#smoothy ve's imagines
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⚠️𝗘𝗣2. 𝗠𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘆 𝗠𝗶𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗻'𝘀 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱.
#𝗠𝗶𝗹𝗳𝗵𝘂𝗯 𝗺.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 #𝗠.𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 #𝗞𝗼-𝗳𝗶 #𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁
—cw: fem!reader, tit sucking, fingering, cheating.
—wc: 550.
If anyone knew what you were doing this afternoon, especially your boyfriend, they'd judge you. Hard. But little did you cared about that. It's not that you weren't worried about what others might think. It's just that her lips felt so good on your pussy that you could barely comprehend anything else.
Do you not hate boundaries every so often? I mean yes, they are necessary. However what about this growing temptation you have, the urge to break the rules, the urge to cross the boundary? Maybe it's just for a moment of fun. Although, the fun is always worth it. Similar to it, you hated how you found your boyfriend's mother hot.
Katsuki and you started dating at college. He was a jerk. Well, that's what everyone thought. So did you. Oh my god! Your first encounter was horrible. He literally bumped into you, and instead of apologizing, he got mad at you.
But now here you were, getting eaten out by his mother on the kitchen counter.
“Ngh— fuck! Mrs. Bakugou—”
A tight sucking on your cunt, “Call me Mitsuki, pretty. Or better yet…” She slurped your juices, and the looked up at you, “Call me Mommy.”
“What! No Mrs. Bakugou. I– I can't do that. I mean‐”
“Do you want your pussy eaten or not?” Was she blackmailing? No. She just wanted to make you feel good, didn't she?
“Go easy on me. M-mommy,” you avoided eye contact, getting all flustered. Haha. She found it adorable.
“Good girl. You're not only pretty—she moves closer to your neck—but smart too.” Her fingers played with your bra strap. “Is it okay if I remove it, baby?” You could only nod. She gently pulled them down your shoulder, unhooking it, and tossed them aside.
“Oh my. Such pretty tits.” Her pointer was teasing your nipple, her nails brushing on them. It really perked them up.
“Mhm. Suck on it.” You demanded, almost inaudible.
“Louder, baby. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to suck on it. Please.” The little innocent “please” made her lose all the patience she thought she had. How come a person be so cute and so sexy at the same time?
Her pouty lips reached your nipples and grabbed them. You moaned when she started sucking on it, poking it with her tongue inside. You were so occupied in the feeling, you almost missed when her fingers danced around your crotch, then slipped in your wet hole.
“So fucking good for mommy,” she left a praise in your ear before squinting and taking a look at how good your hole was taking in her fingers. She was jealous of her own son. To think that he gets to fuck that hole every day, it was aggravating. Which caused her to be a little rough and go faster, the speed catching you off guard, you started whimpering.
“Uh! Oh fuck, I'm going to cum. Mommy, I'm gonna cum. Make me cum hard on your fingers.” It was so hot. To hear such sinful words from someone she imagined being innocent by now.
Soon enough, you came, body shivering, but she held you. Peppering you with kisses all over your body. You were so good for her. Such a pretty little slut for both mother and son.
Taglist: @katsukichu @smoothy-ve @tetsunormous @dukina @acethecard @koifish69 @deartoru @psycho-nightrose @kyanyakya @arlertslove @sunascumdoll @xo-lynx @crtlove-com @hollowpurpl @chiizfuyu @megumischubbycheeks @cellophanes-princess @sleepy3 @sugarbooger513 @stygianoir @solar-starlight @leah-johnsonn @bakugosgorl @dazaiskorspe @arkynz @somerandompipzsxh @sauza @jeansbabycake @narmisseite @rii-bows @kuroos-blessing @ohsanghoe @adorzora @xinii @eros-miya @sleepy3 @shhhhhhxoxo125 @aztecbrujeria @beware-of-the-rogue @aasouthteranoswife @lumpywolf @chaoticotaku @drownedbytears @annieswifey
#bnha x reader#bnha smut#bnha drabble#mitsuki x reader#bnha x fem!reader#mitsuki bakugou#mha smut#mha x reader#mha x y/n#bnha x y/n
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Could I request the devil, the empress, and the sun from the tarot prompts for Kaoru. I love your writing!
Aww thank you, I´m very happy to hear that🥺
1400 followers celebration rules
Yandere tarot
tw yandere, obssession, possessiveness, isolation, the topic of having / raising children comes up but the reader´s gender is never specified. Please still proceed with caution in case of dysphoria ( reader is explicitly the one deciding if children is something they want or not, not the yandere) , jealousy
The Devil - What taboo things would this yandere do to their darling?
While Kaoru tries (and fails) to act smoothy in front of you, he´s quite desperate for your love and affection. He´s been depraved of affection in his childhood and has thus went to try and look for that love in a relationship. Due to needing this constant validation from you, I imagine Kaoru to be quite possessive and jealous.
It greatly annoys him whenever someone talks to you a bit too long for his liking. He regularily tells you to only smile at him and just focus your attention on him alone. He would be the isolation type, wanting to keep you away from others to ensure that you will continue to only have eyes for him, as he does for you.
The Empress - Would this yandere want to have children with their darling in the future?
I think children is something Kaoru would like, as long as that is something you also want. He himself grew up with a very unsupportive family and so he always longed for the familial love he never received. Kaoru would be a very affectionate and kind of easy-going father due to wanting to make up for what he himself went through. He wants to do better than his own family and ensure that his child would be as happy as can be.
Now just for the record because I´ve gotten the empress prompt a few times : Any and all yanderes I write would never force you to have and or raise children with them! Never! Take this more as something like if they would personally like the concept but what you think about it always takes priority!If you don´t want children then there won´t be any! Both biological children or adopted ones. What you´re personally comfortable with is the most important!
The Sun - When would this yandere feel content with their situation?
Kaoru would feel content once you two have moved together into your own nice little house a bit further away from others with a small garden or anything else you wish for. He also dreams of the day you two finally get married and wear the same ring on your finger, showing everyone that you two are deeply in love with each other. It´s a direct symbol of your love and since you agreed to marry him out of your free will it would considerably lessen Kaoru´s jealous outbursts
#my writing#yandere tarot#enstars#ensemble stars#yandere#tw yandere#enstars kaoru#kaoru hakaze#kaoru x reader#kaoru hakaze x reader#yandere kaoru hakaze#yandere kaoru#yandere kaoru x reader#yandere kaoru hakaze x reader#yandere enstars#undead#tw obsession#tw possessiveness#tw jealousy#tw isolation#male yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#gn reader
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Whamilton Day 3 - Juicy
George is closing down and cleaning up his bar, glad that he can go home for the day. He doesn´t look forward to the walk to the car, seeing as rain is pouring down outside, but he hopes that it will stop when he is done. The work is rhythmic and relaxing, and it puts his mind at ease after a long and stressful day.
After almost half an hour, he is about to turn off the light to finally go home, when he notices a figure standing pressed against the door in an attempt to avoid the rain, while fiddling with something that looks like a map. George hesitates a moment. On one hand, he really doesn´t want to leave the person outside, but at the same time, he just wants to go home.
In the end, he lets out a sigh and walks over to the door, unlocking it again. He opens the door, but the man had apparently not noticed him, because he loses his balance and falls against George with an undignified screech, who instantly brings his arms around him to catch him. They stay in this awkward position for a moment, both waiting how the other man will react, before George carefully takes a step back, with his hands still steadying the other man. He is a few years younger than George and about a head smaller than him. His grey sweatshirt is clinging to his body and he is shivering in it.
“Well, hello, there.”, George says with a slight chuckle. “What were you doing out there in the rain? You are completely soaked through.”
The man rakes his fingers through his wet hair, giving George an almost sheepish smile.
“My phone died, and I got kind of lost.”, he explains. “And your doorstep was like the only semi-dry space.”
He looks around interested, taking everything around him in and George can´t help but notice how pretty the other man looks.
“What were you doing with that map?”
This time the younger man actually laughs.
“I only moved here yesterday, and I tried to figure out how to get home, which is a bit hard, when I´m not even sure how the street is called where my flat is at.”
George joins his laughing, shaking his head.
“That sounds like a plan that will most definitely succeed.”
The other man just shrugs.
“I´m Alexander, by the way. Thanks for taking me in, I guess. I really appreciate it. I probably would have caught pneumonia out there.”
George takes his hand and shakes it, noticing how cold it is.
“I´m George, nice to meet you and I´m happy to help.”
Alexander gives him a warm smile and George is a bit amazed with what it does to him.
“I think I have some dry clothes in the back, do you want to get changed and then we can figure out what to do?”, George asks after a bit.
Alexander hesitates a moment, before he nods.
“That would be amazing, yes. So sorry to bother you though.”
George shakes his head.
“It´s alright. Come I´ll show you where you can get changed.”
Alexander follows him into the back of the shop, where George hands him some of his spare clothes, he keeps here in case his get dirty, and then leaves the younger man to get changed. He comes out of the office a few minutes later, looking even smaller in George´s clothes than before.
“Do you want something to drink?”, George asks, while guiding Alexander back into the main room.
“Sure.”, Alex says. “Is your coffee good?”
George chuckles.
“I don´t serve coffee here.”
He hears a disgusted noise behind him and turns around.
“What kind of coffeeshop are you running?”, Alexander asks confused, which only causes George to laugh more.
“I´m not running any kind of coffeeshop. This is a juice and smoothie bar.”, he explains.
“Oh my god, a smoothie bar. And here I thought you were cool.”
Alex walks around the counter while shaking his head and drops down in a chair, looking like he owns the place.
“You better appreciate it, young man. I can just throw you out again in the rain.”, George threatens, while doing his best to hide his smile.
The other man seems to look right through him though, because he grins up at him and stretches, basically curling up on the chair like a cat.
“Well, you offered me something to drink, so maybe I´ll change my mind after I´ve tried it.”
This actually causes George to smile and he turns around to mix a smoothie for Alex.
“By the way, over there are chargers so you can actually figure out where I should drop you off.”
