pancake makeup

anonymous asked:

Are we gonna get an unsettling story about fucking a clown now? I'd read it if you wrote it.

What’s unsettling about that? It’s just two people, one of them a clown, one of them not, sharing tender moments together.  

A moment of bliss. 

A moment of closeness.

A moment of pancake makeup greasing the tender, unadorned pink flesh of swollen testicles as they brush against an eager, painted mouth. A moment where kinky orange hair is crusted with ropes of fluid expelled in a geyser of mutual pleasure.

These are moments that should be cherished and considered magical, not denigrated and labeled unsettling.

anonymous asked:

How does one aqcuire goth friends? I need goth friends to teach me their ways, but they all keep being intimidated by all the pink i wear :(

You know how, sometimes, you’ll go to a punk show, and there’s just that one fucking adult there in the back, wearing corduroy pants and some comfy sneakers? Not, like, in an ironic, grungey way, but just… They kind of just dress like a legit librarian and you get the sense that it’s 100%, sincerely their whole deal? And everybody’s absolutely thrashing their guts out, but this… this fuckin’ old man trapped in a twenty-something’s body is just kind of bopping along, nursing a flat Red Bull? Couple of piercings and some tattoos, yeah, but they definitely have a steady day job where they cover them? And you think to yourself, “Fuck, fuck, oh, fuck, I’m gonna’ get OLD?! I’m gonna’ stop wearing bondage pants and ripped vests and ‘attend concerts’ instead of hittin’ up shows? Ohhh, Christ, I don’t know what’s worse: this, or the fifty-five-year-old biker dude in pancake makeup hitting on high school girls. Fuck! This can’t be how it goes. I’m gonna’ be punk forever. Fuck that goddamn flannel-under-a-sweater piece of shit.” But then after the show they’re inexplicably bleeding in the parking lot with their shirt off and you’re like, “Wait, what the fuck did grandpa get up to.” You know that nerd?

That’s me. I’m that decidedly un-punk boy scout of a thing who just got too lazy to dress cool and can’t dye my hair fun colours because it’d stain the tub and I need my security deposit back. Fourteen-year-old blue mohawk me is rolling in their grave non-stop.

What I’m saying is, wear what you want and people who are worth your time won’t give a shit.

David Pastrnak #1 - Mistakes

Originally posted by rask-me-anything40

A/N: omg i am so bad at writing angst…. probably because I am a Sensitive Child™  who can’t deal with conflict and is suck a sucker for fluff. but i give it my best shot so I hope this is good!

for the anon request: could you write a David Pastrnak imagine? something like super angsty but ends in fluff, if you can that’d be great, thank you!


“I said, leave me alone!” you shouted at him as you marched down the hallway of your apartment building, heels clicking viciously on the hard floor. You had met David Pastrnak a year ago when you moved into the unit next door to his and had immediately become friends with him and the rest of his teammates. You also had a crush on this very same man since then, but he had a girlfriend for the first couple months of your friendship and you didn’t have the balls to admit your feelings for him. You and David were normally attached at the hip except this friendship was being tested on thin ice tonight when David had absolutely ruined your night out when you had ended up running into him at the club. You hadn’t been out in over two months and were really looking forward to a night of drinks, dancing, and picking up a nice one night stand when you ran into David and all of those plans got thrown out the window. You were being chatted up at the bar by a really cute guy, Eric was his name, that you were planning on taking home when he came up to you. David looked between you and Eric and immediately started being really rude. You practically had to push him away but when the other guy started to make a move on you David lost it. He saw Eric slide his hand high up on your thigh as he turned around and pushed Eric out of his seat. He started yelling at him about being a dirt bag and ended up getting you both kicked out of the club  

“(Y/N) listen! For once can you get you head out of your ass long enough to hear me out?” he was running to keep up with you. You whirled around when you heard what he said and tried to control the anger that was coming off of you in waves.

“What did you just say to me?” you spat at him, words practically dripping with venom.

“Can you hear me out for like 30 seconds instead of storming off like an entitled queen who was just offended by a commoner.” David’s face was flushed with exasperation as he grabbed your wrist, tugging to make you look at him.

“Oh, so that’s what you think of me. Let me remind you that you were the one who literally attacked that guy at the club and somehow managed to get me kicked out as well. I haven’t picked up in two months, alright? You ruined my night for what, just the hell of it? I’m not like you David, I can’t just walk down the street and have girls beg for me. When a cute guy wants to take me home, I’m going to say fucking yes.” you ripped your hand from his and whirled back around to your door.

“He was a sleaze bag and you fucking know it. I was trying to protect you.” he countered.

“Yeah? Well, despite what you must think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.” You stuck your key into the lock and turned it quickly, “Have a great fucking night.” you fake-smiled and it came out as if you were baring your teeth at him. You watched him open and close his mouth at you like a fish once before spinning and slamming your front door behind you. You quickly locked it and marched of to your room, kicking the things in your path harshly and letting hot tears roll their way down your face.


“Ughhh” you groaned into your pillow when your phone wouldn’t stop buzzing for the 14th time that morning, “Who the fuck is trying to get in touch with me right now.” you said out loud into your empty bedroom, “This better be an emergency..” you grumbled.

