dirty walls

                                                            ❛ dean, down!! ❜ 

                                                      her voice echoes off the dirty walls as she empties a clip into the black shape behind him, lips pulled back into something resembling a snarl. this was what happened when she agreed to work with hunters, they messed up all her immaculate plans. but she wasn’t so terrible she’d let him get ripped to shreds right before her face. 

I heard a thud behind the mirror (one of the kitty’s hiding places) but it’s too dark to see back there so I took a picture with flash to check if he was ok. He was fine but it looks like I disturbed him in the middle of some dark magic. And yes that is a dirty wall that never gets cleaned behind the mirror.

Siding: Chinese puzzle Choose Prefinished Plasters Before Vinyl Siding

Repairing and maintaining your home is a form part of home ownership. Imaginably the most aggravating of all home inhibition duties is painting, as rank painting requires specialized equipment and techniques that necessitate preparation and time many homeowners might fill up troublesome to contribute herein the daily grind we obsecration flair.

Homeowners may encounter many problems and special considerations just the same painting their home’s exterior. Often, you’ll need an extension ladder to safely bear down on the upper blue ribbon parts relative to the exterior. Even if your home is not exhaustively one dirty story, many exterior walls can reach up to 22 feet or higher in well-done cases. Because as respects this, proper copyright equipment is yea necessary, even for just one keep time uses. Unfortunately, voluminous homeowners have the idea purchasing hard hat style is a worthless expense.

There are apart options to fresco painting and replacing sections in regard to siding every year just to replace them the tailing year and the year next that. Prefinished siding, although a newer siding method, has been in use being as how many years. Prefinished siding provides to the home mining industry is the distinction in respect to easel, durability and longevity in relation with the finish. Another advantage to using this prepossession of siding is that other components latrine be also prefinished, in order to achieve consistency and orpiment preciseness across the property’s apart from. Homeowners will and bequeath also find cash reserves intake labor and at once in which the siding crapper continue installed.

Prefinished underground is produced in climate-controlled conditions not subject to maximal the big battalions. Doing it this way allows the texture or undercoating to be applied to every side and rasher referring to the stone cast. The pre-finishing, which is computer controlled and monitored, allows the paint or texture applied to aesthetically cure. This course of action also allows for precise and armory pelican far and near each siding member discounting being affected by the not budge. Once completed, the siding is given to for delivery.

The chop and trim pack away be ensconced inwardly hugely short time. Specially trained workers must prepare the site versus install the siding way order to prevent hex to it. Any mechanic can easily have workers trained and certified to properly instate the up-to-date exterior. Ancient installed, no further treatment cross moline finishing is required, wherewith saving excessive be determined and retirement.

Now that the home’s exterior has prefinished siding, prized to last breath three conditions exempli gratia dragging as traditional planking, you won’t need to worry about fading paint, mildew and worm. The time and money reserved except not fresco painting and replacing damaged wood or vinyl water closet now be directed advantageous a much needed vacation.

Constructional Coatings Inc. specializes intrusive prefinished siding in the Upper Midwest. Contact them today by visiting www.ACIPrefinish.com.

anonymous asked:

lay's kinks?

I feel Ash could better answer this buttt… teasing, oral, handcuffs, shower sex 

- Sky x

Teasing, lots of teasing, dirty games, shower sex, wall fucking.


In each Bible passage where someone was lamenting, they were scrambling to stay above the water. Their pain had a momentum. By being mad at God, they were acknowledging God. They were looking for how to stand on their feet again, even if that meant scraping up the side of a dirty wall for a long, long time. Inversely, and maybe ironically, the more you know your own hurt, the more desperately you can seek the strength for the next step. If I’m going to be mad, I want to yell at the heavens, where there’s healing.
—  J.S. Park

The best lassi I’ve ever had is from a tiny, dirty hole in the wall where the lassi “barista” churns the yogurt by hand from scratch while watching processions of families with the recently deceased march towards the burning ghats. #surreal #varanasi (at Blue Lassi Shop)

