#like my whole entire life is dedicated to hanging onto this rope

[levihantrash]

Shitty Comics and Their Shitty Artists

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1:

“The sweets are really good here, huh?” A kind, bespectacled face appeared beside him, peering at the bulging of his shirt.

Levi had stolen from the pantry plenty of times. He had never gotten caught, so his gradual boldness could have been the problem. He had seen Mikasa, his younger sister, whenever she passed by the snacks section in the grocery store. Her gaping mouth at the sight of the colourful assortment of sweets was enough to let him know.

“I just like looking!” Mikasa said hastily. He hadn’t said anything either.

To be caught now, when he had overheard a staff member mentioning that most of the professors would be taking their leave during the summer break, was just his bad, bad luck. Objectively, he was risking his month-old job, but stealing from the pantry was much less risky than stealing from the grocery store. He began doing it weekly. Every Monday, right before the professors came streaming in, he would take a quick survey of his surroundings, and snatch two chocolate bars, sometimes a banana—only a handful. He would glance at the security camera hanging in the corner, willing it to catch him. Nobody would be petty enough to arrest a cleaner for swiping staff snacks in the pantry, right?

Levi stared back at the unfamiliar person. He recognised most of the staff by now. Only the English Literature professor, Erwin Smith, would greet him in the mornings.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Hange Zoë, the new creative writing professor. Nice to meet you!” They extended out a hand, which he felt obliged to shake, albeit warily. The hand was sweaty, and the handshake, vigorous.

“I was setting up my table and I wanted to meet everyone. Turns out most of them are on vacation,” Hange said absent-mindedly, scratching their head. The two buttons of their shirt had been mixed up, scrunching up the dress shirt's already lopsided collar. Levi resisted the urge to rebutton it for them. Today was not the day to scare off what seemed to be a genuinely welcoming person. Hange, on the other hand, found the firm handshake hilarious. What made this person so uptight?

Hange, realising that he wasn’t saying anything, breezily went, “what’s your name?”

“Levi,” he said, pushing his hands back into his pockets.

“You don’t prefer Dr. Levi?” Hange asked curiously.

“I’m not a professor. Just the cleaner,” Levi said shortly.

“Oh? Is that why you’re so secretive about the snacks?” Hange teased him, much to his chagrin.

“You rich profs have enough to eat,” Levi spat out.

Hange didn’t even blink, nodding calmly, “you’re right, it’s certainly good to make full use of the school’s resources.” Levi, sensitive to any hint of condescension, found none, though not regretting his overdose of sarcasm.

“Also,” Hange added, “I’m not going to tell anyone, I promise! So could you not look like you want to kill me and leave my dead body in the cleaning closet?”

Levi scoffed, relaxing the fists that had formed naturally by his side.

“Do you like bread?” Hange asked suddenly, scanning him for signs of the affirmative. He shrugged.

“I passed by a bakery this morning and it had the most delicious smell,” they sighed, “I was running late so I couldn’t get anything.”

“It seems like you’re kind of a mess.”

Hange laughed—this person could literally laugh at everything, Levi thought. They lifted their shoulders with their arms in the air, in a manner of “I was born like this, what do you want me to do?”

As the conversation subsided, Hange saw Levi’s eyes dart towards the neglected mop and bucket, finding it oddly endearing.

“Well then! I won’t disturb you any longer!” Hange announced. Levi wanted to tell them that they weren’t disturbing him at all, before stopping himself. His initial plan was to escape from useless small talk. Uttering such absurdity would be counterintuitive.

“Since you’re here,” Hange grabbed the last few packets of chips in the basket and stuffed them into his gigantic apron pockets, “you might as well take the rest!”

“Are you pitying me?”

“Those snacks aren’t for you,” Hange merely said cheerfully, before tentatively asking, “or am I wrong?”

“Don’t expect any favours,” Levi said begrudgingly.

He looked awkwardly at the distracted professor, who had chosen to open a chocolate bar themselves.

“Thanks…” he said, and Hange only grins, bits of chocolate and almond stuck to their teeth.

----------

Routine, that’s how it all began. Levi and Hange were seeing each other every day. In each encounter, Hange would tug out a new bread or pastry from the depths of a green, bottomless leather bag that they carried around everywhere.

Initially, Levi felt offended. “You think I can’t afford bread?” He asked, narrowing his eyes.

Hange’s eyes widened, “of course not! I want to share the joy of this bread, if you remember that bakery I was craving for,” they poked at the loaf, leaving a small dent in the middle.

With their hand still extended out, Hange scoured for words, “and you look like someone who doesn’t often indulge in little joys.”

“I didn’t ask you to psychoanalyze me.” Levi grabbed the bread, tore it into two, and pushed one entire piece into his mouth. A muffled word of thanks came out. The other half was planted back onto Hange’s palm.

“You said you wanted to share, didn’t you?”

Hange glowed in acknowledgement. They stuffed the warm bread into their mouth, cheeks full, incoherently raving about its texture. The sight of Levi chewing the bread contentedly after unexpectedly cramming it into his mouth; Hange wanted to preserve it, to immortalise this tentative pleasure. If fresh bread was what it took to achieve that, it was perfectly doable.

Levi saw it as what it was. An offering. There was really no reason to reject free bread, and if this were Hange’s version of bribery, it was innocent enough.

“Why don’t I get bread?” Erwin asked Hange, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Levi’s nose wrinkled at the overly strong aroma.

“Sorry Erwin!” Hange patted him on the back, not sounding apologetic at all, “I only have money for one friend and since Levi is my first friend here, it’s only fair, don’t you think?”

“Certainly,” Erwin said, sipping on his black coffee, eyeing a certain stony-faced individual’s violent coughing at Hange’s mention of “friend.”

“What?” Levi asked, clearing his throat one more time.

“Good day to you both,” Erwin said, sweeping past Levi to return to his desk.

Following the end of summer break, Hange became relatively friendly with their colleagues in the staffroom, who had never greeted Levi. Unbothered by the lack of formalities, Levi found himself getting along best with living things that discarded general rules of propriety. Like children, animals… and Hange. Still, when Levi trailed back to the staffroom, wet mop in hand, he found himself at a hearing distance behind Hange’s conversation with a group of colleagues.

Hange got to the point, smiling sweetly. “Why do you all pretend Levi doesn’t exist?”

There were awkward, feeble words of justification. Something about Levi being too scary. Something about Levi not greeting them first. Hange listened, eyebrows furrowing.

“You could at least say hi, right? He doesn’t bite,” Hange said coolly. Their colleagues felt the faintest chill up their spine. Levi sloshed the mop onto the floor, making his presence known. Hange barely flinched, as though expectant of his company.

“Are you talking about me behind my back?”

Hange slung an arm around Levi’s shoulders and whispered, “no, I’m telling everyone right now that you don’t get enough sleep and that’s why you’re glaring at everyone.”

Levi elbowed them away. “Who cares what people think?”

Unwrapping the bread Hange gave him, he took one significant, large bite while everyone squirmed in silence. Hange, strangely amused by the scene playing out before them, ushered Levi towards Erwin’s cubicle.

“Levi! What are your plans for today?”

“Cleaning.”

Hange clapped their hands together, “I invite you to have lunch with me and Erwin!”

“Why should I go?” Levi said, not unkindly.

“Why not?” Levi couldn’t give a good reason. Hange, latching on to Levi’s lack of refusal, took the mop away from his hands.

“You can finish cleaning later. Everyone has to eat, right?”

“Not you, apparently,” Levi muttered, remembering how Hange had straight-up not left their desk for a whole ten hours—the sun shining on their sleep deprivation at dawn until the desktop screen illuminated their exhaustion at dusk.

“That was one deadline, Levi.”

“Sure.” Regardless, he wasn’t about to decline Hange. Somehow, Hange had grown attached to Erwin, and had endless discussions with him. Conversations about writing, mostly. He didn’t participate much outside of jabbing at Hange’s ribs when the volume of their voice went over the publicly acceptable range. Otherwise, he would be shooting glares at Erwin whenever he tried to probe into Levi’s personal life. Erwin had an intensity that was difficult, near impossible to ignore.

Incidentally, the topic of comics cropped up.

“Comics?”

Hange picked up on the rare tonal shift of Levi’s voice, studying him. Erwin’s fork elegantly pierced a French fry, the screech of the fork’s contact with the plate prompting Levi to speak over it. He was positive that Erwin was trying to get him to talk. On purpose.

“Yes, I like them,” Levi conceded, draining the tea from his cup.

“I learn something new about you every day!” Hange exclaimed, as Levi gripped the edge of the cup harder.

Seemingly catching on to Levi’s discomfort, Erwin asked Hange for recommendations, telling them how he had never read any comics.

“How predictable of a literature professor,” Hange said, sitting up straighter to mock the poise of a scholar, glasses perched at the tip of their nose for the intended effect.

“You look like a fart with a stick up their ass,” Levi commented, leaving Hange howling. Erwin, the consistent gentleman, remained at ease with these disparaging jokes.

While Hange listed out their favourite comics, Levi noted that none of their top choices was marginally close to any of his preferences: in genre, in plot, and in art style.

“I like horror.”

“I don’t,” Levi countered. Hange grinned wider.

“Well, you’re scary enough as you are,” Hange considered, taking in his aloof disposition and the way he sat stiffly on the chair. Nonchalant, and could possibly decimate you.

“Look,” Hange said, thrusting an open book into Levi’s hands. “This comic is so good. It keeps me up at night.”

Levi leafed through the pages, absorbed by the clean black and white lines. That was, until he flipped a page and winced at the image of empty eye sockets, gouged out, spurting inked blood.

“You don’t like blood,” Hange said this matter-of-factly, promptly closing the book.

“I don’t like unnecessary death.”

“How do you know those deaths were unnecessary?” Erwin asked, pushing back his blonde hair in an effortlessly charismatic manner.

Levi could picture it. Erwin, a fearless leader, bringing people to greater heights.

Hange had less noble thoughts. Erwin was definitely the protagonist in a teen movie who looked older than high school age and was starring as a blonde jock whose embarrassingly lacklustre coming-of-age arc was spurred by a shy, beautiful nerd. For good reason, Hange kept their mouth shut.

“I don’t,” Levi answered, “but is any death really necessary?”

Erwin smiled, “perhaps not.” The seed of doubt grew in Levi.

Hange leaned forward across the table towards Levi, a hand covering one side of their smirking face.

“Erwin’s a lot more calculative than you think.”

Levi swatted away Hange’s strands of hair tickling his cheek, “I know,” he said half-heartedly, not wishing to contemplate the extent of its truthfulness.

Carving the last piece of meat on his plate into two, Erwin shrugged.

“So, you would say that some deaths are necessary?” Levi asked. The question blurted out on its own, slicing through the amicable atmosphere like a stray bullet. For some reason, he wanted a proper answer. Hange was busy flipping through the same horror comic book, their eyes trained on the page.

“Do you like bugs, Levi?” Erwin asked.

Levi visibly scowled. “No.”

Erwin’s fork scraped the plate insistently.  “Do you kill them?”

“Obviously.”

Erwin’s collectedness seemed impenetrable. “Would you say their deaths are necessary?”

“Necessary enough as a cleaner.”

“There, you have your answer,” Erwin said, with finality.

“I’m talking about human lives, not some insects,” Levi said, frustrated.

“Some lives matter more than others, am I right?”

“Yeah…” Levi said, struggling to grasp Erwin’s logic.

“It’s the same for us,” Erwin said cryptically.

Hange stood up, snapping the book shut. “Shit, I have to teach a class in ten!” Levi naturally stood up as well. Erwin gave a friendly wave, undeterred by the abruptness of their departure.

“See you, Erwin!” Hange called out, rushing back to the staffroom.

“Why does Erwin have to be so ambiguous?” Levi griped.

“You’re not very telling, yourself,” Hange said blithely, grabbing their laptop before marching out of the door.

Armed with constant smiles and warm words, Levi would classify Hange as someone just as enigmatic. Their discussions about writing were arguably personal, but they weren’t exactly close to the heart.

The two people Levi was becoming acquainted with in the past few weeks were a slate full of words in a language he understood, but couldn’t decipher. For the rest of the day, he compromised on these doubts by making sure the windows had not a speck of dust on them. Every moving insect was stamped out under his supervision. He thought about Erwin’s words, turning them over and over in his head. He thought about Hange’s nonchalance towards Erwin’s questions.

----------

After locking up his cleaning supplies, Levi peeled the sweaty gloves off his arms, untying the bandana on his head that kept his long fringe away, and removed his apron. Hearing a friendly shout in the otherwise deserted school building, he caught Hange coming to a stop behind him.

“You’re still here,” he said, frowning.

“Had a lot of work,” they said, armed with this reasoning every day.

“Were you listening during lunch?”

“Hmm, kind of,” Hange stated obliquely, “you know how literature people are.”

Levi was bewildered, his passive expression cracking slightly. “I don’t. As you might have realised, I don’t talk to a lot of people.”

“Literature people,” Hange rubbed their chin, eyes looking upwards in deep thought, “enjoy discussing morality in a mostly abstract, hypothetical way.”

“That’s annoying.”

Hange fell in step with Levi, who was headed to the exit, “Erwin’s one of the better ones. He’s pragmatic, and he’s not just all talk.”

“Yeah, so what’s his grand plan…” Levi said, finding the right words, “for humanity?”

“He wants to create a comic.”

Levi blinked.

“Huh? What does that have to do with morality?”

Hange looked unperturbed by Levi’s confusion, as though it were commonplace for them to defend the importance of the comic genre.

“Think of texts as a philosophical question waiting to be answered. And the questions of morality being narrativized makes their conclusions more believable. More influential. Erwin has a vision for comics to be the source of truth.”

“What truth?”

Hange grinned, “if we knew, would we need to write the comic?”

“You talk like it’s more revolutionary than it actually is…” Levi said, pushing open the door to step out of the school building.

“A comic can be life-changing,” Hange mused, admiring how the sunset decorated everything in watercolour splashes of orange and pink; a distinct nostalgic hue.

Levi remembered that Hange was, after all, a creative writing professor. “Yeah, you would say that.”

“It’s not because I’m a creative writing professor!” Hange said, impassioned. He gave them a dry look.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Besides, Erwin wants to be the editor of the comic that I am writing,” Hange said proudly.

Levi felt that his head might explode. “Since when were you writing a comic?”

“Since last week!” Hange said, remarkably animated.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Isn’t that what friends are for? To share things with?” Hange asked, hopeful.

That word—Levi figured that that was what they were by now. Friends. He didn’t hate the sound of it.

“You’re not going to ask what it’s about?”

“You’ll tell me if I just waited.”

“You’re right! But you see,” Hange exhaled, shaking their head despondently, “my problem is that I don’t have someone who can draw out my writing.” Levi’s hands twitched. He interlocked them into a prayer, hoping Hange didn’t notice.

“Why not just write a novel?”

Hange was unconvinced, “I’m tired of just the written word, Levi! The versatility and multimodal form of the comic are incomparable to a novel!”

Levi had to agree. “Have you been trying to find artists?”

“Yes, but none of them seemed very keen on drawing the story,” Hange said, recalling the number of people who became increasingly disconcerted upon hearing the gist of the story.

“So, what’s the story?” Levi asked.

Hange was hesitant. Levi waited.

“It’s horror, isn’t it?”

“The premise includes giant naked human beings running around eating people,” Hange said. Levi grimaced. They expected this, but it didn’t make their disappointment at his very reasonable reaction any less jarring.

“It also has a lot of blood,” Hange said. Sensing that they were one sentence away from diving into a world-building sermon, they paused.

“Do you want to hear more?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Levi said honestly. It had been a long day.

“Of course! I’ll see you tomorrow!” Hange said, giving him a reassuring pat on the back.

“I’ll see you,” Levi said belatedly. Hange was already brisk walking towards the crowded street.

Instinctively, he called out, “Four-eyes!”

Turning back, Hange stood where they were, surprised.

“Tell me the story tomorrow.”

A gradual look of appreciation spread across Hange’s face, as their eyes arched downwards into thin curves.

