#my life with charles manson

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

If you already got this from someone and you just haven't answered yet pls ignore, but if no one else asked i want to add klinger+charles for the relationship bingo ask meme

ok I’m getting to this late as FUCK but PLEASE nobody ever hesitate to send me something for an ask game if I get one ask on a topic I will go YIPPEE and if I get 20 asks on the same topic I will go YIIIIIPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Anyhow you're indeed the only one around here who shows outside interest in our rarepair insanity, a boon I will remember as long as I live btw. Mx. Smoking Marlene Dietrich I owe you the WORLD

TRIPLE BINGO because they are EVERYTHING. to me.

It’s funny. This is the one duo where I almost do just want to post the bingo and leave it at that. Part of me wants to tell people about this ship SO bad, to give novel-length explanations and justifications and theses. But the other part of me is like you know what. You either Get It or you don’t.

Anyways there are 10000 things to say about Them but one is: I specifically did not fill in “gay af to have a sworn rival” even though it cost me another bingo because one of the most fascinating things about the interactions between these two is that they actually do not have a mutually adversarial relationship--even though that’s what writers usually do with two characters on diametrically opposite ends of the socioeconomic spectrum. 

I’ve been thinking about this a bit because I’ve seen people say things like, “It’s great what a funny duo they turned into when they started out hating each other, haha.” And I get why one would think like this but IMO it’s actually not the case! Charles acts more familiar with Max over time because he does that with everyone--

(Though he’s racist towards Max throughout, of course. Because Charles’ racism never goes away. You know that right. MASH fandom I am putting my hands on your shoulders and asking: You know that, right? I keep seeing people talk about Charles having a character arc and a redemption arc so I’m just. I’m just making sure.)

--but Max has actually been pretty nice to him right from the start, back when Charles’ relationship with basically every character was antagonistic. As soon as s6e13 he tells Charles how similar they are, how they should work together to try and get away from the war, how they’re “soulmates”. Even after Charles insults him, he straight up says, “I’m on your side, Major”, which I’m pretty sure remains one of the nicest things someone canonically says to Charles, ever. Just one scene, but emblematic of a greater whole, of quite a few future scenes where Max gamely engages with Charles even when it puts him in unpleasant situations.

And of course, the motivation the show usually gives, on those occasions when it thinks about Maxwell’s motivations at all, is a simple throwaway “Well Charles is paying him / giving him some other material benefit, so obviously Klinger will be his kicked dog! You all know how Middle Eastern people are! We are a groundbreakingly progressive show btw.”

But man. Fuck that shit. This is far afield of my original point but the thing is, Max’s interactions with Charles are often the most egregious exempla of every way the later seasons fucked over my girl here. It almost seems useless to try to analyze any of Max’s actions after a certain point from a Watsonian perspective, when the Doylist reading of the show being too racist and stupid to do anything coherent with him is the ultimate explanation, and sometimes the only explanation you can even come up with, because shit just makes NO fucking sense in-universe. 

But unfortunately I’m a stupid cringe ass fanfic writer/reader, and I love this character, and Max already gets so little screentime compared to the main protagonists, and I don’t want to just ignore him because of the decisions of writers who didn’t care about him.

(That’s the entire reason I started shipping this stupid thing in the first place, btw. I just wanted to read some fanfic where Max is the main character and idk if you’ve noticed but if it weren’t for AO3 user stateofintegrity and their ~problematic cringe ship~, the pickings would be pretty fucking slim.)

So I like to pretend there’s a better reason for Maxwell going from “Major Burns I hate you so fucking much I am going to kill us both with this fucking grenade” to the equivalent of a tumblr blog responding to pathetic anon hate with “are we about to have sex”. After all, if you’re going to write Maxwell yourself, get inside his head and all, then you also have to account for why he tolerates all the OTHER characters’ racism towards him in later seasons, too. 

And the messy problematic reasoning I come up with is that Max is at heart the kindest and also most emotionally intelligent character on the show, and even the liberalized version of the 1950s our story is set in is a systemically bigoted universe that is all he’s ever known and experienced, and he’s certain these are good people, really, when it matters. And being emotionally intelligent, and generally intelligent too for that fucking matter, and observant and insightful, he can tell there’s a big difference between Frank and Charles, and perhaps less of a difference, even, between Charles and Hawkeye. Maybe when you watch things from Hawkeye’s POV, the ideological and moral differences between him and Charles are huge, but maybe if you were in Max’s POV instead there wouldn’t be quite as much of a distinction between them. I don’t know! I don’t know. Just some ideas, I don’t know. 

Of course getting into fucking. internalized racism and such is pretty uncomfy and exhausting shit. And that’s not even touching all the gender stuff my girl has going on. You start to see why nobody wants to get into this character’s head much. But I do :3 And I do honestly think sometimes the most effective way to do that is to look at the Messiest Ship In All Of MASH (TM). As I’ve talked about before from the Charles angle, I love this ship precisely because of its Problems, because they’re problems that exist anyways for both characters, and having the two of them interact makes the problems impossible to ignore, so they maybe finally get to be dealt with. I mean, I just don’t think the optimal resolution to Charles and Max’s racism-laden interactions is that Charles goes back home to a big opulent house and Max struggles to save up to buy a used car in After M*A*S*H. That is not super satisfying. to me. 

This post got derailed to hell but I think what I was trying to say is that Max treats Charles SO much better than that bastard man deserves and I would at least like to see something come of it, for the love of--

#HAPPY NEW YEARS EVE I lost so much sleep to write this and for what. truly for what. #to hopefully not get hashtag canceled for it on the off chance someone reads it I guess ghdsjgkhdsklkhk anyways #I meant to say I actually usually hate when Rich Character and Poor Character are portrayed in a Rivalry Of Equals type scenario cause like #nooooo actually that's not how life works. power differential means something. this is no a fair fight. #Starky loves answering questions #marley-manson #putting my organizational tags early this time cause apparently if you put them too late they don't show up on your own blog tag searches?? #I couldn't find my unpopular opinion Charles manifesto ;;;_;;; thankfully I'd linked it before smh #did any of this make ANY sense like just out of curiosity. clap if it made sense. #mash #charmax #idk man I just can't separate the fact #that Charles being racist to Klinger is contemporaneous with #1) the other characters not really giving a shit about Charles' racism #and 2) the other characters also being racist to Klinger themselves #albeit less frequently depending on the season #I've said it before and I'll say it again #everything people hate about this ship should be things they hate about much more than JUST this ship #the concept of shipping these two together just makes you suddenly step back and take notice of all the latent garbage #and that's part of why I like it. because it makes you take notice. #the other part of why I like it is that Max deserves a sugar daddy who will buy him anything he wants forever #also this isn't the direction I ended up going with the post #but my favorite thing about the total imbalance in how they see each other #is that Max makes Charles soooo angry all the time #and Charles barely registers as an annoyance to Max most of the time #it's like when a cat has decided one of your appendages is an enemy to be attacked #and you're just sitting there like haha playtime with my silly kitty :3 #K if you're reading this btw you know I don't think your stuff is cringe or problematic #that was for the Outsiders the Uninitiated the Ignorant #you understand how it is. I am giving you 1000000 kisses now also.

[gallusrostromegalus]

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

#Family Lore #Dogs #It's Halloween babey #friday the 13th #blood mention #I hope that kid had a good night and at least one of his friends believed him #Long post #Video

[geneclarksboobs]

normal day in laurel canyon

joni mitchell: i need to forcefem graham nash and get him pregnant

peter tork: who up for some polyamorous activities 🤭

david crosby: lets all fuck crosby style

brian wilson: lets play in the sand :DDDDDDDDD

tgirl neil young: how can i make me and stephen yuri

roger mcguinn: i hope david crosby fucking dies

cass elliot: looks like women are having sex in my front yard again *smiles*

eric clapton: i need to dox george harrison tonight

cass elliot: oh never mind thats joni mitchell and graham nash

dennis wilson: brian, i fucking hate my stupid roommate charles manson

graham nash: how can i make my yaoi life more toxic

micky dolenz: anyone up for fucking dolenz style 😏

stephen stills: hehehe what if i put on a little lipstick and kiss neil on the neck

chris hillman: i hope david crosby fucking dies

michelle phillips: more of us should have affairs

brian wilson: eventually with age all things return to sand in death

frank zappa: what if it was called Freaky Canyon

[tommydarlings]

pairing: charles leclerc ; carlos sainz ; max verstappen ; toto wolff ; lando norris ; rbr!seb ; mick schumacher ; daniel ricciardo ; astonmartin!seb ; lewis hamilton

warnings: none

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +60 works!) <3 // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

CHARLES LECLERC

He would IMMEDIATELY sprint to where you are in the house as soon as he heard a thunder, knowing you get immensely scared when you hear the loud noises through the windows.

