespan is shorter than his, Maedhros’ main goal is to in ensure as much peace can be granted in your life. Takes you to the most scenic places around Beleriand or just nearby Himring and keeps you far away from his brothers, minus Maglor. Gives you a Shetland pony to ride for the kicks of it and watches as you fold.

He doesn’t seem to understand how you joke so easily about ageing and grimaces every time you crack a joke about your soon-to-be wrinkled appearance or increased fragility. You’re set to give him the heart attack instead of you.

Loves to compare your size to an elfling and jokes about having to purchase ready-made clothes in the children’s section for you.

Maglor

Humoured by your size and delicacy, and equally motherly as Maedhros. Henning over every little accident with a read-to-scold expression on his face and incoherent words spilling out his mouth about needing to cover you from head to toe.

Maglor adores your compliments when he sings for you or writes sonnets or poems. He understands that his species differ greatly from humans, hence his voice would sound ethereal to your ears, sparking grand praises. It tickles his ego and spurs him into never-ending songs because he lives for your praises.

Adores carrying you around because you’re as light as a feather and he could lift you with his pinkie finger. Sit on his shoulders, piggyback rides, cling to his legs or chest as he walks around his fort and ignores all the strange looks his servants are giving him.

He’s someone who respects humans and mortal life, so at no point would he ever allow you to feel insignificant compared to his elven nature. Hates to hear you ill-speak your mortality or even condemn the relationship to failure because of your differences.

Still hesitant when it comes to playfighting and unlike a certain brother, he wouldn’t scold himself for your injury. However, he would still engage and quickly dissolve everything to cuddles or a nap.

Sleep atop his chest and he’ll fawn because you look so tiny and feel weightless. One time you both fell asleep, however, Maglor forgot you were sleeping on his chest (because you’re so light), so when he rolled, you fell right off the bed.

Surprisingly cool with your human ageing jokes, especially the wrinkly potato ones. Sometimes he’ll cruise in with an affectionate joke to make you swoon about being his favourite potato.

Celegorm

It takes a long time to get it into his head that you’re delicate because, in his mind, he saw you performing hundreds of daredevil stunts, why stop the fun for safety purposes. Wherever Tyelko is, you are curled up under his arm like a sleeping bag being carried around on his adventure.

If he’s riding a horse large enough to carry an elf, then so are you—doesn’t matter if you’re four or five feet. If you fit, you sit. However, you prefer to ride Huan because he understands your comfort and safety more than Tyelko does.

Playfighting to the roughness degree and be prepared to end up in the healer’s room sporting bruises or a sprained joint, he’ll even lie down on you. He has an affinity for challenging you to your limits, solely because it’s thrilling to him. “Try lifting me off the bed and walking to the door.” (you collapsed under his beefy body)

As big and scary as he appears, start coughing or having a fever and watch as he crumples like a left. Clingy and never leaves your side the entire duration you’re resting or in the healer’s room.

Acts as though you’re going to die in the blink of an eye from a single sneeze and the next thing you know, he’s praying that you survive your common cold when the healers have informed him that you’re alright.

In addition, he’s the perfect teddy bear for a cold night with all those muscles he has going on. The issue is his ability to cuddle to the highest degree. You cannot escape his cuddle grip, even if you need to pee.

Tyelko has confidence that’s out of this world, so no one can attempt to shun or berate your relationship, not even mock him for choosing a human to be his S/O over an elf. Celegorm makes it clear that you’re his choice and he’s proud to have you.

Caranthir

Someone who admires you day by day and how easily you overcome obstacles without lamenting the way his race does. For a human, you are quite fiery and able to keep up with his pace of living, though he prefers that you relax while he lavishes you.

Vocal about his appreciation towards you in private as you lay in his chambers on the sofa or bed, cuddling. Like his siblings, he prefers that you lay atop him, refusing to even displace an ounce of weight for fear of crushing you.

Spoils you, spoils you, spoils you more than you could even imagine because he wants your life to be filled with comfort and luxuries before your end. Complaining about how much he spoils you is like kicking a puppy.

The only thing you cannot do is tear this elf away from his duties when he’s locked away in his studies deciding who to conduct his next trade with. He’s married to his work and then you.

This brings me to you easily clinging to his body because you wish for him to stay in bed longer. All he does is roll his eyes at your antics and continue to walk around the room while you disguise yourself as a backpack.

Sneeze and there’s a deafening silence that follows before a grumpy Caranthir paces out of the room to call for the healers. You are not permitted to go anywhere, basically bedroom arrest. You want water, food, more blankets; he’s there. Want to go for a walk, sure; he’ll walk you around the room.

As much as he admires your resilience as a human being to the harsh reality of life, many of your natural occurrences terrify him due to rumours of terrible endings for others. So, expect the protectiveness to go up a few notches.

Curufin

Everyone was surprised that he had a human lover when he strolled into a ball with you decked out in jewellery from head to toe. Poor you were trying to breathe under the weight of the gemstones breaking your neck.

Curufin isn’t any different in my dating him headcanons with the addition of his protectiveness increasing. He loves to use it as an excuse to tag along with you anywhere when he really wants to spend time together (what a tsundere).

Finds himself confused at all your human terminologies because how can “Break a leg” or “Knock ‘em dead” mean best of luck. “You humans are strange with your words, why can’t you just say what you mean.” – Curufin

Finds your excitement and expressive manner endearing given elves’ lack of facial expressions and enjoys bestowing all sorts of gifts upon you just to witness your reactions. He finds them better than the simple use of words when accepting his creations.

Less inclined to school you like his father, but still peppers you with indirect questions to learn more about humans and their odd differences from elves. If you’re female, then be prepared to blow his mind with talks of your menstruation. He considers you a brave warrior for going through that every month.

Curufin doesn’t like talks of how your lifespan is short and you’re bound to die soon, and you tend to use this to your advantage when you want your way. “But what if tomorrow doesn’t come, and I don’t get to eat chocolate cake? You should let me eat it now, so you don’t regret not letting me.”

(Tries) Keeps you away from Tyelko because he’s a terrible influencer and causes the majority of your injuries which sends Curufin into cardiac arrest. If Curufin has never shown much emotion in his life, it was the moment he learnt that you were in the healing rooms.

Amrod

Excited because he has someone to love him, but heartbroken about your shortened lifespan, which means he’s going to cram all his years of adventure into your lifespan so it can be shared with you.

Every morning, he walks you up with a brilliant smile as warm as the sun before dragging you out of bed to go hiking or host a breakfast picnic while the sun rises (sorry if you hate waking up early).

You are not spared from his pranks or the confusion between him and his twin when Amras decides to trick you. Aware that you are human and more breakable than elves, but he’s still going to engage in roughhousing or lying half his body atop yours so you cannot go anywhere.

As I had mentioned before, he’s touch–starved being the youngest bunch in the family with less attention being directed. So when you entered the picture, as a human, it was natural for you to be overly affectionate which stunned him. Never before had Amrod believed that he was capable of receiving so much love.

He doesn’t care about the fact that elves aren’t physically affectionate, he accepts every hug, kiss and touch you gift him. He considers them your greatest gift, second to finding you.

Already protective of his younger brother, so it’s natural when you enter the picture. Prefers being your bodyguard so he can spend every second with you, never allowing for there to be a moment when you aren’t together.

I have mentioned that he’s into woodcarving, so you can expect figurines of you and him (more you) to appear before your door in beautifully wrapped boxes. You have a collection by now and can consider it a hobby thanks to Amrod.

Amras

Prefers to spend all his time with you in tranquillity and away from his nosy and noisy family, including his twin who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space and attempts to chaperone each date.

The realisation of you being human doesn’t sink in for a long while because he’s pleased that he has someone whom he can love. Amras will be spending his dates surrounded by nature.

Waterfalls, hiking trails, rivers, ponds lakes or fields of flowers, you have seen it all in your human lifespan. Places you didn’t believe existed or could be viewed by the naked eye would be revealed to you.

Amras is more open to receiving affection from you and enjoys the lavish amounts you shower him in. He is stunned by the volume that humans are capable of delivering and how dependent they are on physical touch.

Like his brothers, Amras will shower you with tons of gifts, especially handcrafted ones. He is skilled in crocheting and competes with his brother for who can make the best look-alikes of their family. In between, you can expect to receive stuffed animals or a miniature of yourself.

Reaches out to his elder brother, Maedhros and Maglor for advice on how to date a human since they’re more aware of mortal mannerisms than him. It’s a cute sight to witness as Amras practices learning your mannerisms and culture so he can help you feel at home.

His major concern is ensuring that your time spent with him was the best years you’ve ever had in your entire life, and he was able to fulfil many of your wishes in the short space of time granted to you.

Celebrimbor

Tyelpё would like to know what he has done to inherit a significant other in the first place. Forget that you’re human, he wants to know how you can choose a person like him after the history of bloodshed his family has left.

Like any normal relationship, he’s doing his best to control his temper and be as patient as possible. He would hate to make you go running for the hills with a terrible slip-up.

Eyes of a hawk at your every move, wanting to learn as much as possible with the stark differences between you in particular and him. He’s already aware of how indifferent elves and humans are, it’s just to learn your netiquettes and mannerisms.

Like his father, you will be gifted tons of jewellery—it’s his love language—with your neck breaking under the weight of the gems. Tyelpё adores seeing you decked out and looking like a disco ball; you’re his mannequin for his pieces.

As one who spent years in the forge, he’s far from small and will crush you under his weight. Thus, he’s cautious when cuddling or any form of play fighting. The last thing he needs to hear is that he injured you from his bulky muscles.

Please hold his hands and let him fawn over the size difference. You’re only able to hold two of his fingers when tugging him about the place when you’re eager to show him something.

Did someone say standing on chairs to meet his height? Yes, that is exactly what you would have to do because he’s a giant eight-foot elf. Or even parading around in his long robes pretending to be him? Yes.

Protective to a degree, but not as overprotective as his uncles since it’s the second age and let’s assume that our buddy hasn’t shown up yet to ruin the peace. Tyelpё will gladly allow you to roam freely without worrying about your safety tremendously and would even request that you return with treats.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @a-tong @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

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will-pilled · 1 month

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Montague

Possibly triggering stuff? Self harm, CA, SA.

Montague personality (summary, due to limited information):

Montague is controlling, as is evident. He comes off as very calm and collected, and seems like a rather calculating and "pulling the strings" sort of man. Can be very aggressive. Headcanons:

He/him cis man - Unlabled but prefers masculine leaning/androgynous individuals. (British cig) It's more aesthetics he's attracted to.