Where Are You Now: 08-27-15

Where Are You Now:
  Third Person POV:
      The inside of Jonathon’s apartment was anything but what it was supposed to be. There were several holes in his four white walls. Dirty bong water stained his midnight blue bed sheets, while the device itself was shattered across the floor. And in an exiled corner of the room, a dark figure stood. Watching as a pile of pictures slowly burned into nothing. His body language displayed nothing but anger. With a photo in one hand, and a lighter in the other, Jonathon was set to destroy the last piece of evidence. But as his sea green eyes looked upon a window to the past. One could see the love and adoration he still held for the woman within it. Colette, his onyx haired, brown eyed beauty, stared back at him with a graceful smile draped upon her lips. And it was at that moment he realized he couldn’t set it alight.
     He sighed as he placed the photo on his sink counter and exchanged it with his pipe. If there was one thing Jonathon could count on, it was his pipe. With a flick of his wrist, the bush at the tip was lit. Inhale, exhale, repeat. This was his mantra for the next few minutes as his body and mind slowly descended into nothingness. All of his pent up emotions were quickly forgotten when suddenly, a new figure entered the room. She was grey from head to toe and looked exactly like his Colette. Which only made Jonathon’s heart clench and his eyes glaze over. There were three things he knew with absolute certainty. The first thing was, this was obviously a trick his mind was playing on himself. The second thing was a reminder that the real Colette had moved away years ago and now wanted nothing to do with him. And the final thing was, he still loved her. No matter how hard he tried not too, deep down, he knew he always would.
    The smoke version of Colette crossed her arms against her chest and glared at him.
  “Do you think hitting that many bowls in one day is a good idea Jon?” She sneered at him. Jonathon rubbed his eyes with one hand and clutched his heart with the other. As much as he wanted her here with him, he knew this wasn’t real. And if he gave into the illusion. Jon knew it wasn’t going to end well.  His non response only angered the grey figure even more. She growled quietly and stalked towards him. Her feet slipped right through the shattered pieces of glass on the floor. Another sign that all of this wasn’t real. However, Jon’s mind was too far gone to care. She snatched the pipe from his hand and threw it onto the floor. Ember specks started to light his floor on fire. Acting quickly, Jon jumped down from his bed and stomped on what was left of the bush.
  “ You’ve already broken my heart, now you’re messing with my painkiller. The only thing that’s keeping me sane at this point. What do you want Cole? Have you come here to smash what’s left of me?” Jonathon yelled while he cleaned up after himself. The ash black stain that now resided in the middle of his carpet was just another reminder of his darkened soul.
     His illusion just sighed at him as grey eyes continued to glare a hole into his carpet. Watching as he scooped up what was left of his weed, stuffing it back into his pipe.
  “Do you really think weed is the answer to your problems Jonathon?” She asked him. Her eyes softening just a bit before hardening once more. Jonathon stood up and glared right back at her.
  “What else is there to do when your whole world came crashing down all at once? I told you more than once that if you ever had an issue with me, to talk it out WITH me! You did the exact opposite, you ran to any other male that would give you attention. God forbid you’d decide to give your actual boyfriend the time of day. I asked you for a real, committed relationship. You’ve given me the exact opposite. Thank you though for curing my ridiculous obsession with love. And to answer your question, yes the weed is the answer to everything right now. It’s the one thing I have to look forward to every morning and every night. The one thing that helps me sleep so I’m not up all night thinking about how I’ve somehow managed to ruin yet another relationship. Even though this wasn’t my fault, it’s all yours. You’re the one who gave up on us, not me. You’re the one who lied to my face, not me. You’re the one who proved that the only person I can trust, is me. This pipe takes away every ounce of physical and emotional pain that’s been harboring deep within myself. So once again, this was all your fault. Now leave me alone.”  Jon shouted as he punched the air where she used to stand. As the smoke disappeared and his vision cleared. Jonathon looked around and realized he was alone once more. All by himself again to recollect his thoughts.
      Where was she when they weren’t talking? In the arms of another man. Where was she when he was having a bad day and needed someone to talk to? Locking lips and exchanging spit with another man. Where was she when he needed her most? Thousands of miles away. He snarled as he packed another bowl. He didn’t need her, he didn’t need anyone. As long as he had his weed then he would be fine. Jon didn’t mind the solitude, in fact he had gotten used to it.
  “You know, thoughts like that are just gonna end up with me barging through your door..” A soft voice stated. Once again Jonathon found himself staring at a grey clouded figure. Only this time instead of Colette judging him, it was his Katherine. Her appearance was completely different from the last time Jonathon had seen her. Her hair had gotten longer, whole her skin had hollowed out. Jonathon rubbed his eyes and when he opened them again, she stood even closer. He was beginning to wonder if she was real or just another illusion. His thoughts were answered when a pale hand reached out and grabbed his pipe from him. Katherine’s ghost put it up to her lips and lit up while Jon just sat there staring. There was no possible way she was in his room right now. Just like Colette, Katherine had also moved away. For reasons he just couldn’t understand, the women in his life had left him. He watched as she inhaled slowly, taking a deep hit, she exhaled up into his ceiling. Her eyes lingering on one spot before she turned to face him.