“I'm coming, baby! Please don’t worry, mon chérie!”

“I'm here, my love, I'm here for you.”

Charles would immediately pick you up, tightly hugging you and giving you the sweetest and softest kisses to your head.

“I know it’s loud and scary,” kiss on the top of your head, “but it’s okay,” kiss on your temple, “I’m here, mon amour.”

gently stroking your hair, constantly reminding you that he’s here and that it’s okay to be scared.

CARLOS SAINZ

He would for sure already have you in his arms since he checked his weather app and saw that a storm was approaching your area.

Carlos would try to distract you as much as possible.

“You wanna watch a movie, cariño?”

“You wanna play a board game, baby?”

“You wanna bake or cook something, sweetheart?”

He would quickly make some popcorn before he would sit down and watch your favourite movie with you, obviously cuddling you in the mean time.

“You’re comfortable, baby? Need anything else?”

Strokes your arms with his thumb and leaves tender kisses on your shoulder from time to time.

MAX VERSTAPPEN

“Okay my love, don’t be scared… but the news say that there’s a storm coming up, okay?”

He would definitely warn you in advance and tell you when exactly the storm's gonna come and go and how strong it’s supposed to be.

“Apparently it shouldn’t rain but the thunder should be very strong, but don’t worry! I’ll hold you, c'mere.”

WOULDN'T LET YOU GO FOR ONE SINGLE SECOND.

Always either holds your hand or carries you somewhere.

“It’s so stupidly loud, I know baby… but it should be over soon and then we can have our peace again, okay?”

He caresses your head, whispers sweet nothings into your ear and gives your temple or cheek there and there a short peck.

TOTO WOLFF

Maybeeeee wouldn’t care that much at the beginning but as soon as he notices how scared you actually are, he comes to comfort you.

“Are you really that scared of thunderstorms, darling?” Toto would ask you nicely.

“Oh I’m so sorry, Liebling… c‘mere, come in my arms.”

Shh’s you all the time to make you forget that there’s a thunder outside.

“Shhh, mein engel,” my angel, “it’s just a thunder, it can’t hurt you, okay? Just a noisy thunder, baby.”

He would always squeeze your body and pull you even closer (if that’s even possible) when a loud thunder would bash against the windows, making you jump.

LANDO NORRIS

YOU CAN'T TELL ME THAT HE WOULDN'T BE A BIT SCARED AS WELL-

of course he would comfort you and hold you, but he’s a bit jumping as well each time a thunder bashes against one of your windows.

“Oh god! Why is it so loud!? I have never heard a thunder being that loud!”

“When does this end!? It’s okay darling, I got you, just like you got me…right?”

“I'm scared as well, baby…you’re not the only one scared of thunders but I‘m here for you, don’t you worry baby.”

LEAVES CONSTANTLY THOUSANDS OF KISSES ON THE TOP OF YOUR HEAD, YOUR TEMPLE, YOUR CHEEK AND MOUTH.

RBR!SEBASTIAN VETTEL

“I already knew that the thunder would scare you, mein Liebling… so I bought headphones for you and made a playlist for you!”

He would literally only listen to music with you.

Sing with you to it.

Dance with you to it.

“Come dance with me, baby.”

Would gently sway to Elvis Presley or dean martin with you.

But two minutes later he would wildly dance to slipknot or Marilyn Manson with you.

He would randomly pick you up and slam you against the wall and make out with you — basically do anything that’s possible to drown the thunders noises out.

“You don‘t have to be so scared of the thunder, okay? I’m here for you, Liebling and I will always be here for you.”

MICK SCHUMACHER

Mick would simply drown you kisses and nothing else.

You would already laugh, pushing him away a bit since he started tickling you as well.

“No mick! It’s fine, really! P-Please no tickling!”

“I don’t care, here comes the tickle monster!”

He would definitely constantly hold you and carry you around the house.

“I don’t care that you just quickly need to go to the bathroom! What if a loud thunder bashes against the window again?! Who will be there to save you?! To protect you?!”

Honestly, he’s kind of the type to brag a bit about protecting you from the loud thunder noises.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

“It’s just a stupid thunder baby, please! C'mere… c’mere princess.”

He would maybe be a tiiiiiiny bit overwhelmed with the fact that you’re so scared and shaky, but he would quickly try to help you.

“Perfect, come on… let me hold you, baby.”

Would just simply talk with you about anything and everything.

“You remember the day we first met, y/n baby?”

“Guess what yuki told me last Saturday!”

“I love you so much sweetheart, love you endlessly, pretty girl.”

BONUS ;

ASTONMARTIN!SEBASTIAN VETTEL

“Not those loud thunderstorms again, gott,” god.

Won't take his hands off of you for even ONE SECOND while he checks the GOD DAMN NEWS PAPER about todays weather.

“Okay, can you quickly listen to me, mein schatz?” my darling.

“Apparently, the thunder should stop in the middle of the night, so in about two to three hours! Then it’s all over, liebling.”

Draws unknown figures on your shaky body as he reads his daily newspaper.

“You want me to get you anything to calm you down, baby? You need anything? Want anything? I’ll bring you everything, engel! Don’t worry.”

“You tired? Wanna try to get some sleep and go to bed? Yeah? Let’s go, my love.”

LEWIS HAMILTON

“Where are my headphones goddamnit!”

Would try to quiet the noises of the thunders as much as possible for you.

“What do you want to listen to, baby?”

Immediately pulls you on top of his lap as soon as he notices that you’re shaking because of the bashes against the windows.

And rock your body forwards and backwards to calm you down while he looks for a specific playlist on his phone.

“Here it is! I’ve made a 'fucking thunderstorms' playlist for you, baby… tell me if you like it or not, okay?”

Lewis would lovingly hold you and rock you a bit while you just listen to the playlist he made specifically for you, constantly smiling down at you.

#fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #smut #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #max verstappen x reader #toto wolff x reader #lando norris x reader #rbr seb x reader #mick schumacher x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

[slaygentford]

I think we are all watching from the bottom of my heart like six different shows I really do. I really believe it. I knew that post would make people have little opinions and so I debated but I couldnt help myself and lo some of you people are so fucking stupid it's actually impressive. Rolin Charles manson needle drop jones didn't show us that baby corpse in the first ten minutes of Perry mason for you to make this about shipping. this is not Kpop. nobody cares about lestat. shut up about lestat. this is about armand and Louis and Louis stepping his pussy up. there is no great network conspiracy to champion lestat. rolin domestic violence jones does not care who is your avengers endgame, rolin which one of you is gonna fuck me jones is not trying to do anything but the worst thing you've ever seen in your life x10, and then doubling that. this is a grown up program. this is not about shipping. I hate you people I really do. im so nice and tolerant. but i think some of you are so fucking stupid from the bottom of my heart and in real life. thank you for your time.

[mlpoutofcontext]

Cult Leaders in My Little Pony

Fluttershy (Fan video series Friendship is Witchcraft)

Starlight Glimmer (Season 5)

Charles Manson (real life)

#original content #mlp #my little pony #mlp fim #my little pony friendship is magic #idw comics #My Little Pony Micro Series #starlight glimmer #friendship is witchcraft #fiw wednesday #The Cutie Map

[babygorewhore]

Texting the Evan’s. Roasting them.

The Evan’s ask you to roast them. What do you say? Warnings! None! And I will suck the life out of Kai in this photo. UGAHSISHSBS

Evan Peters.

“Give me your best roast.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I could use a laugh.”

“Sure, whatever you say, pookie.”

“POOKIE?”

“Damn. You can’t see either?”

“I HAVE PERFECT VISION.”

“Okayyyy. Somebody lied to her several times.”

Tate Langdon.

“What? are you gonna cry about it?”

“Okay. Shut the hell up. I don’t cry that much.”

“Really? When was the last time you cried?”

“….”

“Uh huh.”

Kit walker.

“Hey, sugar. I’m almost home.”

“How is it that you can type it but can pronounce that word?”

“YES. I CAN. YOU LIKE MY ACCENT.”

“Uh oh. Somebody’s a little angryyyy. Mr. Walka?”

“JUST FOR THAT IM NOT TALKING TO YOU FOR A WHOLE FIVE MINUTES WHEN I GET HOME.”

Kyle Spencer.

“💀”

“💀💀💀”

“🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬🥶💀🥲🙏🏽🫠🙏🏽🥶👀”

“Kyle. Enough of the emojis. You can type.”

“But I like them.”

“I know, baby. But sometimes it’s like reading a manga when you text me.”

“👀”

Jimmy Darling.

“Darlin, what am I gonna have to do to make sure you drink enough water?”

