#ale fucking sana

[dapperrokyuu]

Bathtub and Neon Tetra being a pretty damn good song (congrats, ReiSai, on getting 4.9 million views on the first song they uploaded on Youtube AFAIK, also this is a cover but its a banger, who cares-) but also one of the reasons why I dont think this series will be particularly good, but who knows!!! Ill stick with it for the bangers!!!!! And maybe itll surprise me!!!!!!!

[seijakuu00]

Hey guys I just saw smth very questionable and I want your opinion 🤗

Words cannot describe the face I made when I saw this, what in the actual fuck is that 😭😭.

I still don't understand why do people write this with Toji and Megumi, Toji did NOT die for this 🙏. "Mind your own bussines" how about you seek professional help? This is not normal and if you think people should their own bussines and not let you see that what you read or write is wrong, let me tell you that the only one that needs to think and recapacitate is you.

Sad how grown women write abt this shit, y'all are sick of the head.

Hagan algo mejor en vez de andar escribiendo este tipo de pendejadas y busquen ayuda pls, no wonder why it has so few likes.

BOO! Did i scare you? I'm a bar of soap 🧼 just here to remind you to get ur ah in the 🚿 shower and go outside because the smell through the screen is not very pleasant, over and out 👋

For this one, use translator 'cause I'm writing this in spanish. I'm too lazy to write it in English.

Miren, esta bien escribir fanfics ya que todos tenemos derecho a expresar nuestra creatividad pero otra cosa es como tu vas a utilizar esa creatividad sea para bien o mal. Ahora, que digas que es "dark content" NO justifica el hecho de que hayas escrito incesto y pedofilia, no me vengan con que eso no afecta la realidad porque SI la afecta y existen muchos casos de gente que ya no sabian separar la realidad con la ficción y cometieron delitos. (asesinatos, etc.) Escribir este tipo de cosas y leerlas puede irte dañando la mente poco a poco aún así tu digas que no. "Ay pero hacemos un AU donde no sean familia o que no sea menor" eso no justifica nada porque SIGUE siendo canon que sean familia y que sea un menor de edad, dejen de buscar cualquier cosa que justifique sus gustos asquerosos, "no me importa, es mi problema 😝😝" Si, es tu problema y si terminas sin poder distinguir la realidad con la ficción no es nuestro problema, es el tuyo; al final la que pierde eres tú, ahora imagina tener 29 años y escribir semejante asquerosidad. ¿No te da vergüenza? ��Saber que eres una mujer hecha y derecha, escribiendo este tipo de cosas? Cualquier persona sana ve eso y quedarian asqueados, no digas que somos gente rara porque la unica rara aquí eres tu y tu amiguita pip.

[tinyidle]

if ur comfortable only,maybe a in-depth twice piss kink Mel

TWICE Having a P⚠️ss Kink as Doms (in Depth)

ofc my lovely, i didn't forget about you (sorry for the wait)

━━━━━━•❅•°•❈•°•❅•━━━━━━━

WARNING: suggestive smut, title implies everything, degradation, some dacryphillia, dom!twice + sub!nayeon and tzuyu (minus chaeyoung because i don't write for her anymore), sub!reader, idolxfem reader, slight swearing, all fiction

🌿 ୨ ✎ ‧₊ — — — — — — — — — — — — — ₊˚ ˊ˗

Nayeon

you loved to see this woman in tears caused by you. tears that you cause are pleasurable tears, as her eyes turned glossy once you tapped and furiously rubbing her clit repeatedly, her bladder uncontrollably flushing out of her system and onto the once pristine floor. she'd be sobbing inside her head as her cheeks were stained, but at the end of the say she thank you.

"you always make me feel the best"

Jeongyeon

in the bathroom, you begged her that you were simply joking about her forcing you to do one of your more 'humiliating' fetishes. but did she care? of course not. you begged her for days and days up to literal weeks for her to control your bladder like this, and now that she made you wet yourself for the third time in two hours after drinking a gallon of water, you were (sort of) regretting it.

"release again for me, needy"

Momo

when you first told her, she looked at you as if you told her that you hid a body somewhere. but lo and behold, the next day she fucking so hard that your cum turned to squirt, then to legitimate pee. you were freaking out at first but when you saw your girlfriend's almost sadistic excitement, you ere impressed on how you unleashed the best in her.

"mmh, i knew you had it in you; it just took a few rounds"

Sana

she wanted to do it almost immediately, but finding the right place and who would do the pissing would be the problem. after talking more about it together, you both decided to let you do the watching while she does the pissing. it was simple: in the bathroom, when your girlfriend had to pee before going to the shower, she would call you in to watch her through the visible shower glass as she stepped in and let the water droplets trickle down her leg, sighing to herself befoe actually showering.

"i bet this is what you get off of; huh, bunny? filthy girl"

Jihyo

you both are showering, and this mother of al beauty starts making out with you out of nowhere. of course you don't mind it at first, but when she breaks from the make out session to ask if you drank you daily intaje of water today, you freeze because you have. with you nodding slowly, she smirks before fingering you like crazy; determined to make you release unexpectedly or her.

"now, when you have to let go, do not hold back one bit; okay, baby?"

Mina

the way you shivered as she told you to hold back in your bladder as she gave you your fifth spanking of tonight's session. she was determined to make you release, yet you were determined to follow her previous orders of not doing anything unless she says so. just when you were about to break when the seventh strike was delivered directly to your reddened clit, she let up and allowed you to le go.

"make a bit, messy puddle for me, darling"

Dahyun

she made it into a competition: who could piss the most? you both drank the same amount of water, yet somehow she always ended up emptying her bladder more than you. when you tried one day to drink just a milliliter more, she noticed and punished you severely. well, severely to you; fun to her.

"so today you will drink two gallons of water and release five times today. oh you can't? well try, cheater"

Tzuyu

you told her to hold it in, but she sneezed and squirted a little pee. after that, she'd do her best to hold of for you. with each passing 'practice', she got better and better with holding it off until she only pissed on your command (under the right setting, of course). it's now to the point that when you say that you feel thirsty, she will come over with a glass of water for you and a jug of it for her. she was prepared.

"just say the word, im ready at your command"

🌱 :: ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶₊˚ ɞ

2 months after and i finally have the opportunity to finish this draft. hope you and everyone else liked it!