When you managed to grab your phone off of your bedside table and look at the screen without the bright light making you want to throw up all the liquor from last night this is what you saw:

Missed Call: Pasta (6)

Messages: Pasta (13)

Snapchat: Noodle Boy (12), BMarchy (2), …

“Jesus.” you scrubbed a hand over your face, slowly recalling the events from last night, which did not help your pounding headache in the slightest. You were still so angry with him and you were surprised you hadn’t punched him yourself last night. You turned your phone onto silent and threw it into a drawer before waddling over to your bathroom to get Advil and a glass of water to try and ease your hangover.

You climbed back into bed and tried to see if giving your fight more time would help ease your anger.

It didn’t.

You woke up four hours later, significantly better in terms of feeling like a normal human being again but your anger still hadn’t dissipated. Now you were sitting at the breakfast bar in your kitchen drinking a glass of orange juice and catching up on the messages you wanted to respond to. You purposefully avoided Pasta’s ever growing streams of messages until your curiosity got the best of you. You tapped on your text conversation and scrolled up to the top of the unread messages at 3:30 this morning.

Pasta: shit. I’m an asshole I’m so sorry (Y/N). Can I see you today so that I can apologize in person??

The next several texts were a reiteration of the same idea: that David was an ass/douche/dick/etc. and that he screwed up and that he wants to make it up to you. You huffed by the time you scrolled all the way through, watching as his messages got more and more desperate. You rolled your eyes but could feel the beginnings of sympathy start to swirl low in your gut. You looked at his snapchats and saw that he was in bed, looking like a mess with hair flying everywhere like he had been worrying his hands through his hair, eyes were bloodshot and puffy like he had either been rubbing them or crying, and his messages were getting more and more desperate with time. Brad Marchand’s snapchat to you was response to your ugly face competition from earlier yesterday afternoon and then one from this morning just showed a close up of him in bed as well with the text: ‘what the hell happened to you and pasta?? Has been calling me in distress for past 30 min’

You frowned at that and finally opened up your voicemail and started to listen to the messages that David had left for you. When you started to listen to them, you had to suppress a gasp. If you thought that Pasta looked bad in his snapchats, well he sounded even worse. His voice was so low and raspy, sounding absolutely, utterly wrecked.

Just then you heard a knock on your door. You padded your way to your front door, knowing in your gut that there was a 90% chance of David being there. Sure enough, when you opened the door slightly, there was the man himself, leaning with one arm against the door frame the other hand up by his face, biting his thumbnail nervously.

When he heard the door click open his head snapped up “(Y/N), oh thank god” he sighed out, some tension visibly draining from his face.

“…. What do you want Noodles.”

“(Y/N) I’m so sorry. And I know that whatever I tell you isn’t going to be enough-”

You interrupted him, “You know what Pasta, I forgive you. I’m still pissed but we were both drunk and I honestly didn’t care that much about that guy.”

“Oh thank god.” he sighed out then looked at you expectantly, wondering if you were going to let him into your apartment to talk

“I just have one question for you.” you stood your ground, closing the door just the slightest amount, “What was that guy doing that pissed you off so much.”

David choked a bit and covered it up with a cough, “Um…. Well, I guess.” a blush started to rise high on his cheeks and he shuffled his feet against the floor

“Spit it out Pasta.” you said

“I just really fucking like you okay?” he said all at once,  “and I’ve been trying to build up the balls to tell you for the past month and I was going to do it this weekend but then I got drunk last night with the boys and I saw you looking gorgeous at the bar and I got jealous. I’m a selfish ass who hated the idea of you with someone else that I literally picked a fight in a bar.”

You had to bite at the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling at the boy you’ve had a crush on since you first moved in who just confessed his love to you. Instead you shook your head and laughed a bit before opening the door wider and saying, “You are an ass,” before taking a step forward to eliminate the space between you and grabbing his face with both of your hands. His eyes widened in shock and you pulled his face down to your own and crashed your lips together.

It took David a second for his limited brain cells to process what was happening but when he clued in he wrapped his arms tightly around your torso and lifted you off your feet. When you pulled back the both of you were panting, David’s lips looked red and slightly swollen.

“Come on,” you grabbed David’s hand and pulled him into your apartment, “You can apologize to me over makeup pancakes and then we are going to make out because I have waited too long for this.”

He laughed behind you, “Works for me”


There you go! tell me what you think. Up next: max domi

Freebatch Fic Submission

Untitled Whoa Martin is Fucking Hot Freebatch Ficlet

Ben had just finished what turned out to be an unexpectedly long and exhausting day on set, headed back to his hotel room with his hat pulled down low and his sunglasses blocking his tired eyes from the bright Atlanta sun. Although his part in the film was small (they did have seemingly a thousand other super heroes to fit onscreen anyways) he did have to film quite a strenuous and pivotal fight scene and it took a toll.

“Not getting any younger old chap” he mused to himself as he sunk into the plush leather seats of the car and signaled to the driver to go on. The first thing he wanted when he got back to his room was a nice hot shower, and the second thing he wanted was something ridiculously unhealthy from the room service menu. He’d earned the extra calories. He also wanted a smoke too but he was trying to be good this month. He really was.

