Etta James - Stormy Weather
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Etta James - Stormy Weather
Takes a literal bite out of your ass.
@diabolgod
“——— DUDE THE FUCK!”
“I know I’m MEATY, but calm the fuck down Jeff Dahmer!”
demonic possession is allowed but keep it classy, sexy, you know how it is
Weeping Mary.
#a trilogy
armsdealing:
Red, Red, he beckons mentally, staring down at the demon – he calls himself Finn? – with unblinking sleepy eyes, where the fuck are you?
He licks his teeth, Ludo does, as if preparing for the grunt that succeeds the anecdote. He looks at Finn, looks at the piano, looks at the club with the air of distant apathy with which he tends to regard everything he doesn’t like but hasn’t found a reason to dislike – yet. Good, because what Ludo dislikes, he tends to hate, and what he tends to hate, he tends to kill. By any means necessary, and today even more so than normal, with only his sense of duty keeping him muzzled.
“Thanks for the music history lesson,” he says, finally, not because silence might be awkward (he’s incapable of the sentiment) but because he’s here for a reason, and he has half the brain to be polite, or as close he can get to the concept as possible. He pulls a chair close and lets his body sprawl on it, a foot resting on another one before him. He scratches idly at a scruff-coated cheek. He yawns, snapping his teeth shut a couple times afterwards, tasting the remnants of the Polish vodka he had on his way here. “You know Nena?”
Sodom’s GRAND PIANO might have cost some hardworking father an arm and a leg just to get his daughter something close to it, or maybe at least get close to ten percent of it—or maybe some hotelier was willing to spew out a big thick hot wad of JIZZ in all shades of green and less-than flattering presidential portraits to get himself one and shove it the corner of the lobby and play classical jazz over the PA system and insult said hardworking father with how they blatantly exhibit the instrument’s uselessness save for its EXPENSIVE aesthetic—but it’s still not the perfect instrument to play for the greatness that is New Wave. It’s just not New Wave without the synth and the drums ------ that’s why the maw of his dwelling was just as eager to play with him; the sounds from every key that were hammered down by his fingers were the exact instrumentation of the familiar beats of that one song’s INTRO.
“------ you’re not even here for five minutes and you already have the key deep into my HEART—” Finn chuckled, looking over to the other—more so to the space between his meaty thighs that he was just so willing to expose to the world just because he wanted to tell the universe that he’s just as much a fan of manspreading like the next douchebag in the J-train. “You applying for a stripper job or SOMETHING?”
“You get to a point where you have to start planning, when you cross that line where you have enough value to get someone’s movie made if you attach yourself to it, you have to be very thoughtful and have to plan. When you’re starting out, you’re willing to do anything.” - Chris Pratt.
rlyehbound:
aaron knew there was no way to get out of this. keeping to himself wasn’t working and now he had to deal with… someone. a reason to why he let a deep sigh escape his lips as he spoke, “actually, i was thinking of putting myself through a meat grinder. might be amusing.” his tone was deeply sarcastic even though he knew that it would solve his problems. if anything, it would just make matters worse, and that was something he didn’t honestly need at the moment. let alone with how his moods at been of late. it just would have been more of a mess to inevitably clean up.
“Now that’s a HARDCORE kink right there—” the demon’s lips sputtered a humming chuckle, drowning the dryness of his throat with a couple more gulps with the icy beer. Truth be told, there’s no luster in carnage—not when the depths he had come from had such a thing in its veins the moment DAMNATION came into the greater picture of ALL things; well, that and the fact that he’s just as immortal as the next guy. Really, he reeked of cheated death more so since he was meant to—and even more so since a standout for being around mortals who smelled like desperation for some genius could turn back time for them and their faces marred and weathered with age.
“------which is funny... for a guy that likes to keep himself in the shadows, you sure do know how to garner ATTENTION. Well, not unless that’s what’s being asked of you...”
actually we are all bae jinye
@acediiia
When you’re dead on the inside, but like to surround yourself with positivity
patervenandi:
“Dude, you really need a hobby.”
“I do have a hobby, it’s called GARDENING------and I wouldn’t expect you to understand since you got kicked out of GREEN THUMB boot camp.”
liking abba is not your taste in music it’s a way of life and people who don’t like abba can’t reach the ideal world and that is what plato talked about
“if you don’t like dancing queen then fuck you” -Plato, 320 BC
after dying god informs you that hell is a myth, and “everyone sins, its ok”. instead the dead are sorted into six “houses of heaven” based on the sins they chose.
We arrived first at the House of Lust. “House” is a misleading term. It was more of a camp, spread over acres and acres of lush forest. There was a white sandy beach (nude, of course) full of copulating couples. There were little cabins sprinkled all along the path, from which orgasmic moans regularly came belting out. Men with six pack abs and women with perky breasts strolled by without even noticing me and God. They only had eyes for each other, tickling and pinching each other with flirtatious giggles.
“What do you think?” God asked as we passed a nineteen-way taking place in a pool of champagne. Little cherubs flitted overhead armed with mops and cleaning supplies, thankfully. “Lust is our most popular sin.” I eyed the supermodel-like figures of a couple passing nearby, and could easily see why. “You can look however you want. Hell, you can be whatever gender you want. No fetish is too taboo, and no desire can be denied here.”
