#also struggling to source plastic balls

[its-snicket-here]

Being sister of Ainz?? *Whisper from the dark corner*

*Whispers from the deep abyss of personal drafts* Hell fucking yeah

----------------------

Due to you being much more younger and more prone to gaming. I can see your character to have more of a monstrous form than a humanly look.

Ainz can now rest on having to spend money on your account, due to you doing multiple side jobs. Though, that doesn't let you escape of sharing your half of rent.

Your character is a demon; clad in a tattered yellow cloak with the hood always up, blocking any prying eyes from seeing your face. What it only peaks out is grey hair. Though the sleeve aren't long enough to cover your bandaged and shackled arms. In an ombre fashion, the arms are shown to go from black to blood red at the finger tips.

Though when unhooded, it's shown that your face is also pitch black. Your mouth is replaced with something more inhumane, having no teeth nor anything. Though it's capable of breaking and tearing through anything with such animalistic powers. Strange red substances dribble out, though nobody dares to try even touching it.

Your eyes is blindfolded, though when unraveled, it shows only a void where the sockets are. All oozing the same red substance that dribbles from the mouth. You have a long black tongue that oozes a stank smell when activated for fighting.

Your chest had an open hole, where your ribcage pops out in the flesh and where your spine could be shown. Where the heart is supposed to be lies a giant plasma ball. Though like Ainz's, it's indestructible.

Like the mom, you and Ainz have special perks when you have family members joining in the game. Unlike mother's rage, the two of you have now gained "Sibling's Rivalry."

When the two of you were transported into the new world, instead of spawning inside the Tomb with Ainz. You were spawned inside a cave, deep inside the forest where Hamsuke was at.

It took you a little while to get out of there, but you did it.

But it did took you long time getting your sense of perception because your sight has been replaced black and white outlines. You were tripping over multiple shit in the cave and the forest: trees, rocks, a lizard, a corpse, you name it. You were tripping everywhere.

Though despite your struggle of having a different sense of perception. You were able to detect life sources somewhere, but couldn't exactly pinpoint the direction it was coming from.

So, it caught you off guard when you "see" a giant hamster right in front of you doing a piss ass job of threatening you.

Thus the hilarity ensued when you activated your intimidation skill on Hamsuke.

So, you have now a hamster ride and a new roommate to sleep with. Though, you do enjoy the furry rat hamster's company. At least she'll be your guide around the forest.

Thus the two of you were dubbed the "The Wise King of the Forest" and "The Demonic Puppet," much to your annoyance. You're not a damn puppet that's for sure.

When Ainz heard about you and Hamsuke in the forest, he was highly interested in you. Rumors had it you were the supposed puppet/rider of "The Wise King of the Forest." So of course he wanted to either recruit you or to at least collect you like he was planning to do for Gazef

It was surprise when he finally noticed that it was his sister that was labeled as "The Demonic Puppet," but is relieved that he isn't lonely now

Breathes

That doesn't escape the fact you're now a gremlin

Might as well make you the prankster demon, because you do a shit ton of light hearted tricks

The classic plastic wrap on the doorways, replacing bombs with glitter dust, making swords break at the first contact before reconnecting all together again, toothpaste filling in Oreos/pastries, you get the drill.

Demiurge wants to experiment and study your red ooze that drips out and see its effect. You have now gained Demiurge's interest on studying you, especially your reasons to be shackled.

I would say that you're aren't specifically in the guide but is considered to be because of your connection and how frequently you've visit the guide.

Though, you can't gain a human look no matter how hard you can transform

As if you can actually transform lmaooooo

So, you are forced to wear a mask and lots of long sleeved shirts, bandages, long pants, your coat, and/or dresses when you go outside with Ainz and Nabe in E-Rantel. Though you can't seem to take off your shackles off you.

I can see you and Evileye being acquaintances in heroes term. Other than that, she sees you as a gateway on trying to hook up with Ainz/Momonga and an interesting person. A strong mage always hiding behind a mask like her.

Though unlike cosmic demon eldritch mama, you don't gain a following. The last thing you want is idiots trying to summon you, despite saying a very hard no on accepting their praises and begging.

There is times where you go onto a blood frenzy uncontrollably out of the blue that Ainz had to put Demiurge and Cocytus in charge in containing your blood frenzy. If it goes out of control, then Ainz would reluctantly WILL and HAVE to put you out for himself.

So when the war happened between the two kingdoms, when Ainz was making everyone thinking he was an actual fucking monster. They all should be fearing you. You. Go. Nuts. With. Full. Intent. of. Excitement. For. Blood. And. Fear.

Before the whole war even happened, you and Demiurge were setting up the battlefield with traps, hidden demons/beasts, hiding poison containers somewhere in the water supply that will open at a specific time, portals from hell, etc. You are on full intent of destroying the kingdom with all of your might.

Just hope they don't get inside [Death's Parade] ok? :)

-------

[Sibling's Rivalry] - Due to you having a connection with another player via email/phone number confirmation, you and your connector have now gained a new skill set [Sibling's Rivalry]. When in a 40 meter radius with your sibling, you have now gained an increase of 125% ATK speed, 45% AGILITY, and a 200+ MP boost.

[Blood Lust] - Every physical kill increases your ATK power by +15%. Maximum is +150% for 15 minuets. Though when passive, when not killing, the player will have a meter that will slowly goes up until 100%. If any kills hasn't occur,

[Death's Parade] - One time use, afterwards you must rest until [Death's Parade] can be used again. Upon use, within 75 meter radius of the caster shall turn into an arena. Those who inside the radius can not escape nor those outside the radius can join in. Multiple demonic summons and undead summons shall appear and will fight to the death to the players that are trapped inside. The arena will stay on until either the caster's MP reaches to 1 or the players inside the arena is dead. 145% ATK speed, 65% spell power, 145% casting speed.

[F. E. A. R] - Fear Energy Acid Radiation. Those who are not immune to the fear energy radiation or has consumed fear acid would now experience a multitude of nightmares and hallucinations until they have escaped the radiation or after 2 hours if digested. It is possible to die from [F. E. A. R].

[Tier 1/2/3 intimidation] - Tier 1 effects low leveled beings through 1 - 25. Tier 2 effects mid level beings through 25 - 75. Tier 3 effects higher level beings through 75 - 100. When under the intimidation, they will be frozen in fear for 10 minuets. Though if using a higher level fear on a lower level being it can have a lasting effect until turned off.

[Blood Cult Garbs] - 'Worship is meaningless when given prayers and offerings. What THEY need is blood to be spilled, screams to be heard, flesh being wounded!' 195% spell power, 145% casting speed

[Sacrificial blade] - 'This is a gift from the Gods...' A blade that has already taken the lives of many unbelievers and its willingly followers. Though it has been unwashed over the years of use. 175% life leech, status: bleeding, status: hemorrhage, status: infected

[Status: Holy Imprisoned] - Due the angelic shackles containing your sins, you have been now suppressed of demonic urges and have now gained morality and emotions. Though the older the shackles are, the harder it will stop the demonic urges and sins seizing through. Every time a demonic ability/spell has been mustered, the host will go through intense pain that will take 25% of their health, but will never go down to 0. -250% holy damage resistance, demonic damage nullified, status: imprisoned, -110% casting speed [Holy Imprisoned is inflicted by Angelic species that is the same level or higher than the host. Can be effected again.]

[Orb of Trickery] - Due to you now infused with the orb, you are now able to cast illusion spells, psychic spells, and hypnotic spells much faster with 3x of the effect.

#ainz ooal gown #lord ainz #overlord x reader #sibling reader #sister reader #demonic reader #overlord x sister reader

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

I'm sorry if you've answered this before but do you have any tips on how to retain heat better in an enclosure? I have a glass enclosure, fairly big with a plastic top that retains moisture pretty well, for my ball python but I struggle to keep the temp in the recommended zone. (it's not freezing but it's close to the colder side of the recommend spectrum).

thank you so much for running this blog and answering so many questions! I love reading through them all when I get the chance!!

Ooh, yeah, it can be tricky to keep heat in glass tanks. A few things:

- You might need extra heat sources - what are you using? A heat mat likely won't be enough on its own. If you're using a ceramic heat emitter, try experimenting with a double dome and using two bulbs. For my bigger glass enclosures, I almost always need two. Definitely hook them up to thermostats!

- Try insulating the tank a bit. Sheets of styrofoam around three walls can work wonders, and I've used bubble wrap in a pinch.

