♞ Br ☯ B ☣

Yes. It’s all part of the experiment.

#c:dave

sub-anya-blog

It’s late.

And I’m tired of talking to myself.

What sort of conversations do you have with yourself...? What’s your name again?

#c:hannah

master-m-r-chang-deactivated201

Private: Mistress! I don't understand

Private: Hello, beautiful boy. How long have you been trying to understand? @master-m-r-chang

Private: I have been trying to understand forever, Mistress. It makes my head feel funny and I am not all that pleased with it….what’s it mean? Tell me…please Mistress…

Private: Oh, does your head feel funny still? It’s a riddle for you to figure out. Any guesses yet?

#c:mike

Let's have dinner together. My place.

So long as this isn’t a ploy to lecture me about the little scuff with Santana, sure, that sounds lovely. I’ll bring my latest toy with me to use as a footrest.

PM: Red meat and red wine.

Always.

PM (timelorded) Perfect.

I’ll have appropriate meals prepared when you arrive.

#c:quinn #december 8

[F2F] Two things drove Brittany to the door of Santana's suite: loneliness and concern. For once, Brittany knocked against the hard surface that she normally bypassed with her copy of the key and waited patiently to see if her best friend would answer.

[F2F] The knock echoed throughout her empty suite as a gunshot would in a bank vault - bouncing around inside her foggy brain like the bullet. Santana groaned and rolled around, standing before dropping to the ground, her hangover far too much to bare. Sitting in a heap next to the bed, she let out a sigh that turned into a sob and reached for the mirror on her nightstand. Taking most of what was broken up in one bump, Santana washed the hit down with the whiskey sitting on the floor near her. Crawling toward the door, Santana slumped against the hard wood, letting the cool Spanish tiles of the floor chill her skin as she caught her breath and shut her eyes tight. “Who the fuck is it? And what the fuck do you pinche want?” she mumbled through gritted teeth as the coke rushed through her veins, numbing the ache that never seemed to die.

[F2F] Sitting down again, Santana ran a shaky hand through long dark hair. “I mean… not really, three quarters dead doesn’t sound good… but I guess I’m dealing. I just think it’s bullshit and when I think about it at all I just get pissed all over again,” at this she gestures around the suite which has been mostly destroyed throughout the last few weeks as her anger had come and gone.

“So I just stay high.”

Noticing some coke on the kitchen bar where she’d sat, Santana turned her full attention to inhaling the few lines she’d left there at some point in her haze.

#c:santana #brittana 12 7 2015 #tw: violent thoughts #???

F2F: Brittany padded after Santana. A frown touched her face as Santana turned her attention away from Brittany and toward her addiction. She sat next to Santana and leaned against the counter.

“It is bullshit. I’ve been sad. I’ve been angry. I wanted to burn things. I thought I wouldn’t mind if I saw this whole mansion crumbled into a pile of broken and twisted bits.” As Brittany spoke, her eyes rose from the counter to stare through the kitchen wall across the way. “I thought about your father playing with us…” She breathed out between her teeth, slow, a barely audible hissing. “I wanted to play with him. He’s the master of this entire world, and as long as I stay here underneath his rule, he owns me. He owns me through my mom and her slave, he owns me through the friends I make, he owns me through any of his slaves I slip around and start to care about, he owns me through you.”

Brittany turned her head to look at Santana. A slip of a smile curled faintly at her lips. “And here I’ve been, wondering things like how you would feel if he dropped dead tomorrow.” She reached up and touched at Santana’s shoulder with a tenderness that belied the cold detachment of her words. Even as she studied Santana’s form, a picture pieced itself in her imagination of the man in a pool of red. She leaned in close, and her hand caressed at the warm flesh underneath her palm. “Don’t stay up high too long, Santana. Come back down to the ground. I miss you.”

Let's have dinner together. My place.

So long as this isn’t a ploy to lecture me about the little scuff with Santana, sure, that sounds lovely. I’ll bring my latest toy with me to use as a footrest.

PM: Ahh…I’m sorry, Britt. Sure, we can have dinner together, and I’m fairly certain my little footrest can handle a second pair.

PM: See, you made me smile a little already. Are you craving anything in particular for dinner?

#c:quinn

[F2F] Two things drove Brittany to the door of Santana's suite: loneliness and concern. For once, Brittany knocked against the hard surface that she normally bypassed with her copy of the key and waited patiently to see if her best friend would answer.