Without thinking much about it he pulled his phone from his carry all and flicked it open, scrolling listlessly through email after email–his agent this his publicist that. Boring. Several texts were there from friends and his Mum and he replied casually to a few of them, but vowed to just call his Mum later instead. When he had sufficiently replied to anything he deemed important enough to bother with in his exhausted state, he moved his thumb over to the small blue icon at the bottom of the screen and decided to indulge in his favorite mind numbing, stress relieving past time. Well the one he could do in public that is.


Yes Benedict Cumberbatch had a tumblr. He didn’t have a Facebook or a twitter or a whose it what’s it and frankly didn’t give a toss if he ever did, but he had a tumblr account. In the early days of Sherlock, when everything was still fresh and new and he was coasting a wave of fame unlike he had ever known before, Martin had set him up with an account. He’d said it was a great way to stay up to date on such vague things as “news” and “current events”. Little did he know it really was to torture him.

“You gotta download it man.”

“What’s tumblr?”

“It’s a blogging site. Lots of uh…stuff to see.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Interesting stuff.”

“Such as?”

“You know. Things.”

“Ok now you’re being suspicious.”

“Well…Lots of fans of our show seem to congregate there and…well you’ll see. I’ll help you set up an account but…you have to see what the fans are doing. What they are saying about the show. And man the art…..the art….wow. It’s wild.” He had giggled like a naughty school boy and Ben remembered the immediate feeling of trepidation but had just shrugged and left him to it.

He was stuck with the name “CumSnatch6969” as ~revenge for not taking more of an interest in the proceedings.

But somehow he had kept the account open, crude ridiculous name and all. He never reblogged anything (and honestly he wasn’t sure how to even do that) but after all the fun and horror of goggling and cringing at the art work of him and Martin faded (no! Sherlock and Watson he had to constantly remind himself lest he walk around with a permanent tinge of embarrassment imprinted upon his face) he still found himself going on to his account from time to time just to….well…..see what there was to see.

And boy there was a lot! Too much to mention and quite a bit he would rather forget. And as time passed he found himself going on to tumblr with alarming regularity. It became the last place he visited before bed, scrolling lazily through his phone as he curled up under his sheets. Anytime he was stuck in traffic or hopped on the tube or was stuck in a waiting room or in between scenes on set he could be found scrolling and scrolling.

He didn’t follow any blogs. He easily could have but he was still a little paranoid that someone would somehow find out it was him, as silly as that sounded. But he did figure out how to track tags. And it was because of this, riding in the back of a sedan headed to his posh hotel, when he opened the app he was assaulted (really there was no other word for it) with a million images of a smiling, scruffy, sunnie wearing Martin on the red carpet, looking radiant and joyous and –oh holy fuck–so damn fit he wanted to scream.

Pic after pic flooded his dash as he scrolled.

“Martin Freeman at the premiere of……London…..Leicester Square…” He found himself mumbling out loud as he read caption after caption. “Oh fuck.” He groaned, feeling the pit of his stomach clench.

He looked good. So, so fucking good. Never before had he found himself nodding along solemnly in agreement with the capslocked and terribly spelled comments on each post.


“How dare u Martin. How dare u!!???”

“This is my aesthetic. I am ded.”

He found his mind wandering to that other stress relieving activity and wondered how long it was going to take to get out of this god forsaken Atlanta traffic and back to his room so he could….study these pictures more. In private. Sans pants.

The car slowed to a stop and even though he really, really doesn’t want to tear his eyes away from the photos, his driver is suddenly at his door, opening it and ushering him out into the humid, sticky summer air once again. He gathered up his bag, stowing his phone in his pocket, and with a polite nod of thanks he exited the car and strolled into the hotel lobby. The girls at the front desk are familiar enough with him now to be polite but leave him be. Their eyes track him, friendly and interested and he smiles briefly in their direction before hopping onto the elevator and pressing his floor.

He leaned back against the wall and let the cool air wash over him, feeling a burning in his pocket and an itch in his fingers. Martin. Martin. Martin is all he can think of but he does his best to hold on to a modicum of dignity and not bolt to his room like a horny teenager.

When he finally slides the key card into his room (a gorgeous suite with a stunning view–thanks Marvel!) he throws his bag and keys on the chair with a plop and falls back onto his bed, toeing off his shoes as he goes. He’s tired to the bone and his muscles ache and he’s covered in a thin veneer of sweat mixed with residual wig glue and pancake makeup and he really should be under that glorious waterfall shower right this minute but…..Martin.

With a grunt he pulls out his phone, flicking it open to the last photo he had been looking at–Martin smiling at the camera, his hands shoved into the pockets of his deep blue trousers, slim hips and a casual stance, a fresh hair cut and an aura of someone who was fucking owning themselves in every way. It was so incredibly sexy. As one hand gripped his phone, the other fiddled with his fly, unzipping it hastily, already beginning to feel the tell tale stirrings down below and the clench of tension in his lower abdomen.

