#I think I am bad at jockeying...

[paladerp]

it's really fun when your ND ass is super unable to look away from perceived injustice and also hates being misunderstood. I'm just gonna have to get over the anons attacking arguments I didn't make, putting words in my mouth that I never said.

It's cool, gang. Keep telling people with burn out that their contributions mean nothing if they don't keep pushing and pushing and pushing until they die.

Meanwhile, I'm not going to back down on if you're experiencing compassion fatigue and burn out, you're not a horrible person who 'never had compassion in the first place'. You're not selfish and a zionist and a lover of genocide for not being able to be an activist 24/7. We are all only human.

Don't forgive. Don't forget. Keep apprised the of the situation, act in whatever ways you're able; do your best. If you need to rest, rest. If you need to close your eyes, only make sure you open them again.

Compassion fatigue cannot excuse willful inaction and blindness. Only allow for taking a break.

And also, maybe don't center compassion fatigue in activist spaces.

I was told that's exactly what I did here, but my whole argument came from someone specifically addressing compassion fatigue, not a discussion about Palestine derailed by people talking about it. We can discuss both things, I didn't intrude on a space where Palestine was being discussed, I was discussing the topic at hand.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

DOWN BAD- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Jock! Peter x Nerd! Reader (enemies to… lovers?)

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Peter Parker constantly nags you, and you hate his guts (naturally). So what better way to mellow the hate by being paired together for a class project? And why, if you hate his guts, do you want to touch him so bad?

Warnings: Making out, suggestive sexual content, dry humping, teasing, swearing etc…

Notes: It’s been a while, I apologize if my writing is a bit rusty! I hope you enjoy nonetheless, I had a fun time writing, and I really did miss it (Taylor Swifts new album really inspired me too!) I am using my phone to post for the first time, I hope to go back and format/ edit if need be when I can use my laptop again. Thank you for all the support :)

“Don’t look at me like that.” You huffed, eyes sharp as daggers as your cool gaze slid over to your target and struck its mark.

Peter Parker. Bullseye.

You could feel his lingering attention solely focused on you, a coy smirk upon his lips as he tapped his pencil against the wooden desk, its dull echo like nails on a chalkboard. A taunting metronome in the back of your mark as he leaned over to tower over you in his seat.

It was too close to yours for your liking.

“Like what pipsqueak?” he murmured, drowning out the professor's droning voice as he dragged on. You wished you could hit him with the textbook in your bag. Both of them, honestly.

“Like you’re thrilled for this. Don’t act like you like me.”

“Well I do like you.” He smiled, beaming ear to ear.

For him, it was the best day of his life. Getting randomly paired with “whoever you’re sitting next to, I don’t care.” (the professor's words, not yours), was a thrill for him, he got to pick on the quiet, shy girl more than usual.

Which would be a shock, considering the sheer amount he did already, always finding his way next to you to tease you, especially with and to his stupid jockey friends. This project was worth thirty percent of your grade. You couldn’t afford this.

“Well I don’t like you. So fuck off.” You heard a low whistle from behind you, a chuck alongside it from his friends. “Kitty has claws?” Peter whistled, eyebrow raising in mock surprise as you shifted your legs to the other side of the chair, angling away from him.

“Oh you’re in for it now Parker” Bucky laughed as you covered your ears in an attempt to drown them out. You felt like you were in middle school again, the way they mocked you. And what made it worse was that it got to you. Not that the jokes and remarks meant anything much, but it was just the sheer annoyance of it all.

You had thrived to be a straight A student your entire life, and in this class… you could feel them slipping. Taking a deep breath, you clenched your pen harder in your hand, pressing so hard the page snagged as you wrote.

You could still feel his eyes on you, flickering over from under his glasses ,his muscles flexing subtly under his blue t-shirt. You pretended not to look, and to not focus on the fact he was extremely attractive. You spent the rest of the hour doing just that, scolding yourself for any indecent thought you had ever had about him, ever. By the time the professor had snapped his laptop shut, the projector turning dark as students started to talk amongst themselves as they packed up, you had half a page of notes, max.

“I’ll be in touch.” he leaned down and whispered, hand lingering by your chair as he slipped by. “Fuck you.”

He just threw his head back and laughed, his friend group joining him as he looked back. And winked. You groaned. This was going to be three weeks of hell.

—————————————————————————

It was a Thursday when you got a text from him. An unknown number flashed on your screen as you lay face down on your bed, contemplating life and if this class was seriously worth it or not.

The buzz of the phone had your head snapping up, confused until it suddenly dawned on you.

Unknown: Think we should start brainstorming for this thing pipsqueak?

Well fuck, you thought, wanting to throw your phone across the room. This class wasn’t that important, right? (It was).

Taking a deep breath, you sat up as your thumbs started to fly across the screen.

You: Who is this?

Unknown: I’m hurt, pips. Truly.

You: I think you have the wrong number.

You smirked. Okay, who were you kidding… this was kind of fun. Kind of.

Peter: It’s Peter, you jerk. Are you really going to make me spell it out for you?

You: Peter who? Doesn’t ring a bell.

Good. Knock him down a few pegs. You giggled to yourself, quickly stopping once you realised why exactly you were kicking your feet like a school girl, for who exactly. You layed back down, head muddled with meaningless thoughts that jumbled as you waited for his response. Grabbing a stuffie, you hugged it close to your chest, feeling it rise and fall as you caught your breath, grounding yourself. Why on earth did this mean so much to you? Why did his texts, something so easily ignorable- suddenly a waiting game?

Peter: Ha ha, very funny pips.

You: How did you even get my number anyways?

Peter: Long story, I had to go on a bit of a hunt. A friend, of a friend of a friend, you get the point. I can be very persuasive ;)

Nope. You thought. Don’t give into this.

You: I’m sure.

Peter: You wanna come over on the weekend or meet at Braxston’s to start… brainstorming?

You: I don’t want to do anything of the sort, but if that gets this over with as soon as possible- then sure. Only one of us has a brain to storm anyways.

Peter: You’ll regret that pips.

You clicked off your phone, a ghost of a smirk on your face. His threat surprisingly didn’t seem like a real threat, but actual light hearted teasing, not the kind he often did.

Fuck. You were supposed to be hating him. You did hate him. It was only three weeks with him. You weren’t sure if you meant that with relief or disappointment.

————————————————————————————

It was disappointment.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you rubbed your creased temple. It was nearly midnight , and your books were still scattered across the desk you occupied, the library a ghost town considering it was a Friday night. Braxston library tended to be on the empiter side, which is why you preferred it. It was the oldest library on campus, smelling of old pages and cedarwood.

Sometimes, when you needed a break you would get up and run your fingers across the leather spines, or climb the ladder for a change of view of the stained glass windows. But tonight, you lacked the motivation to even bother standing. It had been a long night, filled with cramming and stress. Pen and highlighter stained your hands as you shook them out, cramped and aching. For the last hour you had solely focused on the final you and Peter had to pull out your ass, coming up with backup plans with the worry he would abandon you completely.

Topics, ideas, theories- god you didn’t even know anymore. Your body lacked caffeine, your iced coffee long gone. You grew tired of this mindless work, sliding off your headphones to admire the near empty room around you.

Suddenly, you wished it was completely empty.

Peter looked just as shocked to see you, eyes widening in surprise, backpack slung over his shoulder, hair ruffled and eyebags prominent as if he had fallen asleep and been startled awake.

“Pips? I thought we weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow?” He made his way over to you, inviting himself to lean over you, on your desk. You stared up at him with a look of amusement.

“We don’t have to meet at all. It’s very bold you assume I’m here to see you, of all people.” you snorted. His eyebrow raised. “So who are you here to meet?”

“Two papers and exam prep. You?”

“More or less the same” he smirked, and you felt butterflies start to churn in your stomach. “Sounds like great fun. I’m sure they’re lovely.” you said, snarky comment slipping out before you could stop it, turning in your seat as you often did around him so he wouldn’t see the fluster and nerves in your demeanour whenever you were near him.

He leaned down, breath warm against the column of your neck. You couldn't breathe. You could not fucking breathe with him this close to you. The rich scent of his cologne made you dizzy, it intoxicated you as you stared at your laptop screen, as if it possessed the knowledge of the entire universe.

“You know, you can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about” you snarled softly, staring at the coy, cockly little smirk you wanted to wipe off his face as he stood. “Sure you don’t.” He nodded his head towards your screen, with a wink.

“Good song.” he smiled, before he was off. You continued to stare at him as he walked out the door, not looking back once. Not a care in the world as he slipped on his own headphones, and around the corner.

Eyes moved down to stare at the pause button of your song, lyrics burning into your ears at the thought of him listening to it- and enjoying it.

Down bad, waking up in blood, staring at the sky, come back over and pick me up- fuck it if I can’t have us, I might just not get up, I might stay down bad.

You were so incredibly fucked.

———————————————————

You took a deep breath. Then another.