He is not a huge animal person, but Oscar was okay when he was around I guess..

Fashionista and artist, designs his outfits.

Fave colors are blue, white, black, blue-gray, and silver.

Knows a lot about rocks and crystals, keeps it to himself though because he doesn't want to look dorky.

He is very French, and swears in French often as well as muttering to himself and breaking into French speaking when flustered or overwhelmed.

Loves sweet and salty deserts as well as very savory food.

Really likes knives. They're neat.

He isn't a good man. He isn't even an anti hero. But he is very easy to feel bad for.

Not a fan of children, not at all.

Kind of a sarcastic ass hole. Not kind of, a huge one. Dry humor and sarcasm. *Blank stare* "Are you stupid?"

Skin care and hygiene freak, takes pride in how he looks.

The Society was the closest he had to friends, so when they all ditched each other he became bitter as FUCK.

He does want a romantic relationship BUT he also terrified of being close to someone. He doesn't want to risk someone being in control of him or being rejected or left. he has a VERY intense "leave people before they can leave me" mentality, but isn't really aware of it.

Borderline Personality Disorder - Is extremely convinced there is nothing wrong with him which leads him to be very "anti recovery," and makes him indulge a lot in unhealthy habits and actions. Has some narcissistic traits but not enough to have Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

He *appears* calm and collected, but the moment he is sure he is alone he may fall into a hole-in-wall-punching fit of rage. Him breaking things is not uncommon. He takes his anger out on objects the most. He wants to fill the hole in his heart with objects and power. He chases the temporary highs of stealing, the chase, being in control of someone, and even perhaps drugs if he is bored enough. He only smokes in front of others, as he avoids doing most others in front of people due to more noticeable effects. He feels rather empty.

Intense need for control over himself and others, and in turn hates losing his shit. He HATES when things don't go his way for this reason as well, and his stealing also goes into this as he wants to control items and where they are.

A bit of a stalker, but not too bad. Stalking socials is his biggest thing.

(Potentially triggering? Self harm.) He did the eye scar to himself. No cool backstory or funny accidents. He did it to himself to look the way HE wanted to look. To control how he looks and what happens to his body. He never talks about how he got it, but loves it. Likely has other scars as well in intricate patterns and pictures. Doesn't really do it anymore because he honestly got bored of it. Not because he got better in any sense of the phrase.

(!CA, SA!)

Montague grew up with a very emotionally abusive and controlling father (Montague is sadly repeating the cycle it seems). He wasn't hit much by his dad, but was often picked on by peers for his queerness and being "girly." which caused his aggressiveness, though since he can do "whatever he wants" he is more open about it now. Not really "price flags everywhere" kind of open (though ngl I could see Meowscles being like that fucking bi and transgender ass cat) but more of a "clear closet"/"Is he... Y'know?" kinda open. He doesn't care for either parent much, they were both distant and let money raise him so he doesn't have much of an attachment to either of them. He has no feelings for them and when he came to the island he felt little to no grief at losing his old life other than his money and power.

He was assaulted when he was a young adult for a period of time by an employer, who had a great deal of influence and control. This is also where Montague's "I want influence and power" mindset comes from as well, so he will NEVER be at someone else's mercy again. He feels anger over it. He is no "perfect victim."

#montague hcs for twitter #I have a little community on there now :3 #montague #fortnite #montague fortnite #fortnite montague #tw sa #tw child abuse #cw queerphobia

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1lostsoul0fishbowl · 1 month

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In lostys universe, Gare and El are long distance during some of their college years.

Do they ever have any big fights or miscommunication during that period?? Any conversations about what their future together will look like as the years peel away to adulthood? Just curious 🥰♥️

Still loving that greatmage lore 💜🩷

Ohh girl this made me think A LOT. because my first instinct was to be like “noooo my pookies never fight!” but that’s completely unrealistic. So I dug deep and came up with a few ideas… and of course it got really long so I’m putting it under a readmore…

- I think their biggest fights would be about money, but not in the typical way a young couple fights about money! In both Next Time I Fall and Lost and Found I alluded to El and Kali getting large settlements of “hush money” from Hawkins Lab, and at the end of Next Time El even suggests to Gareth that they use some of that money to get married. But it’s the late 80s and I’m sure Hopper had repeatedly impressed upon Gareth the importance of The Man Being The Breadwinner and the need to Properly Take Care Of His Daughter, so Gareth wouldn’t feel right about letting El pay for anything.

Finally El sits both Hopper and Gareth down one day and tells them look, Chrissy helped me find this super cute house and I can easily afford it so I’m gonna buy it. Gareth, you’re welcome to live there with me if you can get over your pride about it. And Dad, you need to mind your own beeswax. (Will taught her that phrase, and he almost chokes trying to hold back his laughter when he hears her repeat it.)

- Another thing I can imagine is the long-distance thing just wearing on both of them (they’re cuddly koalas and they can’t stand being apart for too long) but I could see that manifesting in different ways. For El, I think insecurity would be something she’d struggle with; especially if school interfered with time they wanted to spend together, she would feel neglected and get a little pouty about Gare thinking his work was more important than her. And I can imagine if he got impatient or exasperated about that, her mind would immediately leap to “you don’t love me anymore?” She needs a lot of reassurance after everything she’s been through.

But this, I think, would probably lead to Gareth never wanting to speak up about his own needs or problems, because he does truly want to be that steadfast source of reassurance for her, but also sometimes he feels a little resentful, as if she doesn’t trust him enough to keep loving her even when he’s irritated. And then that makes him wonder if she feels that way because of everything with Mike, and he gets pouty thinking she’s comparing him to Mike. Oh, kiddos.

- I imagined all of this coming to a head one weekend when Gareth wasn’t planning to come home because he was exhausted and had a ton of work to do, but El getting upset with him and kinda giving him a guilt trip about it until finally he gives in and says okay fine I’m coming. But he’s so tired that he ends up falling asleep behind the wheel and getting into a minor accident, which naturally freaks El out, and I think that would lead to a very deep heart-to-heart talk where they both end up resolving to communicate more honestly about their needs, and trust that their relationship can withstand temporary separation when needed.

- On a much happier note, conversations about the future!

I know a lot of people headcanon El as wanting tons of kids, but for some reason I imagine that pregnancy would be total body-horror for her. (Maybe I’m drawing that from my personal life? Lmao) I do believe she’d want a family of her own though, and I think she and Gare would have a lot of conversations about fostering and/or adoption to help troubled kids. And there’s a lovely fic that was gifted to me about the two of them preparing to welcome their first foster child.

I think they’d want pets, too— I imagine them going to an animal shelter just to look around, and El overhearing an employee saying “nobody will ever adopt this one, these dogs are monsters.” She instantly demands to see the monster dog, and of course it’s not a monster at all, it’s the cutest tiny little pit bull puppy, and El and Gare instantly fall in love with her and name her Bosco since she’s chocolate brown. 😊

I think El would have a lot of trouble deciding what she wanted to do after high school, as far as more schooling or a career or what, and they’d have a lot of discussions about that.

And of course they’d talk about traveling— there’s so many places they both want to see, and experiences they want to have for the first time together. Also I think it would be super cute if they went to Wales with Granny and Granddad Emerson to visit relatives and friends there. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

This got way longer than I thought it would lmao but thank you so much for asking! I always love sharing my ideas and headcanons with you! 💕

#ask losty #losty headcanons #greatmage #el hopper #gareth emerson #two schmoopies in love

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the-eyemunchies · 14 days

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A small discussion. We all know ghoatbusters is autisti media, but can we talk about how all the ghostbusters are definitely neuroatypical (except for Winston).

So this is my Thread(i will only be using the movies but i could add so much more with the Real ghostbusters):

So let's start with the easy one, Egon is Obviously Autistic, he is the steriotypical autistic person, blunt, which shows difficulty in communication, has a hard time with socialization and has repetitive and behaviour. (Yes, those are the main 3 traits to define autism according to the dms-5 ), but we can add in some other stuff like he restrictive eating and hyperfocus that arent defining traits but are also associated.

Now let's go for Ray, i see a lot of people mentioning of autistic behaviour related to Ray and well due to Dan himself being autistic. but i will throw a thing out here, Ray has ADHD Not autism, specifically the mixed adhd which brings in the lack of attention along with hyperactivity. (i know the spectrum shows differently in each person but this is my headcanon and what i observed) So lets start, he is very impulsive, and take actions sometimes without even thinking, plus very active, childish, and he lacks a lot of attention like they'd be talking about a thing and stantz would trail off or even start something without even considering causes, like with the proton packs, ray was the first one to offer himself even if it is a nuclear weapon. He could go overboard like when he is asked to scream to the mood slime and goes over the top, and now that's not necessarily a adhd characteristic, but it's common, he is very adoptive and quickly witted.

Now, for the one no one ever talks about when mentioning about neurodiversity in ghostbusters and my favourite Venkman.

Oh, how do i start with this one, thats the most AuDhD person, in the movies the phrases like "Good or bad is a bit fuzzy in my mind" or "dont stare at me you have the bug eyes, im sorry" both the situation, of not exactly understanding the morals or social effects and of not liking to be stared at, (he barely looks at people faces while talking to them) The lack of feel and being rather apathetic, being calm to react to stuff, like on the second on thr mocie when they were being judged and he was telling louis exactly what to say and yet extreme impulsive action, like the way he behaved with peck, his extreme sincerity and plus even tho he is very communicative his ways of communication are very directed as in the need to alrewdy have a theme or create a move. he needs a topic to communicate with people, like i found it so stupid that he used the experiment to hit on the girl on the first scene then he used jokes to die out his anxiety and he is not very expressive and to actually talk to dana he used the excuse of the ghost hunting, and the way he began to freak out about the ectoplasma (now obviously im over exagerating) could be seen as sensory issues, much like ray he also gets side tracked and distracted a lot. It's hard to have two voices in ya head telling the most logical and other one telling the impulsive intrusive thought, and he shows the mixture of the two perfectly. and if you want to push even farther in, we can discuss dislexia. The fact he has to ask Ray to read certain words for him and tell him what it says is already very interesting. (Adding in Bill murray is not openly autistic, but there were mentions about it in old interviews and some stuff in different people mentioning the possibility. but for the section of factuality, let's say no)

It could've been an accident or not, but here we have it. this is my belief that none of this is canon. im not Dan nor Harold remis im just a person who really likes those characters and is also Autistic.

i love this picture of ernie hudson its so silly

#ghostbusters 1989 #ghostbusters ray #ray ghostbusters #ghostbusters egon #peter ghostbusters #ghostbusters peter #ghostbusters #autism #autism and adhd #ghostbusters 1984 #my autism screamed #headcanon #ghostbusters headcanon

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cringefaillosersummit · 7 months

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Round 2 - Group 2A

Submission notes under cut. Some submissions had notes others did not:

Yua Serufu and Abe Nana:

Nana claims to be an alien from Planet Usamin that crash landed on earth and decided to become a seiyuu idol. She also says she's eternally 17 years old. Through her rabbit ear antennae she can communicate with her home planet. She's also a magical girl that protects both earth and Planet Usamin. ...of course, this is all her fake backstory for her job as an idol, she's actually a grown ass woman who pays taxes. most people in the fandom believe her to be 27. but she gets. really. really into her fake idol lore. whenever people call her out on it being fake she freaks out and starts bullshitting to keep up the act. also she really loves anime, obviously.