“This won’t take very long” he thought, and too wracked with need to get up and dig through his mess of suitcases to find any lube or lotion or whatever he’d managed to pack, he simply spit into his palm (crude he thought, like when he was at boarding school and had to make do) and shoved his hand into his pants, connecting with the warm hardness and beginning to stroke. This was no Sunday morning wank session–slow and lazy strokes, taking time to tease himself–but hard and frantic, almost rough. He needed contact, delicious friction, and he needed it now.

“Oh god..” He moaned as he worked himself, stroking his shaft up and down and pumping his hips into his hand, his arse raising off the bed with each thrust. The hand holding the phone trembled slightly as he felt the tension coiling in his body.

Martin just stared back at him. Brilliant smile. Confident demeanor. Trim waist. An tight little ass clad in tight little pants. Smiling back at Ben as if he knew. That cheeky little fucker.

“Oh…fffuuuu…..ahh…ah…ah….ughhhhhh….” He moaned, louder and louder, closing his eyes and arching his head back into the pillow, the back of his neck now sticky with perspiration. His mind was filled with nothing but images of taking Martin, bending his tight little body over the nearest chair or table, pulling those tight blue pants down, and fucking the ever loving shit out of him.

Ben’s breaths were coming out now in hot little bursts. Tiny little whines escaped the back of his throat. He was close, so close. His hand pumped and pumped, his prick so slick and hot he felt his fist would fly off, so he gripped harder.

Those hips. That ass. That chest. The little dip of exposed skin at the hollow of his throat. Ben wanted to lick it, he wanted to lick it as he slid into him and..

“Oh holy fuck shit jee–aaaaaah fuck fuuuck.” He exclaimed, his stomach clenching and then convulsing wildly as his prick shot out ribbons of hot release onto his hand and abdomen.

The come down was fast and he immediately felt loose limbed and languid, as if he had just got out of a hot tub or received a killer Swedish massage. Every bit of stress was seeped out of his body, floating into the ether, and he was dimly aware of the sticky mess growing cold on his belly as his head lolled to the side and his eyelids grew heavy.

He hadn’t come that hard in a while.

Suddenly the phone–which was now dangling precariously on the edge of the bed, discarded as his orgasm had overtook him–started to jangle a familiar ring tone and his face, which had grown slack in the after glow, spread into a wide grin as he saw the name on the screen.

“Hello babe.” Ben pressed the speaker phone button and suddenly the room was filled with the sound of a voice he hadn’t heard in way too long.

Ages even.

Ok, well it was like two days but still. Far too long.

“Hey love. Long day, you sound beat?” Martin’s light, melodic tone sounded jovial but there was a slight edge of worry there. “I tried calling you earlier but I think you were on set. We’re like two ships passing in the night and I.” He sighed. “I miss you.”

Ben felt his heart thud wildly in his chest. No matter how long they had been doing ….this….whatever it is they were doing….it still never failed to affect him in such a visceral way.

“I miss you too. And yeah, it was a big fight scene today. I’m exhausted. Need a good rub down.”

“Ah. Well if only you weren’t an ocean away I could give you a rub down.” Martin sniggered, and Ben could visualize the saucy eyebrow raise that came with. That man…that silly, lovely gem of a man.

He loved him. He really, truly did. One day he would get the balls to tell him.

“I’m sure you would babe. But as needs must one has to take care of themselves when the mood strikes. You know how it goes.” Ben bit his lip, smiling at the ceiling.

“Oh that’s how it goes, is it? Enlighten me posh boy.”

“All I will say is that I saw some…pictures of you. At the premiere today. Single life looks good on you is all I will say. That’s what all the fan girls are saying at any rate.”

“Oh does it now?” Martin barked out a laugh. “Tumblr again Ben? You’ve got a problem you know?” Another high pitched giggle and then there was a beat of silence and then a wistful “it’s not single life that looks good on me you know? It’s you.” and Ben felt his insides turn to jelly.

“Is that why you look so damn good lately? Me?”

“Apparently so. You’ve got magical powers there Cumberbatch, making an ugly sod like me into hot stuff.”

Ben giggled. If he had a choice he would be on the first plane back to London, back to his own home, his own bed, his lover…boyfriend?….
whatever… it with him. But he was unfortunately stuck in this humid hellscape for at least two more weeks.

“So…” Martin continued, his tone playful. “Tell me more about how you wanked off to my pictures. I want all the sordid details.”


I absolutely love the idea of Ben having a tumblr, and idk how you got inside my head, but the image of Ben jerking off makes me feel a certain type of way SOOOOO thank you!!! ;) Lol but really, it was great!  👍

@freebatchfun, you said you wanted to be tagged

anonymous asked:

Hey!! Could you maybe write a bit for the Sprace ghost hunters AU where Jack (and maybe Crutch or Davey) pranks them and scares them maybe?? I just thought it be kind of a funny idea!

I have missed this AU!

If there was one thing Jack Kelly never did by halves it was pranks. But Davey had threatened to break up with him if he pulled anymore pranks on him so he was forced to pick other targets for the coming April Fool’s Day. Spot and Race just seemed perfect.