You let the crisp, cool night air wash over your burning skin, the faint smell of weed tickling your senses, probably from a house down the street. It was a pretty busy neighbourhood, full of students you recognized from afar on campus. You didn’t associate with the more ‘popular’ kids, if that could even be considered a thing past high school.

You tried to shake off the uneasiness that stuck with you, cracking your knuckles as you tried to prepare yourself to not only see Peter, but to interact with him- in his house. Most likely for hours. You knew you probably looked like a complete idiot out on the sidewalk, just near his house but you had to muster some form of courage.

All you could see was a faint light from what looked like the living room, and a light upstairs- you presumed his room. No sign of life other than that.

You thought of his words, how twisted they sounded. You can’t avoid me forever. You’re gonna have to confront me at some point, pip.

Fuck it.

You slipped from your hiding spot (from Peter, you were placed behind a large tree in his front yard, but god knows what people driving by thought), and mentally prepared yourself for his roommates to answer the door, making fun of you before he put the cherry on top. Practically leaping up the porch stairs, you raced to the door, knocking quickly.

You wanted this over and done with. Your palms were clammy and your stomach churned viciously as you heard footsteps near the door. It took everything in you to stay rooted to the ground and to not flee, and when Peter appeared, you feared the opposite.

How the hell you were supposed to move with him in that slutty little fit, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his waist, his v-line and happy trail on full display… his toned abs and arms in a little white muscle shirt… gods you didn’t know. You were sure your tongue fully hung out of your mouth like some cartoon character as you took him in.

“Took you long enough” he said with a snort, adjusting his glasses, sliding them further up his nose. You didn’t even know he had glasses. Did he wear contacts? Had he worn them and you just didn’t notice? No, surely that wasn’t the case, you noticed everything he did. It was like he sucked all of the air out of the atmosphere whenever he walked in a room. It was suffocating, in a way. Of course you had to look at him, and you were sure you weren't the only one.

“I was admiring the greenery.”

“I saw that. I wasn’t sure the maple needed to be examined that long.” he smirked, and your felt your fists instinctively clench.

He had saw you- so you were fucked and now the only logical thing to do was to run into a brick wall. Perfect, got it.

“I enjoy living in the moment, and I don’t take nature for granted.’ you huffed, attempting to compose yourself as he stepped aside, motioning for you to enter. “I’m sure. Don’t worry it was cute.” he smiled, running a hand through his tosseled hair.

You slid off your shoes, setting them next to his worn in converse you always saw him wear. You noticed the other pairs were missing, not even a missing lace to be found.

“Where are your roommates?” you asked as entered, surveying the open space. It was surprisingly tidy for a boys place, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of Peter rushing around attempting to clean up before you came (though you doubted he would ever do that). Still, it was nice to think about.

Little traces of “boy” still lingered, silly little signs scattered across the walls, flags and such, empty, crushed beer and poking out from the recycling bins. “I kicked them out, because I figured you would want to contentrate.” he said.

Yeah like I’m going to be able to conetrate with you looking that fucking fine. Ha.

“That’s considerate. I’m surprised you even know what that is, Parker. I’m impressed.”

He snorted, throwing a little look back your way as he lead you up the stairs, presumably to his room. “I’m surprised you know how to walk up stairs. You have Bambi legs.” he teased, mocking your clumsiness. You cursed him internally. Maybe out loud too, judging by his laugh.

You tried to stifle down the butterflies. You were not about to flirt with him. You were not about to let your developing feelings expand. You hated him. He was mean and he was an asshole.

You were simply here to get this project done. That’s it.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” was all he said, turning down a hall to an open door, light glowing faintly- beckoning to you. You appreciated his refusal to use the overhead light- not that you’d tell him that. He’d probably look at you like you were insane.

“I see you clean for girls you bring over.” you noted, observing his (surprisingly) decently clean room.

“Bold of you to assume I cleaned. Maybe I’m always this tidy.” he smirked, arms flexing over and behind his head as he sat down in his office chair, man-spreading as he stretched.

You tried so hard not to stare. And failed miserably.

“I would’ve thought you cleaned up for ladies you bring to bed.”

His eyebrows arched. “Should I have prepared then?”

Something like churning fire burned in your belly, slithering lower and lower.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it pip.” he smiled coyly, knowing he had gotten you flustered. “May I?” you nodded to his bed, trying to ignore your feelings as you sat down. Fanning your skirt out, you tucked your legs in before opening your bag, attempting to cover your thighs with your bag as much as you could- his cool gaze staring lasers into your bare skin.

“So… if we have to base this on a creature in the wild…”

“Jumping straight to the point aren’t we?” he asked and you frowned in confusion.

“What did you want me to do foreplay or something beforehand?” you asked, your word choice more than intentional. You swore a little pink tinted his cheeks as he swiveled around.

“Right to it then. Okay, I was thinking spiders. Specifically their venom and social behaviours.”

You blinked. Jesus okay he had thought about this. This was not what you were expected.

“Elaborate Parker.”

He smiled. “ From what I’ve seen, not a lot is known about the venom entirely. From a predator-prey aspect.. I’ve mainly seen stuff on specific components evolving to target specific sites on cell membrains of prey tissue, we could work with that to start. Maybe expand on the social aspect and evolution.”

You were stunned. This was… more than you could’ve hoped for. Suddenly you felt bad for all the doubt aimed towards him over the few days leading up to this meeting.

“Hmm. I like it.”

“Did you have any ideas you had brewing in that genius brain of yours?” he asked, making you blush internally.

“I had some stuff just in case, but it was just random jots I’m not too proud of.”

He scoffed. “You came prepared with backup stuff?!”

You just shrugged. “Do you blame me?”

“Kinda.” he laughed. “Start thinking of me more highly pips. I even have access to a brown widow, we could do some experiments.”

You winced at the thought of actually studying a spider up close, but it was part of the job. Whatever could get this done the fastest, and you had to applaud him for providing some of your own evidence you could actually showcase.

He caught your wince, and you could feel the teasing start to start. It was like bait for him, he loved it. “The spider may bite, but I won’t. That is, unless you want me too.” he winked, and you fought the urge not to chuck your laptop at his handsome face.

“You’re gross Parker.”

“Oh I’m sure you think I am. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

You were going to strangle him. “Let’s just focus and get this project done as soon as we can, yeah? Please.”

You riffled through your bag, grabbing different coloured pens and your notebook, skimming through your random thoughts and jots.

“Whatever you say pip.”

“Start researching Parker.” And that was that.

—————————————————————

A few hours had passed, and so far you were quite impressed with how much the two of you had gotten done. For the most part, the two of you had stayed on opposite sides of the room. If he wanted to make a move, he wasn’t physically doing it, and his roommates still hadn’t come home yet.

Though as the hours passed, he had made his way closer to you- ever so slightly. From his desk he nudged over closer and closer, his laptop landing in his lap as he worked.

“What source are you working from right now?” you asked, not bothering to cast your gaze up as you continued to type, fingers flying over the keyboard as you bit your lip in concentration. You failed to notice his eyes darting between your lips and your breasts that poked out slightly as you slouched over, licking his lips hungrily.

“Some research paper. Here.”

You let out a little oomph in surprise as he plopped down beside you, sprawled across his bed as he enveloped you in his makeshift fortress. He stared at you with such longing you felt faint, having to stop your work to pull yourself together.

Fuck.

He nodded towards it, and you realized you had been staring at him longer than you intended, forgetting about the paper completely. “Oh, yeah okay let me look.” you murmured, taking the laptop from his hand to slide it across your lap, the fan whirling softly, the warmth of it adding more coals to the fire you felt already.

He was still staring.

Please look away before I want to kiss you. Or do more then kiss you. I’m supposed to be hating you, stop please.

You tried your best to read and concentrate, but it was next to no use. All you could focus on was him, his fingers drumming on the comforter near your thigh (what man has a comforter anyways?!), and his gaze on you, that was heavy with something. Want, perhaps? Lust? Or you were delusional. Very possible.

“It’s um, it’s good. I like it, I think there’s lots of good… stuff here.”

“Good stuff huh?” he asked sarcastically, a smirk plastered across his face.

He knew. The fucker knew you were down bad.

“Yeah. You know what I mean.” you grumbled, staring back down at your screen.

“I do know what you mean. Do you know what I mean?” he asked, hand inching closer and closer to your thigh- teasing you. You took a deep breath, grounding yourself.

You could push your hatred aside for just a few minutes. It was okay, just this once. Right?

You bit your lip, and fuck if that didn’t turn him on even more. Nodding to him, as if he could speak to you telepathically.

Yes, this is okay. Please touch me. Just a little, even is fine.

“Maybe you should explain a little more, Parker.”

His fingers skimmed the edge of your skirt, warm to the touch as they stroked your skin softly, just a whisper of him lingering. Goosebumps lingered in their wake, and you pushed your laptop off to the side, not caring where it landed on the bed. Just not next to him.

“How much more?”

His voice was low. Deep. Needing. You wanted more.