[wretchedbirdthing]

yeah that was pretty unreasonably difficult, but i think that's the point. it's supposed to be like that. and i can appreciate it for that, but it's just too much for me. clownpiece and junko are just too hard (and a little unfair)

i still had a lot of fun but i just don't think i'm the target audience for it.

if you'll excuse me, i will now go sleep for three days.

1099 retries....

yeah,, you did,,,

please no more testing

surely clownpiece will be easier

"surely clownpiece will be easier"

i huyst dont get what al;l the fuss is about, she' not that hard

#i'm going to cry#that was onbkly the first nonspellcard..

i nee

to xe brxe t

okay that's even wrose, there's no timer anymore...

#actually going to cry

wasn't even that bad

surely clownpiece doesn’t have another survival spellcard

#i need to lie down

why doesn’t she give power

#how am I supposed to beat her at 2 power#am I softlocked

i didn't like that one

yeah fuck that one...

impossible spell card..

(at least now i won't be exterminated!!)

#wow this game is a lot easier when I use bombs#who would’ve known

that wasn't so bad!!

(it was worse)

junko timeeee (finally)

#junko is going to make me cry

holy shit it's junko

#god that stage was so good#the syncing up of the music with the spirits#so good..

WAIT SHE DIDNT SAY IT????

SHE ONLY SAYS IT FOR REIMU????

#/now/ I’m going to cry#‘Just what is this pent-up frustration I'm feeling?’#same sanae…#oh#no it’s just point device mode#damn…

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

Cinque euro. Cinque cazzo di euro ha speso per sta pagliacciata e meno male che nessuno oserebbe mai dare un'occhiata al suo cellulare e può far finta che non gliene freghi nulla di 'sto Eurofuffa e delle sue giurie con evidenti problemi di udito e di buon gusto. Mica è un esaltato come Filo, Lori, Nico — o come un'inaspettatamente infervorata Sana — lui.

Negherà di aver votato Luke Black sia alle semifinali e poi anche questa sera… soltanto perché il serbo gli ricorda vagamente il proprio ragazzo, con quei riccioli d'ebano e labbra rosee e piene.

Anche perché perché è 'na roba da sottoni tale che se la rinfacerebbe perfino davanti alla propria lapide pure lui… Bisogna conservarla una parvenza di dignità; o no?

*******

Five euros. Five fucking euros he spent on this idiotic circus and all its clowns, and it's a good thing that no one would dare to take a look at his cell phone and can pretend he doesn't give a damn about this Eurobullshit and juries in dire need of hearing aids and no taste at all.

It's not like he has ever really been a devoted fan of ESC, he's got nothing on the enthusiasm and fervor shown by Filo, Lori, Niccolò or Sana.

He needs to keep it a secret, or they'd throw the cheesiness of such a silly choice back in his face for the rest of their lives... They'd probably come to his grave and laugh about it in front of his tombstone. Martino totally would do it, if he was in their shoes.

So yeah, he will definitely deny that he voted for Luke Black both in the semifinals and then again tonight... Only because the Serbian singer vaguely reminds him of his own boyfriend, with those ebony curls and full, rosy lips.

He's got to preserve some semblance of dignity; doesn't he?

[happsthings]

Está es la Guía de como sobrevivir a la vida sin suicidarte en el intento

Capitulo 8: Escribe, sácalo y sana.

Así es, soy yo de nuevo y en esta ocasión mi consejo es: Escribe.

Escribe lo que te hace daño, sácalo todo y sana, saca ese rencor en tu corazón, esa soledad que sientas, esa ansiedad que te hace sobre pensar, escribir te libera y para eso no necesitas un curso de lectura y redacción, solamente necesitas abrir tu corazón y dejar que todo salga.

Así que aquí voy, por qué la verdad me siento dlv:

Lo estoy intentando, pero la verdad no puedo ser la mejor hija, hermana, novia, estudiante a la vez, mi capacidad es tan diminuta y no puedo con todo.

A veces siento que ningún lugar es mi lugar, ni yo misma por qué mi cabeza está al millón por hora, por qué con esta ansiedad no puedo ser todo a la vez y que todo resulte bien, colapso muy facil, me irrito muy rápido y solamente quiero que me abracen, no quiero regaños por que estoy haciendo lo mejor que puedo, no quiero que me agradezcan por que no soy indispensable, no pido que me entiendan por qué ni yo me entiendo, solamente quiero un fucking abrazo sincero.

Y listo! Si me lo preguntan, estaba llorando mientras escribía esto, Pero ahorita que ya lo saqué me siento mucho mejor. Así que si funciona! No te quedes con nada en tu corazón.

Recuerda: el mundo no es un mejor lugar sin ti.

[soulfullionbunny]

13072024 TLDR

omg busy hari ni. i had archery class at 8am-10am. im on next level so its more challenging than previous class. the bow is getting heavier and the arrows went from 9 to 12. lenguh sia tangan nak aim hahah. then straight after class pergi hospital bcs i have an appointment with my ENT. my ear was infected (again) and is hurting for sometime now. i spent RM166.00 for diagnosis, operation (ear cleaning je but bill ckp operation), and meds. had to stay there until 1230. Then explore bandar by WALKING bcs i parked my car in paid parkin lot so i am not going to let my RM5 wasted for a mere 1 hour. spent another 2 hours walking. i fixed my watch yg had it strap broken since last year. RM5 for the strap and it worked perfectly fine.. i also jumpa my ex old working place . she always say ts near the hospital but never actually went there. lah rupanya dekat je. i should have visited her there. would be fun ig. then pergi cheng to have a look at a flowers wholesaler there. omg they exist here! so ni je would be my place to buy flowers in the next foreseeable future. its vastly cheaper than my usual florist.

after seeing their stocks and price range, aku pergi al Ikhsan to look for trail shoes for my running event and a comedic incident happened to me. in the store, aku tanya staff (male) where they dispayed their trail shoes, and i was directed to go to the second floor. on the second floor, right after aku entered the door, aku kena sergah dengan this one pretty girl store staff hahahah. obviously im not the target of her prank. so bila aku kerna sergah, of course aku terperanjat. then dia pun terperanjat sekali hahahah. she was so cutee. then we had good laugh then she apologized. idk why maybe the andrenaline ke apa, aku ckp "hahaha x pe, nasib awak cantik jadi x takut sangat" HAHAHAHAH. fuck what in the casanova is thatt. plsss i wish i had the balls utk mintak no phone dia but alas, her collegue dtng pulak so terpaksa move on. she dissapeared after that, malu kot hahaha. then as i looking for the selection, the male staff ajak berborak, asking about whats the purpose. then aku cerita la how i have running events in bukit beruang soon and would need a proper shoes to train and attend. what a charming boy sbb dia pandai tanya soalan that make me want to talk with him. sampai aku barely tengok kasut. not like it mattered bcs seletion dia sikit, and cheapest is RM89 and highest is RM 249. i think im more lean towards yang mahal but idk. banyak nak pakai duit this month. semoga cuku rezeki untuk dpatkan new shoes.