He was recording the whole thing – if this went to plan it would be comedy gold for YouTube – and he’d organised the it down to an exact science. It had all started with recon, getting Race to reveal where and when they next planned to film a video during a casual Skype chat, then came perfecting a flawless ghost costume, all scarlet blood and white pancake makeup. By the time he was done Davey had walked in on it three times and had almost as many heart attacks, and it was time to get it out of the apartment before his boyfriend actually did go through with that break up threat.

The abandoned barn was as creepy and dark as all hell so, in short, it was perfect for what Jack in mind. Race had said something about a freak farm machinery accident that had resulted in the brutal death of a worker who was rumoured to haunt the premises. Jack could have believed it, walking around the deserted space. Donning the costume he’d made, he wriggled into the space created by a pallet leaning against the wall to wait.

Keep reading

The Signs as Bauhaus (the band) stories even though the zodiac meme is completely fucking dead but here (sourced entirely from David J's book, extracts from Kevin Haskins' upcoming book, one of Peter Hook's books and then one interview with David for the record if you want some reading)
  • Aries: David playing Lou Reed's 'Vicious' to lighten the mood during a particularly hissy argument between Daniel and Peter. This only made them angrier.
  • Taurus: At a point during the 2005 tour, Peter supposedly tells pornographic actor Ron Jeremy to "clean up [his] act" Jeremy shows up backstage and asks if Murphy wanted to say it again to his face. Daniel fixes him a drink, says "you're a fuckin' legend, you are, man..." and leads him away.
  • Gemini: Peter Hook throwing Peter [Murphy] out of The Haçienda for giving him the old "don't you know who I am?"
  • Cancer: In the very very early days, Peter used to walk around Northampton dressing how he did on stage, so basically in his girlfriend's clothes with a ridiculous amount of pancake makeup. Once he and David were on the bus and a woman said "get a load of him" to her friend, to which Peter replies "I'm sure you would like to get a load of me, but you frankly don't stand a chance!"
  • Leo: Love and Rockets days. Their transport breaks down, and they need to hitch a ride to their next gig. Daniel is wearing this giant electric blue fur coat and basically looks like a giant cookie monster. David tells him he'll never get a ride looking the way he does. He gets a ride in the next car that passes.
  • Virgo: The end-of-tour pranks. One of these being when the band were supported by The Birthday Party in the early 80s, and Kevin decided to make a load of shaving foam pies and throw them at the stage during TBP's set. One may have hit Nick Cave directly in the face.
  • Libra: As a payback for the shaving foam prank, during Bauhaus' set, TBP collaboratively tackled Peter to the ground and drew a giant dick on his bare chest in permanent marker. He kept the dick there for the entire show and pretended to masturbate it.
  • Scorpio: Some time in the mid to late 90s during a Love and Rockets tour and Daniel is super fucking high on MDMA. He pesters David to kiss him because "it's not a gay thing; it's a biker thing." David refuses. Daniel is next seen snogging the guy next to him.
  • Sagittarius: During the resurrection tour when Daniel and the on-tour Hairdresser, Ian, had to make a pit stop because Daniel was so drunk he couldn't walk and had to go and be sick. Not seeing the bus, they were convinced the bus had left without them. Also, they may have gotten their bus mixed up with Van Halen's bus. It's a very complicated story. Also Daniel had the bright idea of chatting up a waitress at the nearby greasy spoon so they could stay with her in case the bus did leave. According to David, Daniel still had flecks of red wine vomit around his mouth as he conceived this idea. Fortunately he didn't need to chat up the waitress, which would have been disastrous in his state.
  • Capricorn: The time they ended up judging a wet t-shirt contest in Greece (around 1983) somehow ENTIRELY BY ACCIDENT and didn't take it seriously and gave the girls scores like -1000 and the like. The girls' boyfriends weren't overly pleased.
  • Aquarius: The fact the 1998 Resurrection tour almost didn't happen because Daniel didn't like Peter's trousers.
  • Pisces: The time Peter and Daniel bought some poppers and were off their faces and decided they were going to hold it under Kevin's nose as he slept. Kevin freaks out and the bottle flies across the van and smashes. So they don't all get massively high off the fumes they had to park up the van and stop around a field in the middle of nowhere in Holland or somewhere like that till the fumes cleared.
  • BONUS: Peter swinging the microphone stand around and knocking David out with it. David gets him back a couple of weeks later by replacing his cocaine with salt.
Alone: In-Depth Analysis of Bethyl

You’ve been waiting so patiently, and it’s finally here! Warning: It’s long, but that should come as no surprise. You’ve read my other posts.

If “Still” was all about intimate tension, then “Alone” is all about romantic tension. Romantic tension is a combination of strong emotions, attraction,  and internal & external conflict. It’s not one component on it’s own. It’s everything together.

So, let’s analyze this baby, scene by beautiful scene, which I’ve playfully named for you. Keep in mind as you read, that “the body reveals what the mind conceals.” Daryl has some tells.