Another stroke of his fingers on your thigh, closer to where you wanted him the most made you shiver, toes curling. His gaze never left yours, never faultered. Instead of its usual lightness, his teasing and bullying- his eyes were dark with lust. Nothing but his full attention was on you, and you couldn’t help but shudder as he leaned in closer.

Another hand landed on your thigh. “Yeah?” he asked, voice rough as you nodded quickly. “Mhmmm..- oh!” you let out a little gasp as he swiftly grabbed you, swinging you over to straddle his lap, tossing you as if you weighed nothing.

You hated that you found it hot.

He smirked, leaning forward- so close you could feel his thudding heart with a small hand gesture sliding across his chest, could feel his breath catching. Just a small little gap between his lips and yours.

“You’re going to regret this.” you murdered, fingers curling into his shirt, twisting the soft fabric.

“I won’t. Will you?”

“I might.”

His smile grew.

“ I still hate you, you know.”

“I know. And you look so damn hot when you do.” He pulled you closer, fingers digging into your skin, needing you closer and closer despite the two of you practically forming one being.

A clash of teeth and tongue happened, rough and harsh- full of hate and need. A hatred for your need for him. Why did you need him? Of all people?

Because he was so fucking fine.

A hand slipped under your skirt to cup your ass, squeezing it slightly. You ran a hand through his hair, tugging on it as your hips moved on their own account- causing a groan to slip from his lips.

You’d do anything to hear it again.

“This is so wrong.” was all you could moan as his lips worked their way down your neck, tracing your jaw before nipping at your earlobe.

“I don’t do right, pips. You know this.”

“Mhm. But you hate me.”

He laughed against your skin, and you rocked your hips again, a little slap to your asscheek making you jolt.

“Whatever makes you sleep better at night, pips. Whatever you want to think.” he sighed, massaging the skin as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss.

You needed his lips on yours. You didn’t want to even try to decipher what his words meant, your head was foggy with want. You were slipping into a puddle of bliss, finally letting the restraint you held on a tight leash go- freeing the want and pure desire.

Yes, you wanted him. Yes, you hated him. And yes, he teased you. It hurt- but this didn’t. This was a soothe to his constant jabs, a salve to the wounds he caused.

“You feel so good. I want you so bad.” you confessed, causing him to moan again.

Yes. Yes, please.

“You’re killing me.”

“Good. It’s payback for the way you treat me.” you smirked, kissing him again. Hard, fast, rough. Mean.

Until he just… stopped.

Pulled away slightly, making you raise an eyebrow with confusion. His cheeks tinted slightly pink, hair messy and eyes wide with excitement, eager to keep going. To go further. So why did he just- stop?

“Parker?”

He smiled coyly.

“Don’t we have work we need to be doing?” he asked sarcastically- and you felt your stomach drop. He was teasing you. He was doing this just to get under your skin, to leave you high and dry and needing. Knowing damn well nothing could possibly get done now but him.

“You- you just want to get back to work? After that?”

“I want to do the dirtiest things imaginable to you, pips. I want to do so many things. But if we keep going and get nothing done, you’ll regret it and hate me. If we get work done, you’ll hate me too. I rather you hate me but feel secure with this, at least.” he murmured, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

It was tender, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. “So you just, want to work? Did I do something wrong?” you asked.

“Gods no. But it’s too easy if I just give it to you like that. You know me, pips- I tease. Maybe if you’re good and get more work done we can have some harmless, regretless fun.” he winked, sliding his hands down to your hips, picking you up again to toss you gently on his pillows, kissing your hand with a wink as he stood to go back to his desk.

Oh you were fucked. So, so fucked.

“I heard that.” he laughed, and you buried your head in your hands. This was going to be a long three weeks indeed.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#386

“I guess you’ll do.  I didn’t know what to expect when I contacted you.  As I told you, I’ve never been with a gay boy.  Your ad said that you offer a deep throat with no reciprocation.  Good, cause I ain’t touching you.  Your ad also said that you only blow eight inches or more.  Well I got nine.

“I just need a blowjob.  Neither my wife or my girlfriend give it to me whenever I need it.  I have to take them on a night out.  So much goddamned work for something I should have every single day.

“I work hard; I need relief.  So I hope you live up to what you are promising.  If not, I will make sure you do.  On your knees bitch.

“That’s right.  You know your fucking place is on your knees.  Take of your goddamned shirt.  Let me see your titties….  Ooh they are soft.  I like playing with titties when I’m getting blown.

“Here’s my pouch.  Big isn’t it?...  Don’t say anything.  Take a deep whiff.  Smell that?  I didn’t take a shower after playing 18 holes in the hot sun.  You won’t mind. 

“I can see you salivating.  Go on.  Reach up.  Pull down my jockeys….  Huge isn’t it?  And it’s soft.  Take it in your mouth bitch.  Let it grow down your throat.

“No, no.  Don’t touch it with your hands.  I don’t want a fucking handjob.  Only your mouth touches my dick.  Your hands need to be on my calves, so I know where they are at all times.  Don’t even think of playing with yourself bitch.  I hate the fact that I have to resort to using fags to get a throat that will accommodate me, the least you can do is not get pleasure out of it.

“Your mouth is too high.  Sit on your ass.  In fact, sit there.  Put your head against this brick wall.  Spread those legs wide.  Hands on my calves and open that cunt of a mouth wide. 

“Look up at me.  I want to see that hunger on your face give way to the realization that my cock is too big for your throat.  I have seen it in every bitch I have used.  All I am doing is letting it get hard.  Feel it?  There’s no place for it go other than down your throat.  Don’t fucking start gagging now.  We’ve only begun.  That throat hasn’t even begun to stretch. 

“Open it up.  Accommodate me.  This is what you are here for. 

“No. No. No.  No pulling off.  I’m in control of this blowjob, not you.  That throat of yours is my toy to use.  Breathing is a luxury for you, get it however you can.

“Oh fuck.  I’m almost hard.  I can feel your struggle on my cock.  I’m just standing here; I haven’t even begun to fuck your throat and I can feel it pulsate. 

“Look up at me….  Damn, I can see the terrified look in your eyes knowing that my hard on is stretching the hell out of your throat.  You know what I don’t see in your eyes?...  Tears.  So the lack of oxygen hasn’t hit you yet.  Don’t worry.  It will.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth and one of two things is going to happen; you will either learn to breathe around me or pass out trying.  I’m gonna fuck your cunt mouth hard, and I don’t care what you opt to do.  I need to get my nut.  Normally I will fuck a throat for hours, but today expediency is needed.

“You ready?...  I don’t care if you’re not.  Keep your fucking hands on my calves.  My hands will hold your head in the exact position I need to maximize my pleasure to my dick.  I am not one who likes to give up control of a blowjob.  I slam fuck like this until I cum.  And that’s what I’m about to do, right down your throat.

“I haven’t cum in a few days, so it’s going to be massive.  I need to do this quick….  Keep those hands on my calves.  Just adapt!  If you want to help me to cum, stick your tongue out and try to lick my balls as they slap your chin….  Oh fuck, like that!

“Here it cums.  Here it fucking cums!  Right down your throat.  Ahhh!  Ahhhh!  Fuck yeah!...  Shit!...

“I dumped it straight to your belly.  You don’t even get the pleasure of knowing what it tastes like.  Too bad.  Maybe next time. 

“Here take a few gasps of air.  My dick ain’t coming out yet.  I need to take a piss.  And I have a toilet mouth wrapped around my cock.  Too bad, I’m losing my hard on; I would have pissed directly into your gut. 

“When I tell you, just start swallowing.  You will drink it all.  Let’s see if a gay boy can do what all those bitches promised but failed.  Swallow….  Ahh.  That feels good.  You might not get to savor my cum, but you will have the taste of my piss in your mouth for a while.

“Good boy.  I want the last drops on your face.  There you go.  You look like the whore you are.

“Well, you lived up to what you promised.  You could take my dick.  If you want to do this again, next weekend you can come over to my garage.  I have it set up for whatever crosses my mind.  I have a few stations I can install you in so I can use your mouth for hours.  And I mean hours.  I built most of the equipment there for women, but I can modify it for you.  The garage is soundproofed.  A bunch of my golfing buds rent out the house and we use it to bring bitches to use.  One will bring an occasional gay boy.  The detached garage is entirely for me and my sick mind.

“You want to come by and be used by my cock?...  Good.  Damn.  I just noticed that I didn’t work over your nips.  I won’t make that mistake the next time.  I’ll be in touch. 

“Nice place.  You are sitting in a piss puddle you should clean it up.  Slurp what you can, then clean it up.  Another round of golf is in order.”

[kennytheworkingclasshero]

While there is a discussion to be had about how Stan doesn't seem to care for or treat Wendy the way he used to, and this can be largely attributed to his depression, addiction and cynicism, it is important to remember that he was a boyfriend who believed in her. I think the episode that shows this in a very subtle way is actually Breast Cancer Show Ever!