“Make me.”

“Make you? That’s a dangerous game.”

“It’s not like you can catch me. You lost the race.”

“You promised you’d never talk about that again.”

“I’m really surprised you can type so fast. Your legs clearly didn’t get the message.”

“You know what-“

Kai Anderson.

“I’m not going to be home for a few hours.”

“Okay, Smurf.”

“Excuse me?”

“Okay. Daddy Smurf.”

“I-that’s not true.”

“Oh I’m sorry. Charles Manson, Smurf, gothic wanna be, adderall popping looking ass.”

“WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?”

James Patrick March.

“Hey, James? My little minx?”

“Darling?”

“Darling, my little Angel, my precious little star.”

“Are you mocking me? Is this one of your jokes you make for the internet?”

“Oh no, why would I ever do that?”

“My love, you know I find you humorous.”

“Who even talks like that? Get with the times man.”

“Oh, excuse me. I should have said. Ah, girl you’re so fiesty. You really popped, sis.”

“IS THAT YOUR ATTEMPT AT SOUNDING LIKE ME?”

Taglist. @spill-the-t @howtobesasha @evanptrss @evanpetersfansblog @icannot3 @randodummy @evanptrss

#evan peters #evan peters imagine #american horror story #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters x reader #ahs #ahs fanfic #tate langdon #kit walker #ahs murder house #Kyle Spencer #Jimmy darling #Kai Anderson #James Patrick March #evan peters fanfic #evan peters x you #evan peters x female reader #evan peters smut #evan peters x y/n #evan peters characters

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

TRENT REZNOR

TRENT REZNOR

17 May 1965

NINE INCH NAILS

            Trent Reznor (Michael Reznor) is an American music artist who is best known for being the lead of band NIN which he founded in 1988. NIN have had countless hit albums and songs such as: Hurt, Something I Can Never Have, I Would For You, March of the Pigs, Zero-Sum, Disappointed, Ruiner, Terrible Lie, Wish, and Closer. Reznor has also worked on soundtracks, Natural Born Killers and The Lost Highway. He also worked with other music artists, including David Bowie in 1997.

            Reznor was born in New Castle, Pennsylvania, US and is of German and Irish descent. Music became his life at the age of 12 when he started playing the piano and attended his first concert The Eagles in 1976.  

            Reznor rented 10050 Cielo Drive mansion, where Sharon Tate and her friends where murdered by Charles Manson followers in 1969. He built a studio space in the house to record the album, The Downward Spiral (1994).

            He became friends with Marilyn Manson and produced his first album and helped him on numerous tracks. He stated, ‘my best friend turned on me’, ‘a group of people I spent time with, recorded an album with, and their name has two words in it and they start with the letter M…’ and ‘I took time to get my head straight’.

            Reznor is married and has five children and lives in Los Angeles. He has suffered from depression and became a heavy user of drugs and alcohol until he kicked his habit in 2001. Today he is in a better place, healthy, fit and has a good relationship with his wife and children.

#trentreznor #nin #nineinchnails

#trent reznor #trentreznor #nin #nine inch nails

[charlesemersonwinchesteriii]

charles+hawkeye, charles+margaret

I combined your first request with some others, but thank you for the additional one!! We love biodiversity <3 Ok so. CharMarg huh.

To get it clearly out of the way: Canon CharMarg Bad. Both because it was just atrociously quarter-assedly attempted in one of the most pathetic pseudo-storylines ever scraped together, an embarrassment to put into such an otherwise quality show, and more importantly because any attempt to make these two get together in canon would always be bad no matter what, because Ms. Swit and Mr. Stiers did not want to do that and if anyone tried to make either of them do something they didn't want I would kill that person and then myself.

But there is one thing worse than canon CharMarg. And that is fanon CharMarg. Because obviously basically nobody actually ships these two, but there are many people, particularly of the mainstream h*wkbeej variety (#notallh*wkbeejers and certainly none who would be in the general vicinity of my blog at this point, I don't think), who like the idea of Charles and Margaret in a lavender marriage.

I love the recent interest in lavender marriages in fandom recently. Now everyone can do the same Pair The Spares maneuver fandom has always done with characters it doesn't care much about, but now they can do it even when the idea of the spares being in love is completely laughable. And it sounds so much cooler, too!

Man I'm sorry I don't know why this irks me so, but alas! It does. The thing is, a lavender marriage would do nothing for either of them anyways, in terms of "playing at doing what society and family want them to do", which is after all the entire purpose of such marriages. Margaret already basically had a test run of marrying into a family like Charles' when she tried it with Penobscott and she HATED it and they basically rejected her for not being the perfect Aryan race anyways. And that's beside the fact that what Charles' family want from him more than anything is children, and Margaret is at the very LEAST extremely on the fence about having kids. So she'd be as miserable as ever, obviously. And with all this, it's fair to say that the Winchesters would be hardly any more satisfied with CharMarg than they would be with Charles just staying a bachelor, so what the hell would he be in it for either???

So it's a no for me on that. So why did I put down that it's "better in fanfic"? Well now we must discuss not canon CharMarg, not fanon CharMarg, but a secret third thing. Hypothetical CharMarg. Essence of CharMarg if you will. The CharMarg that exists only in slight little glimpses in scenes where I'm like you know what? If they hadn't forced it, if they hadn't tried so hard and so badly, if they'd done nothing at all, if they'd just given us all these quiet little moments of friendship and kindness and smiles and affection and never implied anything else and then I’d seen that last scene with the book.......... I’d have been like yeah. I see that. 

And then the fandom could have done Pair The Spares normally, without pretense. And the thing is, I actually always loved fandom pairing the spares, putting every set of characters in groups of two (or three or four, if we really wanted to have some fun and get silly with it) and never leaving anybody behind, making sure nobody was alone. Even if they didn’t care about the spares much, really. It was always hell on fans of those less popular characters, of course (been there!), but it seemed to come from a place of awkward, fumbling love. Nobody gets left behind.

(Aromanticism?? Characters not needing a relationship to be fulfilled?? What’s that lol this is 2014 era Tumblr. Romance shipping LOCKDOWN.)

But of course they did force it and they did ruin it and now it’s hard to even write CharMarg as friends, sometimes, trying to parse out what their friendship is really like when they’re allowed to be people instead of two barbie dolls smashed together. 

They’re still great together though. It is great whenever they’re on screen hanging out together and being narrative mirrors and trying to figure out how to have a friend for the first time in their lives. God I wish they’d gotten to talk about their fathers together, about expectations and never being good enough and having to keep themselves apart from everyone else and repressed anger and repressed love and repressed loneliness. I wish everyone would stop smashing them together like two barbie dolls and just let them be great together. 

In conclusion society would be fixed if Loretta Swit and David Ogden Stiers got everything they wanted forever

#idk if this makes sense I'm behind on absolutely every single thing in my life I can't think or do anything #did not expect my anti charles margaret lavender marriage thoughts to all spill out here but oh well #Starky loves answering questions #marley-manson #I was always the person who really loved the pair the spares pairing. like way more than the mainstream OTP it was meant as a side dish for #:') #mash #charmarg #I'm so tired. ough. #thank you for the ask!!!!

[crmsnmth]

A Letter to Someone I'll Never Talk To Again: Part One

Dear "Muppet"

Most people start off a letter by asking how you are, but I don't want to waste words on something that doesn't affect my life. I hope you're doing well, but it's really none of my bsiness in the end. I wish like hell that that wasn't true, but wishes are for wishful thinking. You know me, always the life of the party.

I haven't changed all that much since our time. Okay, that's a lie. I've changed a lot. See after you left, and everyone watched me go down, I vowed to change. That I would someday change back into the person I was at my happiest. I thougth that's what mattered, being happy.

The problem with this fool proof plan was that I was a fool with guesses. I was at my happiest with you, so that means I'll never be that person again. That person is officially dead and buried and his rotting corpse is why my breath stinks to badly in the morning. It leaves a foul taste too.

I knew you were with him during the last month of our relationship. I always wonder if you ever figured out that I figured it out, playing Sherlock Holmes but with a far less interesting story that you already know. I knew he was there while I was at work. And I bit my tongue because I loved you so much. I loved the person I had fallen in love with.

That person I fell in love so deeply with, was different than the one you were at the end. And I guess that's kind of a given fact since you were fucking someone else while we were in our relationship. I've had some bad relationships, the one after you especially difficult, but one thing i can say is that I've never once cheated on any partner I've had. Even if I wanted to, I never did it. Not even has payback. I didn't really give all thought about it.

Why would I? It never mattered what you did. From the very first time you stepped into that bar to the very last time you walked away from me, I knew I was yours. I was yours and I would do anything for you. So I even forgive you for all of this stuff too.