- A blanket over the enclosure can also help to prevent heat loss, but it won't warm it up much.

I think the first thing I would try would be trying out an additional heat source, and working from there. Best of luck!

#not a rating #snake husbandry #ball pythons

[absolutebl]

It’s Thai BL cocktail hour! 

Cocktails are flexible, you can make these more or less strong, more or less sweet, without alcohol, and using alternate not-milks (like soy or almond). I tried to give you ones that are pretty adaptable. 

Oxygen Cocktail Pairing 

I chose something sweet, comforting, and warm milk based (obvs). Also easy to make, we starting slow and gentle. 

Hot Buttered Rum - this is one of my favorite hot milk based cocktails. It’s easy to make since most of us have the ingredients on hand. Melt 2 tsp salted butter + 2 tsp brown sugar in the bottom of a standard sized mug about 15 sec in the microwave, stir to combine. Fill mug 2/3 with milk (whole is best but you can use anything milk-like which you enjoy drinking). Heat milk in 30 sec increments until too hot to touch. Add 2 shots dark or spiced rum. Sprinkle to taste with cinnamon and/or nutmeg. Garnish with star anise or a cinnamon stick and/or whipped cream. 

1000 Stars Cocktail Pairing

Had to be tea based, because of the plot, and I wanted something adaptable and versatile. This cocktail can be hot or cold, comforting or bracing, like the show. 

Boozy Thai Tea - Brew Thai orange tea hot and strong (sorry you have to have the right tea). Either make ahead of time and cool in fridge or have hot. Just add however much sweetened condensed milk (or milk + raw/palm sugar) is to your taste. Add a shot of vodka or some other relatively low-flavor profile booze. You could try this with gin (because it has a comparative fragrance to Thai tea), but I don’t drink gin so I’m not sure if it would work. Garnish with a mint sprig. 

Alternative? Just mix a shot of Irish cream into your Thai iced tea instead of the milk element. 

Love By Chance Cocktail Pairing 

I had to go with something ultra sweet and strong for Pete & Ae, plus remembering how much Ae liked the coffee drink Pond was trying to prank him with, I added a coffee element. 

Buzzing Chocolate Martini - drizzle a martini glass with chocolate sauce, in a shaker combine ice and 1 shot each of: chocolate liquor, coffee liquor, Irish cream, and vodka. This is a STRONG drink. You can leave out the vodka and sub in half & half, coconut cream, or heavy cream, for something a bit more indulgent and slightly less strong. You could also use an espresso shot instead of coffee liquor for more buzz and less sweet alcohol. 

Until We Meet Again Cocktail Pairing 

Pharm serves Dean water with jasmine flowers in it and a number of the desserts he makes are scented with jasmine. Also he used coconut cream and pandan all the time in his desserts, I struggled with how to combine all these elements into a cocktail, this is what I ended up with:  

Jasmine Green Tea Martini - Brew jasmine green tea (white or oolong will also work) strong with toasted rice (if you have it). If you want to do a non-caffeinated version you could use Korean corn tea. Strain and chill with a pandan leaf (if you have access). In a shaker mix tea, ice, 1 shot of vodka, and 1 shot elderflower liqueur. Poor into a martini glass that has been rimmed with shredded toasted coconut. Garnish with an edible flower blossom. 

SOTUS Cocktail Pairing 

You all know what I’m gonna do for this one, I hope. (Here’s a post on how to make pink milk and what it tastes like.) 

Pink Milk Glow Up - Pour into a high ball over ice: 1 shot vodka, 1 shot elderflower liquor, and 1 shot raspberry or strawberry liquor.  Stir to combine. Separately mix 1 shot condensed milk + 1 cup regular milk + 1 shot sala syrup, slowly poor into the glass over spoon back to float (as you would a Shirley Temple). Garnish with fresh strawberry or maraschino cherry. Alternatively, just mix all the alcohols into the pink milk (acid into base, never base into acid) and poor over ice in a plastic travel cup with a straw. Authenticity. 

Just playing a random game with myself. (I was once a bartender a long time ago in a galaxy far far away.) 

(source)

#thai bl #thaibl #cocktail pairings #pink milk #oxygen the series #1000 Stars #tale of a thousand stars #love by chance #until we meet again #sotus #bl drinks #cocktail hour #drink pairing #movies with drinks #shows with drinks #modern cocktails #mixology #mixologist #bartender #bartending #Asian BL #AsianBL #shows + drinks

[lady-of-the-spirit]

ok i had an idea and i’d love to hear your thoughts about it- the four horsepeople go to the beach for the day, how do you think that’d go?

I think there are two ways this could go. One is that the four of them are just chilling, because it’s post-apocalypse-that-wasn’t and they’re all struggling to deal with the fact that the moment that kind of defined their whole existence never came to pass and so they don’t really know what they’re here for anymore and they’re all having an existential crisis. They’re all lounging on the beach under separate umbrellas that match their respective colour and wearing sunglasses. giving off the most depressing vibes. they’re all like: 

The second way this could go is the opposite of that.

Death doesn’t care for swimming, so they’re just sitting on the beach under the umbrella and reading. I can honestly picture them not taking their robe off and lounging in full Grim Reaper costume. Or if they DO take the robe off, they’re just. a skeleton in swim trunks in a beach chair on the beach. Other beach-goers think someone brought a plastic skeleton to the beach as a fun joke, and if anyone notices the skeleton is actually turning pages in its book and talks, no one says anything. Either way, someone takes pictures of them, and Grim Reaper On The Beach / Skeleton On The Beach becomes a fun meme. 

Famine appreciates the ocean because it’s water, the source of life, but it will kill you if you drink it. He probably brought some of his work to the beach, and War steals it and it becomes a game of keep-away between her and Pollution. The game ends when Famine tackles Pollution and all of his paperwork flies from their hand and into the ocean. He had fun, though, and ends up buying all four of them some ice cream from the shack nearby. He might do some swimming laps and end up taking a nap in the shade next to Death when he’s done. For the sake of being a bastard, he’d probably end up talking to people on the beach and manipulatively encourage them to follow his dieting technique. 

I don’t know what kind of swimming suit War would wear - a bikini? one-piece? one of those surfing swimsuits? - but she looks hot in any of them. If they were heading for a beach with a lot of surfers, probably a more revealing outfit just to see how many surfers she can distract and cause to wipe out. (She and the others make a bet to see how many surfers she can get. Death just sighs because they do not want to be working today. War has to promise to not deliberately get anyone killed.) She splits her time pretty equally between distracting surfers, trying to see if she can catch any fish with her bare hands, and joining volleyball games others are playing and being totally brutal. What she lacks in skill she makes up for in passion - spiking the ball is her favourite thing and she will spike it into a person’s face. (it’s basically the scene from AtLA where Azula and the evil team play volleyball and may still end with the net on fire.) Of course, she also dedicates her time to bullying her siblings (see above) and flirting with women. 

Pollution I can absolutely see in either a t-shirt/shorts combo or a surf-style swimsuit. They’d probably spend a lot of time trying to avoid or outrun the lifeguard so they don’t get fined for littering or creating an oil spill just by standing in the water. They spend the most time in the water out of their siblings - floating in the water and just vibing, like that gif of the Goofy inflatable floating in the pool, or trying to find a cool rock or shells or the coolest piece of trash, or trying to do water sports. Idk why but I think they’d enjoy surfing or skimboarding? Maybe paddleboarding? I can imagine Pollution meeting with some woman on the beach and the woman’s like “you wanna try paddleboarding? :)” and Pollution decides to pretend they’ve never done it in their life so the woman has a reason to hold them and help them out and Pollution “succeeds” on the sixth try they can be like “wow you’re such a good teacher!”

War probably ends up sunburned by the end of the day and they’re all sandy and tired because that’s always how a beach day ends but they’ve had a good day. :) 

#ask #good omens #horsepeople good omens #i'm making stuff #i'm writing stuff #aquadrops

[joshslater]

Durag

A little rewrite of The Durag by bodilychanges.

“Ella! Where the fuck is today’s mail?” David shouted before even having sat down at the breakfast table. He was firm in his view that vigilant scrutiny and immediate punishment was the source of his wealth, allowing him to have a maid in the first place. David had many other firm views. “Homosexuals are all gay” he often joked, but he was an equal target offender. Homosexuals, Muslims, people of color. Although he would call them “the blacks” and the gays “people of color”. It often got a laugh at the club or at parties. In truth it didn’t really matter how poorly made his jokes were, people would laugh anyway. That’s the thing with money.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Cohen, but this just arrived.” Ella came rushing as quickly as she could, without running, from the front part of the mansion with a few small letter envelops and a larger DHL plastic envelope.