When Stan first hears about the fight that is scheduled to take place after school between Wendy and Cartman, he's shocked, replying to Butters with a "What?" There does seem to be a little worry in his expression but he doesn't question her or go up to her to try and stop her.

The goth kids actually call him out on this, suggesting Stan is going to "just let that guy... beat up on your woman? Doesn't that, like, go against your jockey man code or something?" and "Yeah, I don't ever remember AC/DC singing about letting dudes beat up on their girlfriends."

Because Stan fits the stereotype of being a "jockey" man and therefore, he should exhibit all the traits that come with that, especially towards his girlfriend. The goth kids even bring up other "typical man" archetypes such as AC/DC in order to make Stan feel bad and push him towards putting an end to this fight (despite the fact they also want to witness it).

In this moment, Stan had the potential to fall into masculine traits that are very toxic; overly protective, dominate over his girlfriend, controlling, having secondhand embarrassment because of her. But he doesn't do anything of the sort, instead he looks at them and asks the genuine question "What am I supposed to do about it?"

And later, when he is corned by a terrified Cartman, who is calling on his responsibility as a boyfriend to "do something" because Wendy is supposedly "stuck" in this situation and she really doesn't want to fight, Stan still insists that he "can't do anything; she really wants to fight you" and "Dude, there's nothing I can do about it." In his attempt at manipulation, Cartman is also calling on Stan to express his masculinity unhealthily and telling him "to be a fuckin' man and forbid her from fighting" and when he refuses he is called a "pussy" but Stan doesn't take the bait, he refuses to budge.

This isn't because Stan doesn't care about Wendy, it's because he knows her. He knows she's stubborn, he knows she's smart and he knows that she can hold her own. He has no place to tell her what to do, and if he does, he knows to expect backlash from her. On top of this, he knows his overly manipulative friend with no backbone and therefore he is confident in Wendy and her decision to take him on. When Wendy and Cartman finally throw down, you can see that Stan is shocked it is actually happening at first, but soon he is seen smiling at his girlfriend standing ten toes down in what she said she would do.

This isn't to say that this is all he can do, respecting his girlfriends wishes and not getting involved is the bare minimum, but when he could have easily been manipulated and pushed into being a toxic man, he trusted his girlfriend. He knew if it was really an issue she would come to him and he stayed out of her decision making.

[cuckaracha]

Ohhh please give Ace opinions. I love seeing people yap about Ace

With pleasure ^_^!

V spoilers talk! V

Most of my opinions were revealed to be sort of true on the last episode so it wouldn't surprise me if this is one-to-one what everyone believes now: Ace to me seems like an extremely love starved person, like, its so painfully obvious that he's faced some sort of neglect in his life. So much so to the point that he keeps himself guarded all the time to avoid falling for the trap of liking someone and then they immediately turn on him. Hence what he said to Levi during the trial. Ace is feels too much. He's well aware of his surroundings and how shitty he acts, but if he doesn't feel anger or fear, the loneliness kicks in. It's a toxic cycle of self-hatred, low self-esteem and cynicism. Though I do believe that it's mostly the situation making his bad habits shine more brightly, because during the prologue/chapter1, Ace is kind of just a bratty jock. He cracks jokes, he hangs out with everyone and he seems to not be plagued as much by his fear unless you breach the topic.

Hence why I personally think that there's no other person like Levi to be used as foil for him. Regardless of how you think on their relationship, be it romantic or platonic or whatever, it's nothing new that their attitudes clash so much, it comes back around to them covering each other's weakness very well. A little guy that feels to much and is scared of giving out of fear of being hurt, and a big guy that feels too little that gives to others out of necessity. So when taken to their natural extreme, they would very obviously have problems, specially under the circumstances that they're both in. Ace, tragically believing the one thing he knew he shouldn't have, and Levi hopelessly attempting to fix what he inadvertently broke. It's peak toxic yaoi imo.

(which also, at least in my opinion, makes Levi the one true Ace lover. None of the other boys have as much of their nuance intrinsically mangle with Ace's as him. But again, that's just me. Ship this little freak with however boy you want. Fuck it. Make him a slut even.)

The other thing that has popped in my mind a lot is his family situation. I know with my take of his family, he's like a middle child or whatever, but that was just me wanting to be contrarian to the obvious, more solid interpretation of Ace being the eldest of the 9 brothers. Because when you think about, him being forced into jockeying by his family to maintain them economically makes sense. He hates it, but if he doesn't do it, he'll be the loser everyone knows him to be. He'd be disposed of by his family, believing that they only care about him for his talent and the money that comes from it. And if he doesn't do it, the job might fall to one of his younger siblings. Something he can't morally do. Because as much of a stupid little shithead as he is, he's not an idiot. Ace knows what's right and what's wrong. He understands the cruelty of the world to an extent. And as such. He's forced into being the breadmaker for his big ass family until the day he either retires or dies.

All this to say. I love Ace Markey. He's such a silly little goofball full of depression and anxiety that is one fart away from going insane. Like I haven't even touched on my thoughts on Taylor (which I also got right on my earlier theory) and how that affects the Ace economy. I relate so much to this guy it's fucking unreal. I don't think I've ever hyperfixated on a character this much. Like. So much so that I even got a fucking custom plushie made out of him and am constantly drawing him.

Anyways thanks for listening to my old man ramble, have an Ace my friend Fennex made.

[ao3cassandraic]

When angels overplay

Angels, playing a human role new to them, routinely overplay, in delight at their own cleverness and the sheer fun of roleplay. (Demons mostly don't. Crowley only piles role upon role on Bildad the Shuhite because Aziraphale prods him into helping con the angel posse. Until then, Bildad's basically just some guy -- if a guy who asks some rather foreboding leading questions -- to Job and Sitis. In s1, Hastur la Vista looks awful, but plays his role at Megiddo tolerably well; it's Warlock's child-outing-the-naked-emperor bit rather than any solecisms on his part that mess up his scene.) Angels just can't seem to figure out that sometimes less is more.

Muriel totally overdoes the Human Police Officer schtick -- Mrs. Sandwich clocks them just from a moment's glance at them, and so does Aziraphale -- because Muriel doesn't really know what they're doing so they think the thing to do is MORE OF IT. They kinda even know they don't know, but they have to get the job done so they just soldier (heh) right on. When Aziraphale pretends to buy their disguise, they are visibly thrilled.

Aziraphale totally overdoes the investigative-reporter schtick with the publican in the Resurrectionist. He settles down once he's getting some actual useful information, but the way he tosses around journalist jargon at the start is just as overegged as Muriel's Inspector Constable bit, and it comes from the same place of delight in roleplay.

Aziraphale's West End stage-magician career is also a masterpiece of Overegging It (when he isn't a basket of nerves, anyway). He only gets away with it because stage figures are allowed to be mega-flamboyant.

Here's the fun bit. Y'all ready for the fun bit? Here it is.

This applies to the Metatron too. He overplays his role as Kindly Oh-So-Human Appreciator of Aziraphale.

Oh, he does pretty well, the astute manipulative formerly-human-himself sod. He gets by Nina, no problem. The latte for Aziraphale (miracled or not) is a great gambit. He gets by Crowley, even -- Crowley's huge, huge, HUGE mistake is letting Aziraphale talk to the Metatron alone. (Crowley's contempt for Muriel's overplay, which he extends to angels in general, does him a very bad turn here.)

But then the Metatron says something that ground my brain-gears to a halt on my very first s2 watch. "You’re a leader, you’re honest, you don’t just tell people what they want to hear."

I'm sorry, are we talking about the same angel? The angel Aziraphale? The angel who flatly refuses to lead his troops in s1? The lying liar angel who lies lyingly even to the archangels and God Herself? The angel who when at odds with Heaven's archangels invariably finds a way to tell them what they want to hear, even if he has to convince them they want to hear it?

That angel?

Look, sure, it's meant as flattery, but the thing is, I don't think that is even the kind of angel Aziraphale wants to see himself as. He's not Michael or Uriel or Shax or Furfur, jockeying for empty titles and authority. He knows he's dishonest, and he's actually pretty honest with himself about it -- he confesses his lies to Crowley more than once over the millennia! He goes along to get along because it mostly works for him (and, of course, because he is always, always afraid).

But the Metatron clearly expects Aziraphale to buy this overegged line of utter boardroom-bafflegab bullshit. (Oxshit. Whatever. It's shit.) And the old boy's pretty damn pleased with himself at how well he thinks he's doing; he just oozes self-satisfaction.

I continue to hope Aziraphale doesn't buy it. He doesn't buy it. He does his standard go-along-to-get-along thing until he can get back to the bookshop and try to (codedly, codedly, anxiously, anxiously, the Metatron is still near) ask for Crowley's help.

I'm willing to be wrong about this; it's possible this is a cue to the audience -- rather than to Aziraphale -- that the Metatron isn't to be trusted. I don't think I am wrong, though. I think the Metatron went too far and Aziraphale (who is intelligent) caught it. Or possibly he'll catch it in (deus et Amazon volent) s3 when he's had a moment to consider.