“Thank you, Levi!”

Levi sidestepped Hange’s thanks with a disgruntled “tch. Whatever.”

I finally did it! I posted the first chap of the fic I've been working on for the past month *_* if you read till here... thank you!!! hearing your thoughts/comments would be nice heheh

#aot #snk #levihan #fanfiction #my writing #levi hange erwin #levi and hange #ao3 #attack on titan #levi x hange #erurihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #erwin smith #im rly nervous n excited

[mattzerella-sticks]

Supernatural Crack🩹tober

Day 3: Baby/Pimpmobile - Shotgun

           Baby stares at her reflection in the mirror, acquainting herself with new, yet familiar features. Runs a twitching hand through short, ruffled locks. Giggling at the sensation, and at the novelty of sense. Green eyes light up the more she tussles her new hair, wrinkles appearing around green eyes and pink lips. “Oh my God,” she whispers, voice a deep timbre. Rumbling without an engine. “Cars should totally come with hair!”

           She adds hair to the ever-growing list of things she enjoys while being a human. While being her human. Dean.

           It was a normal day, before. Better than usual. Instead of wasting time, collecting dust, resting alongside rows of retirees Baby burned rubber. Driven over hot asphalt, her tires endlessly spinning. Full up, Dean taking care by feeding her until she could fit no more. And, with open windows, the world could hear her voice as she crooned song after song. She and Dean duetting on most of them. Sam roped in on certain choruses.

           But then they made it home. Journey over, the brothers began emptying her trunk. Baby carried an extra few pounds, souvenirs from the trip. From her rearview mirror, she watched them bicker while stacking boxes in their arms. Dean attempting too much, his face obscured by a wobbling tower. He inched backwards, Sam already given up and abandoning him. A box fell out of view, sound echoing in the room.

           Dean stopped. Bent over –

           Suddenly she sees brown, scuffed boots and an odd, stone figure. Startled, Baby relies on her defenses. Her sirens go off and she honks uncontrollably, but they’re different. Not the same.

           She wasn’t the same. She was Dean.

           “-and Dean is in the car,” Sam explained over the phone, Baby listening but not really. Distracted by an engine that beat, holding her exhaust until sparks burned inside her chassis, and headlights dimmed.

           That’s not right. Not engine, heart. Breath and vision. Sam ran down basic human functions after the call, telling her not to overexert herself. “Be careful with Dean’s body,” he said, “he’s not as durable as – uh… as you used to be, Baby?”

           Nodding, Baby mimicked an affectionate gesture she’s seen Dean use over the years. “I’ll keep Dean safe, Sammy!” she promised, middle finger proudly raised.

           “…Thanks.”

           Unhitched, Baby decided that while in Dean’s body for the time being, she might cruise the only other place he’s called Home. See how a stationary building compares against her sleek, steadfast design.

           In her objective, unbiased opinion, Baby finds her competition lacking. It’s too big, sprawling like the American highway system. A map needed in plotting the path between point A and B. And the detours were confusing. One whole room dedicated for storing food? Pointless. Drive-thrus and diners still existed, meaning the stockpile she found inside a giant, white box wasted space for probably better things. There’s also a washroom that made little sense. How can Dean thoroughly clean himself when little walls were built throughout, blocking any attempt at moving onto the next station?

           Humanity was too complicated for her. Baby enjoyed the simple pleasures. Air on her face, the sound of her steps echoing, and her appearance.

           Wandering, she passed by a room with little thought about it. But, surprisingly, she shifted into reverse.

           Nothing she saw meant anything to her. But her body – Dean’s body – eased, like when she would do rolling stops. Comfortable and safe, in control. Given how crazy the entire day’s been, she savors the feeling.

           Curiosity returns though, not idling for long. Baby investigates the new space. Turns down the soft tarp, leaning on a plush ledge that differs from any surface she’s touched. Examines many hanging decorations of weapons, recognizing those as Dean wielded many similar shapes while around her. She refrains of grabbing any. Instead pulls on a loose hanging rag, surprised when a compartment opens up. Reveals more of the rag, and how it’s not a rag at all. Baby holds a smaller tarp, painted in a criss-cross pattern like the tarp Dean usually wears.

           “That?” Sam said, earlier, following Baby’s pointed finger, “that’s not a tarp. It’s a shirt.”

           “A shirt…” Baby repeated in this newer room. Rubs it against her face, smiling.

           Dean keeps her looking one way. Always black. Never considering a different style.

           Humans can change their style on a whim. Baby does just that.

           She moves her hands away from her hair, traipsing along the lines of the shirt she chose. Buried underneath all the others, it was a tiny scrap of fabric. Decal sheared off, the hem ending halfway down his chest. Baby pokes at her exposed belly, laughter growing. Then, she rubs a hand on the denim short pants she loves, even if Dean only wears them when washing her.

           “Must’ve been a dust storm or something,” Dean said, she remembers, that morning outside the human garage. “Don’t worry, once we get back I’ll give you some good ol’ TLC.”

           It strikes her that, with their new roles, she can shower Dean in a whole new type of love. Engines revved; she guns back onto the highway. Racing towards the garage where Dean sat for all this time.

           He wasn’t alone.

           Baby skids, stopping at the garage entrance. She spies a familiar figure sitting on her old hood, although it’s been ages since Baby saw him in such a state.

           Castiel kicks his legs, wearing only a pair of slacks while murmuring in a low pitch she cannot hear at this distance. Inching closer, Baby notices a nearby pile. His familiar beige tarp, and a darker color of a similar design. Striking blue strip still hanging off a wrinkled white shirt. And black hubcaps – shoes, they’re called shoes – with grey rags sticking out.

           “…and the sky… the sky is so weird, here,” Castiel mumbles, “how do they put up with it? No blue, no purple – no sun, no stars…” He chuckles, stealing the road out from under Baby. She pauses, the sound hauntingly familiar to her. Not like the angel who’s ridden with her boys. Like someone she hadn’t heard in years. “I wish you could talk,” Castiel says, petting the hood now, “I’m finally awake again, but we’re still separated –“

           “Linc?”

           Linc’s head whips towards her, eyes widening in recognition. “Dean,” he stands, advancing, “Dean, I can – I can explain –“

           “No,” Baby interrupts, closing the distance. She wraps her arms around him, savoring how he fit there. “No, not Dean,” she explains, “it’s Baby.”

           “Baby?” Linc gasps, twisting in her grasp. He studies her in a new light, “How… when did –“

           “Before you, I think,” she tells him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

           Linc scoffs, slinking away. Moving, she can tell how different he is from the angel. Hunched over, hands shoved in folds within the slacks that are slung low on his hips. “Darkness… y’know, so much darkness.” He looks left, at a nearby car covered in an old, oily tarp and dust. “But then that changes, and the next thing I remember, I’m in my ol’ driver’s frame –“

           “Body,” she corrects, wincing under his arched brow. “They’re called bodies… apparently.”

           “Right,” he drawls, whistling the word out. “Fuckin’ stupid…” Linc shuffles over, hand freed and hovering near her face. “Aren’t humans dumb?”

           “They’re not dumb,” she says, face twinging with pain as she smiles. It hurts, in a good way. “But they do a lot of unnecessary things.”

           “Fuckin’ A they do.” Linc gestures at the discarded coverings, snorting. “Why they wear so much, I’ll never know.”

           Baby sighs, “You do tend to run hot, Linc. It’s not Castiel’s fault –“

           “Maybe if he ever looked under my hood, he’d fix it.” Linc spits, bitterness soaking the words. A dark cloud of exhaust following it. “Fix a lot of things, make it so I can be out there, again. I can be… I can be with you.”

           She missed him. Missed his snark, and his care. Whenever she returned, Linc would immediately run through a check list – hoping nothing too serious happened while out. Waited by her side if a hunt left some casualties and distracted her from Dean’s surgery with stories of his former life.

           This anger… it’s been festering like oil. Every day Castiel didn’t drive him, it grew. Being decommissioned, forgotten, absorbed into an ancient collection… made the hurt grow. Baby tried speaking with him, then, in those early days. He never heard her. Couldn’t see how sad she was. Close, but still so far.

           Baby grabs his hand, guiding it to her cheek. “I missed you, too.” She leads him forward, leaning on her old hood. “Missed a lot of things… but we have a chance. A small window of opportunity, while Sammy figures out how we can get back to who we were.”

           Linc shakes his head, “Make that a large window. When the oaf left he had no clue where he should start!”

           “Then we can do it more than once.”

           “Do what?”

           She glances behind, at her cabin. “They might have complicated much of life, but humans still know about simple pleasures. Let’s make like the humans do, and… fool around in the backseat?”

           He catches on, laughter cutting through like a sharp honk. “I wouldn’t know where to start,” he wriggles his fingers, “still unused to all these extra… features.”

           “I’ll help you.” Sliding off the hood, Baby and Linc hurry – hand in hand – into the second row. “Dean’s done this a lot. Now I’ll finally understand why he chooses to do it here.”

           “Don’t think about Dean,” Linc whispers in her ear, tiny pellets of hail striking her skin. “It’s just you and me, Baby. Linc and Baby… together again.”

           “Together again…” She turns slightly, enough that her mouth captures Linc’s, an imitation of all the times she watched Dean do the same through the rearview. Baby never got it. In that moment, she does. It’s finding a parking spot in a crowded lot. Passing a light as it switches from yellow to red. Idling on the side of the road during a sunset, her boys sitting on her hood. Baby breaks from the kiss, gasping.

           She prefers being a car. As she was, her life was simple. Still… humanity had its perks.

           Linc and her explore all of them, until the clock runs out.

(Day 2 - Oops! All Plaid)

#supernatural #profoundnet #cracktober #spn #spn fanfic #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfic #deancas fanfiction #baby as dean #pimpmobile as cas #also pimpmobile's named Linc

[galaticfaery]

Red Carnation Chapter 1: Snow Globes and Houses

I was 17 years old when my parents told me that my dad had basically struck gold at work. Rather, he was getting a new job, a much better job with much better pay and benefits. I love my family and so I was excited for him, until the day after I graduated from my Junior year I was told I would not be finishing my school year out at my high school. No. Instead my parents decided to pack us up and move us to California to attend a new private high school to complete my senior year.

How great!

If you couldn't tell, that was sarcasm. I had spent all 17 years of my life in Florida. I loved it here despite the humidity and the storms. I loved my friends and my school, and I was more than excited to get to graduate with them. My parents ripped that all up as they started packing up box after box into our minivan with exciting plans for the California Coast. New money ruined everything.

Now here I was. Sitting in the backseat of the car, looking out the window, and dreading what the year would bring for me.

In the front seat my parents were talking happily, no doubt about our brand new two story house with a pool and a wrap around deck and beautiful trees. I had already heard all about our new house and seen pictures. My parents had even had custom designers come in and design the whole house, so all we were taking with us were our personal items and clothes. I had slept in the same bed for 10 years and now I was expected to sleep in a brand new bed, in a brand new room, in a completely brand new state.

In the backseat I was pouting like I had been for the last three months. Instead of my usual bright colored clothing I was wearing loose sweats and a black hoodie that was tossed over my already tussled brunette hair with headphones in my ears so I could hear anything my parents were saying. I was tired of hearing about how exciting this whole situation were. If I didn't know better I would assume that my parents were royalty the way they were talking. Mom was joining a country club, and Dad had been invited to play golf with his boss. We might as well be royalty. Except for me of course.

I looked out the window just to see the ocean below us as our minivan was driving next to cliffs looking down. The California ocean was nowhere close to the warm waters of Florida. The waves didn't compare. Even the air smelled different. My mom kept telling me that Florida and California were not so distant in environment, but for me I felt like I was on an alien planet. A planet in which I didn't know anyone. "Here we are!" My dad screeched excitedly as we started on a bit of a rocky driveway leading up to our new house. I was able to hear him over the headphones which meant he was talking rather loudly. I begrudgingly removed my headphones and looked to the front of the car as our house came into view.

I wouldn't deny that it was quite a beautiful house. It looked rather old but new at the same time. It looked like the perfect white picket fence home. As we got closer I could start to make out certain details, like the tire swing hanging from a tree branch. It must have been there awhile because the rope was started to make a dent in the tree branch, but it looked strong enough to hold it. I could also see the wrap around porch and white painted railing that went around the entire house. It definitely looked a lot richer than our smaller townhouse that we lived in back in Florida. Still, it wasn't my home. I closed my eyes and tried to breath, feeling panic creep up as we got closer and closer to the home.

"Isn't it just gorgeous?" My mom finally chimed in as she looked in the backseat right at me. I was currently giving my parents the silent treatment so I just sat back in my seat and put one of my headphones back into my right ear. I crossed my arms and ignored her question. I wasn't going to answer.  

The car finally came to a stop after a minute and when I looked out we were right in front of the porch. I could see the beautiful designed black french double doors that were decorated in twisted designs. I could even tell that the glass was frosted over and had the same swirling designs as the trim of the door had. They certainly were in another world. "Okay guys. Let's start getting boxes unpacked. Carter, your room is on the second floor. You have the whole second floor to yourself. Isn't that fun?" "Whatever." I groaned as I got out of the backseat of the car. My legs were rather thankful for the chance to stretch and get some exercise. I had been sitting in the car for nearly 10 hours. I felt like I was stepping foot on a foreign planet, one in which I didn't belong. It was far too warm to be wearing a hoodie, but he was wearing it as an act of protest to this whole thing, along with giving his parents the silent treatment.

I pulled the earbuds out and pulled out my phone. I wrapped the wire around my phone and shoved it back into the front pocket of my hoodie while my parents were already in the trunk grabbing boxes. I was still looking around the grounds trying to decide if I should help or if I should run. My brain opted to run, but my feet instead carried me to the back of the car and I grabbed a box. I didn't want to go into the house. I wanted nothing to do with the move. For all intents and purposes I should just let my parents carry all of my things to my room and then unpack it themselves, but I did have precious cargo I didn't want anyone but me handling.

Stepping into the house for the first time reminded me that the life that I used to have no longer existed. Seeing the large crystal chandelier and big stairs that lead up onto the second floor it made my heart drop into my stomach. If I wasn't holding onto a box with special items I would have dropped straight to the floor. Instead, I held back the tears and headed upstairs to find where my bedroom was.

It took me awhile to find the bedroom, since there were a lot of rooms upstairs. He didn't understand why his parents got such a big house when it was only the three of them. Most of the rooms were basically closets and of course I found the bathroom pretty easily. My room was at the very end of the hall. I could feel my nerves immediately go on edge as soon as I set my hand on the doorknob and turned it to open the door. I didn't want to be here, but what more could I do to avoid it? I closed my eyes and stepped over the threshold quietly before opening my eyes to greet what would be my new home away from home.

It was big. This room was a lot bigger than the room I used to have. The bed was unnecessarily large for just me. It was a king sized mattress with a beautifully intricate wood headboard. My parents had already picked out a new bedding. It was a teal green that faded into a blue, it reminded me of the ocean back home. My room was also equipped with a laptop on the bedside table that matched the wood of my headboard and a wood desk that also matched with a comfortable looking computer chair. The walls were painted with the same teal green color as my blankets. I felt like I was surrounded by sea water. I set the box on my bed and then fell backwards onto it. It must have been a foam mattress cause I sank into it rather quickly. Despite my trepidation it was a comfortable room.

"Honey! Hurry up and start unpacking... dinner will be here soon." I heard my mom calling from downstairs. I ignored her words and just continued to look up to the ceiling. The light fixtures were embedded in the walls, and from the look of the dial on my wall they dimmed. If I wasn't so upset about the move this would have been my dream room.

After a couple of minutes I finally got up from my bed and walked over to my window. It was a large window but it was covered in a dark blue curtain. I hesitated as I pulled back the curtain and looked outside. The first sight I saw was the pool in the back. At least I would be able to swim even if it wasn't in the ocean. They lived a good 20 minutes away from any ocean, and I was dedicated to never ever stepping foot in the California waters. I sighed and finally let the curtain fall back into place, blocking out the light, and went downstairs to finish carrying the rest of my boxes up to my room.