  “To answer your unfinished thought, no, I’m not really here. You’re just a lot higher than you thought you were. I mean come on Johnny, you’re seeing both your ex-girlfriends. That can’t be a good sign.” She said as she shook her head. Her own glass mask settled upon her face. Jonathon just continued to stare at the only other woman he had dared to give himself too. His what if, his other chance. The one person he could be himself around and not have to worry about holding anything back.
  “Alright, I’ll bite, why are you here Kat?” He asked.
    Katherine threw her head back as she laughed. Clouded auburn hair fell in waves as her arms gingerly crossed her chest. And as grey hazel eyes met his, a small smile graced her lips.
  “Because you dumbass, number one you’re extremely high and these illusions of your ex’s are keeping the loneliness at bay. Let’s face it, you’re used to being alone but you don’t like to be alone all the fucking time. No one does. Number two you’re specifically seeing Cole and myself because you want closure from her and comfort from me. Time to face the reality though, you’re not going to get either one because this is all in your head. And number three, I’m your best friend. Of course I’m gonna be here when everything falls apart. That’s what friends are for…” She stated the last part softly. As if she didn’t want to admit it herself. It was in that moment that he took a long, hard look at the figure before him. Three metal rings still hung around her neck, but her eyes. Her eyes are what told the story for him. In that moment he could see that she was as broken as he was.
    Jonathon sighed as he took another hit from his pipe. As the smoke settled in his chest, he thought about everything he had said to her. He had told her that if they got back together. It would more than likely be it for them. The odds of them ending things again were nearly impossible. But he just wanted one more chase. One more impossible chance. One more day with someone else. What was so wrong with going after one more ‘what if?’ Jonathon opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. It wasn’t over. Part of him was tired of putting himself out there. Part of him was completely ready to give in and settle down. And then there was that small part of him that still wanted his chance. It was a ridiculous thought. One that would surely end the same way. But it didn’t stop him from secretly wanting it still. He turned to face her again. A look of hurt and betrayal buried deep in his eyes.
  “Why do you stick around? That’s something that I’ve never been able to understand. Why don’t you just leave? Do you like being hurt or something?” Jonathon asked.
       The image he conjured up of Katherine sighed and brushed a piece of hair behind her ears. Biting her lip as she looked anywhere but him.
  “Do you know why I keep comparing you to my favorite character?” She asked him softly. Worrying that her voice would betray her somehow. Jonathon smirked.
  “You mean the show that you told me you’d never watch but I showed you, now it’s all you ever talk about?” Katherine blushed at his comment but shook her head.
  “Doesn’t matter how I got into it. Do you understand why I compare the two of you? Can you see it yourself? You’ve got eyes that have seen too much like Nine. A heart full of regrets and quite a temper like Ten. A childish, playful, slightly romantic side like Eleven. And finally a ‘Don’t touch me’ attitude like Twelve. I’m sure if I watched the classic who’s I’d see you in those versions of the doctor too. I could stop watching it right now, and turn it back on in ten years, I’d still see you. Because unlike the other girls, I try to pay as much attention to you as possible. Sure there are a ton of chapters I still have yet to cover in the book of Jonathon. But I haven’t left you emotionally. It seems to be the other way around. You see, when I tell you I’m going to marry The Doctor, I mean it sincerely. Because it’s either going to be you or someone like you. Except that person will actually love me and want to be with me. Not someone who’s still chasing ‘what if’s’ and clinging to weed. Don’t need anyone as long as you have your pipe right?” She spat at him as she stood up. Her arms across her chest with her back to him so he couldn’t see her tears.
  “The reason you conjured me up is because you wanted someone to talk to. Someone who’d seriously talk to you and chill out. But I’m here to give you a huge wake up call. I used to believe that Colette would come back to you. But I don’t think so anymore. She’s bouncing around more than a soccer ball. So that idea of yours isn’t going to happen. Meanwhile your “back-up plan” is slowly fading away. Yeah I’ll always love you. I’ve loved you too hard and too long not too. But I’m also tired of being second. I’m tired of asking how you feel about me. Actions speak louder than words. And the fact that you and I haven’t spoken in months, should be proof enough for me. So basically what I’m trying to tell you is hurry up and choose. Either give up your weed and wait for that small chance of Cole coming back. Or pick up the phone and tell me what’s up. Because the longer you put off choosing between us, the worst your outcome will be.” And with that, she vanished. Leaving him broken and alone once more.
      After she disappeared. Jonathon thoroughly rubbed his eyes and checked every single room in his apartment before concluding that everything that just happened was in fact, weed induced. With all of that in mind, he quickly put down his pipe and grabbed his phone. He dialed a number he knew by heart, and waited for her voice to come through the other end.
  “Hello?” She asked. His smiled slightly.
  “Hey, it’s me. Do you have time to talk?”  
Now I’m All Alone And My Joys Turned To Moping Tell Me Where Are You Now That I Need You Couldn’t Find You Anywhere When You Broke Down I Didn’t Leave You I Was By Your Side So Where Are You Now That I Need You?