[Yua] is clumsy, to the point of injuring herself walking to school more often than not. She still thinks it's a good idea to use power tools. If she wasn't an anime character, she would have a lot worse than bandages and a perfect school nurse attendance record. (She also suggests dream-logic ideas when she's awake. Her friends shoot those down.) She's nice, but also...

[Yua] cannot go for a second without injuring herself somehow by pure accident. She's injured so much that the nurse in her school's nurse's office has an attendance record for her and she has presumably not missed a day since she got to that school. Also the first occurances of this are her slamming straight into a streetlight while biking because she decided it would be food to close her eyes while riding a bike and a scene where she tries to use a mechanical screwdriver and messes up so badly that she ends up losing her balance, crashing into some spare wood and then immediately having said wood crush her. She was fine after this. This cringefailness goes back to her childhood, where she sucked so bad at not getting herself injured during crafts that crafts had to be replaced with drawing as an activity in her home. She promptly began eating the drawings she made and the crayons themselves (don't worry, they were safe to eat ones). Personally I think she's a dyspraxic icon but that's not canon and all that is canon is that she is a loser. Her cringefailness doesn't just extend to this, because she also just acts like the number one pathetic girl ever (affectionate) sometimes. When she joined the do it yourself her club leader and also that nurse who has to deal with her daily made one pun with her name (specifically related to the fact that "Yua Serufu" sounds a lot like "yourself", causing "do it yua serufu" to be born as a phrase) and she immediately began going around repeating it to everybody, namely her childhood friend. Speaking of her childhood friend, a lot of why she stuck with the diy club, beyond meeting one (1) butch lesbian who everybody believed chased people down with hammers routinely, was because she remembered that her childhood friend and her used to have a bench they always hung out on and she immediately went to her club leader and was like "ok I need to learn how to make a bench so that I can instantly reconnect with my neighbor", only to realize that her friend did not want that and sadly go up to her club leader to dismiss the whole idea. The bench is outside of their club room now. She's very good at art, but tends to daydream and think in abstract ideas, so she once volunteered to draw treehouse blueprints for her buddies and promptly made a full abstract art piece which was not realistic at all. She has three pets and one of them is a miniature pig who she decided to name Meat for some reason. She loves them all so very much but she keeps eating pork dishes around the pig which it does not enjoy in the slightest. One time she saw a 12 year old crying and her immediate response was to offer her a handkerchief and a hammer and let her choose whichever she wanted. Her childhood friend keeps trying to deny how much she actually cares about her and keeps telling Serufu that she's allergic to everything in her life or telling her about her very cool technologically advanced classes while Serufu got into a worse but traditional school because she spaced out during the exam (she's actually super intelligent she's just not the greatest at staying focused. me too honestly) and Serufu is just like ":))) yep. yeah that sounds really cool :))) wowee I loved this conversation" but super genuinely actually because she's just fine with everything when it comes to her childhood friend. I have many things I could say about her but mostly I think she's funny

Propaganda: [1]

Clementine Kesh:

She’s a failed girlboss. She wants to rule the planet so desperately and pilots an ancient historical mech and has no idea what it does. Her rival is infinitely cooler than her. She dies after a religious leader criticises her too much and she tries to scrap with him but she falls off the side of a stationary space ship. Pathetic wet cat energy all the time.

war criminal... and her mom is mean to her

Kesh is so pathetic they became the devils favorite clown and they think that means the devil likes them

#pathetic woman showdown #pws round 2 #tournament poll #the idolm@ster cinderella girls #nana abe #do it yourself!!#yua serufu #friends at the table #partizan #clementine kesh

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 2 months

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This one guy on Youtube said vulnerability sentimonsters have isn't much worse than humans being able to be killed so easily, what can you say to prove that's BS?

The way you phrased this makes it sound like this is more of a philosophy question than it is a question of wrong or right. I'd never claim that anyone who chooses to give up their free will instead of dying is somehow objectively wrong, it's just not a choice that I'd personally make. Or, at least, I don't think I would.

Is it better to die free than to be a slave? Does your answer change based on the kind of life you'll live as a slave? Does it change based on what you'll be forced to do?

There are several extreme hypothetical scenarios where I would argue that your YouTube friend is in the wrong about it being no worse than death. For example, the fact that Adrien could be forced to kill his wife and children with a smile on his face is horrifying. I think the vast majority of people would rather die than kill their loved ones, but if Adrien is never put in that situation and only has to deal with the potential of it happening, is that meaningfully worse than the pervasive fear of our own demise? Is it worse than the fear of driving a car with your kids in it, knowing that an accident could happen at any time?

This is why I don't say that the sentiplot is bad in and of itself. In the hands of a good writing team, it could be used to ask some really interesting questions.

I've said before that the senitplot is worthy of Madoka Magica and I really meant that. No spoilers, but for those who haven't seen that anime, Madoka Magica is dark fantasy/psychological thriller that basically takes the magical girl genre and treats middle schoolers saving the world as the serious, mess up concept it would be if done in reality. But, notably, it is still a magical girl show with strong themes of love and friendship. (I just realized that Madoka freaking Magica does Power of Love better than Miraculous...) It's not my favorite show, but it is a very good one that can lead to a lot of good discussion.

The senti plot belongs in a show like that. Multiple season of sentimonsters being your cannon fodder species only to have a twist that your main character is part of that species? That's the setup for a dark fantasy/psychological thriller if I ever saw one! You could have some really interesting discussion of the concept of cannon fodder species because it's certainly not a criticism-proof concept. But, no. Adrien, Felix, and Kagami are Special and Totally Different from other sentimonsters and how dare you imply anything negative about the heroes killing sentimonsters!?!?

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #senti salt

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mj-da-w33b · 2 years

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It’s been a while since I did head canons for mha so without further ado…

Kiribaku:

Kiri’s nickname for Baku is Kats or sukki-sukki, he also calls home darling and bubba/bubs

Baku’s nicknames for Kiri and Ei and honey and he’s absolutely life’s being called bubs and almost dies from a heart attack anytime kiri calls him that

They own a German Shepard when they move in together and they named him Chief

They adopt a little girl a little after they get married and they immediately fell in love when they say her at the orphanage

Baku helps dye kiris roots and sometimes even puts some red streaks in his own hair

He claims it was in accident but kiri knows that it’s not, he doesn’t call Baku out on it though and in fact he finds it really cute

Kiri gives baku shoulder massages almost every night because the gauntlets put a lot of strain on them

In favor of that, Baku rubs lotion on kiri because his skin gets really dry when his quirk is overused

They got together only two months after meeting each other, they knew from the start that they liked each other, they just needed the courage to do something about it

Shinkami:

I don’t care what anyone says, Shin DEFINITELY calls Denki kitten

And not even in the bedroom

He calls him kitten all of the time, and the UA girls FAWN over it

They are the type of couple that are literal opposites

Shin wears nothing but pants to bed and kami wears only a shirt to bed (one of Shinsou’s shirts)

Shin has always been able to sleep better with kami by him because he mostly need human contact

Kami went through so much pinning over Shinsou that when they finally got together (after months and months of fumbling around each other) the bakusquad cheered and were so happy they wouldn’t have to deal with the constant rants about how ‘cute Toshi was when he saw a stray cat’ or how ‘he drools when he sleeps and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, omg I thing I’m in love

Seroroki

Sero calls shoto love, and darling so much and I will die on that hill

They are both ace, or at least demi but they still love kisses and cuddles

Roki was very nervous about starting a relationship because he has thought he was aro for the longest time, but really he just hadn’t met the right person

This also freaked Sero out because he didn’t want to push shoto into anything they he wasn’t sure he was ready for

Sero has cussed out endeavor in Spanish so many times, and every time he does he always laughs so much

You’d think the number one hero would be bilingual, but not in this universe lol

Roki doesn’t know what Sero’ s saying, but he has the overall idea so he just lets him ramble out every curse word or phrase that he could think of

This ship is so new to me but I love it so much

Let me know if I should do anymore ships or give me some feedback :))

I’ll take any suggestions and comments so feel free to ask something or request something ;D

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p-taryn-dactyl · 2 years

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Salem!Agatha oh hm... I love her so much there's so many things to explore with her... Maybe... Maybe she does like. Dark magic for the first time and freaks out? And seeks reader out for some comfort? Because she didn't mean to? It just. Happened? (I just woke up so the disjointed sentences are on that)

a/n: hi!! thank you so much for this prompt! I love it :) I’ve always wondered how Agatha felt when she first cast a dark spell, hopefully you enjoy this!! (I hope i did okay)

word count: 1.2k

warning(s): insecurities/anxiety - mention of evanora - hurt/comfort- i made up a spell, used google translate for Latin plz don’t come for my soul (it’s also kinda dumb in English but everything sounds cool in Latin)- slightly went off prompt? I got really into this sry - also the title is just a phrase i thought fit the theme

Not What They Say

It was an accident. She swore it was. The book had called out to her, whispering promises and taunting lies in her ears. She couldn’t resist the urge, couldn’t resist her curiosity. Why were these books forbidden? Isn’t magic a gift to be shared, to be practiced?

Agatha flipped through the pages, eyes scanning every new spell. Excitement built up in her chest. With these, she could grow in power, show her mother she wasn’t a weak link in the coven. But because of the excitement coursing through her veins, she didn’t see the dark tendrils underneath the surface of the paper, like snakes ready to strike. One particular spell caught her eye, one that could temporarily change the weather over a designated spot. Agatha placed the book down on the floor, crossing her legs to cast the spell in a more relaxed manner. She didn’t understand why this spell was found in a book her mother deemed wrong. It could help in dry seasons, making the farmers abundantly full of crops. On days when the sun was too much it could help with fever and overworking. Ideas spiraled through her mind as she cast the spell, closing her eyes to concentrate.