Please enjoy; I hope you do. ♥ xoxoxox

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🌴 master mixer list • part 3! 🌴

Nothing beats a FUN themed sorority/fraternity mixer • exchange • social • crush • date party! Enjoy these new theme ideas from sorority sugar……

🌴   GREEK MIXER LIST from A to Z • Part 3: 🌴 

  • Anything But Cups ~ beverages must be enjoyed out of anything but cups. Each guest brings a cup “substitute” such as a dog bowl, baby bottle, coffee pot, watering can, squirt gun, etc.
  • Arctic Blast ~ icemen & ice princesses.
  • “As Seen On TV” ~ everyone must dress as a tacky product seen on late night TV ads. 
  • Beard & Mustache Bash ~ all guests must wear a beard or mustache. Host a world beard & mustache competition during the party.
  • Black & White Movie Stars ~ everyone dresses in black & white 1920’s/30’s fashions with white pancake makeup to look like a Charlie Chaplin style movie.
  • Biker Dudes & Hello Kitty Girls 
  • Boy Scouts & Girl Scouts ~ serve lots of yummy Girl Scout cookies. 
  • Chalkboard Art ~ provide XL chalkboards for guest's graffiti and chalkboard ‘thought bubbles’ for photo booth pics.
  • Daycare ~ baby & toddler attire.
  • Deadliest Catch ~ fisherman theme. “Fishing for a date” party.
  • Duck Mash Up ~ guests must combine a duck with any other character for a ducktastic costume, such as; Duckter Who, Duckter Spock, Duckarella, Duckyonce, etc.  
  • Factory Workers & Farmer’s Daughters 
  • Firemen & Fallen Angels 
  • Fly the Friendly Skies ~ guys dress as pilots, girls dress as retro flight attendants for an airline theme party.
  • Foam Finger Party ~ everyone must wear a foam finger from their favorite hometown/state sports team. Couples are paired by matching foam fingers or by fierce rivalries. 
  • Gamoflauge ~ uptown camo. 
  • Gamekeepers & Wild Animals
  • Highlanders & Hula Girls ~ Scottish tartan meets grass skirts.
  • Hip Hop & Hippies
  • Hodge Podge ~ each member of the fraternity and sorority must draw a crazy costume idea out of a hat. Offer a wide range of customs and hope the results are hilarious, especially on the guys. 
  • Inked ~ temporary tattoo party.
  • Intergalactic
  • It’s a Mod Mod World  
  • Lifeguards & Lap Dancers
  • Lip Sync ~ buy the brightest/wildest lipstick shades available. As each guest enters the party (male and female) hostesses randomly apply a shade of lipstick on their lips. They may find their “dates” for the evening by matching lipstick shades. Reapplication of their original color is allowed.
  • Mad Scientists & Lab Rats
  • Mascots ~ everyone dresses as a version of their favorite mascot.
  • Men in Black & Mafia Wives
  • Mobsters & Mermaids 
  • My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding
  • Park Rangers & Camp Fire Girls
  • Party With Your Generation ~ before the party, divide the guest list into groups and assign a generation to each group. Attendees must dress as and party with their generation. Gen X, Gen Y, Baby Boomers, Senior Citizens are a few examples. This would also work for a Party With Your Decade event assigning different decades to groups in advance. 
  • Private School Breaking the Rules 
  • Quarterbacks & Glitter Queens
  • Rakish Ranchers & Saloon Girls
  • Saints & Sinners
  • Sorority Color Crush ~ if your chapter has two colors, ask the guys to dress all in one shade and all the girls in the other. For example, KD green & white party, or a DG pink & blue event. Assign the funniest color to the guys. 
  • Spilt Personality ~ everyone must dress as half & half of two different things, i.e. angel/devil, man/woman, cop/criminal. Their left side is one identity and their right side is the other in a “split” costume. Or, for a date party, assign pairs ahead of time and each guest must find their “other half” at the party. For example, peanut butter would need to find jelly. 
  • Tech Time Machine ~ costumes must represent “tech” from the past, i.e. typewriter, newspaper, snail mail, rotary phone, fax machine, floppy disc, record album, 8-track tape, 50s TV, etc.
  • Tech Like It’s Today ~ come as a current tech device, app, social media, or website, i.e. Kindle, Instagram, Pinterest, iPhone, Snapchat, Tumblr, Xbox, etc. Combine old & new Tech themes for a fun past & present tech party.
  • TFM • TSM ~ guys dress as sorority girls and girls dress as fraternity guys “as seen on” TFM/TSM. 
  • The Good, the Bad & the Ugly ~ randomly divide the guest list into three groups and assign each group their “look” for the night.
  • The Off Season ~ whatever the weather is like outside, theme the social to the opposite season. A tropical island theme in February, or a Ski Chalet party in May. 
  • Tight & Bright ~ everything worn by guys & girls must be very bright and very tight.
  • Top Chef Date Party ~ guys dress as chefs, girls dress as food. On entering the party, each girl writes her costume “food” on a slip of paper and each guy draws his 'dish’ from the bowl to make couples for the night. 
  • Overdressed & Underdressed ~ divide your guest list into two groups, (or divide by chapter) and ask half the group to come underdressed and the other half to arrive overdressed.
  • Ultimate Sprinkler Party ~ outdoor wet & wild. 
  • Umpires & Superfans 
  • War & Peace 
  • Wicked Wizards & Bad Fairies 
  • Young Tarts & Old Farts
  • Zombie Cheerleaders
  • Zombie Doctors & Nurses
  • Zombie Prom

For more GREEK PARTY THEME IDEAS please link here ~ 

Master List of Mixer Themes

Master Mixer Theme List Part 2
Water-based/Pancake Makeup Tutorial - Mixing & Applying
In this tutorial, you'll learn how to mix water-based makeup into an opaque paste and apply evenly to skin without streaks or blotches. Products: Makeup: Ben...