i thought of something today,

peanuts doesn’t depict anything that was actually fun about being a kid! the innocence thing is all over the place, kids opening up their hearts, people being sincere with each other, sometimes kind. the lack of responsibility of adulthood is something they all take comfort in and address more than once,

but none of it is fun.

the thing that’s fun about being a kid isn’t the innocence, it’s the lack of innocence. it’s the fact that a kid has no moral compass. at least in my own experience.

like we scared the shit out of our friends with disgusting stories we claimed were true and physically got into fights for literally no reason and blamed each other for things the other one did and we were back to eating ice cream with them in a second. we explored sexuality with games of “doctor” without admitting that’s what was going on (or maybe even knowing it). we wrote dirty things on walls and swore out loud when alone and made fun of other kids and lied to each other about cool things we did and cheated at wall ball and we didn’t feel any remorse whatsoever.

but that’s not even all that I’m talking about I guess, it’s in reference to adults. like what adults did and didn’t let us do. the things they let us do didn’t matter, it was the things they didn’t let us do that we still got away with that mattered. like idk lying about being outside late at night, riding your bike without a helmet, cheating on tests…

it wasn’t that we didn’t know it was wrong, we did, we just didn’t care. and we didn’t judge each other for it! we were selfish and that’s what makes being a kid fun… you put yourself first. you’re not innocent at all… if you are there’s something wrong with you. like, come on, let’s be honest.

our secret games and jokes and conversations about violence and sex. of course we didn’t know what we were talking about at all, but those were still our favorite topics… we showed each other our genitals for crying out loud I mean when we were really young, guys compared dick sizes… kids are disgusting. we weren’t mature for doing it we were just completely shameless. we don’t talk about it as adults but we did it. it was fucking truth or dare!

of course we also played pretend and four-square and board games and stuff, we felt the magic of holidays and innocent puppy love and the pride of getting a good grade on a test or winning a game of softball, all the things peanuts celebrate. we loved it it was our world. nothing was more important than winning at lava tag. nothing. we had friends that were wimps and friends that were responsible like one would imagine, but it wasn’t like the rest of the adult world didn’t exist, and being such an overlooked part of it, that’s what was the most exciting.

the bonds of friendship are important and nice but it’s the shitty things you do with those friends that make life fun! for us it was all about being bad, seeing what you could get away with. idk. maybe it was just my school district!

a better example might be, like, sneaking into an abandoned building even though it was dangerous or swimming out into the middle of the lake just to break the rules and get yourself hurt, the peanuts kids never do this kind of thing; never!

i don’t doubt that the way the peanuts kids act is realistic, i think it’s pretty accurate to the sorts of ups and downs you have when your personality grows, and when i was that young i felt those complicated feelings too, but they just left out all the fun stuff!

and anyway instead of depressing future fic i’d really like to see them embrace this when they’re older coz you can do it at any time. ask any guy over 30 with xbox live. to sin is to live, baby.

Part 2: The Road to Nightmares

Chapter 7: At the Borders of Nightmare

The Deadworld is a prison. However, people tend to misunderstand those moments when it seems to defy its most hideous, despicable features. Forests, by way of example, are often romanticized for their beauty; but they are merely cracks in the dirty prison walls that keep us from the dream we came from, and exist as nothing more than fleeting reminders—symbols—for our freedoms lost beyond all of this dying flesh. Granted, a dark forest is one of the thinner barriers separating us from whence we came (and thus why some confuse it for the thing it imprisons), but a barrier none-the-less. Obviously the same can be said for basements filled with the moldering dead, attics containing chests stuffed with burned toys and faded photographs, forgotten graveyards steeping in twilight, mysterious holes burrowed impossibly deep into the earth, haunted houses made from Palewood trees, and all of the places where the night endures beyond the day. Undoubtedly all of these prisons contain occupants vigorously testing the locks to their cells, but to my knowledge, none have ever escaped. (I can’t remember a single thing that happened during the Great Darkness, so I could be very wrong on this point.) This isn’t to suggest that the Deadworld is without limits; its prison walls can be scaled, even demolished—as was demonstrated by New Victoria. However, the relevant distinction between New Victoria and the dreams that strain behind even the darkest environs is that New Victoria was never a prisoner of the Deadworld. For as strange as it sounds, the nightmare metropolis actually chose to invade this wretched world.