“What is it?” “It must be from one of your secret admirers, sir.” Ella suggested. “Good save.”

David snatched the bunch of envelopes from her hand, and she left almost as quickly as she entered, knowing David hated seeing any service personnel around. It had to be a secret admirer as no one would ever admit to like you, she mused on her way out.

David downed his ginger-lemon-honey booster shot and looked at the DHL envelope. It was more of a plastic pouch than a real envelope, big as a pocketbook and with something soft inside. There was no corporate sender on the address sticker, but just said DHL dropoff service point and “Tristan″ as sender. Sounded to him like some of the new ad companies with their hip names. Perhaps it was some T-shirt or something someone wanted him to have. He started to pull the plastic, which only stretched from his efforts. “Fuck!” he exclaimed and reached for a fruit knife from the bowl of exotic fruits, cut open the envelope and reached inside.

The shock was far worse than a normal static electricity shock. He dropped the knife on the floor and involuntary sent the envelope with its content across the room. All of his right arm hurt, and he could feel tingles as if the arm had fallen asleep and was waking up. “Motherfucking what the hell!” he shouted, and stood up. He walked a few steps to the envelope on the marble floor, grabbed one corner of it, and shook out its contents. Something black and glossy landed on the floor. The arm didn’t hurt as much, but the tingling sensation was spreading and he started to feel hot.

Carefully he gave the piece of cloth a quick pat with his hand. Nothing. He grabbed it and twisted it around in his hands, working out what it was. It took him a while to recognize it as a durag, though he had never heard that name. He was boiling with rage. Who the fuck would send black paraphernalia as some kind of sick joke, he thought. Was the electrocution also intentional?

He didn’t want to drop it back on the floor for Ella to pick up, or throw it in the trash himself. He wanted to incinerate the shit out of it, right now. The outdoor grill, or fire pit, or the ballroom fireplace, or the kitchen burner, all good options. He decided for the gas burner in his study, where he got rid of documents and USB sticks he didn’t just want to shred.

Somewhere in the stairs though he did something that he wouldn’t be able to explain. It was like an involuntary reflex, or a compulsion. Almost without knowing it himself he put the cloth on his head over his grey hair, put one of the smaller bands in his mouth, and pulled the other one flat around the front of his head. Then he took the first one out of his mouth, pulled it the other way around, and quickly tied them both behind his back. Finally he pulled everything tight, twisted the neckcloth, and tied it into a knot in the back.

As he entered the study he was almost surprised his hands were empty. He was breathing heavy, sweating profusely, and feeling like he had gotten a fever. He stepped over to the art deco mirror from 1922 he bought at an auction. He looked different, tanned like he had been out sailing all of last week, but somehow different in other ways. For a brief moment the thought “Why is there a fucking rag on my head?” caught his attention, until just a moment later he was more concerned about what was happening with his body.

He lifted the front of his black tank top and stared aghast. He had tried to take care of his body, it’s simply a matter of discipline after all, but there is only so much you can do to prevent skin from aging. But the skin, his skin, looked nothing like it did mere minutes ago. Glistening from sweat, the now hairless, young skin was slowly turning darker and darker, as if someone was pouring coffee into milk. He didn’t care if it so made him immortal. If it made him look this filthy it wasn’t a trade he wanted. Without noticing he lifted the front of the tank top over his head and placed it behind his neck.

His lean body was visibly gaining weight. His pecs grew and he could see abdominal muscles filling out his midriff. His arms and legs were also stacking up pounds. The tingling sensation in his arms didn’t diminish at all, and he did a few muscle flexes, which made the veins pop and sent a wave of relief through his body, along with a massive dose of testosterone. The low key itching that had been growing in his groin and armpits crescendoed into feeling like a rash, as wet hair visibly grew out under his arms.

All his senses were bombarded with an onslaught he couldn’t cope with. There was too much information to sort through. He scratched his armpit and looked at disbelief at his wet fingers as the testosterone boosted armpit stench reached his nose. He was confused, revolted, scared, and just wanted all of this to stop, whatever was going on. Something inside of him cracked and he moved his hand up to his nose and took a deep whiff of his armpit sweat. It was like his brain decided to like what was happening as a coping mechanism. Right there and then David believed the scent from his pits to be the most arousing thing he had ever experienced in his 54 years on earth. He took another deep breath and felt his dick stir.

He unbuttoned his Eddie Bauer shorts and started to climb out of them. It was a struggle to get out of both them and his briefs, and looking at his lower body it wasn’t a surprise why they were getting tight. His legs and feet had undergone the same transformation as the rest of him and were slowly settling in its new shapes and sizes. His ass was a pair of round basketballs of a bubble butt. Massive athletic thighs led down to hard calves, which ended in a set of size 16 feet.

His dick and balls were however of the same size as before, but now the same dark color as the rest of him. He let his left hand fingers run through the wet pubic hairs. He started to masturbate with his right hand while inhaling deeply from his sweaty fingers. It was good, but not as good as the armpits. He coated the back of his left hand in the sweaty right armpit. How he wished he could stick his nose in there, or lick it. He moved his gaze up in the mirror and saw a young, muscled man who looked anything but David. Alluring dick sucking lips, the strong bone structure of African descent, strong, muscled, sweaty. He could not think of anything he wanted more than to be fucked hard by the man in the mirror.

He let a moan slip from his lips. It was the deep rumble of an African American bull in heat. The sound he made made himself even hornier. What if the hot man in the mirror was a sex-addicted jock who wanted nothing but fucking him as deep and as hard and as long as he could as often as he could. But he wanted him to have a monster of a cock. To his delight he could see that every stroke made the cock in the mirror a little bit longer and a little bit thicker, but it also became more and more difficult to resist to climax. He wanted both to enjoy it more and enjoy it for longer. He shut his eyes and tried to think of something else, but all he could think of was dark, sweaty skin from different parts of the body.

The first thing he felt was a sharp tug on his nutsack as his balls suddenly exploded in size and mass. It didn’t hurt, but it surprised him, and made him unprepared for wave after wave of pleasure as he shot load after load of cum on the mirror, screaming in ecstasy as he did so. Exhausted but euphoric he just stood there with his eyes shut, trying to not think of anything but just savor the moment when a shriek knocked him out of his trance.

In the mirror he saw Ella by the door, her face completely drained of color. She was in by the desk, pressed the panic button, and out again before Darius had time to react. It felt like syrup to think. What was the response time for the police again? He couldn’t remember. He should go, but where? Away. He should bring something. He looked at the too small shorts below him he was dripping cum on. He had cash in the safe. No, you can’t open it when the panic alarm is active. What was the response time for the police again? He couldn’t remember. Was his name even Darius?

“FUCK!” he shouted and almost in panic ran down the stairs, out the patio, passed the pool, rounded the pool house, went past the BBQ area, around the smaller pond, rounded the hedge, came around the tool shed, down the access road, and ran to the garden entrance.

“Perhaps he split the front.” Malcolm thought out load. “Relax man. He’s still David inside. He just can’t get enough black cock, that’s all. He knows he can’t come runnin out the white folk side.” Tristan was sitting in the driver’s seat in the City Gardening truck they’d lent as a favor. They hadn’t seen any security driving up the access road, but they came prepared with excuses. “Perhaps cops shot him” “You just jumpy, man. We talked all this before. Police wont shoot nobody out here. Goes on public records and fucks with the value of the hood. Besides, we’d hear if... There!”

Stumbling out through the gate was an athletic man wearing nothing but a durag and a tank top pulled over his head. His eyes were wild and he was staring at the car like a deer in oncoming traffic and his mind was a jumble of contradictions. Why the fuck did those black fuckers park here, he thought. The police will have to deal with them. I want to suck them off, both of them. I want one to fuck me while I blow the other, and then have them swap places. No, why the fuck would I even touch them. The police is on their way. I wonder what they smell like. It looks hot in that truck.

“Remember, we need to get it on him before he clears up.” Tristan told Malcolm. “On it.” he lowered the window, waved and shouted. “Hey borther! Hurry! Come here before anyone sees you. There are clothes in the back!”

Darius was shaken into action and quickly ran and entered the truck.

5 months later.