Alexander lets out something of a whine, but in the end, George hears him getting up and walking over to the chargers. He concentrates on making the smoothie again and almost doesn´t notice Alex coming back to stand beside him.
“What are you doing?”, he asks, and George looks down at him, suddenly very aware of the size difference.
“Making you a smoothie, what else?”
Alex shrugs and gives him a devious smile.
“I was still hoping for a coffee.”
“Oh, get your ass out of here.”, George says, shaking his head with a smile.
Alex just laughs and returns to his chair and after a moment they start talking about why he moved to Virginia and how George got the idea of opening a smoothie and juice bar. The conversation flows easily and George notices that he really enjoys the company of the other man. After he is done with the smoothie, he brings it to Alex and sits down opposite of him, watching him as he critically eyes the glass.
“And that´s supposed to taste good?”, he asks sceptically, and George rolls his eyes.
“Jesus Christ, Alex, just try it.”
Alex still hesitates a moment, before he takes a cautious sip, while George watches him closely. Even though the younger man clearly tries to hide how much he likes it, George sees right through him.
“Yeah, it tastes quite good.”, Alex says, after he has taken another sip.
“You want to try again?”, George asks, but Alex just shakes his head with a bright smile and take another sip.
“Good.”, Alex insists.
They continue talking until Alexander has finished his smoothie and hands the glass to George. While he goes behind the counter to clean again, the younger man takes a look at his phone.
“I found the address.”, he announces a few moments later.
George quickly wraps the cleaning up, before he looks at the address.
“That´s actually pretty close to where I live.”, he tells Alex. “Come, grab your stuff and let´s get you home.”
The younger man follows him to the car, thanking him again for taking him in. They keep talking on their way to the flat of the younger man and the more George learns about Alex, the more he wants to see him again, but it´s not his place to ask the younger man out.
Far too soon they arrive at the flat and miraculously, he finds a parking spot almost right in front of Alexander´s apartment building. He stops the car and turns around to Alex to tell him that he should just drop off his clothes when he has time at his workplace, but the younger man is faster.
“Thank you for bringing me home. And for the smoothie, it really tasted amazing. I… uhm can I buy you dinner as a thank you sometime?”, Alex asks, and he almost sounds nervous.
“You really don´t need to buy me dinner.”, George says, even though he would like to have dinner with the other man, but not when he feels like he has to.
Alex shakes his head, staring down at his hands for a second, before he meets George´s eyes again.
“I know. Can I still take you out for dinner? I´d like to see you again.” This time Alex actually does sound nervous.
George nods slowly, giving him a smile.
“You mean like a date?”, he asks, just to be sure.
Alexander blushes a bit, but nods.
“Yeah, like a date.”
“I´d love to.”, George answers honestly, and instantly a bright smile appears on Alexander´s face.
“Great.”
He hands George his phone, who quickly writes his phone number down, before he gives it back to Alex.
“I´ll text you. Or call you. Whatever.”, the younger man promises and George nods smiling.
“That´d be great.”
Alex hesitates a moment, before he leans over and presses a quick kiss to George´s cheek. George doesn´t even have time to react, before Alex is out of the car.
“Bye.”, the younger man shouts, while sprinting to the building through the rain.
George shakes his head, almost sure that he has just imagined those last minutes. He makes his way home and it´s only when he sees that he has three texts from Alex, that he allows himself to believe that this actually happened.
#whamilton week#whamiltonweek#whamiltonweek 2020#whamilton#alexander hamilton#george washington#hamilton#hamilton musical#hamilton fic#my writing#mine#my fics
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*cracks knuckles * alright it's so on. So Sabriel but at first it's just Sam and Dean on a case they cant figure out until Sam asks Gabe for help then gets all turned on my Gabriel's competency in fighting or lore or something.
This was hilariously fun to write 😅😅
“Dude, what the fuck?”
“I know, right?”
“Seriously, what the fuck?”
“There’s nothing about a green mutant ninja turtle looking....thing in the lore.”
Sam slammed the book he’d been reading and rested his head in his hands. Dean ran a hand down his face and sighed.
“Ok, so it’s green. And has webbed hands,” Dean splayed his fingers and wiggled them, cringing at the thought, “and a friggen shell on its back. Really?”
“I’ve never heard of anything like this. Are we sure the guy got it right? It was dark and he was kinda drunk. Might’ve let his imagination go wild.”
A loud bang came from the kitchen that made the brothers jump.
“Sorry! Sorry fellas,” a voice called. Gabriel walked into the war room with an armful of bags and a large styrofoam cup. “What’re we hunting boys?” Gabriel spilled the bag on the table and rifled through it until he had a fistful of candy. He kissed Sam on the top of the head before sitting down and propping his feet up.
Sam sighed and picked up a random piece of candy. “We literally have no idea.” He unwrapped it and stuffed the candy in his mouth.
“Well, hell, Sammy. Must be bad if you’re eating ‘the least healthy stuff on the planet’.” He nudged Sam’s arm with his foot and smiled. “Lay it out for me, big guy.”
Sam ran a hand through his hair and crunched the candy in his mouth. “Guy swears he saw what looked like a Ninja Turtle. Green, webbed hands and feet, kinda had a shell on it’s back.”
“Weird water thing on it’s head?” Gabriel flicked a wrapper on the table and took a big gulp from his cup.
“Uh...yeah actually,” Dean cocked his head to the side.
“The guy in a lake?”
Sam turned and faced Gabriel. “Yes. Gabe, do you know what this is?”
The angel kept munching on his candy and nodded. “Come on, kid. Of course I do. It’s a kappa.”
“A what-a?” Dean frowned.
“A kappa. Weird little shits. Kinda looks like a human and a turtle did the horizontal mambo. Mean fuckers, too. They try to steal peoples shirikodama.”
Sam smirked and leaned slightly into Gabriel’s personal space.
Dean leveled the angel a look.
“A shirikodama is an organ men are said to have. Up their asses.” Gabriel clicked his tongue and twirled his finger in the air.
Dean gasped and Sam laughed.
“You’re fucking kidding me, right? I ain’t gonna----no. I’m not--can we get to the part where we kill it?” Dean huffed and stood up, pulling out his weapon.
Gabriel laughed and sat up, tapping his feet on the floor. “That ain’t gonna cut it this time, Dean-o.” He turned to Sam and wiggled his eyebrows. “Gotta cucumber in that fridge of yours, big boy?”
Sam tilted his head. “Uh, yeah. For tomorrow mornings smoothie--”
“Uh-uh,” Gabriel reached up and flicked Sam gently on the nose. “Kappas lo-o-o-ve cucumbers. Lure the weirdo out with one.”
Sams eyes widened. “And then?”
“Then,” Gabriel took Sam by the collar of his flannel and pulled him in close. “You bow.”
A small groan slipped out of Sam’s throat as he narrowed his eyes.
Dean crossed his arms and scrunched up his nose. “Are---are you seriously getting---you know what? Fuck it. I’m goin’ on my own. Text me what the hell to do when I find this thing. I’m outta here.” Dean collected his things and grumbled while he walked up the bunkers stairs.
Sam nosed Gabriels jaw as he slid his hand up the angels thigh. “Listening to you talk about lore like that---it’s the hottest thing ever.” He nipped at the angels ear as his grip tightened. “Tell me more.”
Gabriel smiled and licked his lips. “Kappas can’t resist a bow. The lower,” his fingers began popping the buttons on Sams flannel, “the better. You bow low, he bows lower.” His hands splayed across Sams tight chest. “The water on it’s head spills out and incapacitates it.”
Sam groaned and pulled away for a moment, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He sent off a quick text to his brother before tossing his phone on the table and pulling Gabriel in close again.
“Tell me somethin’ else. Something I don’t know,” he breathed.
Gabriel wagged his eyebrows. “Just wait til you I tell you about the Popobawa.”
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¿Quién dijo eso? ¿Comer saludable, sabroso y bonito es una proeza en Valencia? Para nada. @castagiran, una joven emprendedora venezolana, decidió cambiar ese esquema cuando abrió un pequeño merendero de estilo europeo llamado @le_gouter.vln donde puedes disfrutar todas las opciones e ingredientes saludables que ves en otras capitales del mundo en la avenida 104 de El Viñedo, la legendaria calle de los cafés, justo al lado de @carbon.bar y cuyo nombre proviene de la palabra “merienda” en francés. En este hermoso local, abierto a fines del 2020, Casta y su equipo atienden a los comensales que buscan una pausa en el día, sin que todos sean placeres culposos. Bowls de Smoothies con el super trendy acai o el cotizado matcha combinados con los toppings e ingredientes que imagines, avenas con frutas, bebidas saludables, energizantes o detox como las que antes veías recomendadas en los posts de otros países, todos esos brebajes que ayudan a llevar un estilo de vida más sano los tienen ahi. También hay alternativas para los que quieran un café tradicional, un brownie o una torta tradicional, e incluso también producen panes artesanales -baguettes y otros- elaborados con masa madre, lo último en tendencia mundial. Por si eso fuera poco, enfrascan su propia miel artesanal -traída de Aragua- y la aromatizan con especies exóticas y hasta tienen una con esencia de trufas. También, en una vitrina antigua tienen producto para llevar, algunos importados y otros hechos en casa, como las mermeladas naturales que han sido muy solicitadas. El espacio, diseñado por Casta y su novio, Daniel, pareciera estar en Le Marais en Paris o en Chamberí de Madrid, combina lo vintage, lo industrial y lo nuevo de manera excepcional, con un pequeño grupo de asientos dentro y unas mesas con sombrillas en la acera, como para contemplar el transito de esa zona y pasar la tarde merendando entre amig@s. Como en las grandes ciudades. Como en la Venezuela que todos soñamos. #foodie #urbanculture #culturaurbana #valencia #venezuela #talentovenezolano #gastronomia #lifestyle (at Carbon Gastro Bar) https://www.instagram.com/p/CO1BWKTnVBA/?igshid=1pjs8thjhifjf
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18+ Late night fantasy... (changed names)
Warning: This fantasy may bit a bit hardcore for other people's liking.