“mutare tempestas, invocate pluvia.”

Before she even finished the last word, Agatha felt a pull within her. One she had never felt before while casting. She opened her eyes and with a gasp, she scrambled to stand up, kicking the book away. With wide, terrified eyes, Agatha watched as her once blue magic turn a light, sparking, purple. Her magic now twirled around her hands, like it had a mind of it’s own. She felt herself absorbing the power from her spell, the air around her, the ground. She didn’t even notice the spell had worked, rain showering down from the ceiling, completely dowsing her in water. All she could think about was leaving the room, fleeing the scene. For a moment, she thought about going to her mother. But that idea was quickly squashed as she conjured up an image of her mother’s disappointed expression and disgusted look. Dark magic was forbidden with a penalty of death. Evanora would look at her akin to how someone looks at a murderer. Agatha’s breath quickened, panic rising. No one could know about this, if they ever found out, she could be put to death. For a moment, Agatha felt alone. But then, she remembered you. The one person who loved her more than knowledge, more than magic. You would be there for her, when others weren’t.

Since she had taken to the dead of night to practice magic, Agatha slipped out quietly from the little abandoned cottage, running across Salem to where you resided, by the little river near the woods. Your father was on a ship back to England, where he preferred to buy you books and fabric straight from the source, not waiting for merchants that level the prices at expensive costs. With light, rapid raps, Agatha knocked on your door, trying her best not to let the sound carry throughout the air. She waited a few moments, anxiety building within her before the door slowly swung open, revealing your sleepy form. Your sleeping gown was rumpled, probably because Agatha had woken you up and you had rolled out of bed. She wanted to laugh at your bed head, but the panic inside her didn’t allow it. You blinked slowly, registering who was at your door.

“Aggie? What…” You trailed off into a yawn and Agatha couldn’t contain her next words, spoken in an intense whisper.

“It was an accident, I swear it was. I didn’t mean too.”

You seemed to wake up at your girlfriends urgent words, taking her by the wrist and pulling you into your small home. Agatha loved the smell of your house, fresh pastries and herbs wafting throughout the air. It was what she thought about when she thought of home. You shut your door quietly, locking it behind you. You motioned to your small seating area by the fireplace and Agatha sank into a chair softened with pillows and furs. You kneeled in front of her, taking her hands into yours, scrunching your eyebrows when she quickly pulled them away.

“What happened?” You whispered, concern floating in your voice. You watched as tears built up in Agatha’s eyes.

“Please don’t hate me.” She whispered out, her voice breaking. You let out a soft gasp, cupping her face in your hands.

“I could never hate you.” Your voice was firm but soft, apparently your words were what she needed to continue.

“I found a book in Mother’s library, full of spells I had never seen before. Y/N, for a moment, it was wonderful! Spells that could heal paralysis, spells that could make an assaulters hands stained red so everyone would know, and even a spell that could change the weather,” She paused, searching your eyes. You nodded, encouraging her to continue, your own curiosity kicking in, “I tried the last one, the weather one? Oh god, Y/N, it-it was dark magic, it pulled energy from the spell itself, from the ground, I-”

She paused when you held up a hand. Fear built inside her and she braced herself for the scolding. She anticipated you telling her off for using dark magic, for breaking one of the highest rules of the coven. What she didn’t anticipate was your soft question.

“Show me.”

Agatha hesitated before raising her hands, calling on her magic. Purple light filled the room, radiating power and strength. You stood up, watching the magic illuminate the walls of your house. Agatha watched in awe as her magic sparkled in your eyes, casting a glow upon you. She stood up as well, coming to stand next to you. You grasped her hand in yours, excitement bubbling in your eyes.

“Oh Agatha, it’s beautiful, it’s strong,” You looked at her with a teasing look in your eyes, “Power looks good on you.”

Agatha blushed lightly before taking in your words. She retracted her magic, the room once more returning to it’s grey hues. You deflated slightly but looked at Agatha with your full attention.

“It’s dark magic, Y/N. It’s forbidden, it’s dangerous. I’m dangerous and now my mother truly will hate me-”

You cut her off with a hug, pulling her close to your body.

“You could never be dangerous to me, Agatha. Dark magic isn’t forbidden because it’s dangerous but because the witches in charge fear those more powerful than them. You casted that spell on your first try, you’re amazing and their rules are going to bend to your power, do you understand me?”

Agatha felt new, relieved tears build up in her eyes as she tightened the hug. You had buried your face in her neck, your words vibrating through her. She let out a little sob, placing her forehead on your shoulder. You stayed like that for a while, basking in the comfort of one another. When you pulled away, you looked at Agatha in concern.

“But, Agatha, I need you to be safe, alright? Promise me. I couldn’t stand it if I lost you.” Your voice was hoarse and Agatha watched as your eyes threatened to close with each word. She let out a small chuckle, reminded of how she woke you up in the middle of the night. She kissed your forehead before guiding you to where you slept.

As she cuddled you, your head resting on her chest as you fell into deep sleep, Agatha whispered into the night.

“I promise.”

a/n: well i hope that was okay! i tried not to veer off of the prompt too much and i hope you enjoyed this! thank you for reading! (also, this fic made me look stupid on google. i bet my FBI agent is laughing their ass off at my searches ‘did they have couches in the 1600s’ and ‘how does weather work’)

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha harkness x gn!reader #agatha harkness fanfiction

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notjusthespongenextdoor · 2 months

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juniper ➳ what personality trait does someone need to have for you to feel safe with them? / tupelo ➳ do you have a favorite season? what makes this season better than others for you? / acacia ➳ when was the last time you did something for the first time?

juniper ➳ what personality trait does someone need to have for you to feel safe with them?

ok now im forgetting what personality traits are. duck duck go save me. ok nevermind that phrase has no meaning apparently. i mean i feel like the biggest green flag someone can have is being completely unphased by weirdness, like i think once a friendship is really firmly established there's plenty of room for being like "ok you little freak" once you realize what's okay to poke fun at skfdjhgdjsf but in general when getting to know someone for the first time and you do something weird either on purpose or accident (pausing for a long time before speaking/really fucking up your words and having to start over/mentioning a really weird hobby or something) and they just completely take it in turn and continue on??? very good. like i think laughing in those situations is not necessarily BAD, if done in a certain way it can relieve the tension, but if someone is just completely accepting of that it's like. oh okay. we're best friends now

tupelo ➳ do you have a favorite season? what makes this season better than others for you?

i love WINTER i love SNOW i love it being COLD and getting to wear COATS and being able to have my bedroom cold while i'm sleeping without feeling bad about wasting energy. being nice and warm and cozy inside while it's cold outside just hits different. also christmas and hanukkah around here with everyone putting up lights outside/inside. it's very nice. i love giving presents as well so they're good holidays for me

acacia ➳ when was the last time you did something for the first time?

um im thinking about making the base for the head of my loporrit costume...that's definitely what comes to mind first which was in december...though if we broaden it a little it's like. well i played satisfactory for the first time at the beginning of the month and tried stimulants for the first time at the beginning of last month so sdkjfhgkjdfg i feel like the loporrit head stands out more as like, an actual venture outside of my realm of knowledge into trying something new

#loyalhorror #asks

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arziaisfrench · 1 year

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▪︎ IPKKND Ep 91 : Dwelling on distractions intead of talking about their feelings

"-No brother-in-law, sister didn't do anything!" -I'm not brother-in-law" (not yet👀) I think he actually liked hearing them calling him brother-in-law lmao, them assuming Khushi and him were a couple haha so cuute ! 😙😊

"-Are you about to become one? -…" HAHAHAHAHAHA see how he didn't even try to deny this haha YEAP and PERIODT !! 😏😏😏

Arnav is touched by the care she offered to Anjali. If he could trust one person completely to take care of his sister (if something bad happened to him), it would definitely be Khushi. She'll not only care for her as he do, but she'll love her with the same tenderness as him.

"If youngers do a mistake and apologize for that then its the duty of elders to forgive them. Because youngers never do mistakes purposely."

Anjali is now certain of Khushi's influence on Arnav. Grandma & Anjali are so us, Arshi d'e hard shippers ! 😌🤭

Bringing Khushi stuff was always Arnav's awkward way to have an excuse to see and interact with her or to break the ice between them.

Khushi freaking out because she touched his finger accidently cause it made her heart flutter makes me actually believe that Arnav, when bringing her stuff (or challenging her with them) was always a way for him to create occasions to touch her and to taste the water loool.

After all, he's the master of his fate, isn't he what he always claim hehe ?! He knows exactly what he's doing, he simply wasn't expecting Khushi's weird reaction ! 😏😏

"Can't you hear me. I'm calling you." This phrase unwittingly symbolizes Arnav's hope that Khushi will open his heart to him. And Khushi catches the message magically implied (although Arnav here was not intentionally trying to make him understand lol) by these words.

#ipkknd #ipkkndep91 #arshi #arnav and khushi

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blackstonesandtrapnest · 1 year

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Sex and The City: Teen Titans Edition

Just a little something I decided to dabble in and try out :) I might do this with other fandoms if the interest is there or if I feel a spark of inspiration! Obviously everyone is aged up for this so no worries there!

Robin

Is such a workaholic that it’s honestly a shock he even has a sex life at all, much less an active one. Still waters run deep after all!

Robin lives by the phrase “work hard, play hard”. For him, sex is a way for him to relieve tension and anger. He also uses it to express his love for his S/O since his love language is physical touch. But this can backfire since Robin prefers to use sex as a distraction to avoid talking about his feelings and to avoid arguments. Yup he’s that kind of toxic.

Has a pretty high sex drive but is selective about his partners. Robin’s not above one-night stands or flings but he doesn’t wanna just fuck anyone that crosses his path either. If he doesn’t have a partner, he’ll just masturbate instead, which he does regularly whether he’s single or not.

One would expect Robin to be quite dominant in bed (which he is) but he secretly wishes to be dominated himself for once. To him, nothing is sexier than someone just taking control and fucking his brains out. His favorite position is cowgirl and any variation of it. Having his partner on top of him talking dirty will make him come with much haste!

Doesn’t mind being teased and doing some PDA but save the sexy stuff for the bedroom. Robin likes to have privacy when fucking. His room is soundproof so his partner can be as loud as they want!

Starfire

As expected, Starfire is very passionate and emotional with far less sexual restrictions than most people are comfortable with. Tamaranian culture is very different when it comes to sex and nudity overall so it can be quite jarring to people from other planets.