That doesn't mean I wasn't a problem too. I was caught in a delusional world I had built in my head, and I wouldn't get out of it until you left me. I think that was the shock that snapped everything into place. The catalyst, you could say. I was a liar and a con artist with the charisma of Charles Manson. I could get anyone on my side before you. I used those skills. I did it constantly. Tell a lie, something so far off and unreal that was obviously lie, and I'd wait for sometone to take the bait. Once they took the bair, the game was on and I ould try to convince someone that I was right, even when they knew I wasn't. It worked more often than not, and looking back, that frightens me so much. I was so good at it. Either that or everybody was somehow in on the joke. I did it too twice that I can think, but that number should be higher.

I really lost it after you left. And you saw it. The last phone call I ever got from you was the morning after a very awful evening. I don't remember the evening. I was mixing cocaine and being black out drunk. Somehow, I managed to piss everybody off and was taken outside to get the shit kicked out of me. You called the next morning, after hearing abot the beating and my awful behavior. Yout told me your roommate was super pissed at me. I tried to apologize on Facebook and maybe find out what happened, but he read my message and proceeded to block me/ That was it then. That one less than a minute long phone call.

They'll be letters soon, but for now I'm tired and my eyes itch behind my glasses. Time to start the ritual you loved so much in the beginning but by the end hated. And that's how it goes. People change, and there is absolutely nothing one could do. Our time together meant and still means almost everything to me, and at the way it's going, I'll be seeing you when my eyes close for all of eternity. Even without well-respected no contact clause. I almost broke when I came across your picture in a box of random papers. But I didn't. And the number I refuse to delete from my sim card may not even be your number anymore. I've probably gone through 100 different numbers since yo split.

I have to stop now, or I never will.

Love You Until the Sun Explodes, "Peanut"

#writers and poets #spilled thoughts #spilled feelings #spilled writing #writing #my writing #spilled emotions #spilled words #writers on tumblr #poets and writers #creative writing #writerscommunity #writerscorner #writer #punkrocksoapoperas #letters to no one #letter

[0-sparkling-lace-0]

~Sweet Thing~ (P1)

Hellooooo everynyan! How are you? Fine thank you :-) (oh my gah)

My name is Katie! You can call me Wink, though. I am by no means a professional writer, but I am however a Buggy slut, just as you fine fellow people. I felt a dramatic need to write something, and I hope you enjoy! Constructive criticism is more than welcome, and this story will eventually turn smutty. So MDNI! As far as warnings for the first part goes, use of shackles and blindfolds are present. Female pronouns are used, as this is very much self service.

I don’t know how many parts this will have, as I have a busy schedule, but I hope to continue this for as long as I am able. Also, I don’t know how many of you are also thirsting over Jeff Ward himself, but if so you should watch the lifetime movie “Manson’s Lost Girls”, the full movie is on youtube! Jeff plays Manson, and he’s even more of a psychotic killer than Buggy.

(Duh Katie, he is literally playing Charles Manson)

Anyways, enjoy!!

I wake up in my warm bed, surrounded by the warmth of my sherpa blanket that my mother gifted me before I left. I pull the blanket over my head and take a deep breath. It smells like home. Before the sting of the memories can be felt, I quickly throw the blanket off of me and take a quick glance at the clock. 2 pm. My shift at the local pub starts in two hours. “Ugggggh!” I groan dramatically and face plant back into my bed. I better get showered and dressed.

After making my way to the bathroom, I turn the squeaky knob of my shower. I quickly disrobe and make my way inside, sighing as I feel the hot water cascade over my body. Memories of what once was creep up on me as if they were behind the shower curtain, waiting. I shake my head, as if to shake them out of my brain. It works for now, but I know soon they’ll catch up to me. Instead, I take focus on washing, as if to wash it all away.

Soon I find myself before the pub, hesitating to walk in. “Do I really need this job?” I mumble before begrudgingly grabbing the door handle, making my way in, and walking behind the bar, finding my apron and wrapping it around myself.

I feel a presence behind me before I hear them.

“(Y/NNNNNN), how you doin today?”

I turn immediately and give them a faux pout. “The world is out to get me as always, Roy.”

Roy, an older man who helped me get this job and took pity on me when I found myself on this small, secluded island, smiles at me. Before he speaks again, I find myself thinking back to that day, 5 years ago.

~Roy had found me on the pier after I had just docked. An almost lifeless me stumbling about, gathering my things off of the barely afloat dinghy.

“Woah! Look what the cat dragged in!” I look to my right; an older man nursing a bottle of whisky had called out to me, and I scoff.

“Didn’t mean to upset you, dear! What is it that brought you here?” I pondered for a moment, too tired and weary to have a care in the world. I stumbled over to the old man before taking a seat next to him. I gesture to the bottle of whisky, and he hands it to me. I take a long swig from the bottle before answering him. “It’s a long story.” I hand him back the bottle. “I’ve got time, dear.” And so the story goes.~

“Dramatic as always, (Y/N). You should think about joining the local theater!" His words break my concentration from the memory, and I give him a chuckle. “When pigs fly, Roy. When pigs fly.”

He pats my back and smiles before making his way back to the kitchen.

The night goes on, much to my dismay. Every now and then I check the clock, each time praying and hoping to a god I don’t believe in to have made time move faster. I hate this job. The constant nagging that I’m not quick enough. Men from all walks of life that always seem to find the same words to say. The pay barely getting me by.

I hear the bell hanging above the door clatter first, before the door hits the wall.

“Well! What a cute little establishment we have here. Don’t you think, boys?”

My head quickly turns towards the entrance, searching for the face behind such a boisterous voice. My eyes land on a man with a pirate hat, with tassels formed from his blue hair hanging at the sides. His face is painted red around his lips, and blue points around his eyes. And his nose—is that real?

“Listen up, and no one gets hurt. Maybe, possibly. Probably not.” He chuckles to himself and his crew before sauntering over to the edge of the bar and taking a seat. The customers around him shy away in fear. “Who’s in charge here? Huh?” He yells, and no one responds. His eyes find mine, and leave just as quickly to scan my body. I feel a shiver run down my spine. Out of fear? Out of attraction? Fear, it has to be.

“Is it you, sweet thing?” He gets up out of his chair to walk behind the bar, eventually stopping before me. His green eyes pierce into my (E/C) ones, looking down at me.

I search for confidence that I don’t have while staring back. His gloved hand comes up to grab my chin, roughly. “Answer me!” I flinch at his scream before hearing footsteps running from the kitchen.

“Don’t!” My eyes drift over to where the voice is coming from, and I see Roy. The clown whips his neck around to see who dared to retaliate against him. “Well! What do we have here? Hmm?” He looks back at me and then back at Roy. My eyes catch Roy’s, my head shaking no, not going unnoticed by the clown, as he still has his hand around my chin. “What is it to you, buddy? You her dad or something?” He nods to one of his crewmates before turning his attention back on Roy. I watch as his crewmate walks up behind him, swiftly pulling him into a chokehold with one arm, bringing his free hand up to his throat, holding a knife.

“Stop!” I yell. The clown snaps his eyes back at me. “She speaks!” My lips form a frown before speaking again. “Don’t hurt him.” The clown laughs, a hearty and deep laugh, as if he actually finds what I said funny. “(Y/N)..” Roy growls in warning. The clown stops laughing, finding my eyes once more. “(Y/N) is it? What a cute name for a sweet thing! I’ll tell you now, (Y/N), I give the orders.” He whispers. “Buuuut, I’m willing to negotiate with you. What’s in it for me? Hmm?” I close my eyes, pushing away the thought that this clown dude might actually be attractive (once again). “What do you want that I could give? Money? Alcohol?” I ask, desperately grasping at straws. I hear him chuckle again. “That you could give? Well, well, well. You have a lot more to offer than money and alcohol, sweet thing.” His mouth finds its way to my ear, his hot breath fanning over my neck. “I think I might’ve just found what I want, actually.” His hand leaves my chin, and he starts to walk towards the entrance of the bar. Without looking away from his destination, he commands another one of his subordinates. “Grab her and bring her aboard.” Before being grabbed by a different crewmate, I hear his cackle once more. I look towards Roy, a frown on his face as he fights against the chokehold he’s in. “I’ll be back, Roy. I promise.” I yell as I’m walked out of the bar.

With one hand on the back of my neck and another holding my wrists behind me, I’m guided to a large ship. The sails adorn a skull with a bright red dot in the center. A picture all too similar to the man I saw before. He must be the captain of this ship.

Before I’m taken aboard, a bag is placed over my head, depriving me of my sight.