Then sampai rumah at 3pm. sumpah barai. dgn x zohor lagi, nak mandi lagi. legit serabut. dah la panas hari tu. setlekan semua je took me 1 hr. tapi x sempat relax kena siap2 pulak because i had a running session with my friends dekat bukit beruang. had to go at 430 sbb nak asar dekat situ. so... 30 mins to relax. barely can catch my breath. sampai sana, lepas asar, naik trail at 505pm. total route distance is 5km but sbb salah route, tershort 500 meter :( anyway the route is fun, im looking forward for my race day there. since i knew the route already, aku plan nak train there every weekends. sionce my race event is trail run, i need to train on the trail rather than training on the road. then we have dinners. my lawyer friend bonds with my procurement friend. we end up amde a new group to share our pictures.

hari tu mmng sangat2 la sibuk. penat sangt. tido pun awal. haish i wish an eventful day like that happen more to me. for once i had fun being alone. love this life

[attapullman]

sana!! i am so unwell reading this (need 5-10 business days to recover) especially as a quinn girlie

you keep us so well fed and of course i need to call out the lines that truly have me doing heart palpitations in the middle of the day 🥵

first off: BullRiderRhett TOOK ME OUT

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 

i know it was in the preview but HOT DAMN IT HIT ME AGAIN i would literally be dead on the floor if this happened to me in real life and you nailed the emotions perfectly!

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 

🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

we don't talk enough about bob kissing and it genuinely upsets me. like the man goes for what he wants and we love to see it!

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

no words, just FERAL INTERNAL SCREAMING

“Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

i am still 😵‍💫 and will never not be 😵‍💫

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?” “Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

SANA YOU DID NOT HAVE TO GO SO HARD WITH THIS AHHHH!

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything.

our sweet baby Bobby boy 🥹

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

why can't my favourite audio porn man be real and take care of my needs 😭

absolutely brilliant, riveting, 🥵🥵🥵 submission for International Bob Floyd Fucks Month - i will not be recovering 😅

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone. 

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit. 

But. 

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app. 

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do. 

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play. 

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones. 

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena. 

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you. 

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy. 

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter. 

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering. 

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip. 

Why did guys in real life never moan? 

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure. 

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low. 

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only. 

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you. 

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste? 

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy,  acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin. 

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.” 

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his. 

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?” 

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper. 

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you. 

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper. 

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him. 

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?” 

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds. 

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you. 

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly. 

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl. 

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy. 

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?” 

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against. 

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded. 

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.” 

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect. 

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there. 

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow. 

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.  

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to. 

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear. 

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set. 

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you. 

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door. 

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time. 

Some might even say, with a pep in your step. 

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed. 

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat. 

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly. 

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on. 

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing). 

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person. 

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets. 

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration. 

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze. 

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too. 

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise. 

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips. 

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.” 

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock. 

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it). 

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal. 

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before?? 

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot. 

A knock on your door startled you. 

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically. 

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door. 

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused. 

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it. 

He looked the same. 

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you. 

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills. 

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them. 

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral. 

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away. 

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse. 

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room. 

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced. 

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t. 

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room. 

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again. 

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it. 

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep. 

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react. 

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation. 

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again. 

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you. 

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly. 

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him. 

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob. 

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway. 

Of course he did. 

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately. 

Objectively, Bob was the best. 

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you. 

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you. 

He pushed himself off the bed. 

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either. 

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay. 

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it. 

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question. 

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break. 

You kissed him. 

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer. 

He was so soft. 

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him. 

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention. 

“Can I show you?” you asked. 

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry. 

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely. 

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous. 

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him. 

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard. 

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.  

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on. 

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze. 

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently. 

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you. 

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually. 

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked. 

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob. 

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered. 

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them. 

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett. 

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard. 

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need. 

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch. 

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission. 

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations. 

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing. 

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing. 

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it. 

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric. 

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob. 

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again. 

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob. 

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering. 

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob. 

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking. 

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did. 

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled. 

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him. 

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.” 

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him. 

It was better with him. 

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing. 

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good. 

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there. 

You felt like you were floating. 

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him. 

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he? 

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life. 

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right. 

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips. 

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you. 

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself. 

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner. 

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin. 

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin. 

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned. 

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.” 

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had. 

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless. 

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered. 

He wasn’t done, either. 

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…” 

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses. 

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man. 

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace. 

You loved the feeling of his skin. 

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you. 

Fuck. 

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders. 

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric. 

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. 

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him. 

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick. 

Holy. Shit. 

He looked like a work of art. 

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl. 

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky. 

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat. 

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it. 

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact. 

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you. 

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him. 

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them. 

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking. 

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster. 

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much. 

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly. 

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot. 

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you. 

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more. 

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn. 

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect. 

Fuck, he felt so good. 

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon. 

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked. 

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.  

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.  

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything. 

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop. 

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.  

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying. 

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core. 

He knew, somehow. 

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising. 

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…” 

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him. 

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back. 

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop. 

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant. 

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him. 

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips. 

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you. 

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you. 

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips. 

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher. 

And then. 

And then he got close. 

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you. 

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it. 

When you came back, you were on your side. 

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.  

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction. 