Lost her virginity long before she came to Earth and had a few partners under her belt as well. Most people assume that Starfire is super innocent but she’s far from it! She’s very experienced and prefers to sleep with people she has a relationship with whether romantic or platonic as opposed to one-night stands or flings. Starfire has had her fair share of casual sex and she finds it unfulfilling. Her first sexual experience on Earth was with Robin as expected.

Starfire is definitely a romantic person and pretty easy to seduce as long as her partner is authentic and doesn’t have ulterior motives. Just be upfront and honest and she’ll be putty in your hands! Her sex drive is average but she’s a people-pleaser so she tries to match her partner’s libido the best she can.

Starfire LOVES oral and anything to do with it! As long as it involves your mouth or hers, she’s all for it! She prefers more sensual and erotic sex as opposed to just rough fucking and loves to be praised and worshipped! Starfire is a sub at heart and she’ll definitely return the favor, treating her partner like the king/queen they are!

Starfire has had many accidents and mishaps during sex because of her powers which are embarassing and hilarious to say the least. Think “Sex Sent Me To The E.R.” kind of accidents. Needless to say, Starfire will not use her powers during sex and it’s one of the few things she refuses to budge on.

Raven

Has the most experience out of all the Titans and has the highest sex drive hands down. One-night stands, casual sex, FWBs, relationships, Raven has done it all and possibly even more! There isn’t much she hasn’t done honestly and yes she has slept with some of her fellow Titans at least once.

Raven enjoys sex and is very comfortable in her sexuality and body but is understanding towards others who are more conservative and/or repulsed since she has that outward appearance herself and doesn’t talk about sex unless the subject comes up. “Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets” is Raven’s motto.

Raven describes herself as an Ethical Slut and fits that trope perfectly to a T. She’s great to go to for sexual advice as well as relationship advice. She doesn’t shame people for having preferences or kinks nor does she shame people for having relationships that one might consider unconventional. But she will shame people for immoral and unethical views and actions and won’t sugarcoat her feelings either so be careful when confiding in Raven cause she’s no enabler!

Has a secret area in her room that’s a mix between a sex store and a sex dungeon which is where she keeps all of her sexual items. Toys, BDSM gear, various kinds of lube, the Karma Sutra (she’s done every position in it), porn, you name it, Raven’s got it. She always practices safe sex and will only have unprotected sex if she’s in a monogamous relationship and her partner has been tested first. Consent is also very important to Raven and she won’t do anything without her partner’s approval. Safe words are also required with her!

Raven’s favorite position is The Eagle and she likes rough sex with deep penetration. Talking dirty is a specialty of hers and she loves it whether it’s praising or degrading! She also loves spanking and choking. Raven is a switch and loves to roleplay so feel free to use your imagination! The sky’s the limit!

Beast Boy

Sex? What’s that? Beast Boy would rather play video games instead. In spite of all the dirty jokes he makes and the occasional flirting he does, he’s not a very sexual person. Beast Boy is quite picky about his sexual partners and doesn’t have sex with just anyone. His libido is average and he can go a long time without sex if there’s no one special in his life as meaningless sex bores him to tears.

Beast Boy was indeed a virgin when he first joined the Titans and wasn’t in a hurry to lose it either. He did eventually lose it (to Raven no doubt) and he found sex more enjoyable than expected. The only other sex partner he has had is Terra and his sexual experience ends there. If he doesn’t have a partner, Beast Boy will just settle for porn and masturbation instead. Yes he does have a porn stash and some of his supply has come from Raven.

As one would expect, Beast Boy does indeed have a period of when he goes into heat and during this time, his libido skyrockets to the point where it could be higher than Raven’s! Beast Boy is unbearable to be around when he’s in heat because if he doesn’t have a partner, he becomes snappy, irritable, and mostly holes himself up in his room until it’s over. If Beast Boy does have a partner, they better be ready for the most animalistic, wild sex they’ve ever had! Unlike Robin, Beast Boy’s room isn’t soundproof so there will be a lot of noise coming from it to the point where it might be concerning. Let’s just say safe words are definitely a must with Beast Boy and his partner won’t be able to move let alone walk for quite some time once he’s no longer in heat!

Beast Boy’s aftercare is out of this world thanks to Raven teaching him! He’ll clean his partner up with a luxurious bubble bath, massage their sore limbs/muscles, and definitely feed them (he’s a pretty good cook!) all the while praising them and telling them how good they were. His partner will definitely feel pampered and be able to relax in luxury!

Beast Boy’s favorite position is doggystyle and he prefers a slow build-up to rough sex with heavy anticipation. Teasing and making jokes is his trademark and it applies in the bedroom too! He always comes up with ways to make sex fun and memorable! Laughter will definitely be had when in bed with Beast Boy!

Terra

Since Terra was a drifter prior to joining the Titans, her sexual experiences vary from borderline traumatizing to something that would make an erotica author blush. Although she’s not as experienced as Raven, she does have her own share of stories and doesn’t really mind sharing them as long as she’s comfortable with someone. Terra used to have a cynical view of sex but having more positive experiences has warmed her up to it and she’s become more sex-positive as a result.

Terra’s sex life has slowed down after joining the Titans and she has had sex with Beast Boy on many occasions as one would expect. She doesn’t mind having casual sex or relationships and they’re practically the norm with her. Terra also masturbates regularly and has her own collection of sex toys that she uses on herself and any partners that are interested. She doesn’t care much for porn and prefers to watch and read erotica instead, being a big fan of authors like Zane. Her erotica collection is pretty huge too.

Terra’s libido is pretty average and she can go a pretty long time without sex whether single or not. She has trouble initiating sex because of previous bad experiences so patience is needed in that area. If you initiate sex with her, it will be rare for Terra to turn you down and if she does, she has a good reason. Ethics are also important to Terra when it comes to sex especially because of said bad experiences and even bad things she’s done in the past.

Terra’s favorite position is The Lotus and she likes to be facing her partner regardless. She likes passionate sex and deep penetration as long as you don’t hit her cervix. Talk dirty to her and praise her please! Terra doesn’t like degradation so don’t even try it! Safe words are also a must with her. Terra has had issues with boundaries in the past and speaking her mind when it comes to her likes and dislikes so being sensitive to her needs and wants is a major plus.

Aftercare is something that Terra has rarely had so she doesn’t really have any expectations for that. All she does after sex is pee and shower. Pillow talk is also something Terra has rarely had but really wants. She’ll slowly try to initiate it and if you respond in kind, she’ll talk your ear off for hours! It’s so adorable honestly! Please give Terra some much needed attention and TLC!

#teen titans #bringing sexy back #sex and the city #I hope you like these

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thewestern · 3 months

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Chapter 25

Mayor Mockingbird was ensconced in the private dining room of the vegan steakhouse of which he was a part owner. That morning there had been an incident at City Hall wherein one of his schizophrenic constituents — an ever-increasing slice of his core demographic — had charged the door to his office brandishing a hatchet. His sheriff's department detail didn’t hesitate to Put the [Assailant(— redacted/sic, profanity)] down, as he so phrased it in the official report. After preliminarily engaging the unsub with six warning shots to the torso area, I preceded to fire a follow-up, security round to the facial and head region, to heretofore confirm the neutralization of the imminent threat magnitude in perpetuity.

(Here the deputy had partaken in a controversial practice called Canoeing, which he’d heard about by way of his cousin, Jaxson, who served a half a tour overseas. Popular among American servicemembers, canoeing entails shooting a high-caliber bullet at point-blank range directly into the face of an assailant who has been previously mortally wounded, if not killed outright. This, as a primitive means of marking them — like a calling card. Thoroughly macabre. The deputy bragged how his cousin was special forces, but in actuality, he had only achieved the rank of enlisted private before his dishonorable discharge for unrelated offenses. [He was caught with his pants down — around his ankles — as he masturbated onto the bunk of his commanding officer, in retaliation for putting him on Shit Detail {Cleaning out the latrine}.] The commanding officer wasn’t present in his bunk, {Jaxson} reiterated in the incident report. I’m no faggot. Not that those JSOC jagoffs are any fucking better. Tell you what they’re a bunch of psychos. Serious, dude. Ever wonder how come there aint been no serial killers recently? What … you mean after Gacy and Bundy and Dahmer they all decided to pack it in? Like they was on strike? The Local 666. Hell no. Don’t believe that shit for a second. It’s cause serial killers are for peacetime is the real reason. Look it up. War is when those crazy sons a bitches get paid. For plying their trade: wasting fools. Poppa said if you do what you love you’ll never work a day in your life. Mother fucking freaks get recruited like they’re five-star prospects. Right of high school — presumably you can make it through without shooting the place to high hell — it’s straight to Camp Jeffrey or Fort Ted, Jack. Boy, they’ll make a useful fucking American out of you yet.

[Speaking of spree killers, rumours had recently circulated on a popular online message board — one typically used for soliciting restaurant recommendations and complaining about the weather — that one was active in the city, and that the local police was covering it up. It was true that there had been several young men who had washed up dead in relatively short succession on the river banks just downstream from the old train yard, not far from #x_brüing. No, it wasn’t Jaime. Actually, homicide detectives had quite thoroughly investigated the deaths and determined conclusively there was no foul play. The sad truth was those boys had more than likely fallen in the river and drowned by accident. Probably they were drunk. It’s a reality of bodies of water in urban areas. Happens more than you think.])

This was the first time the Deputy had the honour of discharging his service weapon in the line of duty. (In service of killing a man, that is. Routinely he took on-the-clock target practice at the empty energy drink cans that piled high atop the passenger seat of his cruiser. All ammunition was carefully inventoried at the station weapons depot, so these were rounds he purchased himself at a local sporting goods store which offered a discount to first responders, active duty military and veterans.) As per department protocol, the deputy would thusly be required to attend No Less Than Three mandatory sessions with a county sub-contracted psychiatrist, so as to evaluate the effect of this violent event on his mental state. You didn’t need to be Sigmund fucking Freud however to tell by the shit-eating grin plastered on this son of a bitch’s face that he was, in a word, giddy. No doubt this would get him off this shit detail and back into a cush post at county lockup, where he’d get his time and a half. (Not to mention whatever he made on the side … trafficking toilet wine, prepaid cell phones and the like among the inmates, that is.) For the time being, however, he had to keep biding his time babysitting Mayor Muffdiver here, who had insisted that he order anything off the menu, what as a token of his gratitude for saving his hide. That’s right, you fucking pussy. Unfortunately, he didn’t recognize any of the items on the menu. I thought the sign out front said Steakhouse. (You couldn’t really fault him for not comprehending the Sanskrit-font fine print above that said Vegan.) But this ain’t look nothing like the Sizzler. Even the sides are dogshit. What the fuck is a Quinoa Risotto, he wondered to himself, pronouncing it Quinn-oh-Ah in his head. Whatever, it’s free. So then preternaturally he defaulted to ordering the most expensive thing on the menu — the sixty-nine-dollar tomahawk shiitake. I’ll be damned if it wasn’t drier than that old lady’s taint. Beet juice was no substitute for blood. He should know too. What having just this afternoon bukakee’d a brain stem’s worth of it all over the Mayor’s fucking drywall. Hoo-hah.