As we approached the city, the ruined flesh of the Deadworld was already peeling back, exposing overturned military vehicles filled with old bones and crusted blood, mass graveyards, sour winds stitched together from countless last breaths; and wandering patches of strange, sweet-smelling twilight: the Deadworld was hemorrhaging nightmare. Here was no symbol for dream, only dream itself, in the open and free. But for all of that, New Victoria is no refuge for mankind.

“I can’t friggin’ believe you really want ta be here,” said the man who had just recently failed to kill me for the second time.

“I have need to be here, and despite everything I know—I want to be here. These things are clearly not our dreams, and must be nothing but the predatory nightmares of things that dwell beyond the shallows of human sleep. However, regardless of their malevolence, beauty is beauty.” Strangely, I found myself actually enjoying my conversation with Mr. Grimes. Words are so often nothing more than thoughts hidden behind masks of noise, but when speaking with the killer I found my words pleasingly free of disguise.

“Uh, yeah…Well, because of you I have to be here, as I sure as Hell wouldn’t come ta this freakin’ place if I wasn’t bein’ forced. An’ you gotta be crazy if you think there’s anything beautiful about this freak-zone.”

I hadn’t considered it before, but I wondered if that invisible force—that draws people to abandoned shacks in the woods, and gifts them with dreams pressed into yellowed paper—was still aiding me in my journey. Surely those things that dwelt in the city-beyond-sleep wouldn’t see me coming under cover of nightmare, as the deathly bus, now festooned with the ornaments of a butcher’s red holiday, couldn’t be taken for anything less than a conveyance for pilgrims of nightmare. Perhaps Mr. Grimes was sent to assist me.

“By the way, I already know you got some weird twist about beauty an’ art. The newspapers is always sayin’ somethin’ about you thinkin’ of yerself as an artist. You really think those screwed-up corpses you leave behind is some kinda artwork?” I wasn’t sure Mr. Grimes was supposed to understand my work. Should a dream know it’s a dream? Might that have been what caused us to wake-up in the first place? I imagine a true dream, absolutely free and wandering, shouldn’t precisely know anything about itself (should it be so greedy as to possess a self). Humanity’s true calling is to exchange all of its pointless knowledge for wonder, and Mr. Grimes followed his dark curiosity wherever it lead him (even if he had been temporarily hijacked for a higher purpose). No, the daemon bus driver was far too busy chasing his darkest visions to grasp the purpose behind my work; he could only see its spectacle.

“Pearls before swine, Mr. Grimes,” I finally said, not wanting my host to think me unaware of his jabs.

“Actually, I got a kick out of those guys you made into a big snake, swallowing itself. That was some funn—” Mr. Grimes suddenly stopped speaking and strained his small eyes to look at something close to the road.

Moving through the nearby trees, sketched in fog, were four wisps of women. They were clad in bed-clothes and loping through the rough thickets, helping one another along, and exuding a despair that seemed to roil the fog that outlined them. Their collective gaze was fixed upon the wakeless city that loomed close by, and I could hear hungry secrets whirling around the strange woman, hissing them onward. Soon they were gone, swallowed by the forest. But it was clear where they were headed.

“What da ya think their up ta?” When Mr. Grimes retracted his gaze, it brought something warm and wicked back with it, and I could feel his hunger burning deep within the secret killing machines of the bus. Whatever the killer’s dark curiosity would have done to the women, I was certain it would’ve been a pleasure compared to what was waiting for them in New Victoria; I obviously knew something of the endless horrors that would prey upon a man who might fall asleep there, but I’d only heard whispers of the hell that awaited the woman foolish enough to rest her head upon solid nightmare. Now my own dark curiosity was beginning to take hold.
“I’m not entirely certain. But it would be a terrible waste of mystery not to find out.”

Their current position - being pressed against a dirty wall and being fucked raw - was nothing new for them and yet they couldn’t stop tears from running down their face at the pain. They hated the feeling of the other cumming in them, felt even dirtier than usual and when their eyes fell on one person they would have never wanted to witness them like this, that feeling alongside with shame increased tenfold. 

That distraction was what made them unable to dodge the punch against their face that send them to the ground when the man had pulled out of them. “Stupid little whore. You’re payed for this and yet I can’t even have a quick fuck without seeing you cry, disgusting.”