P.S. I love that for all the swirling uncertainty about the details, the fandom has quickly -- and I believe accurately -- settled on the Metatron as the hate-sink string-pulling villain. We also seem to be pretty much agreed that there's one or several cons happening around the s2 ending, though again we're all over the place on the details. It's funny! I love y'all!

[cinnbar-bun]

Important Message

So... haha... been almost a month since I really did anything on this blog...

Listen, I'm gonna keep it straight to you guys, the months leading up to my hiatus were, to put it mildly, some of the most disgusting I've seen in my years as a fanfic writer and fandom enjoyer. This is a bit of a vent post, because, well, genuinely, I really hope the fandom can get better. I'm assuming most of the bad experiences I've had came through people a bit younger/newer to fandom or tumblr/fanfic culture in general. If you want just an update on the blog, I will be posting that shortly after this one.

I'm going to list out some of the shit I had to go through (that I am sure many fanfic writers, but more specifically, POC fandom creators go through). This is a long post. Yeah, also, this is obvious but TW FOR: Racism (including slurs), Islamaphobia, sexism, death threats, suicide threats, harassment, and just flat out horrible behavior.

I'm gonna go list some of the slurs I've been messaged or called, I'll even rate them for you guys <3:

Camel jockey: oooo, haven't heard that one before. get more creative, 3/10

camel fucker: nice, bit more crass, still not original. 3.5/10, just a bit funny

Terrorist: wow, dude, oh my gosh, I can't believe I've never heard that one living in post 9/11 America! Wow! 0/10 try harder

I also don't know where the assumption came from that I was a hijabi... I am not. Calling me a BMO? Pretty unique but sadly does not fit me. :(/10

This barely scratches the surface of what I have dealt with after having been open about my heritage. I'm sorry my very existence offends you and requires you to come out and send me shit about hoping my family dies or that my favorite character brutally hurts me. I have read your messages, and after long consideration, I have decided to no longer be Middle Eastern. Yep, that's right, guys, I am no longer MENA! Don't worry about my family history or anything, I just choose not to be that anymore. There, now you don't have to send me messages about hoping my family gets killed <3

Let's see what else we should tackle.

Should I tackle the fact that I've gotten messages from others to update a fic or answer a request or they will try to self harm or commit suicide?

Should I tackle the fact that some have tried to pressure or guess my sexuality (dude, what the fuck)?

Should I tackle how I got messages from others assuming my place because of my religion?

Should I tackle how I've gotten weird ass messages from people getting mad at me because how DARE I not write certain things during Ramadan?

Should I tackle those things?

I'll save you the hassle, no, I really shouldn't have had to, but fact is, the One Piece fandom has to be some of the worst I've seen and interacted with purposefully in a long time. And I was in the Hetalia fandom way back when. I should not have dumb shit about "liberating" me or oh, oh, oh, I love this one! People asking me if I have 'full armament haki' (I hope you genuinely, genuinely, get the fuck off your phone and go outside. Maybe have a walk and go talk to actual people.)

I've met some genuinely lovely, beautiful, and kind people. They truly are some of the most talented creators I've seen, and I'm grateful they chose to befriend me. The good does outweigh the bad. But the bad? Oh lord, I think you guys are genuinely some of the most disgusting pieces of shits I've ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Fanfic writers are not your slaves. I have a full time job, I have a full time life outside of my tumblr and my writing. I write when I want to because I like to write, and fanfic is a good creative outlet. You sending dumb messages crying about no updates after four days of me posting a new chapter, or threatening to harm yourself because of this is disgusting.

POC creators, especially, are not your fucking tokens. I'm not here to break down every racial stereotype for you. I'm not here to be sitting there mocked with crap I already hear in my outside life. And I sure as HELL am not here for fake support only to be called slurs and mocked the minute I don't do something for you. You are gross, you are not funny, you are genuinely a horrible person and if your ideal vision of humor boils down to the Instagram comments section, all I'm saying is, I'm not wishing you anything positive.

If you read this far, thank you. Truly. This was difficult to place and write down, but it needed to be said, because even to this day I still get messages similar to before.

Do better, One Piece fandom. Do better. Because you are only going to lose the fans who really care and who put effort into making things. How far can you harass fanfic creators, and especially POC ones, with your bullshit before you lose out on things?

I don't need to 'move on'. My identity and my existence is on a completely separate wave than so and so idk, liking a ship or a character. One is fake, and one is literally who I am. Putting false equivalencies to the issues within fandom because it makes you 'sad' is shitty.

I've only given you an idea of what I had to deal with. Now imagine this constantly by random people, both on tumblr and AO3, and then imagine that also in your daily life, on the media, in the news, in the music, on the radio, in the books- fucking everywhere. It's exhausting.

Just... fucking do better. Actually fucking listen to POC. I got nothing else to add that wouldn't just be me repeating the same shit I and others have tried to say.

Just be kind, for gods sake, and remember that creators are human, not the silly avatars we choose.

[deliciouskeys]

So I liked what we have of season 4 a lot?! I don't know if I set my expectations really low, maybe didn't expect to get that fandom feeling back, but I think I can say with certainty that I've enjoyed e1-3 of s4 more than e1-3 of s3, and mayyyyyybe even more than e1-3 of s2. Some of the storylines don't interest me, but that was true of prior seasons too.

Things I am loving so far...

(under cut because there may be teensy weensy spoiler references)

Sister Sage! Yes, she says the lines that are in the trailer, but they are so misleading about the type of character she is. I LOVE her so far.

Homelander's frustration with being adored no matter what he does and his ennui about being surrounded with sycophants (which tbf, he engineered). I am SO glad they're walking that back to some degree. Related to point 1 above, I am delighted by the way he goes about solving this problem.

Every single scene with Ryan is so fucking good?? Like, Cameron Crovetti is the ideal Ryan of my mind's eye when I write fic. I feel SO bad for him. But I am loving the divorced plot and them jockeying to be his dad. Some of it reads like fucking fic, in a good way too. Like I can't believe the conversation between HL and Ryan after he comes back from Butcher's place actually happened on TV and not in my head.

I am actually SO SO happy they decided to outsource Billy Butcher's shitty tendencies to his Tyler Durden. I did not expect him to fucking apologize to Ryan for the S3 debacle. Even ~I~ felt apologized to for that "necessary for the plot but makes zero sense outburst".

I am loling every time Noir speaks. I don't know why, but I'm finding it hilarious.

I think they're actually doing a good job with A-Train's storyline, or a better job than I expected to justify how he becomes their new double agent.

I'm enjoying Chace Crawford's work in season 4. I like that he's sincere about the comic relief role.

Hughie is so charismatic, and for the first time in 4 seasons I think he elicited tears in me (in the scene right before his mom shows up when he's listening to his dad's messages).

I like Ashley's dialogue more this season than season 3. Part of that may have to do with me enjoying her character when she's angry rather than scared shitless or "trying to imitate HL"

I welcome the larger Victoria Neumann presence, and can't wait to see more about her past.

I enjoyed BIlly Butcher using a crowbar in a fight

I enjoyed seeing Antony Starr playing a mommy and a daddy and a.... secret third thing in the mirror.

What I'm meh about...

I hate to say this but the Boys' storylines are mostly dragging and feel disconnected. I'm already tired of Frenchie and Kimiko refusing to talk to each other and attempting to drink/drug their problems away. The mystery about why Frenchie is distraught was mostly solved right away, and Kimiko's mystery is still some derivative of her backstory in S2. It just doesn't feel connected.

Mother's Milk is fine, but I do think his character took a turn toward the unreasonable in season 3, and it has sort of continued. It's not clear to me why he's kicking Butcher out of the team multiple times, especially when Butcher saves them, and clearly has nothing better to do with his time. It feels especially cruel to kick him out when he tells him about the terminal illness.

Annie's storyline is.... fine, I guess. Maybe it will develop into something more interesting, but it feels like the writers don't exactly know what to do with her now that she's out of the Seven. I don't know why Firecracker had to have a personal vendetta against Starlight beyond being a symbol of 'wokeness'. I guess I'll wait to see if Annie's meangirl past becomes relevant as the season goes on.

Firecracker is okay. I'm amused that Homelander seems bored and annoyed by her, so I take it it's fine if we feel the same way too. It's certainly an interesting addition to the Seven to have someone so underpowered.

Hughie's mom frustrates me so much I wanted HL to come and laser her instead of Hughie after that chase. Her explanation made it worse for me, not better. I await to be proven wrong, but so far I think Hughie is being a really kind person to her. "Your father didn't want me to talk to you". But you were allegedly talking to him for years? And you son is in his 20s, I think you could have contacted without his daddy's say-so. UGH.

I don't really care about this so much, because I don't like character deaths, but it is pretty funny when Vicky doesn't kill Hughie or Butcher, and when Homelander is nerfed beyond all belief and is unable to laser Hughie in a closed space. I'll chalk it up to him losing a step or fifty with the enlargement of his prostate.