Darius looked at the purple stud. It would look so good on him. Perhaps he could ask Tristan to buy it for him, since he didn’t have any money himself. Every time he raised the question with Malcolm and Tristan they just brushed it off, saying it was too early. He needed to take care of himself and focus on remembering anything from before his memory loss. Besides, if he worked he wouldn’t have time to have sex around the clock. They did have a point there. There probably wasn’t a black dick above 5″ in town that he hadn’t had inside of him. All of the squad, and Malcolm in particular were regulars, but Tristan had a way to get almost anyone, straight or gay, to fuck him. He once asked Tristan what he tells people to have sex with him, but he just smiled and said it was a secret.

Jammal was one of them. He wasn’t gay, but something Tristan told him made him make an exception for Darius. Jammal worked in the docks, and every time they fucked he made sure to show up sweaty. Darius loved nothing more than to inhale deeply from Jammal’s armpits, lick them, suck his dick, and finally have him ride his ass for as long as possible. He would like to get the purple stud and wear it next time they met. It was just a piece of glass on a needle, but he would love to wear it for Jammal.

“Hi. Can I help you?” the girl in the store asked. “Yo. I want to... I can’t...” “You want to try it on? It’s no problem. I have disinfectant.”

With a bit of hesitation Darius started to unscrew his stud from its plate. He’d had it in place for as long as he could remember. Just as the needle left the hole of the pierced ear lobe his mind was assaulted.

Everything from before the car ride came rushing in. How he put on the underwear and sweat pants. How he had been sniffing the clothes and Tristan complained that they should have used clean ones. How he had been running from the mansion. How he had transformed from racist, bigoted, multi-millionaire into the hot, dark meat he was now. The old memories mixed with the new ones, how he had lived together with Tristan and Malcolm in their trashy place. How he had spent every hour over the past months sucking, fucking, and working out with anyone willing. He was filled with nauseating disgust for them, what he’d done with them, who he was. At the same time he could feel his large dick getting hard, and it wasn’t despite what he was thinking of, but because of it he realized.

“Are you alright?” the girl said with a concerned look. “I think I... I know what is wrong.” he said and carefully put the needle of the stud back in.

[talesofealdancynedom]

Uncle Cetus knitting; There is a matching picture, where Morgan is wearing that sweater by the way...

Tale 21: What The Wagon Was For (chapter 8 - On The Radio 8/8 ) part 6. Stories of wizards

no warings

           Wool and yarn; Soft threads tied together to keep warm. Self soothing, and expressing creativity. Natural fibers, twirled into textiles that are plush, yet strong. The smell of plastic from the store, that turns into a soft warm sent, as fingers pull it between needles and hooks; As it is transformed into a variety of adornments. Bright as red, or white with dots, thick as rope, or thin like thread; There is no limit to the yarn available to those who seek it. Each loaf, pulled from its inner loop, and wound into balls that seem to always escape, tangle, or go missing. There is always too little, or too much of it around. With a few years practice, a hat can be made in under an hour, with argyle of red and navy, against a confetti white base; Complete with ties and pom-poms. The secret ingredient is time and love; Weaved into something comforting, to be gifted and cherished by someone. A gift of warmth that shows you care.

There is an aesthetic, sensation, smell, and rhythm, in this ancient textile art. Not only calming, but also protective and embellishing. This is why when the couples’ knitting group was over, uncle Cetus kept knitting for the family, while Jupiter kept finding odd amounts of wool in the linen cupboard. While she groaned about the plethora of thread, each autumn, Morgan and the rest of the family, eagerly awaited what Cetus had spent the year crafting for them. Made with love, thought, dedication, and material that costs more then they should. these treasures were meaningful; Because they were made by hand, just for them.

           At the end of the semester, some important paperwork finally got processed and aproved. Magic politics can only function within the common laws of a land; And the law prioritizes children in need of homes, over opinionated wizards. Cetus, after struggling to organize finances after his mother died, finally got guardianship over his sister’s precious son. The problem was that Morgan was bonded to Tiberius Gate, living in an ominous tower. With Emilia. Aunt Jupiter was no quitter; She suggested they move into the tower as well. They already lived in town, and Reginia was going to be sent to magic school anyway. She was to be Morgan’s peer support. Though cousins, they were the same age and like siblings. As magical as Pepperidge was, Cetus and Jupiter were perfectly mundane; Born to magic houses, but unqualified to care for young mages. But they were qualified to provide a supportive and loving family, to two growing youths. Cetus was up to the challenge of helping Morgan overcome his trauma, grow, and be himself.  Mage or not, Morgan deserved to feel safe after everything he went through.

Thus, Cetus became a great aid in Morgan’s recovery. A male role model, as well as an incredible barrier to the corrupt wizard counsel. Morgan, as the mage of Tiberius Gate, was the way of getting to Pepperidge, and its mages. So, if anyone wanted to get rid of mages there, they needed to control Morgan. But now, they also had to threaten the wellbeing a commoner, who had common law on his side. Cetus knew it. No one was getting their fingers in any peanut butter jar, that would mess up his family’s happily ever afters. Every advance made to contain Morgan’s abilities, was being thwarted by an increasingly close pro mage community, in the tiny town of Pepperidge; From the bus driver, to every teacher and student. If he didn’t feel it, Morgan was completely safe.

           After school, mid week, Cetus dropped Morgan off at therapy, and Jupiter would come to pick him up after sessions.

“We have a family meeting, and child welfare check next week. As always, do your best, sport.” Cetus said, ruffling Morgan’s hair. It gave him joy; After almost a year of adoption, and counseling, Cetus could finally touch Morgan without him flinching. Cetus didn’t know what Leo was doing, or if it was even Leo and not life in general; But it was working. He saw Morgan off, before taking Reggie and Emilia home.

“Hey, want to get ice-cream on the boardwalk after dinner?” Emilia said, leaning out the back window. She pulled Morgan over to kiss his check. He nodded, and shyly returned the gesture. Cetus and Reggie tried not to giggle. Morgan slowly walked into the office, checked in, and sat in the depressing psychiatry waiting room.

The fluorescent lights flickered, but at a rate that wasn’t noticeable until there was a migraine. There was the smell of bleach, and old drywall. The receptionist was taking a line of calls, as other families came in, and everyone tried not to look at each other; Because every chair was awkwardly placed facing inward. The walls were mustard, and the chairs plastic. The water cooler bubbled, and the thermostat was set low. Morgan was wearing a forest green, salmon, and black argyle knit sweater, Cetus had made it. Fall had come around, and it was almost his birthday. Morgan reflected on how it had been nine months since his uncle took him in. He loved his uncle. But it wasn’t the same as his mother and father. He hadn’t seen his parent in almost three years.

           Leo came to the front, and h led Morgan to his quiet office, while holding Dolly. The light blue walls, smelled of ambiguous air freshener. There was a stack of papers, bulletin of inspirational posters, bowl of fidget toys, and a Yuka in the back. It had started to become comforting and familiar. Morgan relaxed into the chair, holding Icarus on his lap.

“Never seen you so relaxed,” Leo smiled. He took his seat, causing the office chair to squeak. “What would you like to talk about today?” He started. Morgan sat there, looking around the room. He wasn’t feeling anything in particular at the moment. Nothing was really bothering him. Well, maybe the embarrassment and excitement of getting his girlfriend with child WAY too early, or the stress of balancing the world of fey with homework. Also, the upcoming equinox dance at school, and his birthday. Actually, there was too many things to talk about.

“How about you and Emilia, or Cetus? Your aunt and uncle are getting a review from what I hear.” Leo prompted. He had an agenda. Morgan being relaxed was good, but there is always more work to do. Morgan shrugged, like usual.

“How about what you’re feeling right now? I can bring out the chart if you like.”

“I think I’m sad? Out of all things, today I miss mom and dad a lot. They send me paint, books, and clothes, to help my uncle. Mom still knows exactly what I like. Cetus is super nice, and he’s always there for me; He worked really hard to take me in, even with all the magic politics. I appreciate it. Oh, he actually got pulled into some quests, even though he’s common folk! Now I get to graduate early under professor Hara, researching Griminthropes. Aunt Jupiter wants to do a good job too, so she’s-” Morgan mumbled on.

“Stop there. This isn’t about Cetus’s life; This is about built-up trauma, and missing your parents, in spite of your recent happily ever after,” Leo interrupted. “I’m glad you’re confident enough to talk to me, but every conversation is about a fairy tale, not a feeling. You might need to break your habit of relying on magic, legends, and individuals, to avoid problems. I just want you to have a quality of life, feel loved, and care for your yourself. Without relying only on mystical outings or old books. You have the opportunity to do so, and I encourage you to focus on yourself.” Leo suggested. Morgan was leaning inn, looking mildly confused while he listened. At least he had Morgan’s attention.