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

//

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

[geceninsefiri]

Fuck you

Al bakalım sana gül cemalim skdjdkdmmx

[mrtiniblue]

and i really hear your ship is coming in.

Kalau diingat, ternyata masa kecilku tidak seburuk itu. Benar, benar aku menyaksikan kedua orangtuaku bertengkar. Adalah benar aku mengalami semua tindak kekerasan verbal non verbal, tindak-tanduk abusive, aku dihardik dari segala arah dan semua adalah benar. Tapi adalah benar juga dibalik semua hal yang aku sebutkan tadi, masih ada hal menyenangkan yang bisa aku kenang.

i was trapped inside my room for a long, long time.

Laut. Sedari kecil aku dekat sekali dengan alam ini. Aku ingat, hampir setiap minggu, bulan, atau mungkin waktu ke waktu, sebenarnya aku tidak begitu ingat sih rentang waktunya. Tapi aku ingat aku punya papa yang selalu melibatkan aku dalam kesenangannya. Aku pernah punya papa yang melibatkan aku dalam segala hal yang ingin beliau coba. Papa akan selalu melibatkan aku, dan aku akan selalu mengikuti papa.

Papa senang berkarang. Papa senang sekali mencari kerang. Papa senang mengajakku berkarang dari pagi ke sore, meraba-raba pasir laut dan mencari-cari.

Ada satu percakapan paling aneh, dan aneh nya lagi aku ingat.

"Dek, di depan sana (menunjuk laut luas) ada Malaysia, ada Nita (tetangga dan temanku kala itu) disitu." Haha, dan kala itu aku benar-benar mengangguk dan percaya. Well, mungkin, benar-benar ada Malaysia di depan sana.

Aku masih ingat bagaimana cuacanya. Panas, terik. No wonder warna kulit ku cokelat saat itu, aku benar-benar sering terpapar matahari.

Air laut yang setengah dada anak kecil (aku) itu terasa dingin, tapi cuacanya benar-benar panas terik. Aku menjadi pribadi kecil yang cinta panas matahari. Untuk sekarang aku benar-benar akan menghindar dari pusat tata surya itu (sudah tau akibat dari paparan sinar uv).

Tapi bila aku diberi kesempatan, untuk sekali lagi saja merasakan hal yang sama, aku akan langsung setuju tanpa tedeng aling-aling. Aku sudah tidak peduli dengan panas matahari, akan aku cintai sensasi terik itu sekali lagi.

Tapi apa daya, itu tidak mungkin terjadi. Jadi akan aku kubur mimpi ini dalam-dalam.

all the places that return to, all the faces that remind you.

Kamu pernah bercerita, sedari dulu kamu pernah bermimpi untuk suatu saat dapat berkarir di tempat yang berdekatan dengan pantai. And i, even more, feeling proud because you did it. You were here. You were. Kamu pernah ada disini, di tempat dengan pusat bahari ini.

kita usahakan untuk mungkin, sekali lagi, bersama berada di tempat ini.

Aku seperti tidak pernah benar-benar lepas. Aku seperti tidak pernah benar-benar bebas.

Kadang aku merasa takjub, tapi sepenuhnya aku merasa bodoh. Bodoh sekali rasanya aku kembali mengulangi hal yang sama, juga takjub, tapi tetap merasa bodoh.

Apa memang aku yang tidak pernah belajar ya? I am so fucking over, again and again.

Seharusnya aku lebih banyak menghargai waktu yang ada. Seharusnya aku memperlakukan kamu dengan lebih baik lagi. Mungkin dan mungkin, apa-apa yang mungkin seharusnya aku lakukan.

Aku seperti kembali membuka banyak ruang penyesalan.

Dan juga kesal.

Aku merasa bodoh, dan kesal.

Aku bodoh jadi aku kesal.

Tapi rasa kesal ini akan mereda kan, ya? Aku juga tidak akan selamanya merasa bodoh, kan?

So i look for you, everywhere. Every places reminds me of you. And i hope, and i wish, and i beg the God that you feel the same way.

[readmeandfindout]

Let me tell you why...

Desafortunadamente no vimos esta serie juntas. Recuerdo haberla visto poco antes de conocerte y llorar un mar de lágrimas aunque me habían prometido que sería de terror. Imagínate lo confundida que estaba mi mamá al verme llorar con esta serie.

So, obviamente que mis personajes favoritos fueron las lesbionicas. Incluso de grandes, cuando Jamie cuenta su historia a la familia que había vivido todo y ya no lo recordaba. Tiempo después, viendo la otra serie sabría que Jamie grande es "tu señora".

Dejemos de lado el horrible apodo que le pone Jamie a Dani, just for the sake of our mental health. Una vez dicho eso, read carefully.

Durante las primeras partes de la serie, puedes ver que la británica mamoncita tenía a thing por Dani. En mi perspectiva, creo que era recíproco aunque no se notara tanto porque Dani era más reservada.

Aunque ciertamente nunca he visto que tengas interés por ser jardinera profesional, puedo decir con confianza (aunque probablemente no te encante la idea) que me recuerdas a la británica mamona por la forma en que se comporta. Quizá en estilo de ropa no sean del todo parecidas porque debido a su trabajo Jamie tiene que usar cosas no muy girly. Aún así, más adelante sí llegamos a verla con ropa más cute y eso se agradece porque si me hubieran sacado el típico estereotipo de lesbionicas femme y masc me cuelgo.

Una de las cosas que más me recuerda a ti sobre ella es que es muy care free, extrovertida, sarcástica, pero bastante intensa in certain ways. Y yo siempre creí que mi personaje en esa serie es Dani. Siempre nerviosa, always on edge, huyendo de la ciudad a un pequeño pueblo porque pagan bien, bastante asustadiza y obviamente la víctima de la loquita ahogada.

Si estuviéramos en una película de terror, sé que harías de todo por salvarme de mi increíblemente fatídico final, justo como hizo Jaime.

Si fuéramos a hacer de esta serie algo un poquito más realista, sabemos que ambas estamos en un punto donde nuestra salud mental no es lo mejor y aunque en la serie a Jamie no la persigue la muertita, sabemos que no queda del todo sana después de lo que pasa con Dani. Y aún así, encuentro las similitudes en su relación porque cuando estuve en mi peor momento (mentalmente) estuviste ahí para cuidarme y hacerme sentir amada, apoyándome en mis días más culeros e intentando sacarme una sonrisa cuando mis cumpleaños o mis días en general eran un dolor de culo.