New video tutorial is up! This one shows you how to achieve opaque, streak-free coverage with water-based makeup.

Fun fact: The technique I demonstrate here was taught to me by Dana Nye (Ben Nye’s son, and CEO of Ben Nye Makeup Company).

one glance and the avalanche drops

Tom’s an English teacher. Chris is his student’s older brother. They get all cute and shit.


“Are you in trouble?”

Tom looked up from his desk at the young man strolling into his class, over the lenses of his frame-less glasses. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry at the sight of him: his short, messy blonde hair, scruffy cheeks, a loose white t-shirt exposing his collarbones and firm, smooth chest, his legs hugged by dark jeans. He walked with easy confidence to where Liam sat alone, finishing the report Tom had made him write by hand as punishment for disrupting the class again.

“Oh fuck off, Chris,” Liam grumbled, swatting Chris’ hand away when he tried to grab the small stack of papers.

Keep reading

New York Times front page for April 21, 1999



LITTLETON, Colo., April 20— In the deadliest school massacre in the nation’s history, two young men stormed into a suburban high school here at lunch time today with guns and explosives, killing as many as 23 students and teachers and wounding at least 20 in a five-hour siege, the authorities said.

The two students who are believed to have been the gunmen, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, who were students at Columbine High School, were found dead of self-inflicted gunshot wounds in the library, said Steve Davis, the spokesman for the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department.

Beginning about 11:30 A.M., the gunmen, wearing ski masks, stalked through the school as they fired semiautomatic weapons at students and teachers and tossed explosives , with one student being hit nine times in the chest by shrapnel, the authorities said. Gunshots continued to ring out at the school for hours. One bomb exploded in the library, officials said, and one in a car outside. Two more cars were rigged with bombs.

About 3 P.M., hundreds of police officers evacuated the building and searched for the gunmen. Their bodies and those of several of their victims appeared to have been wired with explosives.

Sheriff John Stone said, “It appears to be a suicide mission.”

Mr. Davis said that as many as 25 people were dead, “a mixture of students and faculty.” He said that most of the bodies were found in the school’s entrance, the library and the commons cafeteria. No precise death toll was available.

Kaleb Newberry, 16, said: “I was in class and one teacher came in and basically told us to run for our lives, I saw a girl maybe five paces behind me fall. She was shot in the leg, but a teacher helped her.”

Students said the gunmen were part of a group of misfits who called themselves the trench coat mafia, which expressed disdain for racial minorities and athletes. Members of the group found their way out of anonymity at the school by banning together, dressing in dark gothic-style clothing including long black coats. They became easy to notice among the 1,870 students at the school, since every day, regardless of the weather, they wore their coats. [Page A17.]

Today the gunmen appeared to aim at minority members and athletes at the 1,800-student school, as well as peers who had poked fun at the group in the past.

School officials had had no reports of trouble from the suspects, Mr. Davis said.

Some victims were forced to wait inside the school for rescue. By early evening, bodies had not been removed because of the crime scene investigation and the possible presence of explosives, a spokesman for the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department said.

Mr. Davis said at a news conference tonight that two other students at the school, thought to be friends of the gunmen, were in custody for questioning in connection with the shooting.

“You can’t really go in and do this kind of damage without a lot of preparation.” Mr. Davis said, “without a lot of ammunition and apparently some type of bombs.”

Fourteen-year-old Katie Corona, said she was trapped in a classroom with her teacher and about 30 classmates for hours.

“I thought I was going to die,” she said. “I really didn’t think I was going to make it. We would hear shots, then we heard crying. We had no clue what was going on.”

“Everyone around me got shot and I begged him for 10 minutes not to shoot me,” one young woman, who was not identified, said tonight in an interview broadcast on the Cable News Network. “And he just put the gun in my face and started laughing and saying it was all because people were mean to him last year.”

Another student, who said she heard more gunshots while hiding in the closet with a teacher and some friends, said she kept thinking to herself, “This can’t be happening to our school.”

“You should be safe at school,” added a second young woman, who also was not identified. “This should be a safe place.”

The families of those killed were being notified tonight at Leawood Elementary School, where students and parents had gathered.

The mass shooting was the first at an American school during this academic year, but revived memories of similar tragedies that struck six different communities last year and set off national alarms about teen-age violence. Four girls and a teacher were shot to death and 10 people were wounded during a false fire alarm at a middle school in Jonesboro, Ark., last March.

President Clinton immediately dispatched a crisis-response team to aid the school community and the victim’s families.