“I get so frustrated with your avoidance problem. You walk around with so much pain and suffering; And it keeps you up at night. Yet, instead of processing it, and using your support system, you go to the shadow veil, stay silent, act reckless, and harm yourself. Your gratitude is wonderful, but happily ever afters are meaningless if you desert them. Avoidance is not a log term solution, and I don’t expect immediate change. But you need to start embracing things around you in the moment.” Leo said, fizzling out into a whimper, as he tried to stay professional. Morgan looked at him, unblinking.

“Yes, Leo. That’s what the wagon was for.” Morgan said, nodding his head. Leo gave a look of complete defeat. He already knew that.

“So you’re telling me, it’s more then a scheduled avoidance quest? That now it’s something meaningful; A source of fulfillment as a seer. Thus, Honestly Morgan, do you actually still need the wagon to find friends and joy? I don’t think you need to runaway anymore; Everything you need is right here, if you’ll sit with it.” Leo continued. Morgan liked that perspective; It sounded like enjoying life, without sacrificing his dreams. Morgan smiled a bit. The meaningful stories of each object in that wagon, were tales of is growth. That wagon had helped him. But his new life was doing that too. A simple, worn, faded, treasured wagon. In primary colours, the offend the senses. Something that was purchased at a toy store, to carry children on family outings. It is easy to say what the wagon was for, and what that means now. The wagon helped Morgan runaway, and become an accomplished mage. Now the wagon reminds him of good things he experienced, and is for visiting friends.

“Thanks Leo.” Morgan said. “I’m sorry I accidentally mislead you with the wagon. It’s very distracting.”

“Your most welcome, and forgiven. Oh look! We still have thirty minutes left.” Leo laughed. Morgan groaned. He still had to unpack his relationship with his parents with feeling words, now that the wagon was gone.

TABLE OF CONTENTS--->

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#tales of ealdan cynedom #short stories #story 21 #fantasy #morgan #art #icarus #dolly #leo #emilia #regina #jupiter #cetus

[rwmhunt]

Leviticus, Chapter 22

1. Lo, for That I cannot prosecute my thoughts; I needst here cultivate caution- Then put a hold unto my options, That I cannot challenge him. Any source of information, That be of an admixture truth, And of an admixture untruth, is of a danger, Did you know that? Humbly needst I move toward diamonds and gold's Otherwise-useless demarkation on worth; My face must stay its specter in clay, For it is my career; That I can say: It is mine.

2. Thus, to Aaron, gold and diamonds Bringeth ignominy and unwarranted power; Strewth, they are only much use for The rings of your finger; So let alone the past, Which you mark As a messed up place, How then, is this the valid Strategy for the future? Lo, let us divide and game.

3. Increase the paywall; Holy things are ringing in changes; You are the visitor here- I'd like to take the time To consciously consider you so, for We have reached besmircher's cutoff. It's me, mark it; and Either I am a negative nebulae Of unimaginable everything, And you are a little golden bull, Or you are a negative nebulae Of unimaginable everything, And I am a little golden bull;

4. But know that I shall not give you the word For the thought-track down which You might draw the line Of asymetry, such, That you wouldst know How to rend a perfect opposition To go between. And whosoever soweth dead seeds Among young female researchers Hath faileth the épreuve- It shalln’t do for thy running issue, Moreover, those women who are of Quite senior position and are doing it Unto the coercive nature of such a power's New destruction of ability to focus, As unto the camp's commander, With how Peleg begat Reu; Well, it might be enough to get you pregnant, But wait, where am I going with this?

5. Worm touchers, Creepy pressers, Come, come, observers, Keep from that strange creature; Don't be giving unto me None of thy screaming abdabs; I think on you, Pig dressed as a clown, Eructing unto, then drawing forth A near-entire white, plastic fork; And know you not how this came to me- Lo, it came up with a sequence of items that appeared Not unlike balls of meat, Furred, wistfully, in a grey cowl of reactionary mucus; A kind of veil, a barrier, in effect, Penetratable, at any point, But equally real as a barrier, Gainst our otherwise passive environs, Such as be the diffusion of inert thoughts, or spores, murky, and maintaining of a human resource, I liked to thrill it- The direct and immediate livid relationship Between a font of funding and a media event, O, harmless dalliance of the stationary cupboard- You are knowingly walking, As against your will, A wrong into the carpet, Within the tent of meaning.

6. Looking up to see God's face in the moon, Or whatever it was That can't be drawn, And I won't be drawn; His hands he filled with moisture and His own was sent for ablution Into the improvised basin. So denieth all such allegation Through the washing of thy soule, Clean off; so sloughed away, Away with the diminishing liquid.

7. Sundown with the unseen Woman's leverage on the situation- if you should find a way to redress balance, So she gaineth a bit more power in some manner, Then so what? it was no loss. A new deal, And the bill shall embolden survivors.

8. Positions of power shall have of a hard time In recognizing the coercive nature of that power Within an unbridled relationship; Things that die 'Of themselves', Or are yet rent by nature's horn, Are defiled; while I, a malign influence, lie with my soul distracted; Oh lord, but I've been swallowed by narrative, And tried to keep it communal, Inside and outside; As you are.

9. Pit stop- The horror is the fact; The horror it unfolds Through legions of would-bes Without a meter, like me, Who have applied, Will apply, in perpetuity; Just do it, Or die; if then, As I am still.

10. The individual is always Hedging toward A private business model. Attention-seeking shalln't be of sin, no! Tis sensible, keep with a forward optioning- That's why i tell you, Soujerners and servents, Who art sent to the concession to collect me my messages- My tutu is a Fendi, And my codpiece is a Bosch. We live unto a roaring attention economy. But you're not up to it. I've given them a tomato one, And also I gave them a spaghetti- We struggle to attune to where I'm compelled- Ourselves, as groups, who feel of themselves As blunted against their lack in deserved attention, Because it is a powerful, a dangerous feeling.

11. So eat souls As paid for with a priest's money, On escrow, attention Has always been currency Though rendered unimaginable Since the falling-away of the gold-standard, As was borne unto the tent of meaning, Where every page has a piece carved out, To house an advert's grab For égards; No space is secure, For security hath put an advert thither.

12. Jade lock, To knock the donald offline, So unto a stranger, Gone off to scavenge, The framers that frame themselves As refuges for free-expression Shall be rent at the fringes, forcing A redirection, away from my personal kingdom.

13. But should she go prodigal, Whosoever you are, Howeverso you might express thyself, You may now have a crack at a global audience, With incentives and disproportionate benefits Offered unto the most shameless, The demand of each to pay what scarce attention Might be rendered unto others, To get some fraction of this nominally limited resource, As unto yourself alone. Such are these poor weapons, An oversharing, That, essayed to the personal, Stretcheth my nancy stories To breaking.

O Marigold, I was bad At that, in the territories of fandom, As forced to return Unto the track over and again- Such was my leaky comprehension; Only apparent to me in the afterward, And now, I cannot say I am better.

14. Whence, Enroute from the concession Shouldst be eaten of the item Without, thence, So anguished in the relish, Thou giveth a fifth Of the holy thing; So that the leg shall grow A starfish, whole . Then let us bend our dark tubers towards, And look the knot, as in at an eye-

15. What's gold and glitter, But to mock a toom, And maketh of myself A symbolic same, Wrought as an aesthetic echt; Where diplomacy is weak, The aesthetic be yet The sole portal unto The conveyance of meaning; Verily, here, that I keep within The aesthetic of thought Whereby action is always y, You are i, and The antagonist be markated x; Where holy might only Fall down to one's discretion, You should've known That I wouldst be so solid.

16. Or suffer them to bear the enquiry of trespass, Felt as an information glut, Whilst eating of their holy orders, Found relishing within the anguish, And those who want it, Want it as much as they can get it, And  there is more access than can be vaunted, For, in an attention economy, one is never not on. Yes, me. O the guilt.

17. Attention is akin to the spirit; That it be vital but conventionally invisible, And thus, think not very much upon it, But unto whom, being unable to share A simple encounter with it, Wouldst soon become an artifice of torture.