An hour passed by in the blink of an eye. We had finally finished taking the rest of the boxes inside, they had more boxes that would be delivered the next day. I was carefully unpacking my boxes. Most of them were filled with stuffed animals, clothes, and my favorite thing in the whole wide world... snow globes. It seemed like a childish thing to hang onto, but I loved them. I loved watching as the fake snow would fall down. I had winter ones with fake snow, spring ones that replaced the snow with flowers, and fall ones that replaced the snow with tiny leaves. His entire life he really only experienced summer, so he liked having globes that taught him about the other seasons. I was carefully unpacking the last snow globe of mine... my favorite snow globe. Instead of a snowman or a tree or something it was a butterfly, and the snow was replaced with gold and silver glitter. It was the most expensive and most precious globe I had. I carefully placed it on a shelf in my room and ran my fingers over the glass as the glitter rained down and covered the butterfly and the ground.

"Honey, can you come downstairs please. We have a gift for you!" I heard my mother call me once again. He assumed that it was just dinner that had finally gotten there. Because of the hustle and bustle of unpacking they just ordered pizza. I closed my eyes and breathed in softly before finally leaving my room. I closed my door quietly and shoved my hands into the pocket of my hoodie before walking downstairs, but I stopped walking immediately, in the middle of the staircase, when I saw what my parents were holding. "Isn't it so cute. It's your new uniform for school... it just arrived." My mother smiled as she held it out to me.

I had almost forgotten that all of this also came with a new school. A new expensive private school that required I wear a uniform. I thought about just going back upstairs to my room and slamming the door. The anger of having to move filled me up again and I remembered that I was not supposed to be enjoying the house. However, my feet wouldn't move, neither upstairs or downstairs. Instead I just stood there staring carefully at the uniform. I wanted to cry.

Instead of having to move, my father grabbed the uniform and walked up the stairs to meet me. He held out the uniform to me but I didn't take it. "I know this is a lot son, but this is best for all of this. This school is a really good school and it will help you get into college. Just try to accept it." He pulled my hand out from my hoodie and placed the uniform into my shaking hands. He gave me a sad smile as he walked back down the stairs and wrapped his arm around my mother's shoulders. It was times like this that I wish I could run, that I wish I could cry, but I couldn't do anything. So instead I just wrapped my fingers around the cloth tightly and nodded my head, but it wasn't sincere. It was now that I realized...

I would never belong anywhere ever again.

#Boys love #Romance #Novel #Chapter 1 #Drama #gayromance #Gaypride #gay boys

[shirlleycoyle]

These Are the People Making Porn Out of Your Favorite Childhood Memories

This article appears in VICE Magazine's Stupid Issue, which is dedicated to the entertaining, goofy, and just plain dumb. It features stories celebrating ridiculous ideas, trends, and products; pieces arguing that unabashed stupidity can be a great part of life; and articles calling out the bad side of stupidity. Click HERE to subscribe to the print edition.

Missy Martinez is painted hot pink in places it doesn’t seem possible to get paint: edged up to almost the inside of her vulva, across her anus, and certainly everywhere that her scene partner Brenna Sparks has put her face so far. Right now, Martinez’s anime costume, which includes a soft mound the size of a large squash glued to the top of her head, is getting between her and Sparks’ clitoris. Her six-inch foam headpiece is slipping. But she perseveres.

Martinez is retired from porn now. She set aside her 10-year career in May 2019, one year after her debut as Vagin Buu, the pornified version of Dragon Ball Z’s Majin Buu.

“You can only do the sexy stepmom or babysitter—these contrived roles that are cookie-cutter—so much,” she said. “To not take porn so literally and seriously… Sex is supposed to be fun. If you’re not laughing while you’re having sex you’re doing it wrong.”

It looked like something someone might only do on a lost bet, but ultimately, Martinez asked for this. In fact, when Lee Roy Myers, the cofounder of the porn production studio WoodRocket, asked her to star in one of his freak-show-esque parodies, she leapt at the chance.

As a die-hard DBZ fan, she considered this a dream role, pink paint and all.

“When they were airbrushing my genitals, I was like, ‘Ohhh, no…,’” she said.

Martinez is not alone; everyone I spoke to who’s been subjected to a WoodRocket costume treatment or roped into Myers’ madness said they have that moment she described—the point of no return.

There’s a controversial theory among historians that parody porn brought about the French Revolution. Robert Darnton’s “pornographic interpretation” of the events of late 18th century France suggests that smutty literature depicting the monarchy in pornographic cartoons—as just as base and sex-crazed as the subjects they thumbed their noses at—emboldened the people to revolt.

“Sex is democratic,” the sex historian (and VICE contributor) Hallie Lieberman told me. “There’s a reason why we have the saying the emperor has no clothes: It reduces him to the same status as everyone else.”

But porn-as-parody goes back hundreds of years before the 18th century. An anonymous author in 16th century Italy published Ficheide, an erotic parody of Homer’s Illiad. Another erotic text of the Italian Renaissance, La Cazzaria, featured disembodied genitals satirizing political figures, and its relative virality (or as viral as something could be in the 1500s) sent its author, Antonio Vignali, running into exile. The 1748 novel Fanny Hill, regarded as the first example of English-prose pornography, is political parody. The Pearl, a monthly pornographic magazine published in London in the late 1800s, featured parodies and was itself a parody of a family magazine. The British authorities shut the magazine down after two years, citing obscenity laws.

In the early 20th century, small porno pamphlets called “Tijuana Bibles,” which peaked in popularity during the Great Depression, contained raunchy parodies of pop culture icons like Popeye, Superman, Lois Lane, and Wonder Woman getting into all sorts of hijinks. Fast-forward to the 90s and early 2000s, and everything in the porn world exploded with the advent of the VHS tape (and porn viewing from the comfort of one’s home), including parody films like Forrest Hump and Everybody Does Raymond.

“Class and sexuality are closely associated in our society, so things we deem respectable inherently have some kind of discretion when it comes to sex,” said Laura Helen Marks, a porn scholar and professor of English at Tulane University. “It can feel exciting and fun to watch the ‘low’ genre of pornography expose the perversions and hypocrisies of mainstream media… It feels like a momentary and satisfying leveling.”

Today, we have WoodRocket. The Vegas-based studio has made a name for itself in the last eight years in part by being pseudonymous with parody porn. If you hear about a new video featuring SpongeBob SquarePants or life-size Lego figurines fucking, you can bet it’s WoodRocket’s doing.

People have been using parody, satire, and sexuality to punch up at the systems and institutions that surround them for hundreds of years. Today, things are no different. Only now, we’re punching backward, at our own nostalgia.

In the late 90s, Myers was working in a video store. He’s worked a lot of jobs since then, from camera equipment guy to executive for a pay-per-view company. But he points back to that place and time in the video store as the earliest inspiration for his current work.

“I was in the store, and I was watching Edward Penishands, and he has these horrifying giant dildo arms, and it’s so ridiculous… It’s so gross, and weird, and funny, and I don’t know what parts were supposed to be intentionally funny or not,” Myers said of the film, directed by Paul Norman. “But it always stuck in my mind like, Oh, if I could do this, that would be amazing.”

For years, Myers worked roles he can only describe as “a job.” He’s never felt suited for the nine-to-five grind. But during programming and production gigs, he was making a lot of friends and connections in the adult industry. One of them was Scott Taylor, founder of a porn studio called New Sensations, who in 2008 was looking to take the studio in a comedic direction—and tasked Myers with making an erotic parody of the same nine-to-five grind he felt trapped in. Myers came up with The Office: An XXX Parody, the first of eight pop-culture television parodies he’d churn out for New Sensations that year.

“Fuck yeah, man, that sounds fucking ludicrous”

Things snowballed from there. By 2012, Myers had a front-row seat to the adult industry’s seismic shift from VHS tapes to DVDs and then to something else entirely. The internet was changing everything, and suddenly fewer and fewer people were willing to shell out money for smut. They could get it for free, on any number of tube sites filled with stolen clips and full films.

Instead of fighting against this unstoppable sea change, Myers and his industry partners started thinking of new ways to ride the wave of free internet content while still making enough profit to keep paying for cast, crew, and the lights. After years of hustling out dozens of porn parodies for other studios, Myers founded WoodRocket in 2012, with the goal of bringing comedic, silly porno to the mainstream—for free.

Myers is Canadian, and defines his directing style as “scary public access television,” with shows like The Hilarious House of Frightenstein influencing his low-budget, single-room sets and makeup that looks like it’s been applied by an overly enthusiastic high school theater student. WoodRocket launched its first film, SpongeKnob SquareNuts, in January 2013, with a press release complete with a “safe for work” trailer and a link to the full, X-rated film on WoodRocket.com.

From top to bottom: Aladdick, Dragon Boob Z, Mr. Rimjob's Neighborwood, The Loin King, Red Dead Erection.

This included a theme song that would toe the line of parody homage without crossing into copyright infringement. For that task, and most WoodRocket musical scores and lyrics, Myers has entrusted the Brooklyn-based sound designer David DeCeglie.

When Myers approached him to write the parody version of the iconic SpongeBob theme song, DeCiglie still remembers his response: “Fuck yeah, man, that sounds fucking ludicrous.”

And it was. Within an hour of the film’s release, the newly launched WoodRocket website crashed under the server load of people clicking to watch it.

The runaway success of the studio’s first original parody was doubly shocking, because Squarenuts was the “most fucked-up thing to date, at the time,” that Myers and his crew had made. The construction of the giant square costume was the work of Tom Devlin, who’s been involved with WoodRocket since the beginning. The directive from Myers, Devlin told me, was to make it look kind of like Pizza the Hutt from Spaceballs. In other words, like an actor is trapped inside a repulsive homemade costume that swallowed him whole. The result was a poly-foam fabrication glued onto a box.

“It was just… creepy.” Devlin said. “It was really hard for him to move around, and really hard for him to perform. But it just adds to the weirdness and uncomfortability of the parody.”

“He looked like a monster,” Myers said, of SpongeKnob. “And, you know, it was funny—or at least, we found it funny—and people either loved it or hated it. But they watched it.”

Devlin and Myers share a similar ethos: Don’t think too much about how the performers will perform. Just make the costumes and see what they do in them.

“Sometimes it’s not about whether or not the actors can be comfortable. It’s about what is the silliest thing we can put out there,” Devlin said. And at this point in the studio’s reputation, a performer signing up for a WoodRocket shoot knows what they’re getting into.

Rizzo Ford’s role as “Dikachu” in Strokémon XXX is unforgettable. She looks like one of Dr. Seuss’ cartoon mice if it ran into traffic. Her head hangs a little. She hunches forward. The mass of foam latex and thick yellow and black paint molded to her head and nose is forcing her to breathe through her mouth and keep her eyes partially shut.

“Dikachu! Dikachu, Dikachu,” she squawks. She and “Fisty,” whose pubic hair is shaved and dyed into a neon orange landing strip to match her anime-orange hair, are together going down on “Gash,” played by Tyler Nixon. As I watch the video online, I’m legitimately concerned about her ability to come up for air.

“I feel like comedy and porn should go hand in hand,” Ford told me. “Sex is silly. We make silly noises with our mouths and bodies. I think that by having comedic porn it normalizes things that might make us embarrassed if they were to happen with a new sexual partner.”

Ford not only survived this shoot, but would do it again “in a heartbeat” even after taking multiple showers and soaking in a tub to get all that makeup off.

“He’s not going to stop being Super Mario because his flying raccoon dick is out"

There’s really no preparing oneself for the process of a WoodRocket costume and makeup session.

Just ask Will Tile, who answered a casting call to be a WoodRocket extra in 2018, for Red Dead Erection. Just a few months prior, he was a virgin in the adult industry, looking for a new way to make a living. He’s since played a cop in Dick Hard (the Die Hard parody) and a lip-syncing genie in Aladdick, released May 2019.

When he got to the set of Aladdick, Myers told him to head to makeup. “I’m thinking they’re just gonna like, spruce me up,” he recalled. Instead, he spent half an hour getting spray-painted bright blue from the waist up.

Tile thought he could get into porn and be “one of those big scary black male performers,” nondescript beyond a stereotypical male performer, virtually anonymous at his level. But after Aladdick, things changed. “That’s when everything went to hell. That’s when everything went straight to shit,” he said.

Now he can’t walk onto most sets without someone pointing out that he was the genie. Or a cop. Or Simba. Or a reptilian creature from Ten-Inch Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Tile’s mom has even seen him painted blue and half-naked in a porno.

Tile is an ex-Marine, a former wildland firefighter, and an EMT-in-training, so his family is accustomed to worrying about him. Now they can rest easy knowing he’s perfectly healthy and happy, playing a cop with a glued-on mustache or a raunchy blue genie.

“For two years they had to worry about me coming home in a box, if I came home at all. And then when I took the wildland job, it was like, ‘Is he gonna get burnt up, or fall off a cliff and die?’” he said. “Now they’re like, ‘Oh, porn? Yeah, that’s fine.’”

Tommy Pistol’s erect penis juts out from a green spandex bodysuit. He’s moaning from inside a fully enclosed alien mask, while April O’Neil and Lauren Phillips—two glittery trespassers who look like they’ve wandered out of a Burning Man camp onto Area 51—caress each other and his body, laid flat on a surgical table. He waggles the long, floppy fingertips of his bodysuit in pleasure.

Pistol’s been friends with Myers since 2010, when they met during production of a Sex and the City parody for New Sensations. He’s played a variety of roles for the company since then, and somehow keeps ending up playing characters that involve poking his boner through the most unsexy full-body costumes.

Having convincingly good sex for the camera is a feat of athleticism even on a normal set. Having sex while in character as a childhood memory is a whole other thing.

“If you came to see Super Mario fucking the princess then you’re going to see Super Mario fucking the princess,” Pistol said. “He’s not going to stop being Super Mario because his flying raccoon dick is out.”

Lance Hart, who played “Mr. Rogers” in the studio’s most recent film, Mr. Rimjob’s Neighborwood, said that even this mindfuck of a role was easier than wearing a heavy BDSM mask or leather apron, as he’s had to do in other movies.

“It’s definitely a little weird when something felt really good and I needed to moan but also pretend to be Mister Rogers, but I’m kind of into it,” Hart said.

Adding to the ego-death exercise of wearing a glued-on mustache and painting one’s butthole neon, WoodRocket’s studio is in Las Vegas, where to film, they have to cut off the noisy air conditioning. Full body paint, elaborate costumes, and hours of rigorous sex when it’s over a hundred degrees has made for some interesting moments.

“With this job, it can’t just all be buttholes and elbows. You can actually get to do the good stuff"

“I’m pumping away, and I can feel myself about to pass out,” Tile said, recalling his role as Simba in The Loin King, where he and Kira Noir wore thick, fuzzy lion hats and gloves during their sex scene. “I’m like, I’m about to pass out on set. This is how I go out.” He didn’t, and made it through to the cut, and said he would still do it all again.

Holly Myers recently started stepping in to direct films for WoodRocket. With Holly behind the camera, the movies are no less hilarious, and she still takes a lot of care to make performers comfortable and safe.

“Generally, I try to keep the mood on set light and positive,” she said. “We are already asking them to put themselves in front of a camera to have sex—already a brave step—then going beyond and asking them to do it in a potentially uncomfortable costume, while staying in character.”

During Martinez’s headpiece-impaired performance of Vajin Buu, they stopped and reshot new takes at least five times when the paint and glue started slipping. She said, “It’s like, ‘Cut, OK, same intensity, aaand go!’ when I was in the middle of an orgasm or leading right up to it.” It’s challenging, not just physically, but mentally.

“We always know it’s not going to be easy, no matter how much you adjust things,” Myers said. [Porn] is not like real sex, it’s opening up and making sure the camera and lights get in there… I’ve heard it described as fucking around a corner.”

But it might also just take a special kind of performer to work through the giggles, and the discomfort, and the sweaty paint. Pistol said he feels like sex in these costumes comes “weirdly natural” to him. “It honestly keeps me sane after doing this for so many years,” he said. “Laughter is my therapy… I understand jerking off at home while laughing out loud isn’t for everyone. But comedy porn breaks down barriers.”