As I’m guided further onto the ship, I hear my own footsteps along with the cackles of the clown man's subordinates around me. “Buggy must’ve taken a liking to this one.” I hear a man say, with a gruff voice. “She must be his new plaything." A woman responds.

Buggy? The captain’s name must be Buggy. I store this information for later.

I hear the screech of a metal door open before I feel shackles placed around my wrists. “Wait here.” I’m shoved into the room, and I fall forward. The man who had his hand around my neck grumbles, and I hear his footsteps receding.

As much as I know the shackles have a tight bind on me, I try to force them open anyway. I pull and tug as hard as I can, and I give a harsh huff when I accept that it’s no use. I squint my eyes, trying to make out anything I can through the cloth of the bag over my head. I see the outline of a jail cell, the metal door I must’ve heard earlier. I look around the room some more, trying to find anything to use. All I see are some crates in the corner of the cell. My only choice is to wait and bide my time until I see the clown man again. Buggy.

#captain buggy #buggy x reader #buggy x you #fanfic #buggy smut #one piece #opla

[kai-anderson-whore]

He's a cult leader (part 8) (kai Anderson x fem reader)

Summary:y/n moved back to Michigan after her college degree in music where she reunites with an old lover kai Anderson

Warnings: murder, mass shooting, mentions of suicide

A/n: for the people who sent requests I apologise it's taken a while to write them I have been busy with college hopefully have one or two up tomorrow 😊

Part 7 here

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

"Everyone got everything ready?" You asked shoving your black boots on your feet, "yes" everyone replied with their masks on, you shoved your clown mask under you arm as kai went over everything one last time.

"We take out Sally and if anyone else is in there they meet the same fate" he said winter and Meadow already doing their part of the plan, leaving the rest on their merry way.

The mask now over your head hopping into the van Harrison driving to Sally's house, you and kai sat together masks now off, you were humming a tune kai didn't recall, "what songs that?" He asked, he always loved your passion for music even if you never wanted to be famous it was an outlet for you something to teach the kids you worked with.

"It's something I'm sort of working on not quite finished yet" you chuckled lightly, you felt like charles manson when kai would have you sing your songs to the cult them now memorising all the words, you didn't necessarily hate it glad they actually liked the shitty songs you called them.

"It will be great your really talented" he said something you heard him say to Meadow when she showed him her art work, you gave him a small smile his hand on your thigh, "we're almost there" Harrison called everyone putting their masks on including you.

"Ready baby?" Kai asked his voice muffled from his mask, "Let's do this" you replied as the van came to a halt, one by one you all stepped out and invaded the home of kai's opponent.

Entering the home greeted with Sally holding a gun, watching us as she pointed the gun, "please one of you assholes make a move, I'm desperate to make an example of someone" she said before someone came up behind her taking the gun off her holding her mouth closed knocking her to the ground.

Kai stood above her removing his mask, you watched him as he talked "you know what the problem is with you over educated elites?".

"You overestimate your ability to control the world" "killing me isn't going to stop the march of progress" Sally stated on the ground she wasn't in fear well visibly anyway.

"Maybe but it still going to feel so fucking good" kai said looking down at her "this is a spazim in democracy your nothing but a passing fever" she yelled at kai he just grinned evilly at her.

"And your the last of the intellectuals"

"Knowing stuff has no value anymore not when the answer is sitting in my back pocket or sitting on my desk" he said walking away you held keffler down as he went over to her laptop.

"The youth has it figured out the future will be filled with beautiful idiots who just want to feel" he continues looking at the screen of Sally's laptop.

"Facebook?" He asked now his attention on the screen, "you are old" he stated clicking on god knows what, "can I please kill her" you said now annoyed at her wriggling under you, "no, no y/n too sloppy we have to send a message with Sally that the world she knows is dead" kai said now making a Facebook status on Sally's unwilling behalf.

He clicked on the keypad as he voiced what he was typing on Facebook "dear followers and friends, tonight after many long nights of careful thinking, I have come to realise something that the truths we have always held to be self evident, all men are created equal, knowledge is power, ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country, they are all bullshit the future will be guided by self interest, self promotion and narcissism, and that is a future I can not stand and so this is my suicide note" kai said finishing off the status.

"NO, NO no please" Sally begged now in full fear of her life "already getting some likes" kai shrugged nonchalant taking a swig of whatever Sally had in her mug, "nobody going to believe that" Sally said trying to get out of yours and the others grasp, "mhmm of course they will" kai said turning around to us, "it's on Facebook".

"No, no" Sally tried to get out the grasp she was under kai walked over to her, gun in hand, he looked over to you as he placed the barrel of the gun on her chest, "wanna help?" He asked with a smirk you finger on top of his on the trigger as you pulled killing Sally keffler.

You felt nothing now used to doing this with kai, you knew you hated it but did nothing too lovesick to stop that was kai's disease making his followers that loyal it's like their lovesick ivy went off to search the house, you got off keffler kai pulling your mask off grabbing you smashing his lips onto yours infront of everyone, his tongue entering your mouth in the rough make out session.

Pulling away for air you were flustered as kai wiped down anything he touched just incase, you found the blunts that were laying on the table taking them for yourself, "no y/n no drugs" kai said, you let out a huff "it's just one kai won't hurt" you said taking one anyway not listening to him.

Putting your mask back on making sure you all were unseen as you hopped in the van going back home, again sat beside kai his eyes never left you as you talked with beverly hope, about something music related, he saw the passion in your eyes as you talked about something you loved, they same way they would light up in college when you got a chance to talk about music especially your favourite artists.

"You should play tonight y/n" Gary chimed in the conversation, "Yeah why not" you chuckled glancing over at kai who smiled down at you, you felt butterfly's in your stomach everytime kai looked at you like that with that glimmer in his eyes, you were so love sick it was unbelievable.

Kai felt the same he never wanted anything or anyone to hurt you, he wanted to spend the last of his days with you even all those years ago he felt like that and still does.

...

The day of Meadows attempt to shoot kai rolls along you dreaded it you couldn't bear to see kai in a hospital again, you stood in the crowd watching kai speak to the crowd the anxiety coursing through your body shaky hands trembling lip waiting on the dreaded moment.

You couldn't even hear what kai was talking about, you head spinning then, BANG, a gunshot fired hitting a woman close by you in the head, then straight at kai's thigh, you screamed in fear running up to kai as Meadow shot away.

Ally was screaming for Meadow to stop, on the ground you holding kai sobbing your eyes out you were scared for the first time in a long time you showed your fear not caring if you were weak, you didn't know what happened next all you saw was Meadow laying dead on the ground ally swarmed by police and an ambulance coming over to you and kai.

"Please get him to the hospital" you cried out the ambulance taking kai in the back of the vehicle, you stayed by his side panicking, you didn't Say anything on the ride to the hospital your eyes fixed on kai as the paramedics checked him over.

It all was happening too fast till it felt like it went on for years in the hospital, kai was in surgery you sat in the waiting room your leg bounced in anticipation waiting on the doctor giving you an update you had called winter telling her what happened even though she knew but giving her an update whenever you got one.

"Y/n y/l/n" a doctor said coming towards you, "how is he doctor will he be okay?" you asked standing up, "he'll be fine he'll need walking sticks for a while he's lucky he could have not been able to walk with that leg again" the doctor said "can i see him?" You asked the doctor sighed "not right now he's in rest once he wakes up and we do a few more checks on him then yes you can see him" you thanked the doctor leaving them to go back to what they were doing.

'Come on winter' you thought to yourself your leg bounced in anxiety you wanted to see kai even though you were told he's fine you still couldn't help but think he's not, how could you not a few hours ago he was shot in the leg.

The doors burst open revealing winter in panic, "y/n how is he is he okay" she asked frantically you placed your hands on her shoulders in attempt to calm winter down but it didn't help, "he's fine he'll need to use a walking stick for a while his leg will be in a cast he's lucky" you reported "I'll kill him with these bright ideas what was he playing at y/n what if she missed and killed him" winter broke down crying you hugged her letting all her emotions fall.

You were crying too, "I know win I wish he wasn't like this but the bittersweet part of it is that he's fine we can see him soon they want to do more checks on him once he's awake" you sighed wiping winters tears away, "you know y/n your like the sister I never had kai's really lucky to have you, you bring out the old him even for a second but I see it in his eyes when your around it's like I have my brother back" she smiled sadly.

"Maybe I just wish he was fully like the old kai but maybe one day if he isn't dead or in prison" you sobbed wiping your tears now, your head was going 100 miles an hour you felt dizzy needing to sit down.

"Hey we'll be okay hopefully there's no more crazy plan's he's nearly got what he wants" winter said as you looked blankly at the wall, with glassy eyes, "I don't think so winter" you sighed.