It’s 3:00 AM and I find myself lying in my low-lit bedroom sucking on my Magnum ice-cream a little too hard. I’m in my black underwear under thin sheets. It’s summer and I’m sweating, making my hair stick to my forehead and my skin taste salty. My shape is revealed through the sheets that cling to my spread inner thighs. I’m listening to slow music with a heavy beat; sexy classical music essentially. I`ve denied my desires for weeks. Why? They turn me into a slave, where I’m frantically trying to please myself in long nights alone.
My boyfriend is kind to me, but he doesn’t think sex is good for anyone, ‘there is no point to it’. I liked this partly because it tamed me. It’s prevented me from spiralling out of control and has kept me productive. When I’m completely alone and single I can sometimes turn into an utter whore – violating my own body, giving it to strangers just to feel like I can concentrate. I enjoy sex too much. But not having it at all... is that what’s best? What have I gotten myself into?
I’m supposed to be a good person, but I’m here touching myself, thinking of Dorian. The memories linger in my mind, intermixing with newer fantasies.
I imagine being in his apartment alone with him, anticipation in the air. I know he likes to take his time though. I’d be pacing around his kitchen tracing his things lightly, as if they’re all him, pretending that I’m thinking of something else.
He’s giving me a tour of his home and the silence is daunting – we could fill it beautifully. I watch the way he carefully opens and closes doors and places objects. He’s painfully soft with me too – refrains from sinking his fingers into me like I really want him to.
He faintly touches my back, guiding me into rooms, my skin feels magnetised, buzzing under his fingertips. His voice is smooth and stern. Anything, anything he would tell me to do right now, I would do it.
He stops, turns and looks at me. I stand still in an awkward self-conscious way in repose to his unapologetic examination. Shit, does he know how easily I’d give away myself to him right now?
He steps closer to me. I stay still and let him intrude into my space and I feel my hand brush past his.
“You distracted me at work today Alice”
“… I’m –
He puts his hand under my chin and pulls my face to look up at him properly.
“I’m sorry Dorian…”
Everything inside me tightens. He doesn’t respond, just pushes his thumb against my wet, dark lips. He smudges my lipstick. I stay very very still. His touch turns me on and scares me paradoxically. I suck on his thumb and continue looking into his eyes. His eyelids flutter a little and he lets out that long sigh I remember.
Fuck me. Fuck me right now. Fuck me on the floor like you hate me.
But he steps away into the kitchen and I feel a deep throb in my chest. My hands shake and I remind myself to keep it together.
I help him make dinner. We’ve always wanted to have a simple dinner at his together. Don’t mess that up Alice. And, to my surprise I don’t. We eat a lovely Italian meal with fresh vegetables and drink a set of lush smoothies at his dining table. I hate how he presses his foot against mine and reminds me of the time he spanked me. I feel my pussy clench and throb at every indirect and direct flirtation he throws at me. I can’t really keep still in my seat and he must have noticed as he left to sort something out, promising to be back in a moment.
This was a long moment. I wait patiently, wondering if he’ll let me have sex with him tonight.
My pussy aches and so I grind into my chair slowly watching the door so that he doesn’t come back finding me like this. I flatten my hands across the table and press my pussy against the chair harder. I can’t help but move my wanting hand up my skirt to feel my electric clit through my underwear. This time it feels so damn good, feeling myself, perhaps because Dorian could walk in in any moment. I rub myself harder and faster, pushing myself closer and closer to the edge. I envisage him sitting me on the kitchen counter, spreading my legs and filling my pussy with his stiff cock, his heavy breath on my neck. I’m so close. So close. Please don’t come back just yet Dorian. I let go and finger myself under my panties, my warm, pink skin begging for more. I push my face into the table as I shove my fingers inside myself. God, god I’m going to cum.
Wait shit, where’s Dorian?
I lift my head off the table and look across the room, seeing that he still hasn’t entered. I release a sigh of relief – until I feel his big hand on my shoulder. I look up to see his face. He’s standing directly behind me. How long was he watching me for?
I felt so incredibly embarrassed and feel my whole-body blush. “Dorian, I -
“Don’t stop” he demands, looking down at me.
I feel so bad for doing this secretly and feel so awkward about being caught and so I do exactly as he wishes.
I pull my skirt up so he can see more, spread my legs, and move my hand down to my pussy again. I’m still looking up at him with my back against the chair and his groin. “Don’t look away” he tells me.
His hand moves slowly from my shoulder to around my throat. He caresses it delicately at first and I mirror this with my movements on my pussy - but then he starts choking me with more and more force. My face becomes redder, my eyes water, and I start touching myself harder. My mouth opens letting out a long, but soft moan, followed by my gasping for air. Is he enjoying this?
I start letting myself go again. My eyelids close a little while I enjoy the sensations my fingers are producing, until they close completely. I’m embracing the waves of pleasure.
Dorian uses his other hand to grab my hair and pull my head back further and I open my eyes feeling startled. “You looked away.” He explains.
I feel like crying. Please don’t make me stop Dorian.
He pulls me to the ground when I look up at him pitifully. His hand is still in my hair and he makes me crawl to his bedroom until he sits on his mattress and orders me onto his lap.
I know exactly what he wants me to do. I assume my position, lying over his lap sideways. He pushes my face into the mattress and lifts my skirt over my ass. I feel him grope it and leave finger prints in it. He raises his hand high above my ass. I anticipate the hit and bite into the fabric my face is forced into. His initial smacks were far apart and only stung a little, but he wouldn’t stop and they got harder every time. I eventually gave up crying out into his bed. The smacks become really hard and my ass starts to bruise already. It hurts so much, but I deserve it. My body moves absorbing the shocking waves.
He stops pushing my head into the mattress and he stops spanking me. I look back at him with my wet eyelashes and smudged makeup. He smacks me again and I let a tear pass down my cheek. He uses the other hand to grope my pussy. I know what it means; It means that it’s his and he’s taking it. He pushes my panties aside and thrusts three fingers inside me while spanking me with the other. It hurts so much, but now it feels so fucking good. I let out confused moans and my body shakes and grinds into his touch.
I’m drooling into his bed now. I don’t care.
He stops everything all together again. Not again, please no.
I plead with him. “Please please Dorian, please don’t stop.”
“What do you want the most right now Alice?’ he questions, but I know he knows the answer.
“I want you inside me.”
“Dirtier, Alice”
I think for a moment. - “I want your dick deep inside my dripping pussy”
“Dirtier” he demands.
“I want you to fuck me roughly and don’t stop when my pussy breaks”
“Dirtier”
“I need you to rape my fucking cunt right now Dorian”
He swiftly lifts me up throws me back down on his bed, kicking my legs apart and telling me to raise my ass and keep my face down. His hands trace my back and grab onto my hips. I press myself against his hard sex desperately.
He grabs his dick and circles my opening sadistically. He makes me beg and before I start crying again he thrusts his fat cock far into my little, young pussy. I cry out needy moans.
“You desperate slut” he groans as he pushes it further into me.
(God, I might actually cum right now in my bed at home thinking of this)
I throw my head back and he stops pulling me to him and I start aggressively pushing my cunt around into his cock. It glides in and out of me while my fatty ass bounces against his pelvis.
When I start enjoying myself too much, he pushes me down and lies behind me with his cock resting on my ass instead of inside me. This man.
He starts biting and kissing my neck. Mark me Dorian, I know you own me. I’m yours.
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💚 // Raspberry’s Musical Science // 💚 • • • 💚 in the Roses’ family, Raspberry’s origin is rather uncertain but based on history, it is of Eastern Asia and/or Europe. It also has an aromatic “sweet rose-coloured wine” smell. 😜 • • • 💚 Raspberry is a symbol of kindness, and it is rather fragile, although it has a rough surface. So, be sure to handle it with care, for it is soft and squishy! Once eaten, its red juice (kindness) flows from it (the heart), allowing you taste its “Sweet and Sour Experiences”. • • • 💚 Botanists from @stanford have researched that strawberries and raspberries are not “berries”, but are known as the aggregate fruit. 🙉🤓🤯🤩 • • • 💚 Science covers a wide range of everything we need— our health, psychology, geography, philosophy, history and so much more! With all these facts and informations, an entire lifetime will never be enough to discover them all. 🤩 • • • 💚 By using our 5 basic senses [Touch, Sight, Hearing, Smell and Taste], we are able to imagine how a raspberry fruit is like even if you had not tried it before! 🧡 Science, Food, Music and Knowledge are all a need, • • • 💚 Find all the links you need through my Facebook page, the link is in the bio; • • 1. Iced Raspberry Lemonade Musical Science 6th August 2020, Thursday, 12pm • • 2. Raspberry Jam Musical Science 6th August 2020, Thursday, 3pm • • 3. Raspberry Sago Musical Science 6th August, Thursday, 6pm • • 4. Baked Raspberry Oats Musical Science 6th August, Thursday, 8pm • • 5. Raspberry Smoothie Musical Science 6th August 2020, Thursday, 10pm • • 💚 [Galatians 5:22-23] 🎵 “But the fruit of the Spirit is L💛ve, J💚y, Peace, Patience, Kindness, G❤️🧡dness, Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-C💙ntr💜l.” 🎶 • • 💚 A Raspberry’s Takeaway: It has been a fruitful 8 weeks collaborating with you, @lazada and it is time to rest! Until next time... 😇 Everything Science is interesting and with Music to join the fun, @sciencechannel , and @classicfm 🎵 Learn how your brain works with @psych_today and more berries with @stanford 💕 • #novemberraspberry #asia #Europe #Eurasia #Love #Educational (at Eurasia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDdxp_TpIiE/?igshid=y7nls21hylgl
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Abundancia de colores y variedad es lo que deberíamos de consumir para tener mejor salud, comer de esta manera ayuda a sentirnos mejor y disfrutar de la vida. Amo comer variedad de hojas verdes, me gusta para mis licuados y combinarlos con mis platillos. No puedo imaginar mi vida sin esta alimentación, me ha cambiado la vida, disfruto demasiado de este estilo de vida que no podría regresar a comer como lo hacía hace ya casi 4 años. Esta despensa es para una familia de tres, obviamente faltan granos y legumbres. Como se ve tu despensa de la semana? .. .❤🍍🍏🥦🥥🍓🥑🍉😋 Abundance of colors and variety is what we should consume to have better health, eating in this way helps us feel better and enjoy life. I love eating a variety of green leaves, I like it for my smoothies and combine them with my dishes. I can not imagine my life without this diet, it has changed my life, I enjoy too much this lifestyle that I could not return to eat as I did almost 4 years ago. This pantry is for a family of three, obviously missing grains and legumes. How do you see your pantry of the week? ... .🍄🥝🥑🥦🥥🍐🍍😋 https://www.instagram.com/p/Bu4Jhz1HWcq/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1fin9jasfyrxx
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The 15:17 to Paris Dir. Clint Eastwood, U.S., Warner Bros.