18. Tell Aaron et al ensundry, To take up of stock with sarcastic markets, Sarcastic markets and I, impunity; The sacrifice of your own will I hand you freely; or no; T'was never yours to oblate, But sacrifice thy quasi-will, As will thee, Which is mine, against The short hedge, Thus maketh me of a currency exchange.

19. And an haut stud dost thou, unto me, weasels? By your whimsically free-will sacrificing? How charmingly lame. I sense Actors at play, in a very long game Of grooming the disaffected- Call me my boys in- then Send a lie to the long deceiver, To use the ruse, in turn, like poison, For to wish you that which upon may be Enabling unto the benefit of thine enemy.

20. It's no hambone, No hobbling billy- If he tells or interferes I'll fill the well in; its Prophets in stocks and neck-irons time, Else tolerate such increasingly radical agendas Of such gleefully uninhibited platforms as Where followers might laugh At biblical memes and opine such as- 'I'd rather do drama than a play, where, You can't say, really, What you want to say.' Go long, my cowhands, go long.

21. And peace is a sacrifice Of the streaming platform, while Attention has always been currency, Same. Our abilities to pay heed are limited; Not so our abilities to theoretically receive of it; No need to adequately substantiate If you can bamboozle With all the time in the world, Ka-pow-ka, ching-ching, da-da, Badoo-daboo-baday; Trust-modesty, yay, verily. Humility is hard to sustain In an attention economy. I only see me accelerating.

22. Blind, broken, maimed; Cankered, scurvied, wan with the wen, Thus, by my lights, The fault shall be displaced, Be it cleaned or weeping, Tis a no-no, get me another. Such was The schism that fractured the donald, Sent out to extend a tortured metaphor, Became too much of a liability To be held in high office- But if the stranger doesn't come, After all the things I’ve done for him,

23. Well, it's alright for a free-will offering Which you feel compelled to go along with, But it's not good enough for a vow offering As be brought unto online-influencer culture, And it might be enough to get you pregnant But it shan't be enough to stir my interest- I require an extreme case of humility, Whereby a person giveth his all to a presence so completely selfish As to serveth no other purpose. It's me.

24. But the reality is far less complicated than Moses, Hiding his damage behind a veil of linked-up back-channels, Recoiling at what his fellow hardcore moderators attempt to oblate; Too engrossed within the tents to consider anything outwith While hoping the whole doesn’t spin out of control.

25. Corruption is in them, strangers, Bethinks, flooding an affiliated image board So thoroughly that it becometh abomination. Here increaseth the shamelessness of wanton Allegation,  terror co-option of a social platform, which struck with the rise of a reality magik-vision, Alike as came unto a mid-80s index of abundance, Shewn running away whilst attempting to make focus On the ever-deterioratingly indistinct Object of the distancing, that It’s only when, at stopping to think about it, That the understand can be ascertained as to quite how rife it is.

26. Here, he left a passing message for Those who might collectively commandeer: Abide by life; that, if, then, I wouldn't be here.

27. Debates about amplification And attention-hijacking form a Siege mentality Of the corrupted Federal Apparatus- For seven days beneath the dam, As then a fire spiralled further Toward a more outlandish means Of unconstitutional civic theatre,

28. Whereby a calfling must be made to last The night and know it's mother As having died before slaughter; So the community Moved in after it went dark, Enjoining, then modulating, then killing off, And now Your complexes are all cooked in, Deeply infringing upon the weirds of others.

29. So must you make sacrifice To your very free will, As to common patriotic causes, Or else be sieged Within the corrupt Federal Apparatus.

30. The fundamental thing is: You cant escape my attention economy; Eat everything now, For nothing shall be saved, And this same day shall be Until tomorrow; when again, it's me.

31. Lo, and you must; it's me, remember? But by now all this blood and all this law Was affecting them, as had long been within their dream, Where they have their own rules, quirks and cultures, Which they ignore at your peril; Where environments play out upon a knife-edge, And attention might simply be a lens Through which to read the events of the moment While running away.

32. Herein, power shall not be trusted To recognize affiliated abuses of power; Yet, check, however, before Redirecting such missives from my personal kingdom, For lo, there shall be nonesuch insubordination, As might mitigate against, for I shall be hallowed; Me me me me, So you;

33. Thus, I lay my notional claim Unto my servant-leadership- as bang, That brought you out of the land, Didn't it? Akhenaten to me. So Leviticus stood at The simply-inflated Size of Capitalism, To whom, hereto, On a bench they'd built Between themselves, Be here, thisway, is addressing- 'Imagine; You have been wrong For a long long time now.'

[mrmallard]

My Top 5 Artists of 2020

This is heavily based on my Spotify stats, since I shifted to using it as my primary source of music this year. Unfortunately, there's been some fuckery - The Weepies added both of its members, Deb Talan and Steve Tannen, to the contributing artists section a month or two ago. And I've already run them both up into my top 5 artists purely from their Weepies output.

So I've utilised a couple of other apps to dig into my Spotify stats, and I'll be building a list from that. This has given me the opportunity to be a bit more creative with the list, so it won't just be a carbon copy of my Spotify stats.

Honorable Mentions:

Melissa Horn: she's a Swedish artist who sings in Swedish. I put her music on when I'm Really Feeling It and when I want to go to sleep.

The Weakerthans: I can't keep streaming the same four albums over and over again, so they fell short. But they're really good, like a more rock-oriented Mountain Goats. None of the Above, Left and Leaving and One Great City! are recommended if you're getting into them as a Mountain Goats fan.

The Mountain Goats: I'm gonna speak about them in my Favorite Songs of 2020 list. I don't have enough material to talk about their entire output this year, and I'm kinda on the outs with them - my interest ebbs and flows, and atm it's more of a flow.

Rachael Yamagata: I've loved her music ever since I heard one of her songs on an internet radio station years ago, and I'm hanging on for some new material. She made it into my Spotify Top 5 after accounting for the individual Weepies members, but I've knocked her back by one spot because of a very surprising comeback this year that I want to talk about more.

Top 5 Artists of 2020

#5: Brandi Carlile

I first found Brandi Carlile's music last year, and over the course of 2020 I've taken deep dives into her music and really let it settle into me. She's a Grammy-winning country artist, recognised for her album By the Way, I Forgive You. I understand that country is a very hit or miss genre, but the sound of By The Way, I Forgive You throws back to older sounds from the genre's history, eschewing the more obnoxious hallmarks of Bro Country to deliver some of the most emotional country ballads in recent memory.

One aspect that makes her work different is her orientation - she's a lesbian. It makes songs like The Mother, where she adjusts to motherhood, really come around twice and resonate twice as hard. We've all heard With Arms Wide Open - but The Mother tackles the same subject matter in a more intimate, close-to-home fashion, and there's that resonance of "there are people who spent years trying to stop people from experiencing this happiness, and through the wider struggles of the LGBTQ+ community, we've reached a point where this future is possible for us".

But message or not, the music has to be good - and it's honestly pretty fantastic. Sugartooth is this arena-country song about a man who succumbed to opiate addiction, Fulton Country Jane Doe is a song commemorating an unknown woman who died in hospital without a name. Turpentine is a great song about how it feels to grow apart from something. Heart's Content feels like a commemoration of a happy relationship that just beams through your speakers. I really enjoy Brandi Carlile's music, and I hope her future content is as strong as By The Way, I Forgive You.

#4: Gorillaz

Song Machine is the best Gorillaz album since Plastic Beach. Straight up. This past year of Gorillaz videos has been absolutely phenomenal, and it's really brought me back into the fold as a Gorillaz fan.

Humanz failed to captivate me, and while Humility was an excellent single off of the Now Now, that album's other singles just didn't hit with me. Song Machine has been hit after hit after hit. Plastic Beach slowly got better for me over time, as I listened to each of the songs more intently and began to appreciate aspects of songs I had written off - I've enjoyed each and every Song Machine song from the moment I heard it.

Pac-Man is probably their most radio-friendly single in years, I even had non-fans vibing on it. Friday the 13th is overhated - it took a while to grow on me, but it's one of the more atmospheric, moody cuts of the album, and it ended up being a highlight for me. The Pink Phantom is an excellent ballad featuring three generations of musicians.

At the end of the day, this turnaround in quality has been incredible to witness, and I'm back in that mindset of a 15 year old where I'm consuming every new single over and over again and wondering if it plays into a larger narrative. Gorillaz fucks.

#3: Maria Mena

It's been over a year since I've dived into Maria Mena's music, and while my interest has ebbed and flowed, her album Growing Pains has cemented itself as one of my favorite albums - possibly ever.