At this point (or likely, a lot earlier), you may be wondering who gets off to this stuff? Is there an audience craving a sexualized Mister Rogers? Are there people out there who are horny for a grotesque Pikachu, or a nightmare simulacrum of SpongeBob with a hard-on?

That question is flawed from the start. First of all, yes, undoubtedly, there are people who seek out WoodRocket because they’ve always had a Lego fetish or the like. But humor has always been a part of porn. Sex is fun and, often, funny.

“Humor and porn share a lot of similarities,” Lieberman, the porn historian, said. “The end goal of both is an involuntary physical reaction: an orgasm or a laugh. We watch comedy and we watch porn to experience pleasure.”

To laugh along with the people in porn can be a subversive act, said Marks, the porn scholar. “Within the context of a sex-negative, censorious society, pornographic material is politically antagonistic—unavoidably so and regardless of intention—and this frequently means poking fun.”

For the performers themselves, doing a parody shoot can be a release they don’t get in other studios. For Tile, having WoodRocket as his first studio experience showed him a different way of performing—one that most people don’t associate with porn. “With this job, it can’t just all be buttholes and elbows,” he said. “You can actually get to do the good stuff.”

I’ve seen a lot of the buttholes and elbows and painted labia that WoodRocket has put into the world, but there’s still one work of theirs that I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch. Mr. Rimjob’s Neighborwood opens with Hart lip-syncing, “Welcome to my neighborhood, where we’ll ruin your childhood,” and I fear it would be true. I loved Mister Rogers as a kid.

There was a moment during production of Mr. Rimjob, Myers told me, when he did hesitate. The man has likely ruined hundreds of childhoods with his releases, and this was the one that gave him pause.

“As we started getting closer to making it, it was the first one where I started to feel a little regret,” he said. “I grew up watching Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. I was a PBS kid in the late 70s and early 80s… but, I thought I could do it in a way that it’s not really him, it’s spoofing the genre as much as it’s spoofing the ‘land of make believe…’ I don't think it’s insensitive to him being who he was as a person.”

It turns out there are only three things Myers said he’ll never touch in future WoodRocket productions: anything that’s intentionally punching down, anything where the characters doing the fucking aren’t clearly over 18, and any more Donald Trump stuff. He’s “so tired of that,” he said. Everything else is fair game.

“We have to find a balance,” Myers said. “Actually, I don’t know if there is a balance. But we had to find a balance between porn and whatever that was. And so we, in the process, created our own balance, and it’s something different to everybody.

“So some people will love it. Some people hate it. Some will be disgusted by it. But I think everybody can agree that we’ve ruined everyone’s childhood.”

These Are the People Making Porn Out of Your Favorite Childhood Memories syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[my-dear-hammy]

The Ship Wars

Masterpost

Chapter Sixteen: Survival

AN

Sorry for taking so long. My power cord got accidentally stolen so I couldn't write. Got it back though.

I hope y'all don't mind spending a lot of time with Madison and Kinloch. Everyone else is basically just traveling so there's not much to write about with them.

----

Warnings: Manipulation mostly. Surviving on an island. Little bit of drinking. Hamilton's a fuck boi

----

-Rewind to the morning after Madison and Kinloch wash up on the island-

Kinloch woke up first, Madison was still out, probably because he was recovering from his body’s betrayal yesterday. Kinloch may not be good at surviving but he knew basics, he could start collecting wood or something. He rolled over and sat up, his entire body aching from the exertion of swimming across the ocean in a storm. The moment he moved, Madison snapped awake, as if he was on some sort of warning alert system that overrode his dead state.

It was kinda creepy.

Kinloch smiled at Madison charmingly, “How are you doing?” Kinloch had to get on Madison’s good side if he wanted to survive, so he did what he did with everyone else. Flattery. It's how he'd gotten so far. A smile here, a comment there, maybe a touch in the right place and bam. Everyone loved him.

Except Madison.

Now if Kinloch was sore, Madison was ten times worse, maybe more. Kinloch was fitter and didn't have coughing fits to drag him down. The fits alone made Madison's body ache like he'd been run through a flour mill. Or under a plow. Combined with that swim. Ha.

Madison ignored Kinloch's smile. “In need of rum.”

“If only there were some rum here,” Kinloch said, chuckling.

Madison pulled himself out of the lean-to and looked at the sky. The storm had passed and dawn was lighting the sky. “I'll bet there's some on the beach.”

“Doubt it. Rum? All the way here?” Kinloch asked. “Though you're probably right. You're exceptionally intuitive.”

Madison rolled his eyes and forced himself to his feet. Kinloch obviously didn't have much experience scavenging then and was relying on his flattery. It was rather off putting. “There was wine and rum on the ship, it probably washed ashore along with us. Maybe some supplies too if we're lucky. More will wash up with time.” Kinloch may be off putting with the flattery and though Madison could probably survive without him, he owed Kinloch a life debt. He wasn't happy about it but it was better than being dead, so he offered Kinloch a hand up. Plus, Kinloch had skills that would no doubt be useful.

Kinloch took Madison's hand and pulled himself up. “Thank you, darling,” he said, flashing a grin and walking toward the beach. “Let's find some rum.” As they walked toward the beach, Kinloch started talking again, to Madison's dismay, but at least it wasn't flattery. “So, any plans for the next few days?” he asked, “Anyway to figure out where we are?”

“We're only a couple miles away from where the ship sunk. We didn't really relocate in that regard. Burr already searched the wreckage for survivors so it's unlikely there will be a search party. It's possible though. But this is a common trade route so we might get lucky. We'll have to plan for at least several days minimum, spanning for God knows how long. Which means food, water, rum, and bonfires. Try not to go insane and burn something in the meantime.”

Kinloch nodded, “Makes sense. Nice plan. I'll focus on the firewood for the night. Maybe search for a better campground. You do food?” Kinloch proposed, his feet hitting the sand of the beach.

There was something that Madison admired about Kinloch though, his keen mind and manipulation skills. Madison has seen them at work on countless occasions since Kinloch joined the crew. Everyone on the ship loved him. He was charming and charismatic. Even Jefferson liked him despite the handicap Kinloch started with since Andre forced the change. He molded the will of the ship to his liking. Everyone except Madison. Madison was nearly impossible to manipulate.

Madison supposed he respected Kinloch.

“What makes you think I'll get you food as well?” Madison asked, scanning the beach and plucking a bottle of rum from the sand and examining it.

Kinloch didn't have Madison entirely figured out yet. Typically, he could look at someone and know exactly how to play his cards, knew the right words to use, the right compliments, and their weaknesses. Madison's obvious weakness was his health. It left him vulnerable. That meant Kinloch had to steer clear of using that to his advantage if he wanted Madison to like him. However, his flattery and his words seemed to just roll off the man. Like he found it humorous that Kinloch was even trying. Reserved and removed. Hard to hurt with words. You'd do more damage trying to fight Madison with a sponge than hurling insults that'll typically cripple others. Madison thought logically, always assessing. Kinloch just had to make himself worth something.

“You wouldn't leave me to starve,” Kinloch said, raising an eyebrow. “You're much better than that. Even pirates have an honor code.”

Well. That wasn't flattery. Of course, Madison couldn't let the man starve, not with his debt hanging over his head like a cloud. Madison tossed him the rum bottle. “That's your favorite.”

Kinloch caught the bottle out of the air. “If you were actually attempting to starve me, you wouldn't tell me now,” Kinloch reasoned. “Not to mention your chances of survival are better with me.”

Madison was honestly too tired for the manipulation game right now. “I guess I'll have to keep you around then,” he said, scooping up another bottle from the sand.

“Don't act like you don't want me around,” Kinloch said, taking a swig of rum.

“Mmm,” Madison hummed, biting out the cork and gulping down the dark liquid.  Want? Eh. Need? Closer. Had to? Pretty much. Maybe if Madison was somewhat nice to Kinloch, he'd be a bit more bearable, thinking his manipulation was actually working.

Kinloch closed his bottle after a few gulps, deciding it would be best to save the rum and began to search the beach for more bottles for backup. Madison, however, drained half his bottle in one go for two reasons. One, it numbed his poor aching body. He passed it off to Kinloch, “Here, help me finish this off. I don't want to be entirely drunk while hunting.”

“Neither do I,” Kinloch said, stuffing the bottle into his coat. “Save it for later. I'm going to look for water.”

Madison sighed, Kinloch wasn't stupid, drinking a bunch of alcohol would dehydrate the body and lessen thinking capabilities. But that wasn't Madison's point. “I need the bottle so I need you to help me finish it. Unless you'd rather I pour it out?” Wasteful.

“Never,” Kinloch smirked, pouring the remaining rum into the other bottle and tossed Madison the empty one. “Problem solved. Meet back at the shelter at dusk. Food or not. If you're any later, I'm going looking for you.”

Kinloch sounded like he actually cared that time. Damn, he was good. Madison nodded and walked away, muttering something about mixing his good alcohol with Kinloch's shitty stuff.

Kinloch set off into the forest, chuckling at Madison's muttering. The first thing he did was climb a tree. The leaves were large and caught rain easily, rain Kinloch planned on collecting to the best of his abilities, of course, he'd need a container. So he sat at the top of the wet trees, surveying the layout of the land and slowly finished off a bottle that hadn't been completely full. After he had some water, probably slightly rum flavored now, he climbed back down and set about gathering firewood, looking in places where it would still be dry and easy to burn. During his search, he came across a part in the trees that revealed a small river. It looked clean and the surrounding area made a perfect place to camp. He'd propose moving there to Madison later.

Madison stood from the rock where he'd been working, examining and testing the strength of his crude spear. Sharp glass tied fastly to the end of a long stick, it was decent enough for the materials made available to him. Now he just had to get close enough to stab something, it wouldn't work well if thrown. He could try that after he set some snares. The spear was better for fishing than anything, unless he climbed into a tree and jumped down onto unsuspecting victims. For now, traps and fruit would have to do. He could work on making a fishing raft later that night when it was too dark to do anything else. Snares required rope, which wouldn't be too much of a problem. Vines were everywhere and rope was easy enough to make.

The sun rose and sank quickly. Kinloch had made it back to camp with everything he found. After he set the wood somewhere somewhat dry, he worked on clearing the area so they could burn it without setting the whole island on fire. He set stones for a fire pit and worked on getting one started without any tools, grinning with pride when he actually managed it. Tiring and tedious work though. Once it got going, Kinloch had to dedicate the next several minutes to making sure it didn't go out, feeding it bits of wood until it grew large and hot enough to handle large pieces that would last for a while.

Fruits, in Madison's opinion, were by far the easiest thing to collect. For one, they didn't move. He did manage to catch a couple fish and some lean game. As long as one had time and patience, one could catch something. Madison just happened to have lots of both. It was approaching dusk when he started back, his haul wrapped in large leaves for easier carrying.

Kinloch greeted him with a smile and a grand gesture to the camp he put in order. “The lean-to is more insulated, we have a lovely fire blazing, plenty of wood, some water to drink if we tire of rum. How do we fare on food?” Kinloch was hungry.

Madison smiled slightly. Kinloch actually got a lot done and he did a good job. “I hope you like fish and lean game,” Madison said, handing half the haul to Kinloch.

“Sounds good to me,” Kinloch said, carrying the haul to the clearing and dropped it down nearby the fire for cooking. He picked up a colored bottle and handed it to Madison.

“This isn't your poisonous concoction from earlier, is it?” Madison asked.

Kinloch laughed, “No, I finished that so you don't need to worry about being poisoned. That's water. Drink some, stay hydrated.”

Madison set down his stuff and took the bottle, gulping down a couple swallows. “Do you have a couple of Y sticks I can turn into a spit for over the fire nearby?”

“Yup. Just so happens that I do.” He retrieved the requested item for Madison, “Are we going to save any food for later?”

“Naturally. But the meat won't keep so I was going to store away the fruit and use some meat for bait.  We can dry what we don't eat into jerky. That'll have to be done on the beach where it's sunny.” Madison sat down and started gutting fish.

“Of course,” Kinloch replied, giving Madison a slight bow before setting the fruits aside in the lean-to. “Does the journey to the river make sense? It's about an hour's trek. I'd suggest doing it first thing in the morning and moving camp there. It's a more stable food and water source.”

Maybe Kinloch was a little better at this than Madison originally thought. “Sounds good. But tonight, fish,” Madison said, brandishing a skewered fish on a stick.

“Looks absolutely delectable,” Kinloch said, staring pointedly at Madison and not the fish. His eyes flickered to the fish, “Got one for me to cook?”

“Nope. These are all mine. Get your own fish,” Madison said as he handed a fish to Kinloch.

“Thank you, darling.” Kinloch skewered his fish on his own stick and held it over the fire. Madison was not so quick to get cooking. He stood and thrust two y shaped sticks into the ground on either side of the fire and placed his skewered fish on top. He didn't have to do a thing except get up and turn them over every now and then. He settled down next to Kinloch and watched his fish slowly cook. Kinloch continued to just hold his over the fire. He pulled it out after a bit when the scales started to blacken, blowing on it a bit before taking a quick bite, spitting out the scales and going back in the meat. “Oh Lord,” he muttered, forcing the flesh down. Madison chuckled, reaching up and turning his fish. Kinloch continued to eat, not wanting to cook it more. It was a little raw but the only thing that could possibly be worse was overcooked fish.

Madison glanced over at him and looked back at the fire. “You cooked it too fast,” he smiled slightly, gesturing to his own fish that was very slowly cooking, scales peeling off on their own.

“Yeah, you're probably right. I can't stand fish anyway,” Kinloch sighed. “Fucking great decision to join the navy.”

Madison chuckled again. “Set it aside. I'll use it as bait,” Madison instructed, grabbing a shard of glass and set about preparing the small game he had caught. He moved his fish down a bit and stuck it in as well. Kinloch, evidently, was not a great cook.

“Thank you,” Kinloch said, setting down his fish as Madison had said. Kinloch decided he actually kinda liked Madison. He smiled softly, “Forgive me if I'm overstepping but you really aren't that bad, you know. You act like you're some distant entity, disconnected from everything else. Maybe that helps you cope with whatever shit you have going on, maybe it just makes you feel better about yourself. I'm not going to pry but I doubt you're the person you present to other people or the person you try to make me think you are.”

"And I think there's more behind your honeyed words that you butter people up with. You act like everyone is your friend and you couldn't be happier. Maybe it helps your esteem. Maybe it's how you get places easiest maybe it's how you cope as well. I don't care either way. It's useless on me so I don't understand why you keep at it on this God forsaken island. That's your choice but I'm not the only one here with something tucked away from the world." Madison got up to rotate the meat and sat back down.

“Truly, only someone with a mind as great as yours could come to such a conclusion,” Kinloch smirked. It's become clear to him that Madison was not fond of his flattery.

“Your flattery is going to get you killed someday,” Madison said.

“Doubt it. I'm sure you already know, everyone thinks I'm on their side.”

“And if it doesn't get you killed,” Madison went on, “It'll get you stuck in a position much closer to someone you hate than you want to be.” Some people took flattery a much different way than Madison. Jefferson for instance. One day, Kinloch was going to look up and realize he was all alone and everyone had realized he was out for himself. That would kill him.

“Your tactic isn't much better. That'll get you killed much more easily than mine.” Madison and Kinloch were both master manipulators but their techniques differed highly. Kinloch was much more direct. Sure, flattery at first but he always got to the point. It's not all aimless subterfuge because everyone knew his motives. As long as they believe Kinloch was on their side, he was good. Madison, however, planted ideas and gave credit to the other person, softly nudging them in the correct direction. It was all subterfuge. No one ever noticed his manipulation with how subtle it was. No one except Kinloch.

“Just be careful,” Madison said softly. He ended up in a position similar to what Kinloch would one day find himself in and despite everything, he didn't want to see that happen to him. Madison got up and retrieved the food, handing Kinloch his before sitting back down with his own.