Like Sully, Clint Eastwood?s The 15:17 to Parisis about a moment of decisiveness in which an average American man became a hero. And like American Sniper, it is about the making of that hero by the part of America that both Fox News viewers and New York Timeseditors think of when they think of ?the real America.? Spencer Stone, Alek Skarlatos, and Anthony Sadler, who in 2015 charged down a gunman preparing to massacre the passengers of the Eurostar train they were on as the last leg of a backpacking trip, and who play themselves onscreen (quite stiffly), are shown as products of American mythmaking. They soak up their grandfathers? war stories, recruitment ads, and other Clint Eastwood movies: Stone at one point wears a Man with No Name t-shirt, and has a Letters from Iwo Jimaposter in his childhood bedroom alongside one for Full Metal Jacket. Clint has been derided in some quarters for these small vanities, but they?re perfectly apt for a movie in which real life and movie life interact in ways that are frequently awkward, frequently touching, and always singular.
In making a feature film out of an event that unfolded in slightly more time than Sully?s United Flight 1549 was airborne, Eastwood now focuses primarily on the lead-up, rather than the aftermath. Drawing from the trio? Shadows on the Wall , screenwriter Dorothy Blyskal?a production assistant on Sullygetting her feature screenplay credit?places their friendship on a collision course with destiny. At the time, Stone was an active-duty Air Force airman, Skarlatos a National Guardsman who had returned from a deployment in Afghanistan, and Sadler a student at Cal State. The film begins in Sacramento, where Stone and Skarlatos, two academic strugglers raised by single moms, meet Sadler, a mischievous fellow misfit at their Christian academy.
These early scenes are excruciating, marked by placeholder dialogue no children would ever say?expository for young Spencer and Alek and silver-tongued, with lots of conditional clauses, for Anthony. These scenes are enlivened only by stripped-down turns from comic actors doing their shtick without the jokes: Thomas Lennon as a smug, prissy fundamentalist principal, and Toby Hale as a toxically ineffectual gym teacher who is ?in a moodtoday, whoo!? Hale, especially, with the pathos behind his pettiness, would fit right into another recent on-screen Bush-era Sacramento Christian school, Lady Bird?s Immaculate Heart. Here, as in that film (and in America at large), class is somewhat difficult to parse, given that the visible trappings of middle-class life go hand-in-glove with anxiety bordering on the existential. Stone?s mother (Judy Greer) appears to own her detached home, and given the lengths to which the film goes to manufacture ?stakes,? 17 to Paris Movie Review can bet that if she was underwater on her mortgage we?d hear about it. But Greer effectively puts across the precarious mental state of a single mother of a tearaway kid?no one to take over when you?re tired, so you?re always skating along the very edge of rage to keep from shutting down completely.
Such deftness is atypical of a movie that will entertain the kind of viewer who updates the ?Goofs? section of movies? IMDb pages. (Remember the rubber baby in American Sniper?) Greer and Jenna Fischer, as Mama Skarlatos, fare worse once the child actors are replaced by the real Stone and Skarlatos: Eastwood makes no real attempt to correspondingly age their mothers up by ten years, and the actresses appear more tentative when thrust into scenes opposite their suddenly Large Adult Sons. And the dialogue feels at times almost purposefully cringeworthy: when Stone tells Sadler about the college basketball player who ?dunked on this fool? (the characters often watch, and desultorily narrate, televised sports) or when Greer shuts down a teacher trying to force ADD medication down her kid?s throat, saying, ?My God is bigger than your statistics,? it?s like the movie is daring you to feel superior to it.
The filmmaking, as square as the characters, courts its viewers with obvious avowals of shared values. Stone prays, as a child and again at the film?s denouement, ?Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.? The boys pester cool teacher Jaleel White for old WWII battle plans, dress in camo, and play war games?though the arsenal of Airsoft guns the pubescent Stone lays out on his bed may not signal innocent enthusiasm to every viewer. These two strands, the devout and the martial, eventually come together in a purpose-driven life: after Stone, pudgy and aimless, meets a military recruiter, he identifies his higher calling as serving and saving lives in the Air Force?s totally rad Pararescue unit. This American hero?s origin myth is located not within the already rugged American milieu of rodeo, as in American Sniper, but at a Jamba Juice, where Stone?s Hot Topic goth coworker reminds him that the smoothie he comped his recruiter is coming out of his own tip money. It?s as unpromising a location as the Times Square Irish bar, playing the late local news, where Sully has his epiphany. The filmmaking in Eastwood?s latter-day ripped-from-the-headlines stories feels radically unprocessed, the stuff of modern life transcribed simply and faithfully: the Eurozone train travel scenes here, with their wheel bags and fast-fashion slip-on shoes crisscrossing station platforms, recall Sully?s version of flight, always grounded in Hudson News and the heft of carry-on luggage.
It?s frankly astonishing that Eastwood, disciple of ?Don and Sergio,? would film a scene in which a couple of beefy bros in shorts buy and eat gelato at a tourist-trap stand in Venice. Stone and Sadler, spending this leg of their long-planned European trip with a solo-flying American chick they?ve been trying to flirt with, pick out their flavors (hazelnut!), pay the man, and make growly approving nom-nom sounds. But the ice cream ismore exciting for being eaten in Venice; somewhere amidst the dudes? performative gelato ecstasy is a glimmer of awareness that this is a special time in their lives. You may be reminded at this juncture that military service is one of the few engines of upward social mobility left in this country, or of what a privilege it is to be a member of the minority of Americans who hold valid passports, or to have access, as Sadler does, to the kind of credit that could fund a latter-day Grand Tour.
Like anyone else, these Americans abroad relate to the greatness of Rome and the Renaissance through the means with which their life experience has provided them. They are notably more animated at the Coliseum than the Spanish Steps, having seen Gladiator. Their marveling at all the ?old shit? there is in Europe isn?t ignorance, it?s gratitude?an awareness that they should mark the moment by saying something, however much their dutiful sightseeing is compromised by hangovers from last night?s city-center rave excursion with a bunch of Erasmus students. (Though even there, what constitutes ?epic? is a fully clothed Stone getting up on a stripper pole and sliding down it very slowly.)
The rosy view of ugly Americans abroad?the camera?s eye follows the characters? up the legs of Euro hotties in discos and hostels?precedes a rosy view of Americans intervening in an attempted Islamic-fundamentalist terrorist attack. During this time of extraordinary political bad faith, it?s healthy to remember that traits like bravery and self-sufficiency and the desire to be useful are virtues that can be motivated by any number of belief systems. For all the presumption, exclusion and machismo of Stone?s dreams of Eastwoodian cowboy/solider gallantry there is something very moving in his reaction when he?s told that a poor vision test will keep him out of Pararescue. That he won?t get to be one of the gallant elect who makes a difference, and will have to find his life?s meaning all over again.
Essentially, Stone wants to be a character in a Clint Eastwood movie?and for much of The 15:17 to Paris, this unfulfilled ambition animates the film's form as much as it does its content. Stone, Skarlatos, and Sadler's simulation of their own genuine lifelong friendship is notably unconvincing, full of camera-shy gravelly-voiced diffidence and hilariously basic half-speed evocations of everyday interactions. Even the self-aware Sadler, who talks through his selfie-stick framings in faintly visible quotations marks, is so far from being a natural camera presence that the distance between the banality of life and the sublime of cinema seems practically unbridgeable. This sense that transcendence is elusive to us mere mortals is the explicit subject of the film. Stone, looking out over rooftops in Venice, proclaims that he feels as if the world is ?catapulting? him toward some great event, some reckoning?a part in a story that will itself be told and retold. But for nearly its entirety, The 15:17 to Parisinhabits the gap between lived and imagined experience?something more frequently the purview of microindie cinema. I?m thinking of Aaron Katz?s Cold Weather, whose mumblecore characters find themselves caught up in a neo-noir mystery, or Wild Canaries, Lawrence Michael Levine and Sophia Takal?s role-play remake of Manhattan Murder Mystery. In fact, Wild Canaries, with its occasional precise slapstick bits and tart dialogue, is a more polished piece of cinema than the new Eastwood movie?until the very classical action set piece climax, when Clint?s filmmaking chops snap back into place like William Munny?s killer instinct, and Stone finds the culmination and validation of his desire to serve God and country, after the frustrating day-to-day of school and basic training.
After planting glimpses of the train attack between act breaks throughout the film, Eastwood mounts an uninterrupted restaging, beginning with the scuffle outside the bathroom, the single pistol shot, and the assault rifle drawn before Stone?who has been crouched in wait behind his seat, watching in intense close-up, his blank, uncinematic face suddenly evocative in its focus?makes his move. The close-quarters scuffle is largely constrained to the aisle of a single train car, which becomes a channel for the will of the participants. Stone tackled the assailant after his rifle jammed; Eastwood gives us the moment in a clean shot-reverse shot, with Stone charging, seatbacks vaguely visible in widescreen telephoto, and then his target, the full length of the rifle running across the center of the frame, the shot already lined up. Eastwood makes it entirely clear that Stone is running toward the moment of his death, and that in this sacrifice he has, finally and decisively, found his life?s purpose. An instinct born and nurtured in a gun-crazy Christian nation is elevated to a state of grace.