“We don’t know yet all the how’s or why’s of this tragedy; perhaps we will never fully understand it,” the President said in a nationally televised news conference just before 8 P.M. “St. Paul reminds us that we all see things in life darkly, that we only partly understand what is happening.”

He added, “We do know that we must do more to reach out to our children and teach them to express their anger and to resolve their conflicts with words, not weapons.”

A sunny spring day turned into a bloody nightmare for this suburb of 35,000 people southwest of Denver, as ambulances ferried the injured from the high school, past tennis courts, a baseball diamond and a packed student parking lot.

“I hope we can all pull together, because we will need all our strengths,” Jane Hammond, Jefferson County superintendent of schools, said tonight. The blood banks in the Denver area have been overwhelmend with calls from donors. Tonight at least three church vigils for the dead and injured.

Just before 8 P.M., Lisa Appleton, 16, a sophomore, waited in front of the Leawood school for news of her best friend, Julie Toms, who had been missing since students began leaving the school.

“I can’t even feel it,” she said. “There’s no way to know whether she’s dead or alive.”

About 3 P.M., SWAT teams police officers used a fire truck and an armored car to get close to the building, dozens of students raced out of the two-story building, some slipping in the mud, others holding up their hands in the air or behind their heads. Police said they feared that the gunmen would try to escape by mingling with the trapped students.

One student, bloodied from an injury, broke out a second-story window, and climbed down into the hands of the police.

As police officers established a wide perimeter around the beige school, students and school workers gathered on nearby tree-lined streets and told of the chaos and horror inside the building.

As fire alarms rang in the halls, students who had seen the gunmen trampled each other to get out of the building, running through one exit where three bodies lay on a staircase.

Trapped inside, others took refuge in classrooms, bathrooms and a choir room, frantically barricading doors with desks and file cabinets.

One cafeteria worker who barricaded herself in a woman’s bathroom said, “We could hear them blowing the heck out of the place.”

A student, Jonathan Ladd, said, “I heard gunshots going off, bullets ricocheting off lockers.”

The trench coat mafia is a small band of about a dozen juniors and seniors at Columbine who are easily recognized yet little feared, according to people who live in the neighborhood near the school. Regardless of the weather, they favor long black coats and the Gothic look popularized by the rock singer Marilyn Manson, neighbors said. Some even wear white pancake makeup and dark eyeliner, one student said.

“It was that devilish, half-dead, half-alive look,” said Bret, a 16-year-old sophomore who spoke on the condition only his first name be used.

The group often gathered in the cafeteria after school. Chris McCaffrey, manager of Angie’s Restaurant a few blocks from Columbine, said that residents had known about the group for about five years, and that no one considered it a threat.

“Mostly it was just kids who nobody wanted to have anything to do with,” Mr. McCaffrey said. “They weren’t particularly feared. They were just a bunch of punks who kind of hang around the school.”

Students said the group was mostly boys, but that some girls appeared to be closely associated with it. One student described the group as “nerds, geeks and dweebs trying to find someplace to fit in.”

Bret suggested the mafia might have targeted athletes out of resentment for their own lack of popularity and success at school.

The students “weren’t really accepted as younger kids and as they got older they were accepted by this group,” Bret said. “They got their fair share of being picked on. I could understand that they might have targeted some of the more popular kids.”

David Mesch, another student, who was searching for his mother who works for the school, said, “They were wearing masks; they were members of the trench coat mafia.”

President Clinton said tonight that he was “profoundly shocked and saddened by the tragedy today in Littleton.”

In an age when cellular telephones are increasingly common among high school students, several trapped students called television stations when they could not get through on 911 lines.

“I hear a couple of gunshots, people running up and down,” a student said in a frightened whisper to KUSA-TV, a Denver television station. Identifying himself only as James, he added, “There are a bunch of kids downstairs, I can hear them crying.”

Aware that the gunmen might be watching on a classroom television set, he said, “I am staying upstairs,” and then hung up.

In a state with a relatively low crime rate, the siege after the shootings was broadcast live by Denver television stations, without commercial breaks all afternoon. Broadcast and cable networks turned to local affiliates for help with their coverage.

“This is a cultural virus,” Gov. Bill Owens of Colorado said before hurrying to the scene. Noting that he felt particularly affected by the tragedy because his 16-year-old daughter goes to a suburban Denver high school, he said, “We have to ask ourselves what kind of children we are raising.”

At the White House, the President said the nation should focus on praying for the victims’ families and others at the school. He said that Attorney General Janet Reno was closely monitoring the situation, and that he had spoken this afternoon with Governor Owens and Patricia Holloway, the county commissioner, whose comments he shared with the nation.

In midafternoon, police officers briefly detained three young white men who wore camouflaged pants and black jackets, next to the high school. After they were released, the men said they knew the gunmen inside the high school. Emblazoned on the back of one man’s jacket were the words, “Ban Religion” and a red-painted stop sign printed over a cross.

“Blood was going all over,” a shaken girl said, as she was comforted by her father. Those here were reminded of other school shooting incidents.

Bob Sapin, a student, told a television station minutes after watching the shootings, “I just can’t believe it is happening at my school.”