It was quite tempting, but I wasn’t ready to make a permanent decision here. “Let’s see the others,” I told God.
We carried on to Greed. We passed rows and rows of mansions, each more opulent than the next. Some of them were so large that they would have had enough bed rooms to fit my entire hometown. And so many different styles: one second, we were in a beautiful French vineyard in front of a gorgeous chateau with the Alps in the background. The next second, a warm tropical beach with a modern mansion atop breathtaking cliffs. After that, a ski chalet in Colorado with a roaring fire in a hearth large enough to fit an ox. Each one had various Italian sports cars and Rolls Royces parked in front, with the occasional smattering of boats, helicopters, etc.
“Any material desire you ever wanted,” God explained. “Your own world, where you can have everything. You want the Hope Diamond? You can fly to Washington DC in your own solid gold helicopter and buy it from the Smithsonian. Hell, you can just buy the Smithsonian.”
Also tempting, but I decided to keep looking.
Gluttony was next up. Tables and tables of the very finest foods: beautiful steaks cooked medium rare; butter-poached lobster tail; fresh oysters on a half shell; exotic wines in dusty bottles that had been hiding in the cellars of the world’s finest restaurants. Everyone had a glass of champagne in hand and simply lounged on couches and chairs near the tables, eating endlessly. As soon as the inhabitants took a bite, the food just instantly came back. My mouth watered even watching them.
“In every other House, the food is practically sawdust compared to Gluttony,” God explained. “You haven’t truly experienced heaven until you’ve been to Gluttony.”
I shook my head, and we kept moving.
Sloth was as you’d expect. An endless sea of the softest mattresses, stacked with cushions and pillows that made the story of the princess and the pea seem minimalist. Little angels visited each resident, giving them massages that made them all melt into their blankets.
Wrath was… well, a lot like what I’d expect Hell to be like. Fire, brimstone, whips, torture.. you know, the works. Except here, you weren’t the one being tortured. Every enemy you’d ever made in your real life was now under your thumb. “Lots of people choose their fathers,” God explained. “Lots of grudges against parents in general, you know. But you’re not limited to that. Someone beat you out for a big promotion back on Earth? Take your pound of flesh here.”
Then we arrived at Envy. It looked… well, a lot like home.
“Go on in,” God said, gesturing toward the door. I turned the knob and walked in… and found Emily waiting inside. She ran forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and planted a kiss right on my lips. “Welcome home, honey.”
I looked back toward God. “Oh, don’t be coy,” he said. “You have no secrets from me. We all know that you were in love with your best friend’s wife.” She didn’t seem to hear him at all; she went back into the hall. “We all know that you just settled for your own wife while secretly pining after her. Well, this is your chance to live happily ever after.”
I peered into the kitchen. Emily was baking something, wearing nothing but an apron. Her curly black hair fell softly over her shoulder as she whisked ingredients. She turned back, noticed I was observing her, and an enthusiastic smile spread across her face.
“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” God whispered in my ear.
I wanted to take it. God damn did I want to take it. But I shook my head.
God seemed puzzled. “You need to make a decision,” he told me.
“I haven’t seen Pride yet.”
He scoffed. “No one ever wants Pride, trust me.”
“Well, I want to see it.”
_________________________
Pride was boring. Just a row of workbenches in a bare white room.
“I don’t get it,” I told God.
“Yeah, no one does,” he answered. “That’s why no one ever chooses it. Doesn’t cavorting in Lust sound better than sitting here building little trinkets for the rest of eternity? Wouldn’t you rather gorge yourself in Gluttony? Or spend time with Emily in Envy?”
I considered the options again. “I pick Pride,” I finally told him.
He narrowed his eyes. “What? Look at it!” He gestured around the room again. There wasn’t much to look at. “Why would you choose this for the rest of time?”
“Because you don’t want me to pick it,” I told him. If he was really God, he’d know what a contrarian I can be. And I knew he was hiding something, trying to pretend like Pride didn’t exist. There was something special about it.
God scowled back. “Fine.” He led me over to one of the workbenches. In the center, there was a black space. A blank, empty void that went on forever. “Here’s your universe,” he said. “You’ve got seven days to get started.” He took his seat at the bench next to me and went back to tinkering in his own world. After a long pause, he finally spoke again: “You know, it might be nice for me to actually have some company for once.”
FUCKING I MEAN.
IT’S LIKE 7AM AND I LOVE GONNA REBLOG SO I CAN READ THIS SHIT AGAIN
@biigbcss
normal-horoscopes:
normal-horoscopes:
ONE TIME I WAS ATTENDING A BALL AT A FAE COURT AND EVERYONR WAS WEARING BALLGOWNS MADE OF WINTER AND SORROW AND SHIT LIKE THAT BUT THEN I SAW A FAE LORD WEARING A TACKY 90S WINDBREAKER AND SPATS AND I KNEW WE WOULD BE FRIENDS
HE CORDIALLY INTRODUCED ME TO A HIGH RANKING MEMBER OF THE AUTUMN COURT AS A DISTRACTION SO HE COULD STAB THEM