“You too,” Kinloch said, taking the meat. Madison's problem with his version of manipulation is that no one trusted him. It was obvious why. Even looking at Madison, it was clear that he had thick walls and there was a filter with everything he said. He was hard to trust and people kept him at a distance for that exact reason. Kinloch bit into his meal, “This isn't bad, actually. It's amazing. Thank you.”

Madison waited for his meat to cool, staring absently into the flames. Thinking.

“Let's make an agreement, yeah?” Kinloch said after swallowing another bite. “There's no reason either of us to lie to each other. I'm not going to lie to you. I'm not to manipulate you,” Kinloch explained, “If you promise to do the same. “We're the only ones out here, better to have some sort of healthy friendship than nothing at all.”

Friendship? Was that what Kinloch wanted? And with Madison? They didn't even get along that well. Or maybe that's just because everything they did conflicted and involved manipulating Jefferson in different directions. Jefferson wasn't here. “Fine. I'll agree to that,” Madison replied, taking a bite out of his fish.

***

-A day or so later, a few days before Jefferson wakes up and tries to kill people-

Hamilton had left Laurens’ side in search of food, something he was required to eat if he wanted to live. During his quest for food, Lafayette called him up to the helm, “Come, my friend, accompany me, I’m in need of some good conversation. Hamilton made his way up to Lafayette.

“If this is more accusations about my relationship with my first mate, I swear I will commandeer your ship single-handedly and throw you in the water.”

“Non, non, don’t be ridiculous. Though that would be a wonderful topic to discuss. No, it’s about that English ship. You seemed rather interested in it. Why?”

“The dark hull that looks like the sea, the sails that blend in with the sky, making the ship practically invisible from a distance? That ship belongs to one Captain Aaron Burr.”

“Aaron Burr?”

“Yeah, almost no one knows his name, that’s because there’s never any survivors. He’s England’s secret weapon, supposedly their greatest Captain.”

“If he’s so unknown, how does a lowly pirate like yourself learn of him?”

“John told me about him while we were fucking,” Hamilton shrugged.

“How did Laurens know?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Laurens hardly knows anyone in the English navy. I was talking about John Andre.”

Lafayette choked. “John Andre!?!? You fucked John Andre?!?! How did you manage that?”

Hamilton smirked and walked away, “Nice chat, Lafayette.”

Lafayette called after him, “Do you fuck everyone?”

“No,” Hamilton called back, “Just the pretty ones!” and disappeared below deck.

“Just the pretty ones,: Lafayette mumbled. “John Andre is a couple steps above pretty.”

Hamilton carried his food back into the quarters where John was, smiling to himself and the look on Lafayette’s face. Priceless.

“Alexander?”

His food dropped to the ground. “John?”

[loisinherlane]

Title: Monachopsis

Summary: It’s been a year and a half since Bianca joined the Hunters. A year and a half since Zoë Nightshade died and Thalia Grace took over. A year and a half since Nico di Angelo came to Camp Half-Blood, and year and a half gone unclaimed. He never expected this.

Notes: This is somewhat of a snippet from a fic I will at some point develop fully. Basically, the premise is that the prophecy in the Titan’s Curse went a little differently, and Bianca didn’t die. (Don’t be too happy yet. She does still die. :( But I have another AU in which she lives that I’ll probably delve into eventually.) In this, Nico has lived at Camp Half-Blood year-round and grown up a bit. Because this does involve changing the timeline a bit, imagine this as the beginning of the Battle of the Labyrinth. At some point, I’ll establish the timeline more neatly, but for now, don’t worry about it too much. I’ve left it a little rough, as I wanted to get it out today, so forgive me if anything is off. Dedicated to @rainelinde @adreamingsongbird for her birthday, because we both relate to Will in this fic.

The day started off like any other. Like every day, the Hermes cabin seems a little emptier.

When Nico first arrived, people had warned him that the cabin was perpetually crowded. “It used to be worse,” Connor Stoll had confessed, “but a few people have followed--”

No one at camp ever said his name directly. It was like they were scared of invoking something. Nico figured it was a weird Greek thing anyway, the avoiding of names. Reminded him a lot of Harry Potter, in a way. (Percy had brought those books during one of his visits, saying he couldn’t quite get as into the story as before, being the whole potential prophecy kid. Nico got it a little, but he also thought Percy was doing the same thing Annabeth did, trying to replace Bianca as an older sibling figure. It didn’t work, but it was nice enough.) Nico went along with it though. He never knew the guy, and the whole rhetoric didn’t affect him much.

It did affect the older campers, the ones who’d waited longer to finally be claimed, the ones who felt left out and cast aside. Nico understood their pain, but he didn’t understand why they’d give up all of their friends at camp. The gods may not have been good, but camp was. Nico loved camp.

Mainly because he had great friends. Cecil and Clovis both stayed in the Hermes cabin, though Cecil was the only actual Hermes camper in their crew. Somewhere in the past few months, they’d picked up Will Solace from Cabin 7. A lot of their stunts usually ended with some sort of injury, and Will Solace was the one to patch them up most often, so in spite of the healer’s standard to hang out with older kids, especially his siblings, he’d been roped into a few schemes from time to time.

Nico really liked Will, even though he was kind of stuffy half the time. When he smiled, things seemed to light up, and occasionally, he relaxed, and then he was just the most fun to be around. Unfortunately, that wasn’t often, and besides, he normally stuck with his cabin for camp activities. Most of the time, Nico was stuck with Cecil and Clovis, in the sad little Hermes cabin where he didn’t even have a real bed.

Maybe he’d get one soon, though. That morning, Nico saw a few of the mattresses on the floor were completely empty. Travis and Connor seemed to notice as well, but they didn’t say anything.

“Rise and shine, kids, it’s time to canoe,” one said, to which the other added, “And we don’t mean canoodle, so stay away from the Aphrodite cabin.”

Nico winced at the terrible pun. Cecil laughed. Clovis yawned.

“Morning already?”

The cabin was always in a rush to get ready in the morning, but it didn’t take too long until the entire camp was lined up at the dining pavilion. Will had to sit with his siblings, but Nico, Cecil, and Clovis got to sit together and talk about the day--or more accurately, bug one of the Stoll brothers into telling them the rest of their schedule.

They didn’t succeed. They were dragged off to canoeing, where Clovis and Nico tipped their canoe when Clovis fell asleep. Next, it was time for sword practice, which Beckendorf taught. Nico loved that. Swords were about the only thing in camp he could handle. The day continued in the same manner, just as always, until the Hermes campers were released for free time, and Cecil dragged Nico and Clovis to walk around in the forest. Cecil was talking a lot, like he always did, but Nico could hardly pay attention. His mind was wandering off once more.

That feeling was back. The feeling that he didn’t belong.

Camp Half-Blood was the greatest place on the planet. It was basically Mythomagic come to life--minus the ancient Greek aesthetic and fashion sense, plus the camp tradition of friendship bracelets. (Nico currently had five: one from Cecil, one from Clovis, and three from Will, because Will had seven on each arm, and he didn’t want Nico to feel left out.)

Fighting with swords, riding pegasi (even though they didn’t seem to like Nico), exploring the forest, Nico loved it all. Being the kid of a Greek god was awesome.

Except that he had no idea who his parent was. That would have been nice. For as long as Nico could remember, it had just been him and Bianca. Without Bianca he was alone. Knowing a little more about his family would have been nice. But Nico couldn’t really complain. He had good friends, and when the Hermes cabin was overstimulating, Will’s brothers Lee and Michael didn’t mind if Nico hung around.

Really, Nico loved camp. So it sucked that he had that feeling.

Nico had first mentioned it to Grover privately on the trek to camp. Maybe Bianca was a demigod, and Nico was her entirely normal half-brother? But Grover had dismissed his worries.

“You and Bianca both smell very strongly. You must have great powers.”

Besides, that theory was completely destroyed when they arrived camp and Nico could pass through the barrier. Both di Angelo siblings were half-bloods, and half-bloods belonged at Camp Half-Blood.

If only it were that simple.

When Nico spoke to the Stoll brothers, they just assured him that most new campers felt like that. Finding your got parent made things easier. You knew where you belonged. They didn't mention that some were never claimed.

Will usually just advised Nico to find something he was good at and stick to it. “I was claimed when I reattached Drew’s pinkie toe,” he confessed. “I promised her I wouldn't tell, but it's okay, ‘cause it's you, and no one can tell it came off anyway.”

Nico had to try really hard not to stare at Drew Tanaka’s feet the next time she wore flip-flops.

In any case, none of this really helped Nico figured out who his godly parent was or why the camp didn't feel right to him. Nico just grew used to the camp not feeling quite right and enjoying life.

Maybe if he'd paid more attention, he wouldn't have been caught so off-guard.

Nico made a face.

“What's wrong?” Cecil asked.

“My ear is ringing,” Nico said. He reached to cover his ear to see if that would help. It didn't.

Clovis mumbled something sleepily.

“Oh,” Cecil said. “Is it that bad? Can we keep going?”

Nico was about to nod when a sudden pain wracked his body. He clutched his chest and tried to catch his breath. Something was wrong. It wasn't that he didn't belong. It was worse.

He heaved and stumbled forward. Cecil tried to catch him, yelling, “Clovis! Help!”

She was on a boat. The boat rocked enough to make her seasick. She'd never liked water. Strangely, this water didn't make her feel ill. It was calm.

“You said said my passage was completely paid for?” she asked for the third time--just to check.

The boatman huffed. “Yes, miss. Two gods vouched for your passage. There was absolutely no leaving you on the other side.” He sounded a little put out, as if vouching wasn't payment. She wished she had something to offer, but she always used all of her coins to message her brother. All she could do was tug at her braid and hope for the best.

“Will! Will!”

Nico came back to his senses just in time to see Will Solace stumbling over from the stables where his cabin was having lessons. Clovis’s arms were wrapped around Nico’s waist, and Clovis seemed surprisingly alert. Cecil dragged Will down the hill.

“Something's wrong with him, see?”

Nico vaguely recognized that Cecil was gesturing at him, and he absently narrowed his eyes, wanting to protest that he was fine, and Will Solace totally didn't need to check him out, when the ringing resurfaced and his chest tightened.

“We’re here, miss,” the boatman said. She maneuvered through the crowd on the boat--they part for her, really--and hopped off onto the shore.

“Where do I--?” she asked the boatman, but he was already turning around.

“I’ve played my part, miss. You had your passage. You’re not my problem,” he said shortly. The already dark cavern seemed to lose its light. He winced. “Wait right here, miss.”

She frowned. “Wait? For what?”

“Your father.”

“Nico? Nico, deep breaths.”

Will’s voice was already cracking, a little deeper than most of their friends, but at the moment, it was smooth, soft, soothing. He was shining his pocket flashlight into Nico’s eyes, and he winced and blinked. Will gave a tiny breath of relief.

Cecil glanced at him. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“You said he didn’t have any blunt force trauma?” Will confirmed. “He’s not quite responsive, but I think it’s just a panic attack.”

“What caused it?”

Will shrugged. “It’s hard to determine the triggers. He might want to speak to one of my siblings about mental health. His file says he and his sister were in an accident and lost their their memories. It could be some of that resurfacing. But that’s just speculation.”

Clovis remained silent behind him.

Will hummed as he tucked his flashlight away. “Nico, can you speak? If not, just shake your head. We’re in no rush,” he said, voice as warm and perfect as ever. Nico almost thought it was better than Percy’s.

Nico took a rough breath. “Bi--”

Will’s smile faltered. “What?”

Nico doubled over.

A tall man pushed through the thousands of people making their way forward. Most took care to avoid him, but a few bumped into him and practically recoiled. She didn’t feel the same urge to back away. In fact, when she caught his eye, she saw the same look her little brother got when he was ready to a win particularly tough match of Mythomagic.

His face was colder though. He didn’t smile, even as he approached. She straightened her back, feeling so bare without her bow.

He opened his mouth.

“Nico,” warm, breathy in his ear. Whose shoulder was he leaning against? Clovis was a bit back, dozing on a tree. Cecil was--

Fluffy blond hair brushed his cheek. “Hey, breathe. Everything is okay. We’re at camp. We’re safe.”

“Bianca, my only daughter,” he said sadly.

Her throat caught. “Papà . . . .”

“You died a hero. I will give you three options,” he said.

Nico lurched away from Will Solace and ran farther into the forest.

Bianca.

Bianca.

She was dead. Papà--

He let out a yelp.

“Nico?” Worried. Hopeful. They were looking for him. He had to go farther. Beneath his feet, the grass turned brown, then froze over. The death rolled towards the trees--the dryads. No. He had to rein it in.

Nico continued running until he smacked into a wall, catching himself with his hands against the stone.

Suddenly, he knew what to do. He opened the passage and stepped inside.

The passage was dark, but he knew where to go. He walked to the end of a hall, where a ghost smiled to see him.

“Master Nico,” he said brightly. “Your father has sent me to guide you.”

-

When he emerged from the labyrinth, Nico only had to take a few steps before someone caught him. It was Charles Beckendorf. They must have sent all the head counselors to look for him. Great. Just the attention he needed.

“Nico,” Beckendorf heaved. “Thank the gods. The forest can be pretty dangerous.”

“Yeah. We saw the trail of a monster,” said Katie Gardner, walking up behind him. Her face was beet red, and she placed her hands on her knees to catch a breath. “You should know you’re not supposed to run off on your own.”

“He had a panic attack,” Will Solace piped up, running up behind his older brother Lee. “He can’t be held accountable for poor decisions.”

“That’s not entirely true, Will,” Lee warned--his specialty in healing was mental health, and he always seemed to be on Will’s back any time he tried to say anything on the subject. “But since this is his first, I think we can agree he didn’t know what he was doing.”

Nico bit his tongue. No. He couldn’t tell them what he say. Not a thing. Anything he said would just make it worse. It was better to let them worry he had issues than to admit the truth--the truth he’d tried to avoid for so long.

He had no place at Camp Half-Blood.

#megan writes

[brittney-brutal]

Hi guys!

So recently I’ve gained more followers and I just want you to know that I appreciate each and every single one of you for coming with me on this crazy adventure.

I’ve had this blog for.... 9 years this August? I never thought it would have the impact that it does, and I never imagined anyone would care enough to follow.

So for all my followers, new and old, anonymous and known, here’s some of those famous “tumblr questions” so you guys can get to know me more. I also haven’t done any of these in YEARS so I’m actually excited to see the answers and compare them to my old ones.

My ask box is always open ❤️

1. What is your name and what does it mean?

- my name is Brittney and it simply means that my parents chose that name for me instead of Samantha or Jordyn like they wanted to.

2. How long have you known your best friend?

- well I have three, and I’ve known one since 2009, and I met the other two in 2017.

3. What position do you sleep in?

- uh, on my side/stomach with my one leg bent and the other under the pillow? You know, the “girl” position?

4. Were you in a clique in high school?

- LMAO yo I was the girl that wore pink/zebra Osiris skate hi-tops with black/white TIE DYE jeans. And band tees. I had a bracelet that I made from zebra DUCT TAPE. I was also in the top 10% of my graduating class, coming in at #77 with a 4.257 GPA. I was NERDY AND WEIRD. But I had friends from every clique.

5. Favorite high school teacher and why?

- I mean it’s been... 7 years since I graduated but I think it’s still Mrs. Nash. She was my astronomy teacher in 11th grade and then I also was her teaching assistant in 12th grade. She was so beautiful and sweet and the best mom to her kids.

6. Name a few places you’d want to travel to if money wasn’t the issue?

- Bora Bora, Germany, Australia, The Grand Canyon.

7. Did you or do you play any sports?

- I used to dance jazz and hip hop, I used to play soccer, I could do a mean jump rope routine in grade school. Was even part of a team lmao. Recently I’ve really wanted to learn how to skate again.

8. Things you find attractive?

- in general? Being able to hold a conversation and actually put forth enough effort. Street smarts. Knowing how to cook and take care of yourself. Knowing and setting and keeping boundaries. Nice eyes. Good sense of humor, the protective possessive type. Always considering my thoughts and feelings, even when I don’t seem to have any.