#american horror story #evan peters #james patrick march #kit walker #tate langdon #ahs asylum #evan peters x reader #jimmy darling #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson #kyle spencer #austin sommers #peter maximoff #evan peters x y/n #evan peters fanfic #evan peters smut #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters fluff #evan peters icons #evan peters imagine #ahs coven #ahs cult #ahs murder house #ahs hotel #ahs fandom #ahs 1984 #ahs #ahs apocalypse #ahs double feature #ahs freakshow

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #24: The Doors

Like every other wishing-he-were-cool Southern California white boy born in the mid-to-late 70's, I had a big Doors phase in 1990. In the year leading up to Oliver Stone's ridiculously silly, TV flinging, film I spent 10 rich months in the following fashion:

First, I copied a friend's father's double CD Door's Greatest Hits collection (the one with Jim Morrison's fabulous pecks on the cover). I was discovering music after comic books and I memorized every glorious moment.

Next, I tracked down the band's four easily accessible full albums via another friend's Costco (or was it still called Price Club at that point?) Nice Price 4 Pack and memorized all of that too, even though I found parts of Waiting For The Sun dull and much of LA Woman sorta gross.

Then, I decided that Not To Touch The Earth was actually their best song and that anyone who only knew the band's greatest hits was a poser.

Next, I enjoyed listening to my father's tall tales about how The Doors had once lived on the strand in Manhattan Beach (my hometown) and were often practicing in their garage when my dad passed by. He also claimed that Morrison had worked for him for one single day as a house painter (my father's trade) but that Jim had been too nuts to keep on the payroll. At other points in my dad's joyful imagination Charles Manson and Ginger Baker had also been on past crews; his lies, which were specifically designed to entertain us, led us to mock and roll our eyes at him when he sincerely claimed that one of his past painters, Robbie Rodgers, actually had gone on to be a relatively successful musician. But then dad scored us tickets and we went to see the dude's Reggae/slasher band, War Called Peace, open for Yellowman; it was totally nuts, and Robbie told us that my dad had changed his life.

After that, I learned of the existence of The Soft Parade and swore to myself that I'd never listen to it. My heroes, horrifyingly, had once SOLD OUT!

Next, I watched Apocalypse Now over and over, daydreaming of the day I'd get my own hands on The End's master tapes and undercover even more of Morrison's Oedipal ranting.

(All the while I had no idea what Oedipal actually meant.)

Throughout it all, I feverishly followed Robert Hilburn's updates in the LA Times on the back and forth on set about whether or not Val Kilmore would sing or lip sync in the upcoming film.

Shortly thereafter, I shook my fist in fury when Billy Idol dared to cover LA Woman. The poser!

That drove me to the library, where I got Riders on the Storm, Jim Densmore's Morrison bio. I read it feverishly, taking mental notes on how I too would one day successfully avoid the draft by demonstrating Morrison-level savvy madness.

Midway through Densmore's self-aggrandizing tome, I bought a copy of Wilderness, Morrison's slim and posthumous published poetry collection, and carried it around with me together with my copy of the Tao Te Ching, convinced that they were the two true holy books. Anyone who thought otherwise I recognized as a poser.

All the while, I spent a lot of time thinking about how Ray Manzarek doubled as the band's bass player and pianist all at the same time on one keyboard. I viewed him as Einstein with a chainsaw.

Somewhere along the way, I sought out an ancient tape copy of a disco sounding album the band made after Jim's death and noted that no one in the band had made meaningful music ever since. And so I grew slightly concerned that maybe my heroes were secretly lame.

But I still stood in line for opening night of the film and smugly mocked everyone else in line with me as a poser. Clearly, none of them knew the secret lyric, edited out, after She Gets! on Break on Through...

And I thought the movie was pretty cool!

Then I proceeded to grow sick of the whole thing - the band and everything about them was suddenly far too mainstream for my superior tastes - and I decided anyone who liked The Doors on any level was a poser. Lou Reed and Bob Dylan were all that mattered.

Then a cool older kid played me Peace Frog and I realized I'd missed a whole album (damn Costco!). So I decided The Doors were cool again for about 15 minutes.

Then, 10 months after the whole thing had started, I moved on for good.

But that's not entirely true. Years and year later, I sang my kids to sleep with The Spy and The Crystal Ship; and I can still can almost recite Morrison's poem about some dude burning leaves. Now that I summon it from the internet and read it again I still think it's pretty great:

A man rakes leaves into

a heap in his yard, a pile,

& leans on his rake &

burns them utterly.

The fragrance fills the forest

children pause & heed the

smell, which will become

nostalgia in several years

But now, I have to ask, how does one even go about listening to The Doors with any objectivity 33 years after they became the world's biggest band for a moment and 50 years after Morrison's death? I mean there's a 15 year old hipster in the high school where I teach who still wears a t-shirt with Morrison on it. I don't know if objectivity can be achieved.

But I'm giving it a shot right now as I write this.

My copy of their debut, self-titled, album is an original print supposedly, and the vinyl sure sounds like it's creeping up on its 60th birthday. Crackling thunder, seemingly borrowed from Riders on the Storm, buzzels and pops throughout. But the whole record sounds great that way, like it too was taken from the Ancient Gallery and WALKED ON DOWN THE HALL!

Fair reader, here's what I think: if I try hard and strip back all the nonsense I know about poor Jim and the band, then I'm left with what is elemental music.

Sure there's some silly stuff to be found: Morrison's lyric "specialize in having fun" from Take It As It Comes is, and always has been, embarrassing, along with basically all the lyrics to Light My Fire. And I don't really know that the organ's drunk circus vibe in Alabama Song holds up.

But listen to Manzarek spill every coin in the band's copious wallet on Take It As It Comes; remember just how cool the wandering guitar intro still is on The End, not to mention the slapping, rippling, pick me up 3/4 of the way through that wandering track; appreciate just how unhinged Morrison's screaming holler is on Back Door Man; ride on the perfect Crystal Ship. And for god's sake, just sit back and listen to Light My Fire.

What if we simply thought of The Doors alongside their actual peers from 66-71: Love, Buffalo Springfield, Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead? What if we slowed down and remembered that the band did everything they did in under 5 years? What if we remembered, at the same time, just how much Stephen Stills still sucks? And what if we set aside for good just how damn magnetic poor Jim was? What if we just listened to The Doors?

I encourage you to give it a shot. Drop the needle on The Doors debut once a season; ride the King's Highway west; catch all the weird scenes in the goldmine. You too will wish The Doors practiced in a garage down your street.

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

Update! After posting this, my famous brother sent me this photo of Morrison. He's actually in Manhattan Beach!

I think my father, who, come to think of it, looked a hell of a lot like Morrison at that point, is just outside the frame, striding away after firing his ass. Rest in peace Jim.

#the doors #jim morrison #stephen stills sucks #Youtube

[littledigest]

Astro Observation: Commonalities in Serial Killer charts

DISCLAIMER: Any aspects, placements, signs, etc. that I mention here on out do not mean that people with one or all of these are, will become, or will act out serial killer tendencies. I am merely finding common aspects and placements in famous serial killers' charts to delve deeper into the reasons for their actions. As always, one aspect can be expressed in so many different ways. So, take everything with a grain of salt.

Subjects:

Ted Bundy 11/24/1946

Pedro Lopez 10/8/1948

John Wayne Gacy 3/17/1942

Harold Shipman 1/14/1946

Jeffrey Dahmer 5/21/1960

Charles Manson 11/12/1934

David Berkowitz 6/1/1953

Richard Ramirez 2/29/1960

Aileen Wuornos 2/29/1956

If we break down each person's chart by only personal planets, what sign comes up the most often?

Scorpio and Gemini are the signs that came up most frequently. Every serial killer in my list has Scorpio or Gemini in their charts except for Richard Ramirez and Aileen Wuornos.

Scorpio is not a big surprise since this is the sign ruled by Pluto. Death, taboo subjects, obsession, fascination with darker sides of life, control, and power are all very Scorpionic and Plutonian themes. Negative Scorpio traits include being vengeful, manipulative, aggressive, and insensitive. They have innate seductive energy that lures people in as well.

Gemini is a bit more surprising. However, Geminis are curious, clever, impulsive, moody, and good with words. They like to know private information about other people. They are also social creatures, so if they are lacking social connection, things can go south for them. Or, they can use their social skills to lure others to them. The duality of Geminis could go to the extremes; two different personalities in one.

The next most frequent sign is Aquarius. Richard Ramirez and Aileen Wuornos have Aquarius in their charts.

Not a huge surprise with Aquarius. Negative Aquarius energy could mean detachment from emotions, lack of empathy, extreme rebelliousness, pessimism, and coldness. They can be unpredictable and have a superiority complex as well.