And yet. The triumphant story of The 15:17 to Parisimplicitly thumbs its nose at attitudes like that of the ectomorphic German bike-tour guide who, earlier in the film, snidely tells Stone that the Russians, not the Americans, were closing in on Berlin at the close of WWII: here, Team America really is the world?s police. Blyskal and Eastwood cherry-pick incidents to justify not just the feature length but also Stone?s sense of ?catapulting? toward his moment: Stone unarmed and impotent during a false-alarm lockdown at his military base, and then finally finding the Air Force fulfilling as he develops the jiujitsu skills that will serve him so well on the train. Thus it seems as if the characters of The 15:17 to Parisseek out a grand narrative as much as they rise to it.
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Andean altiplano adventures (and some seaside and selva)
Dear dear buddies, it`s been a while since I wrote and now that I see the date time has literally FLOWN which means that I`ll be back in three weeks! YES! NO! On the one hand I can`t wait to be back but on the other hand I keep seeing so many beautiful things, landscapes, that I just don`t want to leave. Anyway. I got my flight, for the 13th of June, so be ready for my existence to pollute/beautify your life again.
Last time I wrote I ended at the beginning of my journey through Peru, which now seems lightyears away. Holy shit, the amount of stuff I`ve seen and done. A little resumé:
Marinated in lima/Lima
Last time I wrote that I was enjoying the food in Peru. Holy shit yes, Peru is the land of ceviche, which is seafood marinated in lime juice, with a mountain (montón) of herbs, red onion, garlic, chilli.... mmm. I just ate but already getting hungry again. The first week in Peru I spent with my buddy Kenji, and some of his friends. We went to the desert, to a city that could win awards for its ugliness. However, it was set in a beautiful landscape of sand dunes, weirdly contrasting, confusing me as to be wowed by the landscape or appaled by the city. The first thing we did was... binge on ceviche. So so good. Then, one other day, we went for a buggy ride through the sand dunes, basically a rollercoaster on the sand. So much fun, I can only imagine how the driver must have felt (and must feel every time) with adults screaming like kids in a rollercoaster. We also did some sandboarding, fun but kind of unimpressive since you can´t really move and just roll down, basically. In the evenings we got drunk on cheap cocktails (yes) and went dancing (really improving my booty shaking on reggaeton).
After that, time for Lima. Lima I was absolutely not looking forward to. Another what, 10 million city with crazy traffic and pollution, bah. But it really wasn`t so bad, I actually really enjoyed it. The temperature was perfect (around 25 degrees), there was sun... and compared to other Latin American cities Lima has a great advantage, which is that it`s a coastal city, so that there is some fresh air rolling into the city whenever the wind goes eastwards. And then, yep, there is the seaside, but it´s a highway... are you kidding me?¿?¿?¿ is what I first thought. Then I went for a bike ride up on the cliffs (Lima is built like 80 meters above the sea on a cliff), where there`s parks and green everywhere, and I fell in love. Lima fell in love with me too, because it gave me `a beso frances`... a french coffee and crepes bar with an amazing view ;). Furthermore, my hostel had amazing breakfasts, a super nice rooftop with morning yoga sessions and free ceviche cooking classes. I was living the high life (and not just because of coca).
Then... it was time for my mum`s arrival! WOO! I, stupidly, told that I would take my mom from the airport. Two hours for a journey to pick her up would be enough, I thought, so I left early. Then holy shit traffic was ridiculous, there is no metro in Lima and the metrobus system hasn`t been extended to the airport (yet?), so you`re basically stuck in a traffic jam to and from the airport. Of course this smart cookie had no smartphone to contact mum, and only enough money to go to the airport (not back). We got stuck in traffic and three hours later I was finally at the airport. My mum had been waiting for an hour and was about to leave (her taxi driver was totally chilled and told her to just wait, because obviously I would be stuck in traffic). When they were about to leave I arrived, just saved by the bell. From then on I wouldn`t have to worry about a thing though, because we had a completely arranged trip.
We started off with a tour in Lima`s colonial center. I was again not looking forward to that because Latin America is full of colonial cities, and I have seen quite a few, they`re all similar. In this case I was wrong, Lima was the center of the Spanish Empire and they went BIG, so the colonial architecture was much more impressive (though often in ruins, sadly). We also did some fruit tasting, and wow, Peru has many more fruits that I`ve never seen before than Colombia even. So so nice. I`m still going wild on street stands with smoothies, which are everywhere here, and I wonder why Europe with its health-food snobbery doesn`t do smoothie bars a lot more...
Up, up, up, up, up
After a little stop at the seaside (with islands full of penguins and other birds, shitting so much that the islands are covered in thick thick layers, used for agriculture nowadays...), we made a little stop at the desert town of Nazca, where we did sandboarding and sandbuggying again, saw some ancient graves, etc.
But then we went up to the Altiplano, where I`ve been ever since (with a few breaks). The Altiplano (high plateau) is the area between two Andean mountain ranges and stretches across the southeast of Peru and the west of Bolivia... at 3600-4000m!! Jesus. It`s a place that makes your head hurt if you`re not used to altitude, until you get used to it. It`s also an intriguing place, which is why I`ve been there for more than a month now...
Good. We first had two days of acclimatising in the city of Arequipa at 2500m, where I really started to feel weird already because of the altitude. Then we went up to the Titicaca lake, at 3800m, a ridiculously big lake (around 200km in length). We visited some islands in the lake made of reed, and this story is so bizarre that I still don´t know whether to believe it or not: as the Spanish came to fuck things up in Latin America, some people around the lake decided to flee into the reed (NL: riet), to live there, on floating islands made out of that reed. They survived on fish and reed roots for generations... made reed boats to go around, and even today, they say, there are people who prefer to live on the lake, come off their islands only sometimes to get new food or go to school, and that`s it. What the hell! We visited an island on the lake and they explained to us how that works, making an island out of reed. The whole time I was just stupefied and wondering how crazy I would go if I would live on a 100m2 island on a lake.
Machu Picchu
Then off to Cusco/Cuzco. The capital of Inca culture. Some days of watching beautiful landscapes and Inca ruins, staying in a beautiful little town called Ollantaytambo (pronounce it), with little canals all through the town, taking care of sick mum (poor little thing), and then getting ready for.... Machu Picchu! On the way I (mum was sick) did some little hikes through the jungle (in spanish: selva) on the way to Machu Picchu, we stayed at coffee farmers. Our guide had worked on coffee farms from the age of 6 (omg) and told us how to pick coffee. You get a piece of cloth (this is very Andean, they don`t do backpacks) and fold it, put it around your back, and bind it at the front. Difficult to explain. Anyway, this stupid gringo obviously picked some beans and then went to slap a mosquito on his leg, so all the coffee beans dropped. I would have a short career as a coffee picker... for sure. After the coffee beans we had a little hipster moment where we could make our own coffee, like, get the bean out of the bean (inception), roast it, grind it, make coffee. Hashtag barista. Such a paradise if it wasn`t for the mosquitos, they had literally every tropical fruit there (pineapple... passion fruits) and in abundance. It was also amazing walking over old paths that the Incas used, through coffee farms, bushes full of random tropical fruits.. ah.
Yeah there are llamas in Machu Picchu...
I probably wouldn`t have gone to Machu Picchu if it wasn`t for the fact that I was with mum (and mum paid), but that would have been a mistake. It was really as magical as they say it to be... Sure, whole of the suburban US was trying hard to make the experience less magical with their almost-religious selfie sticking and oh-my-gods, they couldn`t. However, they gave me inspiration for the following poem:
Enlighten me with your flash,
oh phone,
my phone,
iPhone.
I extend my arm with the power of your magic wand,
stick it in my face like a dick,
I love you, my selfie stick.
I let my appearance be uploaded
to rise above the cloud.
Insta-reincarnation is my salvation.
Oh let the likes and shares make me proud,
let me feed ferociously,
insta-gramification,
and let those bitches see
who´s having a sick vacation.
Oh deity of data, I want more,
give me a dual core,
for my being is sore,
and I adore being an instawhore.
Amazon
After Machu Picchu we spent another day in Cusco and then went to the peruvian Amazon! WOAH! The flight was only 45 minutes from Cusco and you saw mountains mountains mountains and then BAM, forest for as far as you can see. Insanely big rivers. And then quite some deforestation too, and mines (according to a story by our guide Chinese and Japanese companies are going wild on gold mining in the Amazon, fucking up the environment badly). We stayed in a lodge in the middle of the selva, with a view over a forest of palm trees, with sounds of birds I have never heard before, and monkey sounds. That`s where I celebrated my birthday, in the pool looking over endless forest with palm trees. Amazing. We also went on a boat tour around a river (that I believe eventually gives onto the Amazon) and a lake. In that lakes, I wanted to see an anaconda goddamnit! But sadly we didn´t see any. We did see giant beavers and a crocodile, and we got a good anaconda story. Apparently the owner of the boat once was boating around the lake (very peaceful lake, with palms all around etc.) when an anaconda jumped on the boat and tried to grab his dog. The owner went back with a gun and killed the anaconda. Madness!
Enjoying warm warm sun in the selva.
Parting with mum again, and off to Bolivia.
After a good three weeks of super-high-paced travel, mum was going home again. And I was really, really excited to go off to Bolivia. First off: Copacabana. WUUT, Copacabana? Yeah, the name of a Bolivian beach town... but by the Titicacalake! So on 3800m. Not really a place to go swimming, although I wanted to try. The water was said to be 8 degrees (aiii) but I tried and it wasn´t that cold... and while I was bathing in the lake some (sweet, I thought) young boys took my camera and started playing with it, and I found out they filmed eachother making middle fingers to the camera and stuff. So not that sweet.