[followerex]

Fool's Fate Riddles

from @petra-creat0r's project.

-

1. What's always in charge, but never in debt, found in cars but never buses, found in cats but never dogs, and is known as the first amongst all their kind?

Answer: A

2. Remove a letter and I become one, yet add a letter and I can become an insect, a wager, or a place to rest. What am I?

Answer: Be

3. My name sounds like the ocean, yet how I sound depends on those around me. What am I?

Answer: C.

4. What is not a holiday, yet only found in the last month of the year?

Answer: D.

5. I am the beginning of the end, and the end of time and space. I am essential to creation, and I surround every place. What am I?

Answer: E.

6. I always start with T, but can be spelled with two letters, three letters, or a number. Every spelling changes my meaning. What am I?

Answer: Too/two/to.

7. What number is odd but can be made even by removing one letter?

Answer: Seven. (funny, answer to question Seven is seven.)

8. I never come once; I always repeat. Try as you might, you will always try me. What am I?

Answer: Again

9. When parties argue, I am gone, yet when there's peace, they both are me. What am I?

Answer: Agree

10. Add a B and I am round, and a C and I am sound, and an F and I am downed, yet add a G I am not ground. My name means everything. What am I?

Answer: All.

11. I never face my issues, I always ignore or hide, if handed degree or contract, I will nullify. Doing me will solve nothing but give little peace of mind. What am I?

Answer: Avoid

12. What is always behind you and can never leave, but a friend can have yours?

Answer: Back.

13. What can be seen in the sky, in the ocean and sea, can be felt but not touched by you or by me?

Answer: Blue

14. At the beginning of your life, you are me, yet change my first letter and others only do me once you’re gone. What am I?

Answer: Born.

15. What is in a deck but not on a ship, can have a heart but no other organs, and can be put on a table and cut, but never eaten?

Answer: Cards.

16. I am the sound of a tongue, I am the sound of a mouse. Remove my last letter and my sound stays the same but remove my first and now I sound wet.

Answer: Click.

17. What can you do to someone when spelled with four letters but usually can't do on them when spelled with three?

Answer: Care?

18. I breed unity and trust, yet can be used to manipulate. All humans crave me but I can be difficult to maintain. What am I?

Answer: Connection

19. What can be good or bad, big or not, crummy or fair, can be done with cards, commodities, or blows, and can be sealed with hand, pen, or card?

Answer: Deal

20. What closes out every book, story, or tale and which every life must eventually come to?

Answer: End

21. I can be a place of fun or a measure of justice, add four letters and I can be viewed as equality yet remove one and you won't see me at all. What am I?

Answer: Fair.

22. You can not escape me, yet you have the chance to change me. What am I?

Answer: Fate.

23. No matter what you add to the end, I always come last. Yet replace three of my letters and I am first. What am I?

Answer: Final.

24. What's value is 0 yet journey's through the deck? Is seen as stupid yet can be used as a trick?

Answer: Fool.

25. The imprisoned wish to be me, yet those that are me rarely think they are truly. My domain holds no rulers, yet my land is open to all. Many find me valuable, yet I cost nothing. What am I?

Answer: Free

26. I'm always a question but never a person, place, or thing. I am the odd one out among my family. What am I?

Answer: How

27. Two on a side, four on a field. A steed without jockey, yet still I don't yield. What am I?

Answer: Knight.

28. To be me you must learn yet the more you have me the less you have me. Put me before a ledge and I am power. What am I?

Answer: Know.

29. What can take many forms, from canine friend to valiant knight, and can be always seen through support or sacrifice?

Answer: Loyal

30. I trick people yet I am praised, make people disappear yet they give me a stage, can slip a man’s wallet from out his pack, yet when the shows over I’ll always give it back. What am I?

Answer: Magician

31. What crawls on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening?

Answer: Man.

32. What does greed always make you want, no matter how much you have?

Answer: More.

33. You mistake want for me, yet it is not. If someone is me, you find them annoying though they require you. What am I?

Answer: Need.

34. I'm not from the future and not from the past. Once the moment is gone, I no longer last. What am I?

Answer: Now

35. Add a T and I am not, backwards I turn to on, E and N you have none and you’ll often find me paired with E, S, and Y. What am I?

Answer: No.

36. Poor people have it. Rich people need it. If you eat it you die. What is it?

Answer: Nothing.

37. How many times can you subtract the number 5 from 25?

Answer: Once

38. Played both in battle and out, I may be small yet I always protect someone bigger. What am I?

Answer: Pawn.

39. What can you do freely as a child, but are for judged for as an adult?

Answer: Play

40. I’m done by the sheep near the end of the day, yet change only my vowel and I am what the sheep is to the wolf. What am I?

Answer: Pray

[venusxsturnio]

KNOCK ON WOOD

PAIRINGღ matt x equestrian!fem!reader

SUMMARYღ today is the big tournament. but what happens when y/n slips up, and forgets to knock on wood?

FROM VENUSღ hi guys! do y'all like my stuff fr? be honest. lmk what y'all think. ✿ btw this was a request. lowkey i don't even know how horse racing even works...so lmk if i got sumthin wrong, but remember my requests are always open! and remember i love criticism. :)

WARNINGSღ cussing...fluff...danger...injuries..

proofread!

5:26 am

i was awoken by the sound of my alarm going off. i reached over to my nightstand to grab my phone. i stopped the alarm as i got out of bed. i made my way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. oh shit- i almost forgot today was the tournament. how could i forget today was the biggest day of my entire career?

i rushed out of the bathroom to my room. i grabbed some sweats and a hoodie and threw them on. i went back in the bathroom to finish my routine before heading downstairs. i grabbed my purse, keys, and phone. i practically ran out of the house as i made my way to my car. i started the car and pulled out of the driveway. i propped my phone up in the phone holder and facetimed matt.

the phone rung once before i saw matts big smile in the camera. "Hey babe!" matt yelled. "Well someone's excited." i said playfully rolling my eyes. "Aren't you?" matt asked as a confused expression appeared on his face. "Yeah..." i dragged not wanting to finish that sentence. "Yeah...what?" matt said pushing the conversation. "I just don't want anything bad to ha-" i couldn't even finish my sentence before matt so rudely interrupted me.

"Y/N Y/L/N, take it back right now! Knock on wood!" matt screamed at me. "Take what back? You didn't even let me finish. And plus I don't have wood anywhere near me right now." i said trying to hold back a laugh, but failing badly. matt scolded me "Y/n I'm serious. If something bad happens to you I'll never forgive myself." matt exclaimed. "Ok. Fine I'll find some later." i said, my laughter dying down.

"Ok I'm pulling in. I'll see you when you get here ok?" i said gathering my things. "I'm already here." matt said calmy. my eyes widened at matts comment. "WHAT?! You're here already? It doesn't start till like...7." i said with a shocked expression spread across my face. "I'm your #1 supporter, of course I'm here early. And plus I wanted to get a good seat." matt said smiling from cheek to cheek. "I cannot believe they let you in. Anyways I'll see you later ok? I have to get ready." i said grabbing my phone as i stepped out of my car, locked it and started making my way towards the arena...

"Alright babe, see you later! You'll do AMAZING! I love you." matt said eagerly. "I love you too." i said as i hung up the phone and stuffed it in my purse. i made my way towards my dressing room. i unlocked it and entered. i froze in shock. a bouquet of roses, it had to be at least a hundred. i made my way towards the flowers, and picked up a card. 'From Matt' it read 'You'll do great! I love you so much! Even if you don't win, I'll always support you! :)' my eyes lit up as i read the message. this must be why he got here so early...i placed the note down on my vanity, as i went to my clothing rack and got into my uniform.

6:48 am

i finished getting ready as i made my way out to the stables. i went to the one with my name on it, as i approached my horse 'Lila' and petted her head. "Hey hun, how you doin?" i gave her a little kiss on the head, as she grunted. "I know right. Me too." i said responding to her grunt. "You ready?" i said unlocking her stable door, hooking on to her leash and leading her out of the stables.

we made our way to the arena doors. behind those doors were the other horses and their jockeys. and there were also fans, bettors, and the media. i looked at lila and took a deep breath. in and out. i reached for the handle and opened the door. as soon as we walked through all you heard was screaming and cheering.

me and lila took our place in our lane. i saddled myself onto her and straightened myself up. i looked around the crowd, as my eyes slowly approached matts. i gave him a big smile and waved. he returned the energy. i mouthed 'i love you', i guess he caught on, because he started blowing me kisses. i shook my head and chuckled a little.

soon the ref came on the loud speakers as he started to announce the race and racers. when he said mine and lilas name everyone cheered the loudest they every have. i smiled of embarrassment, but the good kind. the ref started the count down, and before i knew it we were off.

me and lila started off strong, we were in second place. i held on as tight as i could, until my foot slipped out of the buckle. i switched my view from my foot to the track as i tried to quickly place my foot back where it belonged. we were coming up on a sharp turn, and my body started to shift. i felt myself slipping. i tried my best to grip onto lilas reigns.

next thing i know, i'm rolling on the track. everything stopped. the noise. the horses. everyone. all i heard were silent whispers, and cameras flashing. my eyesight started to dim, my vision started to become blurry as i held my arm in pain. my legs found their way to my chest. before my vision fully went out. i could see a silhouette that somewhat looked like matt. then my vision turned black.