I like her so much because of the way she enunciates her words. Her songs can get kind of wordy, which is an appeal in itself, but her way of singing puts so much weight on each individual word and it makes her music all the more unique and amazing. And her material is genuinely unique in how grim it can get, and how brutally honest it all feels.

Her latest project, They Never Leave Their Wives, had a lot to live up to after Growing Pains. The singles that came out polarised me, but when the album came out, I found myself enjoying it as much as any other Maria Mena project. I did a total 180 on You Live and You Learn, and it solidified her as one of my favorite recent artists. I wish more people listened to her.

#2: Sara Bareilles

I have two confessions about Sara Bareilles. First of all, I don't like Love Song - at all. It got overplayed during my formulative years, like Adele and AC/DC as a whole, and I genuinely can't stand it. That plonking piano opening sends shivers of discomfort up my spine. My second confession is that I've never heard anyone pronounce her last name, so I don't know how to say it. Not really relevant, but I wanted to get it off my chest.

Sara Bareilles has persisted as one of my favorite artists over the last 3 years. I first latched onto her music with the song She Used to be Mine, which I felt so strongly about at points I nearly cried in class while listening to it. Twice. Since then, I've learned she also recorded the radio hit Brave which is fan-fucking-tastic, I've completely worn out her song 1000 Times, and I adore a solid half of the tracks from her album Amidst the Chaos.

I adore her balladry on songs like Orpheus, Someone Who Loves Me and Without A Believer. Her voice soars, and it lingers on low notes that make me feel like I'm wrapped in a thick doona. And she's written one of the lyrics that's made me go absolutely apeshit like no other - "kiss me goodnight / like a good friend might". I maintain that it's one of the most underutilized song lyrics used in fan content.

I never would have thought I could like Sara Bareilles as much as I do based on the one song I know her from the most. But thanks to Spotify, I managed to hear some of the most emotionally resonant music in her discography, and I'm incredibly happy about that.

#1: The Weepies

I'm sorry, but you must have seen this coming with all of the Weepies content I've been indulging in lately. The write ups, the reblogs, the pleas to get anyone else to listen to these guys as well. Because while their music can be hit or miss, they axe the ball out of the fuckin ballpark every time they hit.

I can recommend so many songs (Gotta Have You, Slow Pony Home, Somebody Loved) which drip with an unparalleled degree of love and affection, or which speak to some of the most vulnerable parts of me (Citywide Rodeo, Hummingbird), or which are just flat out gorgeous (Sirens, Painting By Chagall, They're In Love, Where Am I). I'm totally infatuated with this band's music.

And what sends me the most is that the two members of the band, Deb Talan and Steve Tannen, are a married couple with kids and a home. Like, is that the reason their songs are so emotionally impactful and fulfilling to listen to? It's wild. I'm so glad they're happy together, and I can't help but feel like that love bleeds through into their music.

The Weepies got me through some of the toughest times of 2020. They swept in with a total underdog victory, considering that I didn't know who they were until this year. Every other artist on this list has been on my radar for at least a year, except this band. I'm so glad I managed to stumble into this band through sheer happenstance, because their music has made my life better.

#Brandi Carlile #Gorillaz #Maria Mena #Sara Bareilles #The Weepies #fun fact: I tried to write this in alphabetical order to obscure the rankings #but this is how I ranked them on my list lmao #it just happened like that #brandi carlile is 5 and the weepies is 1 #top 10

[liliseestheworld]

Bus seat warmer-Han Jisung

summary: drunk and cold after a night out, you just wanted some warmth. what happens when that warmth has to get off at the next stop though?

Ok it’s my first writing so any constructive criticism is welcomed. Also, english is not my first language so pardon my mistakes pls.

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Whoever decided that plastic bus seats shouldn’t have pillows should have a word or two with you. You just sat down, hoping for a warm and quiet 50 minutes ride back to your flat. Instead, you were in for 50 minutes of butt freezing. Great! You knew that going out for drinks with your friends was a bad idea. But the thought of your best friend getting mad at you+ the opportunity to dance, have a lot of vodka and meet cute guys made you say yes.

 You chose a pretty popular club that your friend was a regular at. It was pretty far from home, however the drinks were really cheap so you could still save some up for rent.

  The night started just fine, drank a shot, then two, danced a little bit, then drank some more; laughing with your friends and being besties with people you just met.

  By midnight, you started getting hot and mentally high-fived yourself for your choice of clothing: ripped black skinny jeans, brown crop top with a cute print and a tiny black denim jacket. As you continued to dance, you got pretty tired and, by the time the morning came and the club doors were closing, you were sitting by the sidewalk to finish your last drink. After all, you paid for it.

 When you were done, you said goodbye to your friends and began walking towards the bus stop. One of them offered to drive you home but you refused. It was 5 something in the am so the first bus was bound to arrive soon. No need for them to take a detour to drop you off. Actually long bus rides were one of the few activities you actually enjoyed. Especially in really late or really early hours. It was just something abouth watching the city from afar; you were a part of those wandering around in the silent streets, but at the same time, you were not. You were only observing.

 As the drunkness began to fade away, you realized you were shaking. You sat down on the bench and waited patiently while hugging yourself to keep the heat from escaping your body. As you were fighting sleep the bus arrived and you got on quickly, imagining you’d be better once you’re inside it. Your dreams of a cozy ride were immediately crushed once you sat down in the cold seat.

 And here you were now, cursing your government with your still dizzy mind. Thinking about TOP’s song ‘Tear in my heart’ which had these exact lyrics, you softly began humming the song. The seat was still really cold even after 10 minutes into the ride so you lost hope for your precious comfortable ride home.

 You rested your head against the window and gazed out at the still world. The streets were pretty empty but it was expected as the Sun was just starting to come out. Every once in a while, when the bus passed by small buildings, you had to squint your eyes, because the morning sunshine was too strong and you struggled to keep them open. You probably looked funny to those who could saw you from outside, but most of those who were out now were not paying attention to their surroundings. The young girl who was out running only looked ahead of her, the old man who was walking around was focused on the plants and trees growing on his path, the old lady who was walking her dog was preocupied with her phone and the students gathered around the coffee shop were busy talking with eachother. There were only 2 people who made eye contact with you from outside the bus: a little girl who was walking to school with her mom, who probably thought that you were making weird faces at her and stuck out her tongue at you in response and a man in his late 40s who didn’t pay you any other attention than the brief eye contact that you held.

 Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly realized that you weren’t cold anymore when the bus opened its doors to a random stop. At least, your right thigh wasn’t cold. You focused your eyes on the window again but this time you looked at the interior of the bus, seeing a young boy settled on the seat next to yours. When did he get on?

 You subtly checked your phone to see the time. Yup, 40 more minutes to go. You relaxed in your seat, thankful for the little warmth his thigh provided pressed up against yours and sneakily studied your bus neighbor. He was a boy around your age. He wore a simple black hoodie and a cute orange beanie, covering his dyed dark blue bangs. Interesting color combination. His profile was one of the prettiest you had ever seen in your life. It was no secret for you that your side profile view was not a pleasant one for many people. You subconsciously turned your head more towards the window, so that your face was entirely hidden. His face was a work of art. Was it possible that you fell asleep and now you were dreaming of a painting come alive? That’s how you felt. The early morning lights were making his sking almost glow, bringing the ‘sun-kissed skin’ saying to life. His eyes were the color of pure honey, but then again, they could be a darker shade. In the light of the new day they appeared to look like gold. He seemed so warm, you almost imagined curling yourself in a tiny ball and settle in his arms. You were clearly still drunk.

 Although your first impression of him was that you were seated next to the God of Sun itself, you started noticing small details that reminded you that he was just another boy. His eyes had dark bags under them and looked exhausted. He was staring into nothing while silently moving his head to whatever music he was listening to. His hands were around his earphones’ cable, playing with it absent-mindedly. Most of his nails were bitten almost to blood, the others just really short. He had a few rings, most which appeard to be silver. One of them though made his perfect skin around it turn a green-ish color. Still, you wanted his hands to gently hold yours.

 As you were daydreaming about why was he here at this time of the day, you suddenly felt a shiver starting from you thigh and spreading through your whole body. Coming back to reality you realised that he got up, removing one of his earphones and was heading to the bus doors. Without realising, only thinking that the whole world’s warmth will be gone with him, you found yourself stopping him.

 -Wait, don’t go.