I went to the Isla del Sol, where the sun was born according to Inca legend. Sadly 90% of the islands was shut off because of a dispute about tourism (fair enough, but still sucks) so I had to do with the 10% of the island. But that was so beautiful... there was no car traffic at all and almost every hotel on the island had a perfect view of the mountain range Cordillera Real, with snowy peaks of +-6000m. One night I went up to a viewpoint and found myself completely alone. That day I had found a Pachamama (Mother Earth) necklace that I wasn´t planning on buying (because an Inca symbol, kind of weird to wear a necklace with a religious/deep cultural meaning that you don`t really know about)... but when I found it, I decided why not, I`ll wear it. That sunset I was reborn. I swear I have never in my life seen anything like it. A view of (I think) the whole lake, a sunset which looks like a beach sunset in one direction, in another direction there was the mountain range, with a golden sunset shine and flashes of thunder every once in a while. The exact opposite side was very cloudy, which left only a little line of orange lights above the hills, like as if drawn with a magic marker. In that direction, thunder, too. And in another direction, more or less next to the sunset, too. The sky was slowly giving me more colours and the first stars appeared as I looked in the direction of where La Paz, capital of Bolivia would be, with an amazing illumination of the sky in orange colours. No sounds except some dogs barking in the distance. A dark island full of little lights, almost like stars, making it seems as if the sky and the earth had reversed roles. I sat there for an hours just speechless, watching more stars appear, seeing thunder, seeing the lake turn silver-colored, seeing so much natural beauty that I just couldn`t help but being overloaded. Holy fuck. As I walked away I realised that that exact day 9 years before I first had sex and I had to smile a little bit thinking how much better this was (and was it a symbol? did the necklace symbolise something? did I find it for a reason? was the sunset an omen? was this my symbolic transition from boyhood into manhood? I mean, the real one, nine years after I figuratuively ´became a man´? when does one become a man anyway? so many questions. Anyway, you can address me with sir Elmer now if you want and refer to me as a man rather than as a boy. I´m sure this sunset meant that.)
Good, after this little space-out I went to La Paz, leaving the beautiful Lago Titicaca. La Paz is the capital of Bolivia and lies in a valley that is 4000m at its highest point and 3200 at its lowest. A surreal setting. It was kind of like Medellin, but then with more steep valley sides and a more surreal setting. I thought that again this would be a shitty busy and polluted Latin American city, and it was, but it was also intriguing. Up, on the Altiplano, is where La Paz begins. The city has sprawled there in every direction, so that the city is in the valley, but the satellite city El Alto (the high) has developèd to be bigger than the city itself. It is where the indigenous Altiplano people live, and basically one big traffic jam with 20 meters of dusty nothingness on either side, which functions as an inofficial traffic lane, garbage heap (and therefore fireplace and street dog hangout), market space, parking space, storage space, or all at the same time. Picture around it abstract buildings of bricks, like simplified versions of old english industrial revolution buildings (fancier ones with mirror glass), buildings that look like spaceships, and imagine that you´re in a sea of minivans for an hour trying to cross this place. Intriguing, impossible.
Impossible is probably also what the city transport development department thought, so they decided to build cable cars all around the city. Right now there are like 7 lines but 6 more are due to open in the next year. They make for a nice ride around La Paz, a cool view for 30 eurocents.
Up up up, again
Then I met with Jolijn and Noah, buddies from Utrecht. They happened to be in La Paz and we decided to go get drunk in a party hostel. Fun times, had been a while since I played beer pong and danced on the bar to get free booze. And that after a night in which I decided to check out the street´s gay club by myself, which turned out very drunk and.. very interesting. Story on request.
Good, but the up up up doesn´t refer to that. Noah and I wanted to climb Huayna Potosí, the ´easiest 6000m mountain in the world´. A few days after, we did. The first day they took us to base camp at 4800m, where I hardly slept because of altitude acclimatisation. We did some ice climbing on the glacier and then went to the high camp (5100) the next day, kind of easy... but good, because we needed to get up at midnight to go climb to the top. Fuck, and of course I did not sleep a minute again...
The climb to the top was 6 hours and holy shit, it was intense. At the end I was really struggling with the oxygen deficit, I really had to coordinate my breaths with my steps (breathing deep like I learned in yoga class). Not sure if I would have made it otherwise... I still had to stop every 10 steps to catch a few breaths. But we made it! And fuck me the view from the top was so so amazing! See for yourself, I put the video and photos on Facebook. It was insane seeing La Paz, the whole Titicaca Lake (150km) and then a volcano that was 200 kilometers away, WOW! As we walked down and the sun came up we saw a huge shadow of the mountain casted on the landscape below, one of the most surreal things I have ever seen.
After this I needed some days of rest and went to the Salar de Uyuni, salt flats in the south west of Bolivia. I thought it was just that but we did a three day tour across the craziest landscapes I have seen (often feeling like I was on Mars or the moon...), geisers, deserts, red lagoons, lakes with flamingos, and mountains in every colour. Islands on the salt flats with huge cactuses... I can´t explain how beautiful the landscapes were, you really, really just need to go there. I think the tour might have been the most beautiful I´ve seen in terms of landscapes on this trip.
To make it across the salt flat I had to battle some monsters...
And then, I thought, why not, I´ll try another huge ass mountain. I went to the national park of Sajama, between the salt flats and La Paz, and spent a few days in a national park with hot springs, ostriches (what the hell), alpacas and llamas everywhere. And then I wanted to go up the 6500m Sajama volcano. Sadly, I was advised against it because it wouldn´t be easy. So I decided for a day trip to the 6300m Parinacota mountain. Was said to be easy. Wasn´t.
That was yesterday and we got up at midnight to go up, starting at 5100m. First, a fuckload of volcanic sand (making walking really difficult) and then the glacier. But this glacier wasn´t like the Huayna Potosi glacier, which was flat. This one was full of little holes and spikes, making it like ascending stairs with huge steps, of course in full mountain gear, so uncomfortable and difficult to move. Oh yeah and the oxygen deficit at 5500m... my buddy didn´t have enough energy to do it and also I fucked up, because I wore only two pairs of gloves and there was a LOT of wind, so that my fingers were feeling really cold. We went up to 6000m and decided to go back, the wind was just too strong and we got unlucky. Still caught a beautiful sunrise and view over the landscape, but that was it. I´m still proud because 900m I think is crazy considering the circumstances (and I really surprised myself again with the amount of energy I apparently had to do that, especially after another 800m ascent to a 5000m mountain that morning).Have you ever driven away from a place and kept looking out of the back window of the car because you are just speechless and in awe of a place? I had that with the Sajama national park. The Sajama volcano just kept being on the horizon, however far we drove. All the landscapes disappeared in the horizon and the Sajama mountain just stayed. Sometimes it disappeared behind a small nearby hill and then reappeared, as if saying that even if I would be leaving it, it wouldn´t be leaving me.. And this mother of mountains is right. One day I will be back...
Parinacota on the left, the mountain that wouldn´t let me.
And the majestic Sajama mountain... for which I will be back, one day.
After that, now that is, I am completely fucking done with the cold and so I´m off to Brazil now to enjoy caipirinhas on the beach. This Altiplano adventure has been amazing but I didn´t come travel to be in a winter climate. Ciao, you will be missed. And I´ll be back...
Expect a drunk caipirinha and mojito-fuelled story next time, my last for this trip. I´m sure going to gay pride in Sao Paulo in a week will give me some new material (although I´m not sure it´s going to be appropriate for Facebook :) ).
My sweet friends, I miss you so much and I can´t wait to be back now in 3 weeks. I`m gonna have a little blast in Brazil and I will overload you with hugs when I´m back. Besos, beijos, abrazos. Your alpaca sheep, el merino.
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@Regranned from @therawboy - Welcome - to MY KITCHEN! (Well is not really mine🤔) What goes behind one of my recipes? This 1 minute short clip is a perfect example of who NETO really is. This is how my mind sees my recipes - fast, messy, cheap but DELICIOUS. This clip took 3 hours to film, plus editing, but I enjoyed every single moment. To be honest - by the time I’m done filming and taking pictures my food is cold😂. Never in a million years did I think I was going to be creating and filming my own recipes and sharing my journey online. Today’s menu: Roasted Bell Pepper Hummus with a Veggie Platter and a Smoothie. If you like this video let me know and I will post the recipe for the veggie platter. I want to thank everyone for allowing me to share my journey every single day to all of you😗 song by DJ Quads - I will wait 🔊 ➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖ Bienvenidos a MI COCINA! (bueno no es mía pero algo así😂). ¿Qué pasa detrás de una de mis recetas? Este clip de 1 minuto es un ejemplo perfecto de quién es realmente NETO. Así es como mi mente ve mis recetas: rápidas, mucho desorden, baratas pero DELICIOSAS. Este clip tomó 3 horas en grabar, más edición, pero disfruté cada momento. Te voy hacer honesto, para cuando termino de filmar y tomar fotos mi comida está fría😌. Nunca me imagine o pensé que iba ha estar grabando mis propias recetas y compartiendo mi vida en internet. Menú de hoy: Hummus asado de pimiento con un plato de verduras y un batido. Si te gusta este video, déjamelo saber y publicaré la receta. Quiero darle las gracias a todos por permitirme compartir aquí😗 - #regrann
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The’ Fitspo’ Trend Is Dumb And It Needs To Aim
A few weeks ago I stopped following every single person on my social media feed that is involved in the world of fitness. I only cannot take the narcissism, shameless self-promotion, nauseating spectacles of selfies and worst of all, the constant pictures of their meals anymore. Seriously people and girls, enough is enough. Every daytime, parties that are friends with those in the fitness industry are bombarded with videos of workouts, photographs of nutrient proving youre clearly an orthorexic, lame affirmations and of course your expert workout admonition. Dont even get me started on the amount of athlete sheets people put up on Facebook and ask all their friends to like when theyve never even sat on a podium.
In the real( i.e. non-fitness) world, there is this concept called proficiency. Mastery takes a long time and is not easy. In the fitness macrocosm, this concept has been thrown out because apparently popularity conventions. Why do difficult situations for a long period of time when they are able to employed pictures of your arse up on social media and profess like you actually know something about something? Jenn Selter is my favourite. She was reputation the 29 th most influential person in health last year because she has millions of followers on social media. She dishes out exercising advice to people who want an arse like hers despite the fact that she has no qualifications at all in that area. Having a great arse doesnt mean you know anything about nutrition and practise discipline. The worst occasion about beings like her? When anyone points out their lack of qualifications or the fact they dont know what theyre talking about, they throw out the asinine haters gonna hate wire, as though everybody else is just jealous and they are so above establishing any kind of credentials.