The sign that did not appear at all among personal planets is Leo. Taurus and Cancer come in a close second with only one each.

By modality? Not much difference here, but Mutable signs are in the lead. Mutable (17), Fixed (14), Cardinal (13)

By element? Air and Water came up the most with 15 and 13 respectively. Fire and Earth tied at 8 each.

Most common aspect?

Neptune - Pluto (8/9)

This is a generational aspect so 8 out of the 9 have Neptune sextile Pluto, except for Charles Manson. This aspect lasts from the 1940s to the 2030s (Charles Manson was born earlier in 1934). Because this aspect includes such a wide range of people, it does not have a huge effect on our serial killer study. I also do not know their birth times, so I do not even know which houses Neptune and Pluto land in their charts.

Venus - Mars (7/9)

Venus-Mars aspects are typically seen as attractive aspects since they join the planet of love, beauty, and sensuality with the planet of action, physicality, and aggression. From a negative perspective, Venus-Mars can also mean a love for aggression, sexual frustration, and an imbalance between wanting to be accepted/acceptable and wanting to act out in self-interest. May want love and affection, but either in an unconventional way or a part of them fights against or feels uncomfortable with this desire. (Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer are the only two who do not have this aspect; Ted Bundy was known to be attractive to a lot of people and had a certain charm; he does has Venus square Pluto.)

Moon - Uranus (7/9)

Once again, because I do not know birth times, the Moon placements are not accurate. However, I still thought this might be good to look at since there are so many of them. Moon-Uranus gives an unpredictable and disruptive nature to emotions. Their emotional lives may feel unstable, and strong emotions may rise suddenly. They could be rebellious and may feel restless frequently; may desire to separate themselves from others. Childhood could have been unstable/unaffectionate, and these people could lack slow, routine comfort. (John Wayne Gacy and David Berkowitz are the only two who do not have this aspect; David Berkowitz does have Aquarius Moon, which is different from Moon-Uranus but could give a similar flavor)

Sun - Saturn (6/9)

There is self-restricting energy that comes with Sun-Saturn aspects. In a negative light, this aspect shows seriousness, self-denial, lacking a strong sense of self, insecurity, and taking yourself too seriously. This could also show that people deny the Sun-Saturn people their self-expression and acceptance. (Pedro Lopez, Jeffrey Dahmer, and David Berkowitz are the only three who do not have this aspect)

Mars - Neptune (6/9)

Mars-Neptune can be spiritual, elusive, sensitive, imaginative, and dependent. In the realm of serial killers, spirituality can be taken to the extreme; think cult activity, believing a higher power is making you do bad things, etc. (Charles Manson has Mars conjunct Neptune, and David Berkowitz has Mars trine Neptune.) Serial killers can blend in and play in the shadows too, which is Neptunian. They can also assume a different persona, act like a completely different person. Many of these killers were seen as sensitive, shy, and/or polite during the day or in childhood. They can be impressionable; could have been heavily affected by their childhood environments, and acted out physically by imitation or by lashing out. (Pedro Lopez, Harold Shipman, and Jeffrey Dahmer are the only three that do not have this aspect.)

The most aspected planets are in this order:

Saturn (47)

Neptune (46)

Pluto (46)

Moon (46; birth times not accurate)

Mars (44)

Jupiter (42)

Venus (37)

Chiron (36)

Uranus (35)

Mercury (34)

Sun (32)

North Node (21)

South Node (20)

Closing Thoughts

When it comes to serial killers, I see two trains of thought. There is an intense fight between two opposing sides in one person. There is also an extreme detachment from themselves and other people. Saturn is the most aspected planet among these 9 charts, which speaks volumes astrologically about what can push someone to that level of violence and anger. Control, denial, and detachment are huge themes. There is absolutely no excuse for these serial killers and what they did to their victims and the victims' families and loved ones. But it is important to know that most, if not all of them, were denied love and affection in childhood. They were controlled or neglected by authority figures, whether or not this was perceived or for real. And they developed the ability to detach from themselves and other people. They then exert control over their victims and literally deny them their lives. During the act, they detach from any societal morals and ethics and any part of themselves that could possibly say that they shouldn't go through with their violent thoughts.

When there is discomfort within one's self, it builds up and, over time, this pent-up frustration and anger has to come out somehow. This is oftentimes through aggression (Mars) that is ignited by strong emotions (Moon). Serial killers take this to another level (violence, violent emotions)

It is also interesting to see Jupiter within the top half of the list. Serial killers tend to have strong ideologies/principles about the world, people, and everything that is wrong with both. This can also show an urge to expand and inflict their ideologies onto other people.

This is my little "study" on some famous serial killers. Kind of creeping me out right now so...

Everyone, take care of yourselves and be safe!!!

#astrology #astrology blog #astrology post #serial killer astrology #serial killer birth charts #birth charts #natal charts #ted bundy #pedro lopez #john wayne gacy #harold shipman #jeffrey dahmer #charles manson #david berkowitz #richard ramirez #the night stalker #aileen wuornos #the son of sam #astro observations #astrology observations

[xthewhiteravenx]

Hell Week Celebration -- Feral Angel!Colby

"The moon is my sun, the night is my day, Blood is my life, And you are my prey.”

TW: REALLY DARK FIC! -- violence, sexual content (consensual non-con in the form of pheromones), blood, feral!Colby, 

Inspired by the dark and gothic and animalistic energy in stories like “Dracula.”

When angels fall, they are depicted beautifully. But some angels lose their minds. They become feral-- give into their basic animal desires and needs. Nothing stands in their way. Least of all a human. 

“You’re… you’re…,” you tried to say the words as you watch the inhuman male walk towards you slowly. 

You had only just started filming for your YouTube channel when he appeared from the Charles Manson caves. It was supposed to be a fun video with the dark story of these caves. But now it was turning into something far darker than a couple of murders. 

The male’s eyes were icy blue, piercing, and unforgettable as he started at you. A very small smile curled the edges of his mouth. His nostrils flared, smelling your fear. He was hungry... for blood... for you... for something feral and carnal.

“No need to be scared,” his voice was velvet, “My name is Colby. I only want to help you.”

You swallowed, eyes falling down to his hands where he mindlessly swirled his rings. The muscles there contracted, and your heart skipped a beat, “I don’t need help” You tried to remain strong. 

Colby scoffed slightly, “I can free you of your mortal coil.”

You shook your head, not liking what that meant, and took a step backwards and hitting the wall of the cave. You could barely see much now as the inhuman crowded you further into it.

“Say it,” Colby whispered, taking more steps toward you, blocking you in.

“I don’t believe,” you inhaled sharply.

He cocked his head to the side, nostrils flared again, “Lies.”

“Please...,” you just wanted to go home. 

“Say it,” he was much closer now. 

You could smell him-- like light rain in a forest. It made you lightheaded, “What are you--?”

“Oh, it’s okay,” his voice was gently and yet forceful, “Just something to keep you calm.”

“No...,” you couldn’t help inhaling again. Something about his was so intoxicating. 

His body slid against yours now and you found yourself drawn to his neck where the scent was strongest, “Tell me what I am, little human.”

“Angel,” you breathed out, feeling like the word was forced from your throat. 

Colby chuckled, his hand coming up to push against the wall beside your head, “Perfect.”

And you gasped as he surged forward, caving in, and grabbed your face with his hands. Your lips met and it was brutal and fast and violent, and it felt like he was trying to devour your mouth. You tasted blood and the sharp ping of Colby’s teeth nipping at your lips. But you felt so high that you didn’t care. 

His hips pushed into yours and you could feel his arousal hard against your flesh. You wanted this. You wanted all of this. 

You groaned, relishing in the feeling of having him against you and feel like a combination of literal sin and absolute heaven. 

His fingers clutched desperately at you, pulling you impossibly tighter against him. His tongue licked at your lips, tasting your blood. Your flesh stained by the crimson. 

“Please!” you beg, reaching for him, craving more. 

“Hush,” Colby ordered, and you became pliant, willing yourself to his every need.

A loud masculine groan filled your ears as his hands trailed down from your jaw, dusting your neck, and ended at your breast. One hand felt you up, grasping one in his hold. You keened up into him, desperate for everything. 

“So good,” Colby laughed, feeling you arch your back into him.

The feral angel’s lips found your neck, nipping at the flesh beneath your ear. You cried out, baring your neck more to him. He ground his hips into yours, a reminder of just how much he wanted you. 

Maybe you would be a better mindset if it wasn’t for his scent, but there also was a dark side to your thoughts that withered and moaned at what was happening to you. 

Fire spread across your skin, feeling like it was from the depths of hell itself, and you wanted him to just devour you. 