A self-described lapsed pescatarian, Mayor Larry also wasn’t feeling particularly appetized, even at this restaurant he owned in part. In truth, like the deputy, he preferred red meat. Secretly, he craved it … insatiably, in fact, at all hours of the day and night. Alas, his intestines were tied. For one thing, he had made Nutritional Education a cornerstone of his platform, campaigning on the promise that proper diet and exercise were the two most powerful weapons with which to combat poverty. (Government assistance finishing a non-competitive fourth, just missing out on the podium.) Third and more importantly, the Natural Foods Mafia — a powerful local lobby of health and wellness-oriented grocers, restaurateurs and CPG purveyors of granola-based snack bars, flavored energy pastes and fermented beverages of a non-alcoholic persuasion (hell yeah we’re talking about kombucha, bitch) — had been instrumental to his political rise. Larry had joined their ranks as an unmade consigliere of sorts after departing the New Frontier, during his first foray into angel investing. He was participating in a seed round-funding of a FoodTech startup that which aimed to create a speculative marketplace for trading — of all fucking things — seeds. Would you believe they called it, the Stalk Exchange? (That was back before the first dot-com boom went bust when at least the fugazi tech companies had real names at least. Meaning ones that say what they mean. Pets dot com. Diapers dot Com. Product We Sell or Service We Provide dot Com. Now all the startups had stupid fucking names that had hardly anything to do with their business. And as if that weren’t confusing enough, some unofficial style guide called for most vowels and all letter casing to be omitted entirely. Billy was hip to this game. For a fact, when #x_brü inevitably got so big it would have to restructure into a conglomerate of shell corporations so as to skirt antitrust regulation, Billy planned to rebrand that new holding company DRFT. Like a startup shorthand for Draft, as in beer.) While that investment didn’t bear fruit, it did help him to cultivate some deeply rooted connections in the budding organics lobby. (Punch me in the fucking face.) Fortuitously, it was their coveted endorsement that helped to earn him a narrow victory in his first hotly-contested primary election. What Mayor Larry didn’t count on was that once you owed a debt to the Natural Foods Mafia, they owned you for life. Like some other fraternal organizations you may be familiar with, they were very much a blood-in, blood-out, sort of situation. La Couscous Nostra. So here he was, trapped in a restaurant for which he was coerced into buying a minority ownership, waiting on another of his unpaid lackeys to smuggle in a mostly beef hamburger through the back door service entrance.

Suffice it to say, Mayor Larry would have much preferred to be back home at City Manor, unwinding with some fundraising calls, were it not for the nagging omnipresence of his wife, Matilda. She was already angry about having to chauffeur their son, Carter, to Tuscon tomorrow for a soccer tournament. Youth sports culture had gotten out of control, as he was fond of commiserating with his fellow parents at cocktail parties. For Pete’s sake, this was the U-Eleven division — we’re talking ten-year-olds here — traveling all over the country to play against other children. Interstate airfare, hotel reservations, chartered buses, catered orange slices. Like they were the Pittsburgh freaking Steelers, for crying out loud. These boys haven’t even hit puberty! And Larry’s son, in particular, hated soccer anyway. Probably on account of he was born with a mild case of clubfoot. Hey, don’t look at me. I was second-team all-state in fencing. Any lack of athleticism, he got that from his mother, who herself meanwhile through some acrobatic feat of albeit well-earned marital resentment, had resolved to blame his father for being attacked by a lone axman. Don’t ask him how.

But then, even if it was sincere regret for its failure, at least Matty felt something about the botched assassination attempt. Hildegard, for her part, hadn’t so much as called. By now she must have heard. It was all over the news. Before his would-be Wilkes Booth had even hit the ground, the Mayor had quite savvily called a press conference, cashing in the political capital of his near-death to pump some desperately needed life into his currently flatlining gubernatorial campaign. Woe for the maneuver backfired, when his opponent used the violent attack to rhetorically counterattack Mayor Larry’s stance on gun control, tepid though it was. Common Sense Reforms and Best Practices for Responsible Weapon Ownership, was how it was clumsily copywritten on the website. (Visit More 4 Mockingbird dot com slash donate today! … the web domain for 4 More 4 Mockingbird dot com was already being squatted on for his reelection, all the more improbable though it may now have seemed.) Now here we got ourselves a situation where a bad guy Did Not have a gun. It was a battle axe, or some sharp, throwing implement of sorts. Because, isn’t it the god’s-honest truth that most radical terrorist acts aren’t carried out with firearms in the first place? Statistics bear that out. I believe it to be the case it’s because they’re too yeller to look a man in the eye and pull the trigger. Instead, the Islam-ists here, they’ll use whatever they can get their hands on — anything from a kitchen knife to explosive de-vices, ignited in their damn’d underpants. You name it. Whatever causes a maximum output of pain with the bare minimum input of guts, them cowards’ll use it. Hell, they’ll stampede a crowded market in a truck if it so suits ‘em. So you tell me this … howsit that Mayor Mockingbird knocking on your front door, and taking away your guns, to which you are constitutionally entitled by the Almighty God, Himself, howsit that that’s going to stop something awful like this from happening to you? Or to your children, heaven forbid? I don’t need to remind any of you fine folks, the only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun — or a boxcutter, or a bomb, or an ali-baba sword or a foreign-made truck careening through a crowded pedestrian area — is an even badder guy with a gun. And guess what, Kimosabe, you gone done found him. [Here the chosen candidate of the opposition party sidestepped the lectern and slowly pulled back his barn coat to reveal an as-previously concealed carry hand cannon holstered on his right love handle. It was an Austrian-made, polymer-framed piece with a matte American flag finish; but only the red, white and blue were swapped out with black and two very menacing shades of gunmetal gray, and the stars were interspersed throughout with skulls. Returning to the bouquet of microphones from the assembled press, he resumed his diatribe.] If you d’ruther take your chances with a rape whistle or a pocket knife or a damn wrist rocket, for all I care, well then that’s your prerogative, Mr. Mayor. I don’t tell you your business. You don’t tell me mine!

If indeed the pen were mightier than the sword, never mind the semi-automatic pistol, then Larry had better get to work on crafting an in-kind response to these scurrilous and inflammatory attacks on his character. Unfortunately, he was previously occupied with a separate bit of oratory entirely. The Office of the Mayor was issuing an Official Civic Apology on behalf of The City for the historic blight that was the Main Street Melee, a massacre carried out on the order of the then-Mayor Curtis Hixon. It was a nasty business, wherein Hixon — or Hick, as he was Affectionately Known, who mind you had been duly elected by no public vote, and was rather named Mayor by power of self-appointed title and homemade-sash only — deputized a posse to retaliate swiftly and unconditionally against a war party of renegade Indians. This, for their Unprovoked raid on an arriving wagon train of white settlers, wherein two poor German immigrant families were murdered quite brutally. However, being that the band of hostiles in question was by that time already long gone on down the warpath, the militia of mostly drunk miners — hastily, they had been commissioned for duty inside a saloon … another thing they had in common, in addition to their public service, was that outside of their political lives, Mayor Larry and his predecessor Hick were both part-time publicans, as well as avid real estate speculators — settled for settling their score on the account of some innocent bystanding Indians, who ironically were in town to negotiate a treaty of peace on behalf of a separate tribe entirely than the one the renegade braves formerly represented. (Hence, they were Renegade.) After a brief if-you-could-call-it-a standoff, eight elders and twenty squaws, unarmed to a one, were gunned down right there in the thoroughfare. A more perfect butchery, there never was. Thus epitaphed one of the massacre’s co-authors, apparently he who fancied himself a fucking poet.

These events unfolded — more than a century ‘ore — on the present-day site of a salad store, part of a burgeoning fast-casual chain of restaurants founded by a trio of business school classmates. Three Masters of Business Administration. (Per their business plan, this was the End of the Line for the Salad Bar, which conjured up distasteful images of sneeze guards, wilted lettuces and those dressing dispensers in the dining hall, the ones that would get all gross and congealed on the slide-open lids with weeks-old ranch and thousand-island. Rather, this would be a premium dining experience for on-the-go professionals. A loyalty program would incentivize online ordering through a proprietary mobile app, creating a more frictionless meal-fulfillment process. Recipes would be calibrated with seasonal ingredients from local farmers, and curated in collaboration with celebrity chefs, superstar athletes and more … ) Mayor Mockingbird had been a ground-floor investor. The following morning — right before the lunch rush — he was scheduled to make these, his belated condolences and present a commemorative plaque to be displayed semi-permanently outside the storefront. He would be joined by the acting chairman of the tribal council, a senior-ranking representative from the state Office of Indian Affairs, and the salad company’s Chief Diversity Officer. ( … For a limited time only, try our newest salad bowl collab, Beet Don’t Kale My Vibe, inspired by our partnership with Grammy-winning recording artist, Kendrick Lamar.)

Ten times out of ten, he would have delegated this thankless Speechwriting assignment to the liberal arts doofuses on his communications staff, who would have no doubt poured over every word of these brief introductory remarks like they were the goddamned Gettysburg Address. Mother fucking sermon on the mount, ass. However, not only was his office closed for obvious reasons. (These same staffers had spent their afternoon fielding quotes from among the concerningly competitive market for crime scene cleaning crews, — although, by far, their most common customer use case was Suicide by gun — awarding the winning bid to a locally-owned family outfit called Trauma Cleanse, LLC, a name that resonated with them in particular. At this very moment, their certified technicians were power washing the scattered brain matter off the drywall. Back on Main Street, a bounty of scalps had been paraded through town and triumphantly nailed to the wall of Mayor Hixon’s saloon, cleverly called City Hall, right above the bar.) But also, per security protocol for any such violent incident, his entire staff had been furloughed indefinitely effective immediately, while their email and phone servers could be shut down and fully crawled for any forensic evidence. Most likely they were looking for instances of proper protocol not having been followed for flagging threats. Or perhaps on the off chance that someone within the Mayor’s inner circle had colluded to do him harm. Larry wasn’t sure that precaution was altogether necessary in this case. I think we can confidently rule out that the hatchet-wielding lunatic with feces smeared across his face like warpaint — as for the excrement, investigators deduced that it was presumably human, likely the suspect’s own particulat … although whose poop was really anybody’s guess — spewing an incoherent diatribe of mostly racial slurs as he kamikazeyed my office door, was doing so on behalf of a vast political fucking conspiracy. That he was in cahoots with anyone apart from the chorus of voices in his head, is highly unlikely, you nincompoops.