[F2F] The knock echoed throughout her empty suite as a gunshot would in a bank vault - bouncing around inside her foggy brain like the bullet. Santana groaned and rolled around, standing before dropping to the ground, her hangover far too much to bare. Sitting in a heap next to the bed, she let out a sigh that turned into a sob and reached for the mirror on her nightstand. Taking most of what was broken up in one bump, Santana washed the hit down with the whiskey sitting on the floor near her. Crawling toward the door, Santana slumped against the hard wood, letting the cool Spanish tiles of the floor chill her skin as she caught her breath and shut her eyes tight. “Who the fuck is it? And what the fuck do you pinche want?” she mumbled through gritted teeth as the coke rushed through her veins, numbing the ache that never seemed to die.

[F2F] It happened fast, too fast for her brain to register. First there was Britt’s voice. “Britts?” Then, in the same instant, the door started to shift and Santana attempted to spin and shift out of the way of the moving door. She wondered if the blonde had used her key or if she’d forgotten to lock the door whenever she’d gotten back to her suite.

The movement was all too much and the room spun as the whiskey and coke twisted her stomach in strange ways and she felt her eyes roll slightly before catching herself.

“Jesus, Britts, you about scared me half to death. You okay?”

#c:santana #para #f2f #brittana 12 7 2015

[F2F] Once Brittany had wiggled her way inside the door, which felt more resistant than usual at first, she took in the sight of a wobbly Santana. A little pout pulled at her lips as she took in the unfortunate sight that was her friend. She closed the door behind her and locked it this time.

“You look like you’re already half dead. Half of half dead would be three-quarters.” Brittany moved in close and touched at Santana. Maybe to steady her. Maybe to make sure she was still there. “No. What about you?”

Private: Mistress! I don't understand

Private: Hello, beautiful boy. How long have you been trying to understand? @master-m-r-chang

#c:mike #sopmike #master-m-r-chang

Let's have dinner together. My place.

So long as this isn’t a ploy to lecture me about the little scuff with Santana, sure, that sounds lovely. I’ll bring my latest toy with me to use as a footrest.

I’ll save the pretty PowerPoint presentation I made for my next rental.

[Private] It’s a ploy to feel a little less lonely and a little less sad. Come tomorrow. Does your footrest have room for two pairs of feet?

#c:quinn

[F2F] Two things drove Brittany to the door of Santana's suite: loneliness and concern. For once, Brittany knocked against the hard surface that she normally bypassed with her copy of the key and waited patiently to see if her best friend would answer.

[F2F] The knock echoed throughout her empty suite as a gunshot would in a bank vault - bouncing around inside her foggy brain like the bullet. Santana groaned and rolled around, standing before dropping to the ground, her hangover far too much to bare. Sitting in a heap next to the bed, she let out a sigh that turned into a sob and reached for the mirror on her nightstand. Taking most of what was broken up in one bump, Santana washed the hit down with the whiskey sitting on the floor near her. Crawling toward the door, Santana slumped against the hard wood, letting the cool Spanish tiles of the floor chill her skin as she caught her breath and shut her eyes tight. “Who the fuck is it? And what the fuck do you pinche want?” she mumbled through gritted teeth as the coke rushed through her veins, numbing the ache that never seemed to die.

#c:santana #brittana 12 7 2015

[F2F] Brittany rested her forehead against the hard surface of the door. Santana was taking forever. The key in her pocket felt heavy, even though it was really light and hardly had any substance. Her hand crept up and snaked inside until her fingers curled around the metal object. Her eyes slipped shut. Time slipped past. Little noises and the thump for sure made her eyes pop back open. The cussing was definitely...

“Santana?”

Still leaning forward, Brittany shifted her feet and reached for the handle to check if it was locked, to push the door open.

kurtarrigo

#music #don't stop believin'#journey #//because of the unicorn envelope

kurtarrigo:

Possibly still the best way to explore.

#travelingram #takemethere #sail #woodenboats #getintoit #ocean

#private

lyshui

Visit Original Link

xconflagration-blog

Where is the good Sir that haunts the dungeons when a girl needs a Big Mac? If I die from malnutrition, can someone make sure they cremate me with like a five course meal to appease my hungry spirit? Or sink me in the ocean so I can ghost-wrestle a shark?