 He stopped and turned around confused, most likely thinking that he was hearing things. Did he know you? Were you one of his fans? Maybe you were talking to yourself. But no, he looked into your eyes, eyes just as confused as his were. He walked back to his previous seat but didn’t sit down, just rested his weight on the bar that he was holding onto.

 -Were you talking to me?

 Now was your turn to be taken aback. Why did he come back? After your sudden outburst you expected him to ignore you, or worst case scenario laught at you before getting off the bus. What was he thinking?

 -Umm, me? you pointed at yourself in a dumb way.

 -Yeah, sweetie. Who else? If you haven’t noticed the bus is kinda empty except for us. Well, it was supposed to be just you here now but for some reason you decided you want me to stay.

 He laughed shortly, clearly amused at your flustered state. One thing’s for sure, he definitly had the arrogance of a Sun God. You rolled your eyes and tried to get your cheeks to cool down. Shouldn’t be too hard, considering that your source of warmth for most of the ride wasn’t next to you anymore.

 -I wasn’t asking you to stay. I just…

 And then your voice was too quiet to be heard, making the boy lean in to hear you better.

 -Come again? You have to speak up if you want me to hear you.

 -I said, I was just cold.

 -’Just cold’? What does that have to do with me?

 -Ok, listen up, pretty boy. I’m drunk and cold and I was walking home thinking how I’ll warm up once I get on the bus, but these seats are fucking cold and my butt was frozen and I was tired and you sat down next to me, by the way there were a lot of seats available, so you started it but you were warm and I wasn’t shaking anymore so I panicked when you got up and called for you and I didn’t expect you to actually hear me but then you come back all cocky and start asking me ques-

 -Ok, sorry for interupting your rambling but I pretty much know the rest of the story.

 He watched you for a few more seconds and then sat back down next to you. Never breaking eye contact he disconnected his earphones and opened his backpack, putting them inside. He only broke down his stare when whatever he was trying to get out got stuck. He easily managed to take it out and he handed it to you. What was it? A black simple hoodie, just like the one that he was wearing now. You took it without a second thought and put it on, happy with the fact that you weren’t cold anymore.

 - I’m warning you that it may smell like a dead rat, but I can’t guarantee that the one tham I’m wearing is any better. Still better than nothing though.

 He looked embarrassed, his full round cheeks being as pink as the sky behind the window. Cute.

 You didn’t say anything, but inhaled subtly. The hoodie didn’t smell bad at all. It smelled like old cologne and a something else which you guessed was his own smell. Ok, you could smell a little bit of sweat, but it was barely there and, afterall, it might have as well come from you with all the dancing you did back at the club. You made sure to tell him that it was ok and thank him. Would it be weird to ask for his name now?

 -So, what’s your name sweetie? Looks like he beat you to it.

 - Y/N. What’s yours?

 -You don’t know me?

 -Umm, was I supposed to? You’re even weirder than I am.

 -No, just. I’m part of a rap trio. 3Racha. We’re pretty popular on soundcloud and spotify. I thought that you knew me from there and wanted an autograph or something.

 -That’s so cool, you guys are on spotify? Show me.

 And that’s how you spent the rest of your ride, listening to him and his friends rapping. You had to give it to them, they were good. Really good. After adding all of their songs to your playlist you realized that you were only 2 stops away from home. And he was still there next to you, even though he was supposed to get off long time ago.And then you realised he still hasn’t introduced himself.

 -Hey, we’re nearing the last stop. And you still haven’t told me your name, J.One. I don’t think that’s how your mama named you, isn’t it?

 He laughed with his whole body after hearing your question. Damn him, even his laugh was beautiful. With his heart -shaped lips and shiny eyes, with his sweet voice filling the empty bus. Is this how falling in love with a stranger feels like?

 -Of course that’s not it. My name’s Jisung.But you can call me anything you’d like.

 Getting off the bus, you and Jisung stared at eachother. What now? Were you supposed to walk him to the bus stop on the other side? It’s your fault he missed it. But you also wantem him to walk you home. You liked talking to him. You didn’t want it to end, even though the day was just starting.

 -Are you gonna keep staring at me or will you let me walk you home, sweetie? I’m getting cold too now.

 -Oh, right. I’m sorry you missed your stop.

 -It’s okay. It wasn’t actually my stop. Usually, when I’m going home from the studio I get off 2 stops early to walk and clear my mind. So I could have gotten off if I wanted to. But I didn’t.

 You didn’t say anything, instead started walking towards your flat. You didn’t know what you were supposed to say. ‘Thanks’? No way. So you opted for silence.

 The wind was a little bit chilly, but definetly warmer than a few hours ago. It almost felt good to feel it pass by you, making your hair go in all different directions. You adjusted the hoodie and put your twiching hands in your pockets. You suddenly remembered thinking about holding Jisung’s hands. The thought made your cheeks red again, and you snuggled further into the hoodie, almost being swallowed by it.

You thought of breaking the silence, that was a normal thing to do. But then again, it was comfortable. Jisung didn’t seem to be bothered by it and you actually enjoyed it. There were not many people you could be quiet with and he was one of them. Words were not necessary. They would be carried away by the wind anyway.

 You reached your building and faced him again. You two just stayed like that, staring at eachother for a few minutes.

 -Give me your phone, y/n.

 -Is this the part where you steal it and run away?

 -No, it’s the part where I take it and save my number in it.

 And that he did, saving himself as ‘Bus seat warmer’ in your phone. Very funny. He gave you your phone back, said goodbye and turned away to leave. But before that, he turned around and winked at you.

 -And afterall, I already stole something. Your heart belongs to me now. And trust me when I say, I wouldn’t even dream of running away.

 With that he finally left, leaving you to contemplate how soon you should call him. You entered your apartment and pressed call. Jisung immediately answered.

 -Miss me already, sweetie?

#stray kids #skz oneshots #skz fluff #skz imagines #skz writing #han jisung #j.one #fluff

[priscillaholbrook]

* ✶ 「 diana silvers, 24, cis woman & she/her」 welcome to the mortal realm, PRISCILLA HOLBROOK— though, the fates whisper that they could only be PANDORA reincarnated. it seems in this life they’re instead known for being a GOSSIP BLOGGER. what a downgrade. nevertheless, mortality can be confusing, so it’s understandable they can be CHARISMATIC and CLEVER , but also DECEITFUL and NOSY; maybe that’s why they remind people of RUNNER by TENNIS? but not all history is washed away by time — just as the poets say, they still remind others of AN ELABORATE COSTUME AT A MASQUERADE BALL, A LOCKET TUCKED BENEATH A SHIRT, PERFECTLY PAINTED NAILS. hopefully this life treats them a little better. 

tw: arson, absentee parents, mentions of violence 

a barbie doll. plastic. hollow. to be dressed up or dressed down. it was how she felt her whole life. 

born in a small town in west virginia, her dreams were bigger than her town. she was born orla harper, but she would change the name when she left west virginia, something only she seemed to hope for.

her parents often fought and were much more involved in themselves than their child’s life. she had no structure or rules growing up, so she was busy flirting and partying rather than studying.

one day, a young man came to town and settled down. he attracted her attention, and she was constantly prying into his life, but he barely revealed any information about himself. as someone so curious, this drew her in.

she tried to get him to love her as she loved him. but she loved the idea of him more than the reality. he didn’t give her what she wanted – answers, compliments – so she worked desperately to get these things from him.

he gave her locket and told her to savor her past. the way he talked about it set off alarms in her head, and she did some research. he had been arrested, but was currently on the run.

she confronted him about it. he was mad, worried she would ruin the new life he created for himself. threats ensued, and in an act of desperation, she burned down the house they were in to escape him. he got arrested and blamed for it. 

at eighteen, she packed what few things she owned, tucked the locket away, and fled  to new york with a new name. priscilla holbrook. 

she struggled to make a name for herself in new york. working as an assistant stylist, she overhead some celebrity gossip. she made a blog and posted this gossip. as the years went on, the blog grew in popularity, and she’s a well-known and trusted source for celebrity gossip.

priscilla is a liar. she lies constantly about her past, always making up new stories about it. she has created this glamorous persona because she wants to appear to be perfect. she is curious to a fault. due to this she is a good listener because she wants to know anything and everything. she knows how to get her way and how to get people to like her, but it all feels so hollow to her because nothing is real in her life. it’s all cultivated.

you can read her full bio here !! 

i’m excited to be here and excited to plot with y’all! 

#theikosintro #arson tw #violence mention