Entiendo esa parte donde no todo es amor y paz al final, pero en las partes que vemos de ella después de haber sobrevivido la corretiza que les metió la muertita, podemos darnos cuenta de lo felices que eran juntas. Sí, muy lesbionico de su parte tener una florería of all things they could´ve had. Pero eran felices.

Sé que nosotras podemos serlo todavía más porque tenemos la ventaja de que no estamos en una casa embrujada. Tenemos la ventaja de que no somos tan cliché como para poner una fucking florería y tenemos la ventaja de que si en algún momento una muertita ahogada quiere llevarnos, le pongo sus putazos.

I guess that what I'm trying to say is, quédate conmigo para tener esa etapa que Jamie y Dani vivieron, en su momento más feliz. We can make it last forever.

[bartholomaus]

-- N1C0L43 D4R4MUS SFATUL MEDICULUI: UN SFAT HOLISTIC PENTRU ”CEI RĂI”...

Tema propusă este de ordin etic… Deopotrivă, de ordin etic-medical. Pentru cei credincioși, pot spune că este o temă morală, implicit moral-medicală.

Este vorba de relația creier-trup... Altcumva spus, de corelația ”Mens sana in corpore sano”. Ceea ce înseamnă a trăi ”mult și bine”... Și dau asigurări că este la îndemîna tuturor!

Așadar, omul care trăiește cu obsesii, cultivând ura, ciuda, disprețul, autosuperiorizarea, mândria, minciuna, invidia, ofensa, lăcomia, ”două fețe”, neiertarea, răzbunarea, - și alte forme de agresivitate (și fizică), toate însemnând FRICĂ - este zilnic și necondiționat supus unei zicale populare: ”Bea otravă, sperând să moară celălalt”.

Practic – iar asta e dovedit științific! – ”grație” gândirii sale (rod al casei părintești toxice unde i-au fost cultivate aceleași vicii), în permanent în corpul său au loc descărcări emoționale de ordin neuro-hormonal care, cu timpul, îi îmbolnăvesc ireversibil ”carcasa în viu”; este vorba despre bolile de stres, provocate de gândul rău și ”grija altuia”: diabet, boli autoimune, endocrine, obezitate, hipertensiune arterială, cardiopatie ischemică, hemoroizi, ulcer gastric, accidente vasculare diverse, cancer etc... Faptul e confirmat și de proverbul ”Câinele moare de drum lung și prostul de grija altuia”.

Deopotrivă, de regulă acest ...pacient - căci el asta este!...- dezvoltă și adicții: alcool, fumat, mâncare, droguri… sau medicamente.

Așadar, inconturnabil, soarta omului cu astfel de obsesii rele este pecetluită din nefericire de propria minte, întrucât corpul rămâne sănătos numai dacă este guvernat de ”mens sana”.

Pentru acești pacienți, speranța autovindecării, deși e minimă, există: logoterapia combinată cu psihoterapia.

Deopotrivă, îi poate ajuta lectura operelor lui Erich Fromm, Scott M. Peck, Elisabeth Blackburn, Viktor Frankl, Frederic Lenoir , Gabyja Toleikyte (cartea ”Fuck!... De ce nu mă schimb!”), Bruce Lipton, Boris Cyrulnik, Ingeborg Bosch și alții… Adaug studiul principiilor stoicismului (după Zenon din Kitium), opera lui Spinoza, ”Etica” și Evangheliile - acestea mai ales explicate de cunoscători. Toate pot enorm ajuta procesul de autocunoaștere și autovindecare.

Practic este vorba de a trăi senin!... Fără frică!... Întrucât ”păcatele” enumerate la început sunt expresia fricii... Ceea ce nu înseamnă ignorarea răului, ci rostirea adevărului iubitor dinaintea oricui și oricând: rostire necondiționată, fermă și cu blândețe.

Merită!

P.S. Acest fel de om trăitor ”în păcat” - după ce i-ai explicat răbdător o dată, de două ori,... de n ori și mereu (te) respinge - trebuie lăsat ”în plata lui”... Din nefericire, și-o va lua... de la viață.

.....................................................................

Mi-a fost inspirată scrierea asta de întâmplătoarea găsire pe feisbucluc a textului de mai jos (scris în stil ”de compunere de grădiniță”, pe pagina sa de o anonimă: Margareta Szabo din Cluj, pagina ei abundând de xenofobie(!) : ura față de etnicii români și... ”dezgroparea morților”...).

Am postat-o și acolo, drept comentariu, mai cu seamă că pe numeroși precari asemenea ei i-a bucurat răutatea, redistribuind-o... Și nu vorbesc aici de Viktor Orban și adepții săi ”de dincolo”, din ”țara vecină și prietenă”:.

Cert este că nu trebuie luptat cu ”cei răi” (decât aspru, la o injurie fizică!).

Cei răi trebuie doar sfătuiți de bine și atât. Sfătuiți și iertați. Căci, bieții, nu știu ce fac și își fac!...

.....................

Anonima clujeancă zice:

”Sarcina istoriografiei românești nu este cunoașterea științifică a realității, ci mai degrabă slujirea propagandei de stat, acoperirea originilor umile, satisfacerea apetitului românilor pentru eroi luptători. Pentru crearea unei dispoziții populare bune s-a recurs la formarea miturilor despre Avram Iancu si ale diferitelor personaje controversate.

Rolul personalităţilor, ale valorilor adevărate româneşti, este trecut sub tăcere, acestea fiind ignorate totalmente. În schimb, vorba cântecului: „Avram Iancu suntem toţi!“.

Prea puțini știu sau nu vor să stie ca „eroul neamului”, Iuda s-a vândut pe bani austriecilor si a luptat alături de aceștia impotriva maghiarilor, omorând cu sânge rece mii de civili-, femei, batrâni, copii. Trădat de neamurile sale, moții, dispretuit si abandonat de austrieci, nebun sub apasarea remuscarilor, a ajuns la mila maghiarilor. A murit inghetat, cu hemoragie internă din cauza băuturii.