Zyzz was another great example. The sum of twits that employed him above professional bodybuilders actually winning claims because he had a huge following and inspired beings to chase their daydreams is breathtaking. Heres a tipit isnt an achievement to stimulate a few people to get into the gym merely because youre shredded and you used steroids to get there. If you truly think that, you need to stop guessing your own press and maybe read up about people like Martin Luther King Jr for example. You know, people that actually were inspirational and did important things for humanity. Having a mad form and pairing it with some stupid route like if you believe it you can achieve it on Facebook is not for anyone elses benefit but your own. Please spare us all the eye rotation and run masturbate in the shower instead.
There is also this trend of people wanting to become fitness icons, whatever the hell that signifies. Well, we do know what it signifies, it means that you earn money for nothing else than your highlight reel of narcissism on social media. Heres a tip: get an actual activity. If you dont like your job, find a better one. If you want to make a living based on your arse, become a simulation or a porn star. For all you wannabe fitness icons, you need to know something really important. When you have millions of followers on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, but your entire feed consists of selfies of your arse and tits hanging out, more than three quarters of them are guys that exactly enjoy ogling your flecks. Dont even get me started on your lame workout videos, with you doing hamstring bends with close ups of your arse or your deadlifts with 40 kilos on the bar. Wow, thats some impressive shit right there! Its right up there to those used stupid motivational postings that say strong is the new seductive when the person is shoulder pressing with 5kg dumbbells.
The one I adore the most is when the status of women is there in her exceedingly exposing investing maintaining, “ve been waiting for” itfit tea. Hahahaha. Does anyone actually buy this shit? Oh yeah, Im sure thats all it takes to get that Instagram famous figure, dont you know all the luminaries are doing it? Dont even get me started on this thing of posing for a image with a green smoothie in hand. Please, stop claiming like that shit actually flavours good. I tried some kale last week and you know what? It tasted like something that grows in a flood. I was then told it needs to be massaged to not savor ghastly. Sorry, any vegetable who are in need of rubbing has no region in my diet.
This runs for all of you that clog up our feed with your constant updates. We dont involve a picture of you standing at the gym with the caption lets get it on! Why the hell is that even a event? Guess what, we also dont care that you did a few cable moves because they give you a mad chest gush and prove your striations, were tired of you posting photos of your food, as though eating clean is the absolute highest destination in the universe and like green veggies actually savor good without butter. Eventually, were really and truly tired of the constant selfies of your abs or arse or whatever your favourite aspect is, as though your enormous person is the ultimate achievement everyone should be striving for in life.
This doesnt just happen with the vapid glory chaser crowd though. There are some really smart, genuinely qualified trainers that hold world chronicles who choked up my feed with videos of their clients. They say substance like Mary is 40 and a mother of two, she can bench 70 kg, whats your justify ?. Seriously, slammed the fuck up. Im a lifter and it pisses me off, so imagine what non lifters imagine when they see it. Not everybody wants to hoist loads to remain health, dont start shaming everyone for it. Do you appreciate science professors getting on their feed saying Chris has 2 minors and is about to finish his thesis on string ideology, whats your excuse? You dont, because theyre not raging douches with an inflated feel of how important their pursuit is to humanity. Please, do us all a promotion and focus on your clients and their needs, rather than the shameless ego advertisement on social media. If youre a good manager you dont is a requirement to prostitute yourself out like this.
I want to finish with something really importanthow many champions do you read out there fostering a huge following on social media? Could you suppose Ed Coan ever putting up videos of his training a placed of 3 on the hunker? Of route you cant, he was too busy doing shit.
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Imagine that you’re about to make a fresh smoothie to start your day. You open your fridge, and pull out the kale, spinach, and banana. This is what you’ve been doing for weeks now, and it has had a positive effect on your health. You blend ev
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Dear Crashpad Diary #33
Yoooooooyoyoyoyo beasts!!!
Ha… our trip back home is approaching fast and I´m actually looking forward to see yas all back in Ireland! =)
I hope you are all fantastic and having a blast everywhere!! =)
Today I´m gonna tell you the story of an enchanted waterfall / the attack of the fish / tang shake / jumpstarts or the tale of the bull bus / the highlander of the buses / the long journey to Chiang Man / Hell on earth hostel / Going to Pai by bike
Wow… so much to tell!! I defo should stop more often and write about the trip… otherwise, the stories get accumulated haha
So.. since I wrote last time we´ve been to the most beautiful waterfall on earth!! I know… some will tell me... but you haven’t been to everywhere… man… you know when it can´t get better!! hehe We can find sth similar… but Kuang Si Falls is from another world!! Do you know those long exposure pics… where the water gets blurry and kinda fairy tale style? Yep… this cascades are like that but naturally!! =)
Well… I could be telling many many beautiful adjectives to describe it for yous… but it would be only being unfair to the waterfall.. nature and to you… that should grab your backpack and head there before the tons of tourists that visit the place without a bit of care or conscience destroy it. Unfortunately, we´ve seen people getting into the water even though there were signs prohibiting it… =(
Anyways, there were areas that you could go for a swim and enjoy the blue/green-ish waters… and that my friend… is where the danger lies hehehe we met a girl that crashed her bike few weeks before getting there and her legs were… I'd say… grated hehe and the scabs were covering the legs… until she got inside the water haha the fishes “attacked” her and ate… yep…. ate the whole thing… eeeeew!! hahaha
She got those fish massage for free hehehehe In fact… if you stayed static for few secs the fishes would start biting you haha weird sensation hehehe but totally worth it!! haha
As I have mentioned maybe 2000 times already… we are living on fruit shakes and smoothies… my bro even got some sore throat due to that haha… worth it again!! haha But you know… the more you get… the higher is the chance of going wrong… and that happened when I asked if the guy had coconut… he said yes… way to go!! Coconut and avocado shake… the perfect match!! Like heel hook and roofs��� Bonnie and Clyde (the rocklands ones!!)…. you got me!!
But nope… when you get tang shakes… you know those powder thingy??? The guy were courageous giving me that shit… man… you are in the middle of a food market… in Laos… with tropical fruits falling on your head as you walk on the streets…. plus… there are maybe other 4000 stalls making juices… and you give me a tang shake?? Fuck off!! hahaha I gave the shake back… 2 steps to the right and 3 minutes later I got a real and scrumptious avo shake with his neighbour!! Hooooooray!! and Booooooo for that guy!! man… you must rethink your business!! haha
Unfortunately, our trip in Laos came to an end… and what an epic ending!! hehe I really do not understand how the buses there deal so well with the roads… We got a last one… after many… from Luang Prabang to the border with Thailand… man… there was a little road in all those holes… some parts of the road looked like a canyon on its own… it could also be treated as an attraction!! hahahaha
That bus specifically was way to strong… I think that one os the Highlander of the buses… it didn’t have any problems with the bumps… however… all the impact seemed to be transferred to our bodies hahahahaha what a massage!! hehe
As usual… for the entire trip, we kept the feeling that we would have trouble with it and sooner or later it would stop broke for good… but nope… it was brave and brought all of us to Thailand… that does not mean it was easy though…. every single stop the bus had to be started with a jumpstart… hehe The whole thing was shaking and whenever there was a stop for toilet or anything else we knew we would feel like a cowboy sitting in a bull… I´m not kidding… I think we got a new world record!! The normal cowboys get maybe 8-9 seconds riding a bull…. I wanna see these guys riding a Lao Bus for 10 hours hahahahaha
AAAAnd after the Highlander/Bull bus, we got to the border… bruised and tired… had to wait about 2 hours for the border to open… checked out from Laos… Checked in Thailand… another hour or so to get the van from there to Chiang Mai… 6 hours later we got to the Thai city in the north… awesome!!!
There we met Dai again… we had spent few days at the begging of our Thai trip with her in Koh Phangan and after 3-ish months we gather together once again… good vibes! But not good hostel choice hehehe She found this place and the pics were good (never go for the pics!! haha)… and we booked at the same place… I mean… not considering all the rats, dirty and mosquitos… the place would be fine!! hehe And we were thinking we would sleep well after the long trip from Laos hahahaha Oh boy!! haha Few days later we checked the reviews on this place online and the very first one had the funniest title ever: Mojito Garden… Hell on earth!!
Now you can only imagine hahahahahah And the worst part is that we had already paid for the 5 days upfront!! shit shit shit!! hahahahah
Well.. we survived and few days - many mosquito bites - all the rats - later, we separate again… Luh and I rented a bike and headed north… To Pai… what a wonderful city… small… awesome atmosphere… surrounded by nature and sweet landscape!! Another adventure to get there tho… as you have to drive through exactly 762 curves in an astonishing road going up there!!
We had driven through the loops in Laos and in few other places… but this one had won our choice of the most fantastic and enjoyable road trip so far! What a beautiful path!! =)
As most of the people are not able to drive with such a technique and skills (myself included)… a big percentage of tourist go there by van… you can only imagine the level of motion sickness… hahah they have even signs that alert the drivers where they should and could stop the vans for people to puke!! hehe I´m serious… there are signs where there is one person vomiting… you don´t believe me??? Check this out and have fun >> https://goo.gl/images/s7Hd2C. hahahahahahahahah
haha after this one I feel I should stop writing hahaha
We still have from this point on… a month or so of trip and loads of adventures… I´ll post more stories soon so… stay tuned and have a great life wherever you are!!
I´m sending all my best vibes and smiles!!
Cheers beasts!! Luv yas =)
Evan
#crashpaddiaries#sawproject#sweet life#love#lifestyle#livehigh#thailand#pai thailand#laos#luangprabang#fruits#fruitshakes#travelblog#travelblogger#adventures#roadtrip#livingthedream#livingontheroad#biketrip#brotrip#backpacking#backpacker#friends#awesomenes#chillin#greatness#goodvibes#smiles#gapyear#rats
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2012-2017 : Mon quinquennat, et le vôtre aussi
À trois jours de l’investiture d’Emmanuel Macron, donc de son entrée officielle en fonction, je me suis surprise à faire le point, en pensée, sur les années de présidence de M. Hollande. Sur ce qu’elles avaient charrié comme changements pour moi, mais peut-être pour vous aussi.