MATT POV

y/n was doing good. but then i noticed something wrong with her. her leg had slipped out of the buckle and she was struggling to put it back on. i stood from my seat and made my way down to the ref. i was trying to let him know what was going on, but then out of the corner of my eye, i saw y/n rolling off the track field. my eyes widened at the sight of y/n on the ground in pain.

i tried to run to her but the security quickly caught up to me. the grabbed my arms and were pulling me back. i punched one, and then the other. i ran from the stadiums, and onto the track field, up to y/n. "Oh my god! SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!" i screamed. i felt tears forming in my eyes, as salty, warm streaks fell down my cheeks.

people started coming to us. and crowding us with questions. i picked up y/n bridal style and pushed our way through the large crowd. i ran from the arena and to the gates. luckily the ambulance was already here. i let the nurses carry her onto the gurney and hooked her up to a bunch of IV and needles.

i hopped in the truck with them. holding y/ns hands the whole ride to the hospital. we sped all the way to the hospital. once we made it there, we rushed inside, and ran to an emergency room. "She's got a bruised rib and arm." one nurse yelled out to another. "I need an IV stat. Get me a crash UCV cart. For emergencies." i couldn't believe this was happening.

9:08 am

i had my head down. resting on my arms as my hands held y/ns. i was just hoping that she would wake up. she can't leave me like this. i felt shuffling in the hospital bed. i picked up my head and looked at y/ns pale sweaty body.

Y/NS POV

"Matt?" i said trying to sit up, but immediately falling right back down, due to my injuries. i winced in pain. "No lay down. You're hurt." matt said sympathetically. "What the hell happened?" i asked my voice sounding hoarse. "Well you were racing. Good as hell I might add. But then I noticed that your foot slipped out. I went to tell the ref, but then you fell. I ran to help you and then the security stopped me. I punched the hell out of their asses. And then I picked you up, ran to the ambulance, and we came here. You had me worried as hell, Y/n" matt said rambling on about the incident. i loved when he did that. it meant that he cared.

"Well I'm fine now aren't I?" i said sarcastically. matt scoffed trying to hold back his laugh. i rolled my eyes playfully. i used the arm that wasn't broken, and lifted it up to his face. i caressed his cheeks softly. he leaned in on my forehead as he gave me and sweet, smooth kiss. matt retreated back from my forehead, and looked at me with love in his eyes. "I guess you should have knocked on wood."

FROM VENUSღ y'all. HOW WAS IT?!?! y'all see what i did there? at the end? matt being such a gentleman the whole story just fascinates me. don't forget requests/dm's are open :)

credits: @hearts4tatemcrae and @sturnad thank you!

[queerlyvictorian]

The Wizard, the Witch, and the Wild One Ep. 31 SPOILERS

Heyyyyyyy… what?

Are Indri and Mirara trying to end the Covenant?

Do the other witches know this whole “if the conclave ends with an even number of witches the whole coven just ends” rule?

Was it just a coincidence that they always ended two stations at once? Or did they just not hold a conclave until they had an odd number again? How did that happen without them knowing this rule?

I think it has to the case that Indri is trying to end the conclave with four. It’s the quickest way to stop having to listen to anybody else. That’s why she didn’t bat an eye at Ame’s insinuation that they would have to go down to three, because that’s not her intention. Tefmet said four Great Witches, didn’t they? If the host of the conclave ends the conclave, then Indri can just close it after Ame is dead and then the Covenant is broken. It’s looks less bad than if she just straight up snapped the Wand of Covenant, and there’s the bonus of the World’s Heart no longer having anyone to tend to it.

My big long-term question: can the wand bring back stations that have been lost? Or do we have to use new titles?

Also, what has been keeping the witches from expanding the coven again? Is it literally just centuries of not having anyone else jockeying for power? It’s less people to persuade to get something done? If so, that would be so human, but it also solidifies that the Coven is just as fucked as the Citadel, just in a totally different way.

[thatsrightice]

We were there, LeMay said, because he was trying to find out why the Third Air Division wasn't doing its job any better. Part of the reason was bad formation. Group commanders were instructed to check out all new crews in formation before they flew. There was to be more practice flying in formation.

Another reason for the trouble, LeMay ground out in his gritty, patternless speaking voice, was that lead pilots had not learned to fly with lead navigators and lead bombardiers.

"Wrong, sir," I thought to myself. In the 100th's case, we had a good lead crew in each squadron, but the command pilots messed us up.

"I am a pilot," LeMay said, "but I am the only person in this room who is also a trained navigator and a trained bombardier. When I was a group commander in the First Air Division I flew a mission as a lead pilot, a lead navigator, and a lead bombardier. I learned that a mission goes wrong when all three don't work together.

"Too many times, the command pilot, who is supposed to lead a mission, is the one who causes it to fail. Every time he sees a burst of flak, he takes the wheel and swerves his plane. That causes trouble for the whole group.

“If there is anything that is necessary on a bomb run it is that there be no evasive action.

“Too many command pilots have their own special ways of taking over on the bomb run. Some of you think you can spare your group from the flak if you descend and confuse the anti-aircraft— and you ruin the bombsight computations. Some of you, under-standably, want to keep your formation tight so your bomb pattern will be small. That is commendable. But you have to depend on your wing men to keep in place. You can't jockey back into place. The lead plane must fly straight and level. What you must do on the bomb run is to let the bombardier and the Norden take over."

This guy is tough, I thought. I was seeing a group of full colonels getting chewed out.

"We know all this," Doug whispered, "but how is he going to make the brass keep their hands off the wheel? Egan and Harding take over on the bomb run."

As the briefing continued, LeMay said, "Now I want you here to tell me what went wrong on the St. Nazaire and La Pallice mis-sions."

One by one the colonels or lieutenant colonels who had flown right seat spoke. Yes, my group assembled on time. Yes, we made the wing rendezvous as briefed, but the other groups weren't there. Yes, we flew good formation during the whole mission. Yes, we were at the fighter rendezvous, but the fighters weren't. At the I.P., we tucked in tight, but the bombardier missed the target.

After all the command pilots talked, LeMay said, "Do any of you lead navigators or lead bombardiers want to add anything?"

Of course, we didn't. We were all first and second lieutenants. Not one of the command pilots had described a mission anything like the way it was really flown. Even so, who among the lieutenants wanted to contradict our own brass?

Silence. Uncomfortable silence.

"Lieutenant Shore, Group Navigator of the 390th. Who was the bombardier with you in the nose on the mission of July 18th?”

Marshall Shore pointed to a bombardier.

LeMay turned to the bombardier. "Do you have anything to add?"

"No, sir."

"Were your bubbles level during the bomb run?"

When Colonel LeMay asked that question, I must have gasped. I knew exactly what he had in mind. Maybe because of the sound I made, Colonel LeMay looked directly at me.

He slowly winked. Something was wrong with one side of his face, and it was a grotesque wink, but that was what it was.

I felt my heart speed up. I could hardly breathe. I looked around at the other navigators and bombardiers. How many of them knew what LeMay's question meant? What he was really asking was who was flying the plane. If the bubbles in the bombsight were level, the Norden was flying. If the bubbles were off, a pilot had overpowered the controls-and was probably doing evasive action.

When I looked back at Colonel LeMay, he was still looking at me. I winked back at him, and nodded. That funny smile again. He looked at the bombardier.

"Did your equipment work all right?"

"No malfunction, sir."

One by one LeMay addressed all the lead bombardiers and asked them several irrelevant questions-and the one about the bubbles.

Then he turned to the navigators, me first.

"Lieutenant, give me your story."

"Sorry, sir, I wasn't leading those missions."

"What group are you in?"

"The 100th, sir."

Colonel LeMay turned to Colonel Harding. “Why is he here, Chick, if he isn't a lead navigator?"

"He was the lead on Trondheim and Warnemünde. Before he replaced the navigator on the lead crew, he was on a wing."

Colonel LeMay looked back at me.

"Trondheim? Good show."

"Thank you, sir."

He turned to Lieutenant Marshall Shore of the 390th.

He asked several questions, but I recognized the key one.

"Lieutenant, when you were on the run from the I.P. to the tar-get, what was the maximum deflection of your compass heading?"

"About twenty-five degrees, sir."

By now every lead navigator in the room knew what was going on. If the Norden was in charge, the corrections wouldn't have been more than five or six degrees. Only a pilot could jerk a plane around more than that.

At the end of the debriefing Colonel LeMay knew what every bombardier and navigator in the room knew, and I doubt if any pilots knew he knew.

I realized I was in the presence of a very bright man, and a very skilled leader.