Discursul promovat de Avram Iancu în timpul revoluţiei, care poate fi rezumat la „Daţi în cap ungurilor” a avut succes în 1848-1849 şi are priză la cititori şi astăzi.

Pana acest popor nu poate sa accepte adevarul, poate sa fie majoritar, dar niciodata invingator si prosper. Va ramine intodeauna in captivitatea propriilor complexe de inferioritate, dorind sa dovedeasca tot timpul si fara rost lucruri neadevarate." ---

DESPRE OMUL- MARFĂ (sau OBIECTUALIZAREA RECIPROCĂ A FIINȚELOR)

Fenomenul este unul neuro-psihic, în ziua de azi fiind caracteristic unei substanțiale mase de adulți imaturi, tributari traiului în ” a avea”; oameni neiubitori, rezultat al familiilor de același fel.

”Obiectualizarea ființei” - termen de psiho-specialitate (vizând unele tulburări de personalitate) - însemnând tratarea ”celuilalt” ca pe un obiect, este o practică mintal-comportamentală curentă, în paralel cu oferirea propriei ființe, tot ca marfă, pe o ”piață” lipsită de etică (sau de moralitate - pentru cei credincioși), unde lipsa respectului și a iubirii sunt stridente. Firește că e vorba de exprimarea practică a traumelor din subconștient, cele care - în ciuda viselor ”de basm” despre viață - decid faptele acestor oameni. Între parteneri (în afaceri și, deopotrivă, în relațiile de cuplu) funcționând rostirea (mută): ”Fiindcă am nevoie de tine, te iubesc” - pe ceva interese... - și nu ”Fiindcă te iubesc, am nevoie de tine” - ceea ce ar însemna trai în ” a fi” și iubire necondiționată.

Fără excepție, cei din prima categorie, ”la o anume vârstă” pot fi auziți: ”Mi-ar fi plăcut ca la viața mea să fi fost altceva... Știu eu?... Pictor, violonist, dar mama, tata...” - lista putând fi completată cu alte vocații, de la fermier, la cofetar, medic etc.”.

Tot ei vor fi mereu în căutarea ”persoanei potrivite”, neștiind că iubirea e precum iarba: creștea colo unde o udă fiecare!... Nebeneficiind de această învățătură-trăire ”pe viu” în casa părintească, o ignoră. Drept care, considerându-se perfecți, îl caută pe cel (sau cea) asemenea unui aluat, gata să se potrivească ”mănușă” pe profilul lor. Deși ei sunt cum sunt…

Legat de relația de cuplu, explicația acestei rătăciri perpetue – din om în om și din pat în pat – tot în pruncie își are obârșia.

Copii ”invizibili” fiind – cu ” părinți ocupați” (care,eventual, doar le-au dat ”de toate”) - în fața singurătății, ei se refugiaseră în lumea basmelor, a cărților cu povești unde Ileana Cosânzeana își așteaptă Făt-Frumosul; ea doar stând, el înfruntând zmeii, pentru ca, odată întâlniți, totul să meargă strună ”până la adânci bătrâneți”, fără niciun efort din partea vreunuia…

Copiii aceștia neglijați, manipulați, dominați, în tristețea lor rătăcitoare, la vârsta adultă schimbă basmele cu romanele de amor și filmele hollywoodiene romantice, unde – păstrând coloratura vremilor moderne – viața tot ca-n basme este… Doar că viața nu e deloc precum în basme și nici ca în acele filme americane...

Consecința este căutarea eternă, părăsirile, plecările și dezamăgirile – căci alegerile le sunt mereu greșite!, pe ”dresura” și modelul casei părintești: bani, ”de toate”, confort, nicidecum respect și iubire. Urmarea este negăsirea sensului propriu, a rostului propriei veniri pe lume, ca individ; implicit, întâmplându-se sufocarea și neînmulțirea ”talanților” copilului de demult, ajuns adult; o realitate extrem de frustrantă care, în cele din urmă, produce colaps psihologic: depresia cronică, adesea ireductibilă, fiind cea mai cunoscută formă a acestuia.

”Femeia puternică” și ”bărbatul puternic” - termeni tare la modă azi...- sunt practicanții ”obiectualizării” și, în perspectivă, pacienții acestei suferințe. ---

Postasem aici recent (și deopotrivă publicasem în presă și în cărți), destule materiale privind agresarea codrilor prin cursele enduro-motocros, cele de off-road 4x4 și ATV-uri; firește, nu omisesem celalalte toxice activități umane care transformă ecosistemul forestier într-un teren de jaf hulpav, de la vânătoare, la despăduriri, dar, de data asta, vestea privește accesul concursurilor de motoare în sălbăticii.

Așadar, mulțumesc numeroșilor cospirituali care astăzi au ținut să îmi anunțe (pe mesagerie și telefon) minunata veste: faptul că Hard Enduro Bucovina fost interzis de către Comisia Monumentelor Naturii; masturbația motorizată urmând să se desfășoare în zona iezerului Sadova, aparținând sitului Natura 2000.

Liderului acestui grup regional, Gheorghe Sologiuc ( consilier municipal la Câmpulung și Solo Gheorghe pe fb.), de nenumărate ori i-am atras atenția asupra lipsei de maturitate a tuturor practicanților acestor false sporturi, dar nu a priceput.

Mai mult, omul s-a ocoșit să mă abordeze pe mesageria privată, printre alte infantilisme întrebându-mă: ”Spre a deveni matur ar trebui să mă apuc de droguri sau de vânătoare”?... Mă întreb dacă un astfel de răspuns se pliază rostirii ”Mens sana in corpore sano”?...

I-am recomandat atunci din propriile mele practici - anume spre a gusta și el bucuria continuă (nu numai scurta și imberba satisfacție a ”adrenalienaților”) - să încerce ciclism, ”sală”, să navigheze în caiac pe lacuri sau râuri, să practice discreta fotografie de faună, tirul cu arcul, să învețe un instrument muzical, să citească... mult..., să deseneze, să scrie cât mai inspirat ”dinăuntru”, să contemple natura...; chiar dacă nu toate, măcar ceva-ceva din toate astea.

Cum atunci m-a refuzat, mă gândesc totuși că, de data asta, enduristul și cei asemenea lui poate vor pune mâna pe vreunul dintre instrumentele spirituale necesare disciplinelor enumerate.