8. Where did you grow up?

- Sunny, humid, hot, sticky, rainy Florida. Born and raised unfortunately.

9. Do you have any embarrassing stories?

-FUCK THIS QUESTION. Yes. One time in 8th grade I had a crush on this guy named Erik. We were great friends and he was littleraly the biggest prankster around. So one day in science class we’re all taking a test and our teacher suddenly looks up and asks “do you hear that” and we start looking around and everyone starts to hear it and Erik asks me “what is that, is that you?” And to my ABSOLUTE FUCKING HORROR, my iPod started playing Sexy Can I by fucking Ray J DURING THE TEST. thankfully Erik took the blame so my life wasn’t completely ruined after that. I also got catfished by someone when I was....14-16. Eventually she came clean and we’ve spoken before here on tumblr. No hard feelings.

10. When is your birthday?

- January 28, 1996. I’m the ripe old age of 24 with arthritic bones and an ankle that cracks every few steps I take. I’m knocking on heavens door rn.

11. How many pillows do you sleep with?

- why is anyone asking this question lmao but I sleep with 9. I have a queen bed.

12. Name 5 things about your appearance

- I mean I have a whole page dedicated to my selfies so check that out I guess.

13. Favorite drink?

Alcoholic? Rum runners or bahama mama’s. Non alcoholic would probably be.... cherry coke or Mountain Dew code red.

14. Strange talent you have?

- I guess you could call it a talent in some aspects, but I have mockingbird syndrome where I can imitate just about anyone’s singing voice.

15. How did one of your friendships end?

- I found out I had feelings for her in high school and she was my best friend. I was in love with her like bro I was fucked up over this girl. I mean, let me clarify. At the time she was in the process of figuring out her identity and she was identifying as a male, and was really confident in that role. Her appearance changed drastically but her person never did, and I loved every bit of whoever they decided to be. Through three different name changes and back and forth pronoun changes. I loved this person. My first real hard love. We would walk around holding hands and if anyone knows me, I hate physical touch unless I’m dating you bc my trauma is fucking up my head, but I let them do that. Long story short we stopped talking, I moved away, I reached out years later and we started hanging out again. She changed. I say she because they had decided that they were in fact female, and that didn’t bother me, but something just felt extremely off. I went home one night and she texted me hoping to see me again and that scared me. It scared me and confused me bc my feelings were coming back after so long and I didn’t know what to do. So I didn’t do anything. Stopped answering the calls and the texts and the crying voicemails. I felt like shit for what I did and reached out again just recently a few months ago. Hoping to at the very least clear the air. I anon’ed her on here and she knew it was me, bc who else can’t let things go. So she basically said stop reaching out to me I hate you I don’t want you to talk to me ever again. So, I haven’t. And I miss her. But I deserve it.

16. Are you still figuring out who you are?

- Every single day. I am constantly changing and it’s so interesting that I’m not the person I was ten years ago. I’m not who I was three years ago. I’m not who I was when anything bad in my life happened, but yet I still hold onto it. I know my sexuality I’ve come to terms with it and I embrace it but I don’t make it obvious. I love who I am as a person and my core values and what is important to me at the end of the day.

17. Favorite restaurant?

- Cheesecake Factory.

18. Favorite pizza?

- fun fact I hated pizza before I got pregnant with my son, and now I LOVE it. I’ll crave pizza even still. I love pepperoni, green pepper, mushroom, pineapple, and crushed red pepper with a stuffed cheese crust. Ooh with the garlic sauce from papa johns.

19. Do you collect anything?

- knives. I used to collect snow globes when I was younger but my innocence has died and now I’m emo as fuck.

20. Biggest lesson you’ve learned the hard way?

- Your pride will get in the way every single time.

21. Your favorite band?

- A Day to Remember

22. What are your top three favorite albums?

- Voicenotes by Charlie Puth, I listened to this album on repeat my entire pregnancy. It means a lot to me.

- Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight by Travis Scott, I know every single word to every single song. It got me through one of the worst breakups from the most toxic relationship I’ve had back in 2016.

- What Separates Me From You by A Day to Remember, the cover art is what I’m basing my next tattoo off of.

23. What’s your dream car?

- Chevrolet Camaro SS. Hyper Metallic Blue with black carbon fiber accents. All black interior.

24. What’s your sign and do you believe in astrology?

- I’m an Aquarius, my moon is Taurus and my ascendant sign is Gemini. I read my horoscope often but I don’t base my every move off of what it says y’know?

25. Where do you go or what do you do when you’re sad?

- I like to drive. I drive at night and I play my music and I allow myself to feel whatever I want. Driving clears my head and it lets me think about things I usually push away. If I’m feeling really bad I’ll drive to the beach and sit by the water and just watch the sunset by myself and watch people live their lives and think about when I was happy.

That turned out much longer than I wanted it to be but there’s 25 things about me that you now know.

#personal #tumblr questions #ask

[adambstingus]

12 Guys Reveal What A Woman Did In Bed That Changed What They Expected From Sex Forever

1. I finally came from a blowjob

My current girlfriend was actually one of my best friends for a year or two before we started dating. As such, she knew a lot of things about me that GFs typically wouldn’t… for instance, that I had never gotten off from a blowjob before.

Our first time messing around, she suddenly gets all dominant on me and telling me what to do. This was a really big shocker because she typically she can’t even decide if she’s hungry or not. Anyways, she goes down, and does some serious business for a solid 10 minutes. She’s going at it like her one goal on earth is to ruin this streak of BJs I’ve had with no happy ending. It was great, but didn’t get me there. So she rolls onto her back and instructs me mount her chest and fuck her face. Shit got real. Streak over. The end.

2. She wantedto be fucked to death

Met a girl at a bar. She took me home. Started fucking almost immediately. Standard right? Would have been except we were strangers an hour before this and now she was having me choke her, smack her as hard as I could, and fuck her face…pretty violently…while she laid with her head hanging off the bed.

The whole time a CD with Elton John and Tracy Chapman is playing in the background. The disparity between the vibes of Tiny Dancer/Fast Car and me choke fucking and smacking a strange woman is something I’ll never forget. 9/10 would recommend.

3. Got horny from being tickled

I hate getting tickled, but this girl that I’m with changed that up for me. One day while hanging out, she started caressing my arm and she knows that I can’t handle that because I’m way too ticklish for it. As I tried to yank my arm away, she held my arm firmly so I couldn’t yank it and just kept going. I let her and then soon enough, I wasn’t even laughing.

I was buckling at the the tickling feeling, but instead of laughing, I was getting turned on. She went further up my arm, started tickling my armpits and sides (i hate getting my sides tickled), and next thing I know, I’m hard as a rock.

4. Most natural sex I ever had

Was with a girl and she was very afraid to have sex for the first time because she thought it would hurt (her mother scared her probably so she wouldn’t sleep around). I thus took it slow with her, making out, oral etc.

One day we were making out naked and we were really into it. And she was on top of me and somehow we didn’t even notice how and suddenly I realized we were actually fucking. She first didn’t get it either, but she was riding me. It was the same motion she would do anyways, except I was somehow inside her.

It was the most natural thing I have ever experienced. No words needed. Somehow it just felt so right in that moment that her fears were erased. Later she was embarrassed how easy it was.

And we got pizza that night

5. Made a girl cum by spanking her

Hooked up a girl, during it gave her a little spank (as one will do). Got a strong reaction and that’s the story of the first time I spanked a girl to orgasm.

10/10, would do again.

6. Checked on friend in between fucking

Went out to drink with a neighbor and her best friend. My neighbor ends up getting hammered and I carry her back to her apartment toilet so she can throw up. Once there, her friend and I start making out.

Neighbor ends up passing out on the toilet but since we didn’t want to stop, we continued making out as I carried and tucked my neighbor into bed, and then over her for like 10 minutes until she seemed fine enough to leave. We ended up fucking most of the night, but had a rule that the first one to orgasm during each session had to walk over to the neighbor’s to make sure she was OK.

7. The BJ just happened

Probably going from regular conversation to blowjob in 2 seconds. I was a little caught off guard, never really had it happen like that.

8. All she wanted was a penis inside her

I met this girl online. Lindsey looked super cute in her pics and seemed like she’d be fun. I picked her up and we went to a restaurant for standard date fare. She was super quiet the entire time, it was pretty lame trying to drag conversation out of her and I kind of just gave up figuring she wasn’t into me.

So we conclude the date and I say I’ll drive her home. At this she seems offended and says she wants to come to my place instead. I was surprised but glad she wanted to spend time with me. So we get to my house, I put on a flick and literally 15 mins into the movie she is buck nekkid riding me on my couch. Turns out she was a total nympho and we went at it for about 4 hours with a couple breather breaks here and there. I remember thinking it was hilarious as there were condoms all over my room just from that encounter. I took her home but she came back the next day and we did the same thing all day and evening on Saturday, just nothing but sex. She just wanted a penis in her at all times. She came over a couple times throughout the next week and honestly I was starting to get worn out from all the sex.

We made plans for her to spend the next weekend at my house and I was looking forward to more tiresome grueling but amazing sex all weekend long. Well Friday I text her and she says she’s all about it, then a couple hours later says that she’s changed her mind and is now getting back with her ex bf. I’m thinking… “does he know what you’ve been up to for the past week” lol. But no biggie, I was disappointed but over it pretty quick, she had some screws loose for sure.

But wait.. .there’s more! So my sister had been dating a guy for a while and they had recently moved in together. I liked the guy a lot and spent a lot of time hanging out at their place. So one day he says his brother is coming over to hang out along with his pregnant girlfriend. When they walked in my eyes popped out of my head, the girlfriend was Lindsey! She recognized me but we both pretended not to know one another. I had to take my sister aside and tell her as she knew all about the nympho story. Turns out Lindsey had gotten preggers right around the time we had our little stint and broke it off with the guy, fucked my brains out for a week then got back with him.

9. I almost cock blocked myself

Late night in college as a party is winding down, I’ve been on the porch smoking and talking about art for a couple of hours and completely missing signs from one of the housemates that she wants to show me a painting in her room. She goes inside for a beer, comes back out and sits next to me, then (without much subtlety) hands me her (wet) panties under the patio table.

Now catching on with lightning speed I ask to see the (not particularly memorable) painting and then sex until dawn. We ended up dating for a year and the friends I’m still in touch with continue to make fun of me for almost cockblocking myself if she hadn’t taken the initiative.

10. I found my fetish

Scratching. It was a girl that I had (and still do) have feelings for, but it just felt really good. It was the one time her and I did anything sexual.

It got me into restraining and now I have a set of handcuffs and leg irons that are like handcuffs.

11. “Blind date”

Back in college I got some girls number at a party, completely forgot because me and my friends partied hard that night. On like Tuesday of the next week I get a text from a name I don’t recall but it’s in my phone and it just said “so when are you gonna wine and dine me?”.

I had no idea who this chick was but I told her I’m free Friday night and went on a “blind date” with a girl I had met before. We got pizza and then went out for drinks later.

So I’m wasted, we go back to her dorm room, and one thing leads to another and next thing you know 3 different parts of me had been in her in various parts laces. The “date” part of the date wasn’t very good, but that night was the first time I essentially licked a strangers butthole. Good times.

12. Left the church and got fucked

So I was raised LDS and legitimately tried to go with it, but decided I needed to be happy more than make others happy.

I left the church at 25 a virgin and decided that needed to change to really sever ties and get my new life started. Problem was that the church scared the shit out of me when it came to women that I couldn’t even get it up when the opportunity arose.

I needed someone who was understanding of my situation and turned to my last bastion of hope – Craigslist.

I ended up meeting a flight attendant in her early 40th that was actually attractive. She was in town and had her own hotel for a few days. I brought a bottle of wine and drank 4/5ths of it, I was so damn nervous.

We get down to business and she’s just playing with damp rope for a good five minutes but she was dedicated to the cause.

Ended up fucking her 12 times over two days. Highlights include getting a blowjob in a shower and fucking her in the ass without realizing it.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/12-guys-reveal-what-a-woman-did-in-bed-that-changed-what-they-expected-from-sex-forever/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/173484646592

[samanthasroberts]

12 Guys Reveal What A Woman Did In Bed That Changed What They Expected From Sex Forever

1. I finally came from a blowjob

My current girlfriend was actually one of my best friends for a year or two before we started dating. As such, she knew a lot of things about me that GFs typically wouldn’t… for instance, that I had never gotten off from a blowjob before.

Our first time messing around, she suddenly gets all dominant on me and telling me what to do. This was a really big shocker because she typically she can’t even decide if she’s hungry or not. Anyways, she goes down, and does some serious business for a solid 10 minutes. She’s going at it like her one goal on earth is to ruin this streak of BJs I’ve had with no happy ending. It was great, but didn’t get me there. So she rolls onto her back and instructs me mount her chest and fuck her face. Shit got real. Streak over. The end.

2. She wantedto be fucked to death

Met a girl at a bar. She took me home. Started fucking almost immediately. Standard right? Would have been except we were strangers an hour before this and now she was having me choke her, smack her as hard as I could, and fuck her face…pretty violently…while she laid with her head hanging off the bed.

The whole time a CD with Elton John and Tracy Chapman is playing in the background. The disparity between the vibes of Tiny Dancer/Fast Car and me choke fucking and smacking a strange woman is something I’ll never forget. 9/10 would recommend.

3. Got horny from being tickled

I hate getting tickled, but this girl that I’m with changed that up for me. One day while hanging out, she started caressing my arm and she knows that I can’t handle that because I’m way too ticklish for it. As I tried to yank my arm away, she held my arm firmly so I couldn’t yank it and just kept going. I let her and then soon enough, I wasn’t even laughing.

I was buckling at the the tickling feeling, but instead of laughing, I was getting turned on. She went further up my arm, started tickling my armpits and sides (i hate getting my sides tickled), and next thing I know, I’m hard as a rock.

4. Most natural sex I ever had

Was with a girl and she was very afraid to have sex for the first time because she thought it would hurt (her mother scared her probably so she wouldn’t sleep around). I thus took it slow with her, making out, oral etc.

One day we were making out naked and we were really into it. And she was on top of me and somehow we didn’t even notice how and suddenly I realized we were actually fucking. She first didn’t get it either, but she was riding me. It was the same motion she would do anyways, except I was somehow inside her.

It was the most natural thing I have ever experienced. No words needed. Somehow it just felt so right in that moment that her fears were erased. Later she was embarrassed how easy it was.

And we got pizza that night

5. Made a girl cum by spanking her

Hooked up a girl, during it gave her a little spank (as one will do). Got a strong reaction and that’s the story of the first time I spanked a girl to orgasm.

10/10, would do again.

6. Checked on friend in between fucking

Went out to drink with a neighbor and her best friend. My neighbor ends up getting hammered and I carry her back to her apartment toilet so she can throw up. Once there, her friend and I start making out.

Neighbor ends up passing out on the toilet but since we didn’t want to stop, we continued making out as I carried and tucked my neighbor into bed, and then over her for like 10 minutes until she seemed fine enough to leave. We ended up fucking most of the night, but had a rule that the first one to orgasm during each session had to walk over to the neighbor’s to make sure she was OK.

7. The BJ just happened

Probably going from regular conversation to blowjob in 2 seconds. I was a little caught off guard, never really had it happen like that.

8. All she wanted was a penis inside her

I met this girl online. Lindsey looked super cute in her pics and seemed like she’d be fun. I picked her up and we went to a restaurant for standard date fare. She was super quiet the entire time, it was pretty lame trying to drag conversation out of her and I kind of just gave up figuring she wasn’t into me.

So we conclude the date and I say I’ll drive her home. At this she seems offended and says she wants to come to my place instead. I was surprised but glad she wanted to spend time with me. So we get to my house, I put on a flick and literally 15 mins into the movie she is buck nekkid riding me on my couch. Turns out she was a total nympho and we went at it for about 4 hours with a couple breather breaks here and there. I remember thinking it was hilarious as there were condoms all over my room just from that encounter. I took her home but she came back the next day and we did the same thing all day and evening on Saturday, just nothing but sex. She just wanted a penis in her at all times. She came over a couple times throughout the next week and honestly I was starting to get worn out from all the sex.