Le président sortant avait de fait placé sa candidature sous ce signe ambivalent : « Le changement, c’est maintenant ». Slogan dangereux, attendu, sujet à caution, efficace, suicidaire ? On ne saurait.
En tout cas, le candidat l’aura emporté. Je laisse aux journalistes politiques de profession le soin de savoir si OUI ou NON, M. Hollande a tenu ses promesses – l’option du peut-être et des nuances étant définitivement exclue, parce que ça fatigue le cerveau.
Il ne croyait pas si bien dire le François avec sa « grande » phrase performative. Là où les électeurs semblent blâmer le statu quo généralisé des trente dernières années à base de « reproduction des élites », de « on prend les mêmes et on recommence », et de découragement – et c’est largement compréhensible ! -, je souhaiterais attirer l’attention sur des révolutions silencieuses dont nous devrions prendre acte.
La smartphonie en question
Ces cinq années auront été marquées par la démocratisation de machines de destruction massive des neurones. Outre la BFMTVisation de l’information, enfin présentée comme un problème, on peut bien sûr penser à nos amis-ennemis nommés Snapchat et Instagram, lieux privilégiés du storytelling personnel où clichés de brunchs sous le soleil flirtent avec les fameuses photos de dictons et autres selfies sous les traits de chiot mignon.
Nouvelles plateformes de communication qui recréeraient une horizontalité sociale ou énièmes lieux de distinction ? À entendre succinctement Sophie Fontanel au Festival de Hyères, ces réseaux redistribueraient les cartes de la communication dans l’industrie de la mode. Les nouveaux créateurs n’auraient plus besoin ni des studios, ni des publicitaires, ni des gros groupes pour se faire une place au soleil. C’est sans compter avec la nécessité de sponsoriser les publications sur les réseaux sociaux pour espérer quelque surcroît de visibilité, et avec les mastodontes très doués et très compétitifs de la fashion industry : Zara, H&M, et les autres. « Non, mais attends, je connais une nana qui… ». Oui, ben on entérine juste ce bon vieux « c’est l’exception qui confirme la règle », cette perpétuation de l’ordre ancien à travers une technique inédite.
- Tu penses vraiment ce que tu dis ?
- Mais oui, la technique vient juste sanctionner des modes de pensée enracinés. C’est le résultat des mentalités actuelles.
- Tu ne vas pas me dire que les réseaux sociaux n’ont pas fait émerger de nouvelles formes de sociabilité tout en réformant celles déjà en vigueur ?
- Si, peut-être. En attendant, je suis statistiquement destinée à me caser avec une personne de mon milieu rencontrée au cours de mes études, et très probablement dans mon établissement d’enseignement supérieur. Et je te ferais dire que je ne suis amie qu’avec mes ami(e)s / connaissances sur Facebook. Rien de nouveau sous le soleil.
- J’entends bien. Les réseaux sociaux entretiennent la conscience de classe et des us et coutumes préalablement établis. Les riches ont leurs hashtags et leurs loisirs tandis que les pauvres ont les leurs.
- C’est l’idée. Et par extension, les pauvres veulent ressembler aux riches donc la terre entière s’endette pour avoir un iPhone et tout le tintouin. Bref, tout le monde fait du sport, mange bien, et ne relaie pas son caca sur les réseaux sociaux – parce que ça c’est encore trop intime.
- Oui, en gros, on en est là. Après, tu sais, le monde du luxe ne manque pas de ressources et trouvera toujours les moyens de donner aux enfants gâtés de ce monde le sentiment de sortir de la cuisse de Jupiter. L’autre jour, j’ai remarqué que Berluti avait un peu copié le modèle des Stan Smith (les gars sont en retard d’une guerre, allo), mais ils les vendent certainement à plus de 350 euros. Ce n’est pas le genre de magasins qui affiche ses prix en vitrine, parce que l’argent c’est vraiment un truc de pauvre, mais ça on y reviendra dans un autre article. Cette parenthèse est déjà un peu longue.
- Donc on en était où ?
- Aux réseaux sociaux. Justement je m’apprêtais à te faire valoir que, tout de même, c’est assez révolutionnaire d’éprouver le besoin de relayer tout ce qu’on fait à autrui. Une manière de lui dire : je suis unique mais je suis comme tout le monde. Tu te retrouves avec des photos de filles habillées un peu comme tout le monde qui te disent « #beyourself ». Tu ne penses pas que nos systèmes de représentation ont été légèrement ébranlés par tout ce merdier ?
- Mmmh, continue.
- Arrivera un moment où le témoignage virtuel l’emportera sur le témoignage oral. Tu dis à quelqu’un « j’ai pris un café avec trucmuche » qui te répond « oui, j’ai vu ça sur Insta », bizarre non ? J’ai 21 ans et je n’arrive déjà plus à suivre les tenants et les aboutissants des histoires d’ados quand je les écoute dans le métro. Elles débriefent et tu as l’impression que l’envoi d’un snap (photo éphémère qui s’autodétruit après qu’elle a été jouée par l’usager de snapchat) va bouleverser l’histoire et la géographie de leurs prochaines amours. De mon temps – tu imagines, j’utilise déjà cette formule -, on se contentait d’un bon vieux lancement de rumeur : « X est amoureux de Y, c’est Z qui me l’a répété en me disant de garder ça pour moi, tu promets que tu répèteras pas ? ».
- D’accord. Tu es en train de m’expliquer qu’on ne tombe plus amoureux de la même manière et que de nouvelles manières de communiquer s’installent.
- Oui, c’est effroyable.
- Ça va, calme toi. Globalement, les gens continuent d’aimer les mêmes choses qu’il y a cinquante, cent, trois cent ans : le soleil, la rigolade, et la bonne bouffe.
- Donc, on en conclut quoi ?
- Que nous ne sommes pas des Mme. Irma et qu’on ne peut évaluer l’impact de ces techniques sur le long terme. Mais à court terme, ça renforce cet adage du professeur Henri Laborit : « Nous sommes les autres », ce que les autres nous font, et leurs likes sur nos photos.
- Ok, ce n’est pas la fin du monde alors ?
Le charme discret de l’intestin (et du vagin)
- Je t’arrête tout de suite, c’est quoi ce titre un peu gore ?
- Alors, c’est pour retenir ceux qui ne seraient pas encore partis, et c’est en rapport avec de nouveaux enjeux soulevés, comme par hasard, sous la présidence Hollande.
- On l’avait complètement oublié celui-là.
- Ça n’est pas plus mal. Sa popularité en a pris un tel coup (« le président le plus impopulaire de la Ve République ») que ce léger mépris ne risque pas de le froisser. Et puis, les hommes politiques ne sont-ils pas ces être cyniques assoiffés de pouvoir (et de sang), prêts à tout supporter ? Non, je plaisante, et j’ouvre encore une parenthèse barbante. Parle moi plutôt de ton intestin et de ton vagin.
- Eh bien, j’ai l’impression que depuis que je suis sortie du lycée (2013), le problème n’est plus tant de nourrir tout le monde que de bien nourrir les gens. L’alimentation est devenue un vrai problème. Bon, il y a eu le scandale de la vache folle mais on était à peine nés (1996). Et c’était le même sujet de la note de synthèse de Sciences Po en 2016, pour entrer en master.
- Oui, oui, garde tes problèmes de riche pour toi. On s’en fout de ton concours de privilégié(e).
- Bon, tu as compris que ça c’était la partie « intestin » ? Pour la partie « vagin », je voudrais souligner que François Hollande a été le témoin tout particulier d’une innovation qui manque de pub : la coupe menstruelle. (coucou le vagin)
- Et qu’y a-t-il à ajouter ?
- Eh bien, il faut faire en sorte que la cup ne suscite plus autant de dégoût qu’à ses débuts (fin 2015). Et comme des scandales éclatent sur les tampons, essayer de faire valoir à la gent féminine qu’un bout de silicone vaut toujours mieux qu’un coton cylindrique empoisonné. Après, je dis ça, je dis rien t’sais.
- Ok, mais tu ne vas pas imposer un mode de protection hygiénique aux autres. Tu sors d’où ?
- Justement, c’est un peu ce qui se joue avec l’alimentation. Il y a un jeu de culpabilisation et de moqueries réciproques entre les partisans du véganisme ou végétarisme, d’un côté, et ces saletés d’omnivores de l’autre. Les gens se donnent des leçons en permanence. C’est so 2010 de manger un hamburger issu de chez les géants de la restauration rapide (le placement de produit qui ne dit pas son nom) sans aucun scrupule.
- Bon, ça reste un problème de riches qui ne concerne presque que les urbains instruits.
- Tout à fait, mais pendant ce temps, et depuis fort longtemps, des fonctionnaires internationaux ou des membres de la société civile, veulent promouvoir de nouveaux modes de production moins dommageables à la planète.
- C’est bien mignon, mais le revers de la médaille c’est toute cette frénésie autour du bio. C’est devenu un argument marketing comme un autre.
- Ah oui, chic. Je comprends mieux pourquoi c’était le sujet de concours de Sciences Po. Il y a vraiment plein de choses à dire alors que la partie visible de l’iceberg ce sont les rayons de supermarché.
- Ca va, ne la ramène pas trop avec tes expériences traumatiques de concours. Je crois que les gens s’en carrent. Ils twittent comme des porcs le jour J, et puis c’est tout.
2012-2017 : un éveil personnel
Sans doute est-ce lié à mon âge mais il m’a semblé que les phénomènes que j’évoquais ont eu une ampleur toute particulière pendant ces années. Avant que je ne sorte du lycée (2013, début du quinquennat) et que je n’arrive en France, tout me semblait suivre un petit bonhomme de chemin relativement prévisible.
Puis il y a eu les réseaux sociaux, rebaptisés rézosociaux par Daniel Pennac, les chaines YouTube de personnes vegans, les livres de cuisine vegan, les smoothies veggie, les gluten free, (enfin ils ont gagné en importance !) et cette chère ubérisation.
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