On the way to the mess, Colonel LeMay went in first and then waited as we all filed past him. One by one he asked our group designation and shook hands with us. As I went by him, he said,

"Trondheim?" He looked at my name tag. "Your name is Crosby?"

"Yes, sir."

He smiled, that funny grimace of a smile, and turned to the next officer in line.

That was it.

— Harry Crosby in his memoir, A Wing and a Prayer

[arbitrarygreay]

The root of Talder tragedy

Tally doesn't think that intent is magic, but Alder kind of does? So, Alder often talks about having no choice, and how the ends justified the means (example: her decision to deploy the Citydrop privates), but ultimately, she falls back on her internal motive, that she did all of the things she did with the intent to protect her people. She believes that that is sufficient to engender (enough) trust between her and the unit to work together in 1x10. Tally is focused on the practical fallout of things. In 2x6, "[Alder] causes more problems than she fixes, doesn't she?" In 3x1, she beats herself up for accidentally compromising the Dodger facility. "Oh, if you ever need anyone to ruin everything, I am available. No, seriously. Alder, Penelope, now this? I may just be the Camarilla's greatest weapon." something something linked to how her Sight focuses her on how the world will be, not how she wishes. So, of course, these two mindsets collide in the worst possible way in 2x5. Tally is focused on the effect of Liberia leading to the creation of the Spree. Very notably, Alder immediately concedes the point that it was a bad call. "one of my deepest regrets", "an even deeper moment of personal failure", "prideful failings". She did the same in 1x10, easily conceding that she did all of the things the unit accused her of, holding that she wasn't the same as Spree simply because of her motive. In 2x5, what Alder fires back at Tally as the transgression that Alder is offended by isn't about the actions. She is incensed by "accusations of conspiracy and nefarious intent". Arguably, Alder does not pursue punitive action against Tally for this because Tally successfully protests the framework. "I just wanted answers" successfully shows that Tally was not looking at Alder's intent. Unfortunately, Alder and Tally are similar on this point of what stirs them to anger: to be willfully misunderstood. Alder tolerates the power-jockeying of her subordinates for the most part, so long as they're on the same page that it's all for the sake of protecting their people. For anyone to intimate that she does more selfish things is where she gets incensed. I wrote previously how Tally gets the most enraged when others impugn how she should feel. So, Alder thought that Tally attacked her intent (which is magic), but then let it go when Tally cleared that up. Unfortunately, in doing so she attacked how Tally should feel and act about it. And the root of the tragedy is that though they are similar in what moves them to anger, they are drastically divergent on how they act on that anger. Where Alder's reaction to slights is to rebuke then forget (because she has the power to do so), Tally's reaction to slights is to burn bridges. So, Tally doubles down on "it's about the consequences, intent is not magic" and tries to tear it all down. In 2x10, her empathy wins out. She says to both Nicte and Alder that she understands that they didn't have nefarious intent. However, this is Tally just sympathizing with them, not that she has changed her mind on what matters. She can't get over how her own actions seemed to have backfired, no matter her intent. (And so, this history fundamentally influences how Tally and Alder interact in S3, where they consciously try to avoid falling into the same failure modes with engaging with each other.)

[theoperapopulaire]

First note: i am someone with did who loves talking about psychology and the inner works of our own system.

N e ways. I absolutely LOVE when a sys mate is better at a game than me and they come up, flaunt their skills and I just want to play like them so bad.

Example, our plural guys all love dead by daylight as much as i do. I can run a killer only on shack and i stay mostly gen jockey except for lerys hospital, gerard on the other hand can pull out chases, sabotages and collaborate really well with teammates.. i just think it's so neat that we vary in skills and knowledge on the same game.

pls pls PLSSS share the differences in skill if you want, i genuinely am so interested in that stuff - 🦇 (he/vamp)

[svcredveins]

29

29. How different is your actual adult self from how you pictured it when you were little?

lol very different. At least for now because I genuinely thought I’d be on my own like four years ago (when I was younger, thinking that I’d be out of the house by 20 years old) but the pandemic, and still personal issues involving mental health. Heh.

But asides from that perspective, I wanted to be a palaeontologist when I was younger, and to be honest, that’s not a bad idea when I’m up there in age, but interests change, and I also wanted to become a jockey (because speed) but you know, you can only go so fast on a horse! So as of a few years ago, that’s where the biggest passion of mine has finally come to me - sports car racing. Stuck and here to stay because I’ve never felt so alive with something like that, finally home, finally in my zone without morphing into another thing all over again like I was doing for many years in my younger years, but I have found my home and my peace. Racing baby! My younger self would be quite surprised in a way considering how I am mentally and how…well, let’s be honest, a lot of us are…in situations that hold us back. But I’m trying to inch my way further into getting into a stepping stone of progression to sim racing to get into Porsche’s junior driver programme

[pretense-pence]

Remake Platinum Run: Part 2

I swear I’ll start getting through this run quicker. It’s just hard to find time as a college student. I’m literally always busy. And I swear I’ll start posting more too. This semester has been killing me. Anyways, time for an update about how the run is going.

Trophies Achieved:

Escape Artist

Music Collector

Gotta Start Somewhere

Trophies That I’m Working On:

Best In The Business

Disc Jockey

Intelligence Agent

Weapons Expert

I played Remake on September 29th from about 2ish hours, from like 7:00 pm until 9:00 pm. I completed Chapter 2 and am part way through Chapter 3. The run is going pretty well so far. All the battles are easy and don’t take much effort on my part. I didn’t even realize I fought the sorta boss of Chapter 2 and didn’t even realize it. At least, I think The Huntsman is the boss of Chapter 2.

I forgot how much I love the scene of Barret yelling at the Shinra Middle Manager. He’s so real for that. And, of course, I love Tifa. She’s trying her best. Also, admittingly, I don’t like Chadley. I avoided him during my first playthroughs of Remake and Rebirth when I could. I don’t know why, I just don’t like him. I always found him annoying. Though, I’m finding him less annoying during this playthrough.

Overall, Chapter 2 is a pretty solid chapter. It introduces Aerith, Sephiroth, and the Whispers. It begins setting up the main plot. It’s a little boring after the introduction of those characters but not bad. And it has the scene of Barret yelling at the Shinra Middle Manager so that’s a bonus. 

Chapter 3 starts good as well. I like how simple it is. It does a good job at showing what life is like in the Slums. It also introduces Tifa, who I love. And I really like the scene where Cloud attacks Marco. I always get so excited when it flashes to the scene in the North Crater. Everything that takes place at North Crater is some of my favorite parts of the original Final Fantasy VII.

Escape Artist: This is the trophy that you get when you complete Chapter 2. Another easy trophy. Chapter 2 isn’t difficult at all so getting this trophy was really easy.

Music Collector: This is the trophy that you get when you collect 3 music discs. It’s an easy enough trophy but does actually involve a bit of research. I had to look up where the music discs are in this game. That’s basically it. The discs I collected were The Prelude, Tifa’s Theme, and Barret’s theme. 

Gotta Start Somewhere: This is the trophy that you get when you complete 1 Odd Job Sidequest. The Sidequest I completed was Chadley’s Report since that gave me access to the Battle Intel Reports, which I’ll need for a later trophy. Chadley’s Report is really easy to complete so this wasn’t a hard trophy to achieve. 

Now, onto the trophies that I’m working on.

Best In The Business: This is the trophy that you get when you complete all 26 of the Odd Job Sidequests. So far, I’ve only completed Chadley’s Report and am about to get started on the rest of the Sidequests in Chapter 3. I have 5 more to complete. I’m also planning on doing the Discovery Quest for Chapter 3, just for fun. And, of course, I have the sidequests in later chapters to worry about but that’s a future worry.

Disc Jockey: This is the trophy that you get when you collect all of the Music Collection music discs. The music discs I’ve collected so far are The Prelude, Tifa’s Theme, and Barret’s Theme. I only have 1 more music disc to collect, which is Hip Hop de Chocobo. After that, I don’t have to worry about music discs until Chapter 5 once I get Hip Hop de Chocobo.

Intelligence Agent: This is the trophy that you get when you complete all of the Battle Intel reports. So far, the only ones I’ve completed are Monster Bio Pt. 1 and Magic Elementals Pt. 1. I don’t have the strongest ideas on how I’m going to get through all of these quite yet but I’ll figure it out eventually. I didn’t do basically any other than Monster Bio Pt. 1 in my first playthrough so I’m not the most informed when it comes to these.

Weapons Expert: This is the trophy that you get when you learn all of the weapon abilities. So far, the only one I’ve gotten is Focused Thrust, which you get from gaining proficiency with the Buster Sword. This is really easy to do because it is done automatically at some point in Chapter 3. I have no idea if this counts for the My First Ability trophy but I’m not going to count it just in case. I have a lot of work to do to complete this trophy. 

I completed what I wanted to for this part of the playthrough. My next goal is to achieve all of the trophies I can in Chapter 3.