As for the speech, all he’d managed to type thus far were two words … I’m and Sorry. And indeed he was. Sorry for having agreed to participate in this public farce in the first place. (It had been his idea, as he’d already forgotten.) Sorry that he ever left the private sector. Sorry that his loveless marriage would have to last him another two election cycles, as a worst-case scenario for his sputtering political aspirations. Sorry that the woman he did love treated him like her bureaucratic errand boy and non-reciprocal sex toy. (The Pulsator MK-48 — nuclear torpedo or prostate massager?) Sorry that his only son couldn’t walk a straight line. Sorry that he part-owned the city’s first and soon-to-be-last vegan steakhouse. It’s a contradiction in terms, you fools! Yes, Lawrence Mockingbird was feeling very sorry indeed. So sorry that he longed for the only person on this planet who had ever understood his struggle — of course, his mother. The doting Mrs. Helen Mockingbird. At times like these, as there had been many, only she could have consoled him. Isn’t it so unfair? Oh, how she would have moved heaven and earth to spare him from enduring even the mildest frustration. Especially as a schoolboy, when he’d complain incessantly about his homework. It’s unfair, mother. The teacher hadn’t covered this subject adequately. You’re right, dear, she’d say. It is unfair. And then she’d do it for him. No matter the subject. This woman learned Spanish in her spare time, all to help her only son. Su hijito solo. This pattern of co-dependency continued all throughout high school, and into college. Even as a graduate student, he’d call home to her for help with a vexing problem set. Alas, she couldn’t help with this tedious assignment. A five-paragraph political essay prompt. Why should I apologize? I never massacred anybody. I know, Sweetie. It is unfair. No, she was no help to him now. Now that she was put away in an Assisted Living Community. Larry paid her room and board on the first of every month, although he hadn’t had the occasion to visit. Not in the past year. But not because he didn’t want to. He’s not a monster. Simply, he couldn’t bear it. How she couldn’t recognize him.

And so the cursor on the otherwise blank, as yet Untitled document was taunting him.

Come on, Lawrence, think. Okay, how about we don’t open with, Sorry. Yes. Because it sets a bad precedent. Instead, let’s lead with gratitude.

I would like to thank these esteemed representatives of the Tribal Council for joining us today, as well as the fine folks at springleaf for their hospitality. Also, they have marked this momentous occasion — as well as they will be catering a brief reception immediately following the ceremony — with a special edition commemorative salad dish. The Native Lands Southwestern Chipotle Caesar Bowl, most all of the ingredients for which have been sourced in collaboration with peoples of indigenous descent. Additionally, a portion of the proceeds will go to benefit a STEM scholarship fund for reservation students. The Native Lands Southwestern Chipotle Caesar Bowl is available for a limited time only, while supplies last.

Much better. Ease ‘em in. And, now that you got their stomachs churning, hit them on the heartstrings. Time to right an historic wrong—

—But maybe don’t take outright responsibility — like, as in, individually. Lest we forget, Lawrence … first rule of political discourse: never give a convenient soundbite. A personal apology would be all too perfect attack ad fodder. Besides, contrition makes you sound weak.

[Deletes I am, types all with his index fingers (hunt and peck style), We are. Adds, On behalf of all the citizens of this city, I would like to say that.]

And that is how it’s done, son. Dodged another hatchet job. Self-satisfied, Mayor Larry leaned back in his faux leather throne and cracked his knuckles. Now all that’s left is to pad this thing out with a little exposition, borrowing liberally from these bullet points here printed out in outrageously large font by his interns, who had in-turn wholesale copy-pasted the information from an internet encyclopedia entry of some dubious provenance.

Where we now gather before a progressive beacon of entrepreneurial spirit and nutritional inclusivity, here on this hallowed ground, some seven score and four years ago, independent contractors acting on behalf of this municipal government committed our city’s original sin. One for which, too long, has gone unatoned …

Just as he was hitting his rhetorical stride, punching the keys with rhythm and verve like a young Donald Fagen, his creative process was so inconsiderately interrupted …

Jiminy Christopher, Jaime … Would it kill you to knock?

Jaime looked behind himself through the beaded curtain door, perplexed. He came bearing a brown paper bag, keeping his hand outstretched to prevent the visibly pooling grease from seeping onto his #x_brü-branded Workshirt, a selvage chambray with hand-stitch embroidery and pearl snap buttons. (At #x_brü, Merch was a strategic business priority on level par with beer. [Core Value No. Eight: Think outside the Beer.] Jaime painstakingly designed and sourced all pieces in-house himself.)

Well, let’s have it then. Come on. Burgers and fries don’t travel well.

Larry further scrunched his already scrunchy face and tapped his cheap rubber sports watch. Jaime was immediately thrown off guard, having never had the Mayor — whom he considered to be his mentor in personal brand building — behave in such a belligerent way toward him before. It was true that the Mayor typically saved his short temper for the members of his staff and immediate family, who naturally were bound to-a-man, woman and child by airtight non-disclosure agreements. Perhaps being the target of a homicidal maniac had revealed a blemish in his carefully manicured facade of the unflappable, Clintonian/Bushian statesman.

Placing the bag and the plastic soda cup — so extra large as to defy any cup holder that should hope to contain it — a safe distance from the Mayor’s laptop, Jaime eagerly started in on his pre-rehearsed ass-kissing.

Lawrence, I would just like to say how truly sorry I am that you had to endure this trauma. This is a dark day for our city. May I add how I am eternally grateful, foremostly for your safety, but also that the perpetrator of this heinous act of domestic terrorism has been exterminated from—

—Save it, Jaime. I’m fine. And take it easy with the terrorism stuff. This wasn’t a radical idealist. Probably just some junkie. Poor bastard was pumped full of bullets before he even laid eyes on me.

My god. I hadn’t considered that. And this after all you’ve done to rid our streets of the scourge of drugs.

By now Mayor Larry had all-but devoured half his burger. A dollop of special sauce splashed onto the spacebar. Suckling audibly from the bendy straw, with a mouthful of half-chewed, diet cola-soaked meat, he asked the existential question:

Jaime, why are you here?

Because you asked me to deliver your supper?

Which is cold, by the way. Stale fries and a soggy bun. Have I died and this is hell after all? What did I say about fast food never traveling well.

But wasn’t that what you wanted? You insisted—

—I insist you tell me why you’re kissing my butt. Rather, what for. I mean, why … obviously, because I’m the Mayor of a mid-major American city. But, usually you’re much more nuanced in your flattery. Of all people, I should know. Day and night, they come to kiss my butt. Heck, how do you think I got here in the first place? Because I happen to be a world-class butt-kisser myself. Without peer, if I do say so. Although I do see some of myself in you.

Thank you. Jaime said this with the utmost sincerity.

But this … this is something different. Desperation. For the both of our sakes, it’s unbecoming. So, then, spare us, will you? Out with it.

Um. Well, while I’d be loath to trouble you at this time, there is an urgent business matter on which I would seek your wise counsel.

Oh, baloney. You don’t want my advice. You want to couch whatever request your about to make in the form of a question. It’s the oldest trick in the book. I should know. I wrote it. But, fine. At least, now we’re getting somewhere. Please, then, arrive at your ask. Although if it’s another investment you're after I’m afraid the books are closed, indefinitely. The political action committee is a little cash-poor, at the moment. They’re even advising me that I should start self-funding my campaign, in part, if you can believe that. For the optics. And to take some of the heat off. I’ve got the Secretary of State so far up my you-know-what, my proctologist could just as well file a public records request.

Oh, no. We’re not raising a round at the moment. And you’ve already been so generous in that regard. Besides, I think our capitalization requirements have matured beyond the friends and family phase.

Is that so? Well la-di-da. Here’s a bit of unsolicited advice, Jaime: Don’t get in the habit of turning down checks, Jaime. Especially when they aren’t on the table.

You’re right. I’m terribly sorry. I intended no offense. It’s just, as you know, we’ve been positioning ourselves for an acquisition for some time now, and I believe we’re currently optimized as such for just such an exit.

Is that so? Well wouldn’t that be nice. I’m currently optimized for a blow job from Christie Brinkley.

Who is that?

Seriously? Supermodel. Swimsuit issue. She married and subsequently divorced Billy Joel.

Who’s Bil—

—Ah. Don’t you dare … ask me that. [Uncomfortable silence.] You know, it’s my understanding that the markets aren’t exactly foaming for boutique beer makers. So then, by whom, may I ask, are you hoping to be acquired?

By the Wolffenbeir Company, of course.

Thus followed another, even more viscous silence. The mere suggestion of Hildegard — so soon after his crude allusion to oral sex … the receiving of — sent a painful tingle down Mayor Larry’s dungarees. It took him a moment to compose himself.

I’m sorry to say, Jaime, but that’s simply preposterous. What in the world makes you think the Wolffenbeir Company would want to buy a craft brewery?

I know. It was a moonshot, but I think we’re in striking distance of a deal. This is strictly confidential, but I’ve been cultivating a relationship with WIlhem Wolff III, and—

—Wait. I beg yoru pardon, but did you say Wilhelm? Do you mean Billy? As in Billy Wolff, Trip, Born on Third, the last and decidedly least … Jesus, Jaime. How can I put this diplomatically? Take it from a fellow butt-kisser. Billy is a horse’s ass. The poor son of a gun won the egg lottery, and since then he’s spent his entire useless life pissing all over the winning ticket. And now you’re telling me that this is the mule to whom you’ve hitched your wagon?

Sir. Respectfully, I know Billy can be a bit of an eccentric, but I’d hardly call him a lightweight. In fact, he’s the head of the Beverage Advancement Division.

Oh, my, the Beverage Advancement Division. Have you ever heard of anything ever so serious sounding? It must be real. Somebody call the Wall Street Journal. Come on, Jaime. And it’s Was, by the way.

It’s Was what?