P.S. Vor trebui făcute presiuni civice și demersuri serioase pentru interzicerea acestor false sporturi în toate zonele sălbatice; practic, în întreg ecosistemul forestier, nu numai în zonele rezervate/ protejate, căci sălbăticiunile sunt libere și nu stau numai acolo... Poligoanele periurbane dedicate putând găzdui ”motorizatele”.

-- E un pasaj în cartea "Minunata lume nouă", a lui Aldous Huxley, în care se vorbește despre condiționarea copiilor în evitarea cărților și a naturii. Pentru cine nu a citit cartea (pe care o recomand), condiționarea avea loc la cresa, și presupunea electrocutarea copiilor când le era lumea mai dragă, și admirau flori și cărți. Scopul era pur economic...cine iubește natura nu este un bun consumator. Apropo de asta, și mai demult, Platon, în ”Apărarea lui Socrate” (redând cuvintele acestuia) arată că el ar fi spus judecătorilor că ei, judecătorii, l-au condamnat încă de pe când erau copii... Condiționarea subconștientului viitorului adult se face în primii 7-8 ani (cei 7 ani...) de viață și acesta va conduce deciziile reale ale individului. De aceea nu vorbele contează si faptele, alegerile reale. -- Un răspuns obraznic, în grai de ”arghelean ghe la coada vacii”, pe măsura casei părintești de care vorbeam ”cu probleme”… Și un răspuns absolut pe măsura minții de mascul frustrat - pe tărâm sexual. Fenomenul - în psihiatrie și psihologie - se numeste ”proiecție” : punerea propriilor fapte și frustrări în seama altuia… De altfel, toți enduriștii adrenalienați, fiind complexați pe multiple planuri si foarte nesiguri pe ei, se dau masculi fără a fi bărbați!… Faceți deosebirea?… Nu cred… De aceea umblă în bravuri iftine, lipsite de vreun folos… Sunteți o adevărată carte deschisă oricărui psihoterapeut… la care însă - exact din cauza ”proiecției” - vă veți trimite în timp… perechea sau colegii, prietenii,… în fața cărora vă veți considera mereu superior. Singurătatea vă așteaptă ceva mai încolo… Am procedat logoterapeutic cu dvs., și într-un fel mi-am atins scopul… Ce e logoterapia?… Asta-i treaba dvs. să aflați… Și o posibilă cale de vindecare… Aș fi putut mereu să vă blochez, dar nu o fac fiindcă v-aș scuti de ”nervi”, un scop atins - amintit mai sus - fiind chiar enervarea dvs💪😅… Or, faptul că vi se ”varsă fierea-n sânge”, că fierbeți când mă citiți este foarte util șubrezirii și betegirii ”carcasei”… Fiindcă vă vor obseda rostirile mele… Iar asta - betegirea - cu timpul, vă va împiedica de la practicarea acestui fals sport, spre folosul Naturii!…. Doar motoru' și ”sala” fac mușchi și în cap… Atenție deci!…Urmăriți-mi pagina!…

[karui-ligereza]

Esta mañana en el desayuno un tipo recio, directo, de Birmingham, el híbrido perfecto entre Homer Simpson y Brendan Gleeson, nos ha dicho algo del partido Suiza-España y seguidamente si somos de remo, y sí podría venir a la sede en nuestro coche.

Claro que sí.

"Me han dicho que la gente del Remo es una comunidad muy sana, y que esto es normal", ha explicado.

Con el partido en la tele, nos ha hablado como un auténtico experto de pinta y pub. Muy serio, alguien que ha seguido el deporte desde que en Birmingham le salieron orejas.

Se ha sentido culpable cuando ha visto que en vez de coche tenemos taxi, y por supuesto ha dicho de compartir gastos. Pero los taxis son muy caros, y a los 2 microsegundos con 8 billonésimas se ha incorporado para buscar a alguien que nos lleve a los tres.

Una jubilada, que podría ser de la Comunidad del Remo, obviamente le ha dicho que sí. Así que en vez de nosotros llevarle, nos han llevado a nosotros.

Una señora francesa que sólo habla francés, un señor que sólo habla Birminghamish, un brasileño y un español que no hablamos Birminghamish ni Francés. La charla entre el hotel y la sede nos ha tenido a los de OBS con una sonrisa de oreja a oreja. Porque en un mezclijo de incomprensión-revelación hemos hablado de deporte, sí señor, de un montón. La señora hace el gesto de remar de una forma contundente e inequívoca, y se señala un slogan en el pecho que no sé de qué empresa es, pero seguro que muy de remo.

La comunidad del Remo es muy sana.

Y anteayer conocí un productor de OBS que es el gemelo bueno de David Tennant. Pero si el Birminghamish cuesta, lo que de verdad era un poema eran nuestras caras al oír los hachazos escoceses de Glasgow.

Fucking vicar.

[acousticsafire]

POST CUMPLEAÑERO

Yo nunca hago esto… ha sido el pensamiento que al menos el último mes se ha hecho presente en mi mente, y justamente es un pensamiento que quiero alimentar en este nuevo año.

Mi último cumpleaños fue un día desastroso, y fue la antesala del año más difícil que debía de enfrentar, un año que me obligo a transformarme en un adulto (o al menos eso intento), pero si me escupió al lugar más obscuro, solitario y difícil al que me he enfrentado, hasta ahora.

Este último año conocí personas maravillosas, me he sentido arropado y parte algo y en conjunto con las personas que amo y que siempre han estado para mí, me han ayudado a ver mi luz interior que ha estado muy débil estos últimos meses; la idea de hacer un cambio en mi vida está más presente en estos últimos días que en los últimos años, se empieza a materializar poco a poco y ha transformado mi pensamiento haciéndolo más crítico y al mismo tempo más flexible.

Crear cosas de cero ha sido el reto más difícil que he tenido que enfrentar, justo después ver como el cielo se cae ante tus ojos, y esto me recuerda que nunca agradecí a las personas que estuvieron conmigo en aquellos momentos, los más críticos que he tenido que pasar, decidí alejarme y tomar distancia de todo y de todos por salud mental. Lo único que puedo decir es que estoy bien, intento estar bien, y confíen en mí, todo va a estar bien y gracias infinitas.