We made plans for her to spend the next weekend at my house and I was looking forward to more tiresome grueling but amazing sex all weekend long. Well Friday I text her and she says she’s all about it, then a couple hours later says that she’s changed her mind and is now getting back with her ex bf. I’m thinking… “does he know what you’ve been up to for the past week” lol. But no biggie, I was disappointed but over it pretty quick, she had some screws loose for sure.

But wait.. .there’s more! So my sister had been dating a guy for a while and they had recently moved in together. I liked the guy a lot and spent a lot of time hanging out at their place. So one day he says his brother is coming over to hang out along with his pregnant girlfriend. When they walked in my eyes popped out of my head, the girlfriend was Lindsey! She recognized me but we both pretended not to know one another. I had to take my sister aside and tell her as she knew all about the nympho story. Turns out Lindsey had gotten preggers right around the time we had our little stint and broke it off with the guy, fucked my brains out for a week then got back with him.

9. I almost cock blocked myself

Late night in college as a party is winding down, I’ve been on the porch smoking and talking about art for a couple of hours and completely missing signs from one of the housemates that she wants to show me a painting in her room. She goes inside for a beer, comes back out and sits next to me, then (without much subtlety) hands me her (wet) panties under the patio table.

Now catching on with lightning speed I ask to see the (not particularly memorable) painting and then sex until dawn. We ended up dating for a year and the friends I’m still in touch with continue to make fun of me for almost cockblocking myself if she hadn’t taken the initiative.

10. I found my fetish

Scratching. It was a girl that I had (and still do) have feelings for, but it just felt really good. It was the one time her and I did anything sexual.

It got me into restraining and now I have a set of handcuffs and leg irons that are like handcuffs.

11. “Blind date”

Back in college I got some girls number at a party, completely forgot because me and my friends partied hard that night. On like Tuesday of the next week I get a text from a name I don’t recall but it’s in my phone and it just said “so when are you gonna wine and dine me?”.

I had no idea who this chick was but I told her I’m free Friday night and went on a “blind date” with a girl I had met before. We got pizza and then went out for drinks later.

So I’m wasted, we go back to her dorm room, and one thing leads to another and next thing you know 3 different parts of me had been in her in various parts laces. The “date” part of the date wasn’t very good, but that night was the first time I essentially licked a strangers butthole. Good times.

12. Left the church and got fucked

So I was raised LDS and legitimately tried to go with it, but decided I needed to be happy more than make others happy.

I left the church at 25 a virgin and decided that needed to change to really sever ties and get my new life started. Problem was that the church scared the shit out of me when it came to women that I couldn’t even get it up when the opportunity arose.

I needed someone who was understanding of my situation and turned to my last bastion of hope – Craigslist.

I ended up meeting a flight attendant in her early 40th that was actually attractive. She was in town and had her own hotel for a few days. I brought a bottle of wine and drank 4/5ths of it, I was so damn nervous.

We get down to business and she’s just playing with damp rope for a good five minutes but she was dedicated to the cause.

Ended up fucking her 12 times over two days. Highlights include getting a blowjob in a shower and fucking her in the ass without realizing it.

Source: http://allofbeer.com/12-guys-reveal-what-a-woman-did-in-bed-that-changed-what-they-expected-from-sex-forever/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/05/01/12-guys-reveal-what-a-woman-did-in-bed-that-changed-what-they-expected-from-sex-forever/

[allofbeercom]

12 Guys Reveal What A Woman Did In Bed That Changed What They Expected From Sex Forever

1. I finally came from a blowjob

My current girlfriend was actually one of my best friends for a year or two before we started dating. As such, she knew a lot of things about me that GFs typically wouldn’t… for instance, that I had never gotten off from a blowjob before.

Our first time messing around, she suddenly gets all dominant on me and telling me what to do. This was a really big shocker because she typically she can’t even decide if she’s hungry or not. Anyways, she goes down, and does some serious business for a solid 10 minutes. She’s going at it like her one goal on earth is to ruin this streak of BJs I’ve had with no happy ending. It was great, but didn’t get me there. So she rolls onto her back and instructs me mount her chest and fuck her face. Shit got real. Streak over. The end.

2. She wantedto be fucked to death

Met a girl at a bar. She took me home. Started fucking almost immediately. Standard right? Would have been except we were strangers an hour before this and now she was having me choke her, smack her as hard as I could, and fuck her face…pretty violently…while she laid with her head hanging off the bed.

The whole time a CD with Elton John and Tracy Chapman is playing in the background. The disparity between the vibes of Tiny Dancer/Fast Car and me choke fucking and smacking a strange woman is something I’ll never forget. 9/10 would recommend.

3. Got horny from being tickled

I hate getting tickled, but this girl that I’m with changed that up for me. One day while hanging out, she started caressing my arm and she knows that I can’t handle that because I’m way too ticklish for it. As I tried to yank my arm away, she held my arm firmly so I couldn’t yank it and just kept going. I let her and then soon enough, I wasn’t even laughing.

I was buckling at the the tickling feeling, but instead of laughing, I was getting turned on. She went further up my arm, started tickling my armpits and sides (i hate getting my sides tickled), and next thing I know, I’m hard as a rock.

4. Most natural sex I ever had

Was with a girl and she was very afraid to have sex for the first time because she thought it would hurt (her mother scared her probably so she wouldn’t sleep around). I thus took it slow with her, making out, oral etc.

One day we were making out naked and we were really into it. And she was on top of me and somehow we didn’t even notice how and suddenly I realized we were actually fucking. She first didn’t get it either, but she was riding me. It was the same motion she would do anyways, except I was somehow inside her.

It was the most natural thing I have ever experienced. No words needed. Somehow it just felt so right in that moment that her fears were erased. Later she was embarrassed how easy it was.

And we got pizza that night

5. Made a girl cum by spanking her

Hooked up a girl, during it gave her a little spank (as one will do). Got a strong reaction and that’s the story of the first time I spanked a girl to orgasm.

10/10, would do again.

6. Checked on friend in between fucking

Went out to drink with a neighbor and her best friend. My neighbor ends up getting hammered and I carry her back to her apartment toilet so she can throw up. Once there, her friend and I start making out.

Neighbor ends up passing out on the toilet but since we didn’t want to stop, we continued making out as I carried and tucked my neighbor into bed, and then over her for like 10 minutes until she seemed fine enough to leave. We ended up fucking most of the night, but had a rule that the first one to orgasm during each session had to walk over to the neighbor’s to make sure she was OK.

7. The BJ just happened

Probably going from regular conversation to blowjob in 2 seconds. I was a little caught off guard, never really had it happen like that.

8. All she wanted was a penis inside her

I met this girl online. Lindsey looked super cute in her pics and seemed like she’d be fun. I picked her up and we went to a restaurant for standard date fare. She was super quiet the entire time, it was pretty lame trying to drag conversation out of her and I kind of just gave up figuring she wasn’t into me.

So we conclude the date and I say I’ll drive her home. At this she seems offended and says she wants to come to my place instead. I was surprised but glad she wanted to spend time with me. So we get to my house, I put on a flick and literally 15 mins into the movie she is buck nekkid riding me on my couch. Turns out she was a total nympho and we went at it for about 4 hours with a couple breather breaks here and there. I remember thinking it was hilarious as there were condoms all over my room just from that encounter. I took her home but she came back the next day and we did the same thing all day and evening on Saturday, just nothing but sex. She just wanted a penis in her at all times. She came over a couple times throughout the next week and honestly I was starting to get worn out from all the sex.

We made plans for her to spend the next weekend at my house and I was looking forward to more tiresome grueling but amazing sex all weekend long. Well Friday I text her and she says she’s all about it, then a couple hours later says that she’s changed her mind and is now getting back with her ex bf. I’m thinking… “does he know what you’ve been up to for the past week” lol. But no biggie, I was disappointed but over it pretty quick, she had some screws loose for sure.

But wait.. .there’s more! So my sister had been dating a guy for a while and they had recently moved in together. I liked the guy a lot and spent a lot of time hanging out at their place. So one day he says his brother is coming over to hang out along with his pregnant girlfriend. When they walked in my eyes popped out of my head, the girlfriend was Lindsey! She recognized me but we both pretended not to know one another. I had to take my sister aside and tell her as she knew all about the nympho story. Turns out Lindsey had gotten preggers right around the time we had our little stint and broke it off with the guy, fucked my brains out for a week then got back with him.

9. I almost cock blocked myself

Late night in college as a party is winding down, I’ve been on the porch smoking and talking about art for a couple of hours and completely missing signs from one of the housemates that she wants to show me a painting in her room. She goes inside for a beer, comes back out and sits next to me, then (without much subtlety) hands me her (wet) panties under the patio table.

Now catching on with lightning speed I ask to see the (not particularly memorable) painting and then sex until dawn. We ended up dating for a year and the friends I’m still in touch with continue to make fun of me for almost cockblocking myself if she hadn’t taken the initiative.

10. I found my fetish

Scratching. It was a girl that I had (and still do) have feelings for, but it just felt really good. It was the one time her and I did anything sexual.

It got me into restraining and now I have a set of handcuffs and leg irons that are like handcuffs.

11. “Blind date”

Back in college I got some girls number at a party, completely forgot because me and my friends partied hard that night. On like Tuesday of the next week I get a text from a name I don’t recall but it’s in my phone and it just said “so when are you gonna wine and dine me?”.

I had no idea who this chick was but I told her I’m free Friday night and went on a “blind date” with a girl I had met before. We got pizza and then went out for drinks later.

So I’m wasted, we go back to her dorm room, and one thing leads to another and next thing you know 3 different parts of me had been in her in various parts laces. The “date” part of the date wasn’t very good, but that night was the first time I essentially licked a strangers butthole. Good times.

12. Left the church and got fucked

So I was raised LDS and legitimately tried to go with it, but decided I needed to be happy more than make others happy.

I left the church at 25 a virgin and decided that needed to change to really sever ties and get my new life started. Problem was that the church scared the shit out of me when it came to women that I couldn’t even get it up when the opportunity arose.

I needed someone who was understanding of my situation and turned to my last bastion of hope – Craigslist.

I ended up meeting a flight attendant in her early 40th that was actually attractive. She was in town and had her own hotel for a few days. I brought a bottle of wine and drank 4/5ths of it, I was so damn nervous.

We get down to business and she’s just playing with damp rope for a good five minutes but she was dedicated to the cause.

Ended up fucking her 12 times over two days. Highlights include getting a blowjob in a shower and fucking her in the ass without realizing it.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/12-guys-reveal-what-a-woman-did-in-bed-that-changed-what-they-expected-from-sex-forever/

[fishermariawo]

10 Basic Human Skills the Younger Generation Isn’t Learning

There are many reasons to be thankful for the cushy existence modernity affords us. War and other extenuating circumstances aside, you probably don’t fear for your life on a daily basis. You have clean water to drink. Food is widely available, and it’s affordable. You survived infancy, childhood, and adolescence, which is quite special on a historical scale.

But there are downsides. Food has gone industrial. We increasingly live our lives in the digital realm and ignore the physical. Perhaps the most recent change relative to that shift has been the physical neutering of our kids. This has happened more broadly across all ages as countries shift away from manual labor toward more of an information economy, but it’s become incredibly pronounced in the generation coming up. At least when I grew up kids still wandered the streets in search of adventure, testing themselves out physically, undergoing mental and physical challenges, breaking bones and straining muscles, and learning about movement from the best teacher of all—hands on experience. Now? The lucky ones will get gymnastics or martial arts or dance training a couple days a week. But most languish indoors, prevented from the kind of free-form exploratory play human children have enjoyed for thousands of generations.

What are they losing? What physical skills —basic human abilities—will they lack?

Throwing

The recent complaint from an Army general illustrates this nicely: New recruits are so terrible at throwing grenades that they’ve nixed the requirement for graduation altogether. And it’s not just a strength thing, although I’d imagine that’s often a problem. It’s a technique thing. They didn’t grow up throwing.

Throwing on a regular basis when your brain is still developing establishes stronger neural pathways that persist into adulthood. It’s why learning languages and riding bikes “sticks” more when you do it as a kid. Throwing is no different.

Throwing is a human universal. Hell, the ability to lead a target, to subconsciously triangulate all the variables and figure out where to throw in order to hit the running antelope (or streaking wide receiver) is uniquely human. It may have made being human possible. We have those long arms, hyper mobile shoulders, upright postures, big brains, and powerful posterior chains that allow us to generate incredible power on and accuracy with our projectiles.

Weighted Carries

Twenty thousand years ago, we carried foraged and hunted food incredible distances on a regular basis. Two thousand years ago, we wore a hundred pounds of kit on months-long military campaigns. One hundred years ago, we carried slop out to the hogs and pitched hay bales. Fifty years ago, I lugged wheelbarrows of dirt around the yard helping my dad with the garden.

Today, kids carry their mandatory iPad to school and complain when Mom or Dad tries to get them to help with yard work.

Balancing

The world is unstable. Things teeter. They get wet and slippery. Sometimes the walking surface is too narrow for our feet, or for more than one foot at a time. We need to be able to traverse it safely and effectively.

Ideally, kids should seek out these unstable, narrow surfaces. Park bench? They should hop on and walk along the back. Curb? Way better than a sidewalk. But their attention is elsewhere, and I think it’ll come back to bite them in the future.

Climbing

I did a lot of impromptu climbing as a kid. And not just large rocks, trees, and mountains. I’d climb fences, so many fences. There were multiple ways to scale a chain link fence. My favorite was going head first and flipping over onto my feet followed closely by perching along the top and jumping down.

Can’t recall the last time I saw a kid climb a fence, let alone a tree. Climbing gyms are growing, so there’s a real desire for it. Rock climbing is a different beast though. It’s more methodical and strategic. What I’m interested in is the ability and confidence to just get over barriers. You see an obstacle. You climb it, without really thinking or planning. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

Jumping

Jumping is an act of faith. In your own abilities. In the stability of the landing surface.

You can see it in kids who’ve never quite jumped before. They approach the edge, look down, look over at you, look back down. They pump their bodies, priming for the jump. Their eyes get a glint of anticipation. They know it’s a big thing, the first jump. A momentous occasion. Then they leap, and it works, and they’re hooked. They’re believers.

A jump is an explosive hip extension, utilizing the glutes and hamstrings. You know, the muscle groups that grow flabby and atrophied when we sit down all the time.

Landing

The most important part of jumping is the landing. Landing correctly protects your joints from injury and allows you to smoothly transition into the next movement (running, jumping again, dodging). It’s a foundational skill for most sports and non-sport athletic endeavors, like dancing or parkour.

How many broken hips, sprained ankles, and knee injuries are coming down the line for future adults who never learned how to land a simple jump?

Rock Scrambling

Bouldering is great and all. Rock climbing is fun. But my favorite thing to do on and around large deposits of rocks and minerals is scramble up and down them. You go without any equipment. No special shoes. No fanny pack full of chalk. No ropes. And unlike the insane free climbers, no real risk of death and dismemberment.

Rock scrambles get you into situations hairy enough to get your blood pumping and force you to reckon with your own mortality, but manageable enough that you can usually get out without adult assistance. That’s a huge thing for kids to experience—the realization that life can be dangerous and risky while still worth doing.

Creek Walking

One of my favorite pastimes as a kid was walking up and down creeks by jumping from rock to rock, making sure never to touch ground. We’d sometimes do creeks miles long this way. This is no easy task. You have to be willing to go barefoot (or sacrifice grip and stability and risk getting your shoes filthy). The rocks are slippery and mossy. The water’s cold. And you have to actually go to a functioning creek.

Creek walking forces focus. You can’t sleepwalk your way through a creek walk. Every step is different, presents new challenges. It’s mentally and physically draining.