Was the Head of something or other, is my understanding. His mother has been in the nasty habit of inventing jobs for him, if only to keep him a safe distance away from the actual business. Only now that he may have stumbled jackass backward into something of actual value, she’s resorted to shuffling him away on some or other makework, wild goose chase. You see, Jaime, our mutual friend Billy is something of a Don Quijote figure. Only he’s trying to fuck the windmill. Come to think of it, I suppose then that would make you his Sancho Panza. Tell me, how’s that going so far?

I’m sorry, I don’t understand the reference. Also, while I certainly empathize with your skepticism, I can assure you of this opportunity’s utmost legitimacy. Until very recently, I had been given assurances that the deal would be presented to the board, imminently. And that, furthermore, approval was all but a formality.

Oh, really? And then what happened?

Well. Just some complications. It’s only temporary. This is coming from Billy himself.

Is that so? Complications, huh. How apropos. Billy is himself a complication. His entire existence on this planet, I mean. A perpetual stillbirth. His mother would tell you so herself, if only she were here. If it were Hildy running for governor, it’d be on a platform of legalising abortions in the one-hundredth trimester. In that regard — socially, I mean — she’s quite liberal. Fiscally, of course, she’s Attila the Hun.

Jaime was yet again confused. Something was — amiss. The Mayor he knew was a champion of a woman’s right to choose. Larry wasn’t his usual self.

Sir, are you feeling alright? You’re not your usual self.

Oh, like you know the usual me. Maybe it’s I’m feeling more sympathetic toward the Right To Lifers, having survived such a brazen attempt on my own. Hey. Now this, perhaps that’s not such a bad idea. What’s another flip flop or two anyway? I’m already running out of real estate in the center. So maybe this time I tack a bit to the Right. My political career is a fetal heartbeat away from flatlining completely.

Jaime hadn’t the slightest idea what the Mayor was talking about. Once more he tried to get through to him.

Mister Mayor. Lawrence. Again, you’ve been so generous, to myself and all the #x_brüers, of which I hope you count yourself among. For that we are eternally grateful. Speaking of Hildegaard, at the risk of asking too much, would you be willing to act as our intermediary to her? I know you two are close. If I could make the connection directly, I’m quite sure I could plead our case as a viable target for corporate takeover. Our brand equity is at an all time high. We project to reach profitability within a five-year window. Production is ramping up—

—Whoa. Wait just a second, Jaime. Ramping up, you say? How, dare I ask, are you affording that? You said so yourself in our last board meeting. You’re debt-financed up to your nipples.

Yes. I’m excited to announce to you now — this with the anticipated capital influx as resultant to our iminent acquiring on behalf by the Wolffenbeir Company — we have secured a handshake agreement to ourselves acquire the new New Frontier production facility before it goes online.

Hearing this, Larry spit out a bit of his soft drink.

Hah! I’ve really got to hand it to you. You’ve got a knack for spending other people’s money. Another quality I also possess in great quantity. Perhaps a political future awaits thee, my son. Although you’re taking a roundabout approach. The New Frontier? You know I divested my interest in that fledgling concern some twenty years ago. Why ever would you wish to own a piece of that money pit?

What do you mean? You started the Newfy. I thought you would be proud of me.

Is that a joke?

No?

Hmm. That’s too bad for you. Well then, it’s time for your last free lesson, Jaime. It may be too late yet for you to learn it, I’m sorry to say, but I implore you to listen all the same. Because unless you’ve got a rich uncle out there whom I’m not aware of, this is the last time we’ll speak. Are you listening? Because here it is:

We aren’t in the business of pride. Look around you. This [the Mayor was again gesticulating, this time with a soggy french fry] … this is the business of debasing ourselves to the highest possible bidder. Now, what you did, was you tried to build something. And good on you for it, my boy. To be sure, it was a quite absurd something which no one needed, but then again are most things. And this something, You tried to build It. Of That, one could be proud, in theory. Of course I won’t be proud of you. Don’t be silly. However what I have done and will continue to do is take that pride and sell it. Or maybe I borrow against it, in a manner of speaking. Securitize it. Whatever the transaction or the financial instrument may be, we are its licensed brokers. It’s our reason for being. Certainly it’s why you’re sitting here today. It’s why tomorrow I’m apologizing for a genocide that happened a century ago out front of a takeout salad store. It’s … you’re like our yeomen farmer, Jaime. A vision somewhere’s way off in the distance. The further we get away from it, the clearer it rounds into view.

Vision. Let’s talk about vision. Entrepreneurs such as ourselves talk of having Vision. It’s possible you do see further in some direction, but your sight is distorted through the jagged prism that is your pride. Because here’s a question: what’s the difference between seeing visions and hearing voices? The answer: very little. Particularly when your head’s too far up your keister to smell your own bull crap. Sound familiar? It should. Because that’s what this is, nine-hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-nine times out of a million. Absolute buloney. But then there’s that one in a million times. Why wouldn’t it be me? There’s your pride. They use on Us. It’s really white slavery.

Who are They? You’ll never know. I do, of course. We all used to know them. Everywhere you looked, their names were carved into marble. Your Rockefellers or Fords, your Carnegies, Vanderbilts and Hearsts. Our dear Wolffs. Not anymore. Unless they suffer a three-quarter’s life crisis and do something foolish, like haul off and buy a football team. Imaging feeling so existentially depressed that you resort to buying the Buffalo Bills. Have some pride and kill yourself. But hey, it happens. Apart from that, though, they’ll remain totally anonymous. That’s how they prefer it these days. To them, pride is a writeoff. Of course, shame comes at a high cost, but they can afford it.

Now where I went wrong was I thought I could be one of them. It started I was just like you. I hung up my shingle. You know that used to be the extent of one’s personal brand. Look at me, mother, I’m a small business owner. Of course we didn’t own anything. Least of which the ground beneath our feet. So, I get wise. Okay, I say, I’ll quit this racquet and start buying up properties, like a real big shot. Strip mall here, warehouse there, condos everywhere you look. I have my own little fiefdoms. And then you give a mouse a cookie … which is to say now that I had the land, of course I wanted the power to go with it. So then I ran for Mayor! Ha! Are you still looking, Mother? I’m the mayor of a mid-major American city. So now I’ve got the power. I’ve got the land. But these people. They’re not people at all. Forgive the cliche, but they’re dieties. Their power is within the land. It rolls the country like the weather. God of fire. God of wind. Natural gasses, precious metals, Drinking Water, fiber optic cable, Old King Coal. Taking it out, putting it in. Transporting it — all around the world. Killing, or at the very least permanently displacing whoever stands in the way, if necessary, which it almost is. Schmucks like you and me? All we’re good for is selling what comes out the other side for a ten-percent commission and a holiday bonus. You had a good month? Congratulations. Here’s a set of steak knives. And you get a company lease on a luxury sedan. Hell, maybe it’ll be a convertible, if you’re lucky. Gold watch and a pretty good pension come time for retirement. And from time to time, the real bosses will come down from their corner offices and their ranches up on magic mountain. They’ll pat you on the back and tell you good job. They might even invite you to one of their secret sex parties. Ah. That’s the closest you’ll get though. All they’re really here for is reminding how truly replaceable you are.

For a moment nobody spoke. All that yapping he did, Mayor Larry understood the dramatic purchase of a well-timed pause. He picked up many such flourishes along the way, studying history’s great speechmakers, with emphases on their cadences. Adolph Hitler — to name one example at random — orated with a rhythm that some Hitler scholars described as, erotic. To start out he lured in his audience with a sort of rhetorical foreplay, in the form of leading questions and some friendly banter. Then gradually he’d build toward his climax. The trademark fascist gesticulations and foaming out the mouth declarations of restoring pride to the father land. For a fact, whether it was due to his undescended testicle or perhaps his micropenis (both alleged), the Fuhrer was known to have suffered acute symptoms of erectile dysfunction, which according to urban legend could only be assuaged by the sexual release he achieved through this, the addressing of large crowds. Which is to say, coloquially, that he got off on that shit. That, and schizer play (also allegedly). And here meanwhile Mayor Larry here would have settled for the occasional blow job.

Wait. What were talking about? I lost my train of thought.

Mayor Larry was daydreaming about Hitler’s genitals again.

Oh, right, Billy Wolff. What am I saying? Everybody knows the story. It’s Icarus, it’s Macbeth. It’s whatever — don’t go chasing waterfalls. You took a wrong shortcut. Now the game starts over. It’s okay. Maybe you’ll make it all back. More than likely, you won’t. But maybe. And if you do, hopefully I’ll still be here to slap you on the back. Until then, goodbye forever, Jim. Thanks for the hamburger.

Jaime, whose ass-kissing days were just about over, had as of this very moment had just about enough of this bullshit. First the Mick was up to his old tricks. Then Billy had up and gone full retard. Now suddenly his trusted mentor, Larry — something of an absent father figure — was forsaking him? And, furthermore, he had the gall to act like it was all for his own good. What the fuck? You have one near death experience and now you’re here doling out life lessons. How about you suck my dick, Lawrence, was how he felt. Although, as much as he would have delighted in telling him so to his scrunchy fucking face, — to suck his dick — just as he had told Billy, Jaime still understood something: that there were guys you could tell to suck your dick, and guys you couldn’t. Mayor Larry wasn’t quite a guy you couldn’t tell to suck your dick, but nonetheless, he thought it prudent to withhold from biting the hand. So, like a big boy, he stood there and took it. Content in the steadfast belief that he would make it all back, albeit probably in some other incarnation. He was Buddhist in his ambition. Willing to do anything in service of his ego god. As Larry alluded, he’d already reinvented himself several times over to get to this point. What makes you think I won’t do it again? Bitch, I’m D.B. Cooper. Madonna. Kaiser Soze, mother fucker. Take your pick. Underestimate me at your mother fucking peril. Fuck you. Fuck. Fuck me. Why couldn’t have I just gone to nursing school? Is it too late to get a masters? Shit. I’d be fucking thirty by the time I graduated. Beside I can’t take on any more debt. Fuck. Fuck it. No. Yes. Fuck yes. I’ll be back. So fucking back. Baby, I’m coming. At least Icarus could fucking fly.

But he didn’t say any of that shit. All he did was clasp his hands together in secular prayer, bowed to his once and former master and made his exit. Thus allowing the Mayor — blissfully oblivious to his mentee’s inner torment — to return to drafting his conciliatory declaration.

On that day which will live in infamy, on this hallowed ground, it was my predecessor in the Mayor’s office who made the fateful decree, that which will echo into eternity:

A dead Indian is the only kind I like. If you see one,

shoot on sight.

Today, as a gesture of my goodwill, I officially rescind that civic order.

[Pause for effect and/or possibly applause]

#novls of tumblr #bitch don't kale my vibe

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