“Colby...,” you inhale sharply and moan.

Carefully, Colby rose up from his attention on your neck, reveling in a moment of seeing it covered in teeth nips and saliva and his scent. 

“Would you die for me?” he whispered, leaning against your forehead, and continuing to knead your breast as his hips met yours.

“Yes,” you replied without thinking. 

He hummed and leaned away. His hands grasped your shirt and before you knew it the clothing was ripped from your body. Pain rippled from the spot on your back in strained again. Then your jeans went next, unzipped and then also ripped in two. You didn’t even think about how you were going to get back to your car in only your underwear and--.

Colby ripped those from you. Your bra falling down like wings to the cave floor. Your panties going next, and you shivered from the slightly cooler area.

The feral angel snarled as he fell to his knees before you. His teeth latched onto your inner thigh and bit down. You cried out, spreading your legs as fire spread across your body. Fingers thread themselves into his hair. This was by far the best head you ever received. 

His tongue danced between your folds, staining you with your own blood. You felt so incredibly wet as he hummed and licked and then turned back to bite the inside of your thigh again. Blood dripped from the angry flesh pulled apart by the feral angel's teeth. 

“Colby!” you could feel yourself getting closer as your fingers tightened in his hair, but you felt so empty and aching.

He devoured you, leaving you raw and unhinged. A low growl echoed from his chest, and it sounded incredibly inhuman and like nothing you ever heard before from an animal. 

“ColbyColbyColby,” you panted, feeling incredibly emotion explode inside of you from your core to your chest. 

He continued to hum and work at you with just his mouth. His fingers gripped your shin and your knee. You didn’t notice to later, but his nails dug into your flesh deeply. Then he would swipe way at the wounds, creating blood-like feathers on your skin. A pair of wings to match Colby’s own. 

“Fuck!” tears tickled the inside of your eyes as he suddenly pulled away, “No!”

Colby’s lips glistened from your arousal, and you reached for him. Your lips meeting and you moaned, tasting yourself and your blood there. Your hips tried to find something of friction on his body to edge you the rest of the way over, but Colby wasn’t listening. 

You were panting, needy and ready, “Colby--.”

His hands left your body to quickly push his pants and boxers past his hips, and then to wrap around his own arousal. He was covered by your own slick with a few short pumps.

You reach for him, grabbing his wrist, pulling him into you. Something feral was igniting inside of you as you felt his hard velvet skin against the inside of your raw and blood thighs. 

“Heaven-sent, do you want this?” he replied to your need with a smirk. 

“Yes!” your words didn’t feel like your own. Some part of you inside was screaming to say no, but fuck a feral angel was in front of you. 

You inhaled sharply as the head of Colby’s cock dipped into your hole for a second.

“Yours,” Colby was breathless, his neck showing the strain of holding back, as you said those words.

“Fuck,” your thighs shook as he teased you again.

You felt like the air was punched from your lungs as your knees gave out and Colby's cock slid into your hole, filling you and making you feel so impossibly full. You could feel every inch of his cock inside of you, from length to girth, and he inhaled to keep himself from losing his breath. 

“Colby,” you panted, whimpering, as he stared up at the ceiling, fingers grabbed Colby’s shoulders for strength to keep you upright. Your legs wrapped around his hips. 

"Good, pet," Colby praised.

Another whine came from you and fuck did Colby never get sick of that noise. He captured your lips again, tasting yourself and your blood on them still.

"So good," Colby whispered against your lips, "So good."

“Please...,” you whined.

Colby grabbed your hand, lacing them together, and raising it above your head. It stretched your body out and made your body arch into his. He watched with dangerous eyes, a predator on their prey. He bucked into you, sliding back in with ease. 

You push back, wanting him impossibly deeper in you. Colby growled low as his hips thrust upward to meet yours. A cry escaped your throat, tossing your head back, feeling full again. 

"FUCK!" you tried to remind yourself to breathe.

Colby withdrew from you again. There was a second for you to inhale and then Colby thrusted back in. You moaned loudly, biting your lip.

The feral angel tightened his hold on your hands, and snarling. His teeth bared as he nosed at your jawline. 

It felt like every nerve in your body was singing and in touch with how Colby caressed every inch of your skin. 

Something unfurled behind Colby and, with your hands on his shoulders, you felt the softness of feathers. You tried to focus your gaze on his back, but every thrust was sending stars to your eyes. Colby’s wings, black and bold against the night sky, hid you both from the world. His eyes turned yellow, bird-like, and reflecting his feral nature. 

You inhaled sharply through your nose as Colby suddenly bit down on the flesh of your throat, drawing blood. Pain rippled across your chest, as he tore at the flesh. But there was something intoxicating in your system, and you barely felt a thing. Blood dripped down Colby’s chin as he pulled away with a large, fanged smile. 

He thrusted upward into your channel, gripping your wrist tightly above your head. Everything felt so warm and good and unwinding. You were so close, and you needed him deep within you to solve the ache between your thighs. 

THRUST.

You cried out, tossing your head back again against the wall.

THRUST.

A bite to your collarbone this time drew more blood. The crimson liquid falling down your chest between you both.

THRUST.

Colby grunted against your chest, licking at the blood.

THRUST.

You were practically howling. Your vision blurred and a sharp moan broke the howling noise coming from your mouth.

THRUST.

"FUCK!" You cried out, feeling the end coming. 

THRUST.

Your channel contracted as you came. Every inch rippling against Colby. The feral angel snarled, biting down again on your chest and tearing flesh. You felt the hot liquid of his seed spill in your channel. You felt incredibly greedy, pulling him against you. 

Your hips moved swiftly against Colby, catching your climax. 

The feral angel gripped your hips, stalling it, and simply holding you against him. You felt something move behind you. 

A laugh rumbled in Colby’s chest as he pulled you away from the wall, keeping you locked against him. 

A scream echoed in your throat as your back ripped open. Two black wings burst from your flesh. Blood sprayed against the wall you were at moments before. 

“Beautiful...,” Colby mused as he watched you with a mouth full of your blood. 

How terrifying to be taken by something that wants you and only to become just like them!

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock fanfiction #[+18] #angel!colby brock #sam and colby #edit: mine #hell week celebration 2022 #hell week #sam and colby: hell week

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

Wait....what if they're actually a cult of puppets.... (TW: for mentions of cults and spoilers)

I found this thread on Twitter and Andrew Allen (one of the writers of the game) said the following

I'm starting to think the whole "Family thing" may not be like "Oh they're an actual family" but rather a "What if this is a plot line is a more obscure reference to actual cults, and a some sort of tw: for serial life killers"///The Charles Manson cult. Who also referred to each other as family"//

I want to add things that reinforced this point or something that might be related to that theory.

The fact that Mortimer (as far as in the gameplay) is the only true voice and it's always right about stuff. What I mean with this is that I was wondering why the characters never hated Mortimer even tho he pretty much verbally and physically abuse them. Even at the last tape of their storyline (minor spoilers) Riley never said Mortimer was a bad leader but just said that he was becoming unsteady.

Mortimer's changing behavior towards the tapes. I won't give spoilers since I don't want to spoil stuff for everyone. I just realized that Mortimer does kinda have that slow descent into madness and paranoia that cult leaders tend to have as their rule start to become more unsteady and abusive.

This particular chorus + one of Mortimer's sentences in show everyone.

(old pic that I shared)

"Show everyone" is the official collaboration within the creators of Hello Puppets and Kyle Allen, which also worked like an announcement for the midnight show. I'm starting to wonder if this song was the first clue to the lore.

I also always wondered why they changed the chorus in the last verse after Mortimer sang his verses.

It kinda sounds pretty cult-y to me

Also regarding the whole they're related drama. I personally believed Owen was just setting the dynamic due to using the word "like" which in most connotations is used to referred similarities and is used in similes

Ex: He was as red as a red like/ She was crying like a baby.

Then he uses "Whose/who's" which in writing context and in connotation is establishing a character to be something.

Owen also went to say Daisy was like a mom figure, so that kinda reinforces the idea. So it's something like Daisy is a mom friend, Nick and Riley are rivals who have some sort of sibling dynamic

I am still not going to do any cannon x cannon as nothing as there is still uncertainty with this whole situation. Don't try to twist my words, as I'm just explaining my perspective and I do intend on just keep my focus away from the whole drama and do only Cannon x OC.

Feel free to add things up if you like, and please be respectful

Link to the twitter (is on word)

#hello puppets #hello puppets midnightshow #twitter threads #theories #tw: spoilers #tw: cult mention #tw: mentions of ab #Riley Ruckus #Owen Gubberson #Mortimer Handee #Daisy Danger #Nick Nack #tw: for referencing real life killers #tw: charles manson