Stamina

I can’t tell you the number of gangly 5-year-olds I’ve seen being carted around in strollers, legs hanging over the side, face craned toward the tablet in their laps, oblivious to the world occurring around them. Or the kids whining about how “their legs hurt.” One study from 2013 found that today’s kids take a minute and a half longer to run a mile than kids of the same age from 30-40 years ago. How do you think their endurance will be as adults?

The reason why is simple. Kids have fewer opportunities and inclinations to walk. As mentioned earlier, kids aren’t roaming around neighborhoods like they used to. They’re not putting in the miles. The rise of smartphones has also contributed. If part of your daily allotment of hours is dedicated to something entirely novel on the historical timeline—staring into a handheld electronic device—you will necessarily have fewer hours available to do physical things like walking. 

Strength

Kids are more likely now to be weaklings than they were twenty years ago. Between 1998 and 2008, ten-year-olds in one British town suffered huge losses in strength:

27% fewer situps

Arm strength dropped by 26%, grip strength by 7%

10% of kids couldn’t hang from a bar, compared to just 5% in 1998

Who wants to bet the problem is even worse today?

This is a problem. Child weaklings grow up to be adult weaklings. Their physical inabilities perpetuate themselves. If physical movement isn’t rewarding because you’re bad at it, get winded easily, and fail at the skills required to excel, you’re less likely to pursue it into adulthood. That’s when the health issues mount, your appearance declines, and things fall apart. A society of physically inept and weak people cannot stand for long.

You don’t “need” these skills to live in today’s world. That’s the whole point, in fact: Kids are coming into adulthood never having needed to learn how to do this stuff. But being able to jump, balance, throw, climb, and walk while carrying heavy loads makes life easier, more enjoyable, and more rewarding. It opens doors. The disappearance of these skills is a tragedy.

But it’s fixable. I’m not calling for rigorous training sessions. Humans are built to do these things. They just have to do them.

What can we do to fix the problem? Are there any other skills today’s younger generations just aren’t developing?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Take care, everyone.

[cristinajourdanqp]

10 Basic Human Skills the Younger Generation Isn’t Learning

There are many reasons to be thankful for the cushy existence modernity affords us. War and other extenuating circumstances aside, you probably don’t fear for your life on a daily basis. You have clean water to drink. Food is widely available, and it’s affordable. You survived infancy, childhood, and adolescence, which is quite special on a historical scale.

But there are downsides. Food has gone industrial. We increasingly live our lives in the digital realm and ignore the physical. Perhaps the most recent change relative to that shift has been the physical neutering of our kids. This has happened more broadly across all ages as countries shift away from manual labor toward more of an information economy, but it’s become incredibly pronounced in the generation coming up. At least when I grew up kids still wandered the streets in search of adventure, testing themselves out physically, undergoing mental and physical challenges, breaking bones and straining muscles, and learning about movement from the best teacher of all—hands on experience. Now? The lucky ones will get gymnastics or martial arts or dance training a couple days a week. But most languish indoors, prevented from the kind of free-form exploratory play human children have enjoyed for thousands of generations.

What are they losing? What physical skills —basic human abilities—will they lack?

Throwing

The recent complaint from an Army general illustrates this nicely: New recruits are so terrible at throwing grenades that they’ve nixed the requirement for graduation altogether. And it’s not just a strength thing, although I’d imagine that’s often a problem. It’s a technique thing. They didn’t grow up throwing.

Throwing on a regular basis when your brain is still developing establishes stronger neural pathways that persist into adulthood. It’s why learning languages and riding bikes “sticks” more when you do it as a kid. Throwing is no different.

Throwing is a human universal. Hell, the ability to lead a target, to subconsciously triangulate all the variables and figure out where to throw in order to hit the running antelope (or streaking wide receiver) is uniquely human. It may have made being human possible. We have those long arms, hyper mobile shoulders, upright postures, big brains, and powerful posterior chains that allow us to generate incredible power on and accuracy with our projectiles.

Weighted Carries

Twenty thousand years ago, we carried foraged and hunted food incredible distances on a regular basis. Two thousand years ago, we wore a hundred pounds of kit on months-long military campaigns. One hundred years ago, we carried slop out to the hogs and pitched hay bales. Fifty years ago, I lugged wheelbarrows of dirt around the yard helping my dad with the garden.

Today, kids carry their mandatory iPad to school and complain when Mom or Dad tries to get them to help with yard work.

Balancing

The world is unstable. Things teeter. They get wet and slippery. Sometimes the walking surface is too narrow for our feet, or for more than one foot at a time. We need to be able to traverse it safely and effectively.

Ideally, kids should seek out these unstable, narrow surfaces. Park bench? They should hop on and walk along the back. Curb? Way better than a sidewalk. But their attention is elsewhere, and I think it’ll come back to bite them in the future.

Climbing

I did a lot of impromptu climbing as a kid. And not just large rocks, trees, and mountains. I’d climb fences, so many fences. There were multiple ways to scale a chain link fence. My favorite was going head first and flipping over onto my feet followed closely by perching along the top and jumping down.

Can’t recall the last time I saw a kid climb a fence, let alone a tree. Climbing gyms are growing, so there’s a real desire for it. Rock climbing is a different beast though. It’s more methodical and strategic. What I’m interested in is the ability and confidence to just get over barriers. You see an obstacle. You climb it, without really thinking or planning. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

Jumping

Jumping is an act of faith. In your own abilities. In the stability of the landing surface.

You can see it in kids who’ve never quite jumped before. They approach the edge, look down, look over at you, look back down. They pump their bodies, priming for the jump. Their eyes get a glint of anticipation. They know it’s a big thing, the first jump. A momentous occasion. Then they leap, and it works, and they’re hooked. They’re believers.

A jump is an explosive hip extension, utilizing the glutes and hamstrings. You know, the muscle groups that grow flabby and atrophied when we sit down all the time.

Landing

The most important part of jumping is the landing. Landing correctly protects your joints from injury and allows you to smoothly transition into the next movement (running, jumping again, dodging). It’s a foundational skill for most sports and non-sport athletic endeavors, like dancing or parkour.

How many broken hips, sprained ankles, and knee injuries are coming down the line for future adults who never learned how to land a simple jump?

Rock Scrambling

Bouldering is great and all. Rock climbing is fun. But my favorite thing to do on and around large deposits of rocks and minerals is scramble up and down them. You go without any equipment. No special shoes. No fanny pack full of chalk. No ropes. And unlike the insane free climbers, no real risk of death and dismemberment.

Rock scrambles get you into situations hairy enough to get your blood pumping and force you to reckon with your own mortality, but manageable enough that you can usually get out without adult assistance. That’s a huge thing for kids to experience—the realization that life can be dangerous and risky while still worth doing.

Creek Walking

One of my favorite pastimes as a kid was walking up and down creeks by jumping from rock to rock, making sure never to touch ground. We’d sometimes do creeks miles long this way. This is no easy task. You have to be willing to go barefoot (or sacrifice grip and stability and risk getting your shoes filthy). The rocks are slippery and mossy. The water’s cold. And you have to actually go to a functioning creek.

Creek walking forces focus. You can’t sleepwalk your way through a creek walk. Every step is different, presents new challenges. It’s mentally and physically draining.

Stamina

I can’t tell you the number of gangly 5-year-olds I’ve seen being carted around in strollers, legs hanging over the side, face craned toward the tablet in their laps, oblivious to the world occurring around them. Or the kids whining about how “their legs hurt.” One study from 2013 found that today’s kids take a minute and a half longer to run a mile than kids of the same age from 30-40 years ago. How do you think their endurance will be as adults?

The reason why is simple. Kids have fewer opportunities and inclinations to walk. As mentioned earlier, kids aren’t roaming around neighborhoods like they used to. They’re not putting in the miles. The rise of smartphones has also contributed. If part of your daily allotment of hours is dedicated to something entirely novel on the historical timeline—staring into a handheld electronic device—you will necessarily have fewer hours available to do physical things like walking. 

Strength

Kids are more likely now to be weaklings than they were twenty years ago. Between 1998 and 2008, ten-year-olds in one British town suffered huge losses in strength:

27% fewer situps

Arm strength dropped by 26%, grip strength by 7%

10% of kids couldn’t hang from a bar, compared to just 5% in 1998

Who wants to bet the problem is even worse today?

This is a problem. Child weaklings grow up to be adult weaklings. Their physical inabilities perpetuate themselves. If physical movement isn’t rewarding because you’re bad at it, get winded easily, and fail at the skills required to excel, you’re less likely to pursue it into adulthood. That’s when the health issues mount, your appearance declines, and things fall apart. A society of physically inept and weak people cannot stand for long.

You don’t “need” these skills to live in today’s world. That’s the whole point, in fact: Kids are coming into adulthood never having needed to learn how to do this stuff. But being able to jump, balance, throw, climb, and walk while carrying heavy loads makes life easier, more enjoyable, and more rewarding. It opens doors. The disappearance of these skills is a tragedy.

But it’s fixable. I’m not calling for rigorous training sessions. Humans are built to do these things. They just have to do them.

What can we do to fix the problem? Are there any other skills today’s younger generations just aren’t developing?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Take care, everyone.

[watsonrodriquezie]

10 Basic Human Skills the Younger Generation Isn’t Learning

There are many reasons to be thankful for the cushy existence modernity affords us. War and other extenuating circumstances aside, you probably don’t fear for your life on a daily basis. You have clean water to drink. Food is widely available, and it’s affordable. You survived infancy, childhood, and adolescence, which is quite special on a historical scale.

But there are downsides. Food has gone industrial. We increasingly live our lives in the digital realm and ignore the physical. Perhaps the most recent change relative to that shift has been the physical neutering of our kids. This has happened more broadly across all ages as countries shift away from manual labor toward more of an information economy, but it’s become incredibly pronounced in the generation coming up. At least when I grew up kids still wandered the streets in search of adventure, testing themselves out physically, undergoing mental and physical challenges, breaking bones and straining muscles, and learning about movement from the best teacher of all—hands on experience. Now? The lucky ones will get gymnastics or martial arts or dance training a couple days a week. But most languish indoors, prevented from the kind of free-form exploratory play human children have enjoyed for thousands of generations.

What are they losing? What physical skills —basic human abilities—will they lack?

Throwing

The recent complaint from an Army general illustrates this nicely: New recruits are so terrible at throwing grenades that they’ve nixed the requirement for graduation altogether. And it’s not just a strength thing, although I’d imagine that’s often a problem. It’s a technique thing. They didn’t grow up throwing.

Throwing on a regular basis when your brain is still developing establishes stronger neural pathways that persist into adulthood. It’s why learning languages and riding bikes “sticks” more when you do it as a kid. Throwing is no different.

Throwing is a human universal. Hell, the ability to lead a target, to subconsciously triangulate all the variables and figure out where to throw in order to hit the running antelope (or streaking wide receiver) is uniquely human. It may have made being human possible. We have those long arms, hyper mobile shoulders, upright postures, big brains, and powerful posterior chains that allow us to generate incredible power on and accuracy with our projectiles.

Weighted Carries

Twenty thousand years ago, we carried foraged and hunted food incredible distances on a regular basis. Two thousand years ago, we wore a hundred pounds of kit on months-long military campaigns. One hundred years ago, we carried slop out to the hogs and pitched hay bales. Fifty years ago, I lugged wheelbarrows of dirt around the yard helping my dad with the garden.

Today, kids carry their mandatory iPad to school and complain when Mom or Dad tries to get them to help with yard work.

Balancing

The world is unstable. Things teeter. They get wet and slippery. Sometimes the walking surface is too narrow for our feet, or for more than one foot at a time. We need to be able to traverse it safely and effectively.

Ideally, kids should seek out these unstable, narrow surfaces. Park bench? They should hop on and walk along the back. Curb? Way better than a sidewalk. But their attention is elsewhere, and I think it’ll come back to bite them in the future.

Climbing

I did a lot of impromptu climbing as a kid. And not just large rocks, trees, and mountains. I’d climb fences, so many fences. There were multiple ways to scale a chain link fence. My favorite was going head first and flipping over onto my feet followed closely by perching along the top and jumping down.

Can’t recall the last time I saw a kid climb a fence, let alone a tree. Climbing gyms are growing, so there’s a real desire for it. Rock climbing is a different beast though. It’s more methodical and strategic. What I’m interested in is the ability and confidence to just get over barriers. You see an obstacle. You climb it, without really thinking or planning. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.

Jumping

Jumping is an act of faith. In your own abilities. In the stability of the landing surface.

You can see it in kids who’ve never quite jumped before. They approach the edge, look down, look over at you, look back down. They pump their bodies, priming for the jump. Their eyes get a glint of anticipation. They know it’s a big thing, the first jump. A momentous occasion. Then they leap, and it works, and they’re hooked. They’re believers.

A jump is an explosive hip extension, utilizing the glutes and hamstrings. You know, the muscle groups that grow flabby and atrophied when we sit down all the time.

Landing

The most important part of jumping is the landing. Landing correctly protects your joints from injury and allows you to smoothly transition into the next movement (running, jumping again, dodging). It’s a foundational skill for most sports and non-sport athletic endeavors, like dancing or parkour.

How many broken hips, sprained ankles, and knee injuries are coming down the line for future adults who never learned how to land a simple jump?

Rock Scrambling

Bouldering is great and all. Rock climbing is fun. But my favorite thing to do on and around large deposits of rocks and minerals is scramble up and down them. You go without any equipment. No special shoes. No fanny pack full of chalk. No ropes. And unlike the insane free climbers, no real risk of death and dismemberment.

Rock scrambles get you into situations hairy enough to get your blood pumping and force you to reckon with your own mortality, but manageable enough that you can usually get out without adult assistance. That’s a huge thing for kids to experience—the realization that life can be dangerous and risky while still worth doing.

Creek Walking

One of my favorite pastimes as a kid was walking up and down creeks by jumping from rock to rock, making sure never to touch ground. We’d sometimes do creeks miles long this way. This is no easy task. You have to be willing to go barefoot (or sacrifice grip and stability and risk getting your shoes filthy). The rocks are slippery and mossy. The water’s cold. And you have to actually go to a functioning creek.

Creek walking forces focus. You can’t sleepwalk your way through a creek walk. Every step is different, presents new challenges. It’s mentally and physically draining.

Stamina

I can’t tell you the number of gangly 5-year-olds I’ve seen being carted around in strollers, legs hanging over the side, face craned toward the tablet in their laps, oblivious to the world occurring around them. Or the kids whining about how “their legs hurt.” One study from 2013 found that today’s kids take a minute and a half longer to run a mile than kids of the same age from 30-40 years ago. How do you think their endurance will be as adults?

The reason why is simple. Kids have fewer opportunities and inclinations to walk. As mentioned earlier, kids aren’t roaming around neighborhoods like they used to. They’re not putting in the miles. The rise of smartphones has also contributed. If part of your daily allotment of hours is dedicated to something entirely novel on the historical timeline—staring into a handheld electronic device—you will necessarily have fewer hours available to do physical things like walking. 

Strength

Kids are more likely now to be weaklings than they were twenty years ago. Between 1998 and 2008, ten-year-olds in one British town suffered huge losses in strength:

27% fewer situps

Arm strength dropped by 26%, grip strength by 7%

10% of kids couldn’t hang from a bar, compared to just 5% in 1998

Who wants to bet the problem is even worse today?

This is a problem. Child weaklings grow up to be adult weaklings. Their physical inabilities perpetuate themselves. If physical movement isn’t rewarding because you’re bad at it, get winded easily, and fail at the skills required to excel, you’re less likely to pursue it into adulthood. That’s when the health issues mount, your appearance declines, and things fall apart. A society of physically inept and weak people cannot stand for long.

You don’t “need” these skills to live in today’s world. That’s the whole point, in fact: Kids are coming into adulthood never having needed to learn how to do this stuff. But being able to jump, balance, throw, climb, and walk while carrying heavy loads makes life easier, more enjoyable, and more rewarding. It opens doors. The disappearance of these skills is a tragedy.

But it’s fixable. I’m not calling for rigorous training sessions. Humans are built to do these things. They just have to do them.

What can we do to fix the problem? Are there any other skills today’s younger generations just aren’t developing?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. Take care, everyone.