Este año quiero hacerlo diferente, ya empezaron los retos, las sorpresas y las aventuras. He sentido que el destino me regreso al pasado para darme una nueva oportunidad de hacer las cosas diferentes y eso es lo que hago.

Dejarme llevar con la corriente y romper con el autocontrol que siempre me ha caracterizado, sanas viejas y nuevas heridas, ser parte de una comunidad que siempre ha sido mía pero la he dejado de lado y sobre todo dejar de tomarme la vida en serio y disfrutarla, realmente disfrutar vivir, es la nueva filosofía que tengo en mente.

Gracias infinitas a todos los que me han felicitado hoy, que han estado en mi vida. Y los que no, usare una frase de Kendall Roy: It’s my birthday, fuck you!

[420hamlet]

Posadas – Raúl Victoria III (#40)

Recuerdo que, cuando escribí esta prompt, las posadas se sentían como un evento emocionalmente particular. Ahora, las recuerdo como reuniones y nada más, perdieron su sabor, olor y textura. La memoria falla y por eso es importante registrar y usar los sentimientos cuando se tienen.

En nuestras vidas todos sentimos el arrepentimiento de no haber hecho algo. Para mí este es el peor sentimiento que se puede tener. Hoy, abrimos la cápsula del tiempo de mi preparatoria, y, en todos los contenidos de la cápsula, solamente existo en los que yo puse dentro de ella. Sin mi aportación, no quedaría recuerdo alguno de mi paso por las vidas de todas esas personas. Pude quedar borrado de tres años de mi vida solo por vivir en la ficción de inferioridad que le atribuía a los que me rodeaban.

A lo largo de mi vida he tenido momentos en los que siento que al fin comprendo la persona que soy. Pero siempre son momentáneos, cada conclusión a la que llego es destruida en la siguiente etapa a la que paso. En la preparatoria, por ejemplo, encontré una personalidad perfecta que me encantó: la de mi mejor amigo. Durante tres años intenté ser él, aunque lo hice a mi propio estilo, inventé en mi cabeza como esta perfección me hacía superior a todos los demás. Fue hasta la universidad que, después de una crisis de personalidad, decidí descubrir lo que significa ser yo y dejarme serlo. Fue entonces que por primera vez me sentí vivo. Pero al voltear atrás solo veía lo que había perdido durante tantos años siendo alguien más. Debí escribir sobre las posadas cuando ocurrieron, como debí ser yo desde el momento en que nací.

Cuando escribí esta prompt las posadas estaban ocurriendo, pero el escrito debía haberse publicado unas semanas antes. El día de hoy, seis meses alejados de las posadas, estamos tan lejos de ellas que el mismo proyecto se pone en cuestionamiento.

420 escritos de 420 palabras en 420 días.

Ese es el corazón del proyecto, y jamás ha sido verdad.

En +200 días que han transcurrido desde que empezamos, se han escrito 39 escritos de 420, 840 y, cualquier otra cantidad de palabras. El proyecto no es fiel a su corazón, y aun así sigue con vida. Como yo, durante tantos años carente de personalidad. El proyecto no sabe lo que es, está tan confundido como yo. Así que, para avanzar de manera más sana, el proyecto dejará de fingir ser superior, de intentar ser perfecto. ¿Llegaremos a 420 escritos dentro de 420 días? Espero que sí. Sería una hermosa marca de lo mucho que escribimos. Pero, el objetivo del proyecto no es escribir perfectamente, diariamente, o 420 vecesmente. Aún no tengo idea de cuál es la verdadera naturaleza del proyecto, y no tengo prisa por descubrirla.

Es un terrible error conformarte con la perfección cuando puedes ser honesto a tu imperfección. Así que, seis meses después, las posadas fueron mágicas, aún cuando no recuerde su magia. Seis años después, la preparatoria fue divertidísima, aun cuando yo no la viví. Por ello espero que las siguientes posadas sean aún mejores que las anteriores, para escribir sobre ellas y no perder su recuerdo. Para vivirlas honesta e imperfectamente en mi honesta e imperfecta vida que registraré en este honesto e imperfecto proyecto.

555 palabras (because fuck it).

Instagram: @thevictoryville

[televinita]

It’s time to play...

The fandom survey that dollsome-does-tumblr so courteously brings over from LJ! a.k.a. the true reason I posted that list of shows and also fave movies earlier. I’ve wussed out on most of the most interesting questions (#11 specifically), but still had a blast writing an unwieldy pile of words.

1. Favorite fictional characters this year

Danny, Lexi, Father Chuck and Aiden Shaw (Blood & Treasure)

Literally the entire original cast of Abbott Elementary, although Jacob is on thin fucking ice with that undercut in season 2, with a special shout-out to the delightful bonkers-ness that is Principal Ava

Both versions of Mark (Severance)

Brad (as played by Danny Pudi) on Mythic Quest

Ghosts Hetty & Pete (CBS Ghosts)

Al & Lizzie (United States of Al)

Alex (and her flippin’ adorable 3-year-old) in Maid

Anyone else listed in question 2

2. Favorite ships this year

DANNY/LEXI (Blood & Treasure)

CLAIRE/OWEN (Jurassic World)

Alan/Ellie (Jurassic World)

Robert/Giselle (Enchanted)

Janine/Gregory (Abbott Elememtary)

Mark/Helly (Severance)

Erik/Helen (Sweet Magnolias)

Jay/Daisy ("Barefoot")

Fell down the rabbit hole of revisiting Daniel/Irene and Johnny/Joyce during the Siberia rewatch

And Densi always, in the background (NCIS: LA)

3. Favorite TV shows to watch this year

Blood & Treasure!, The Amazing Race, The Chase, Maid, Ghosts, Abbott Elementary, The Exes, and an apparently infinite ability to rewatch random eps of Community & Seinfeld

4. Favorite books read this year

(not necessarily in this order)

5. Favorite song, album, or artist to listen to this year

Taylor Swift ended up my most-played artist on Spotify due to me scheduling 3 of her albums for me-release (a.k.a. I hear them for the first time as if they are new releases: the Taylor’s Versions and folklore).

Tied with Josh Groban, whose music basically comprised all of my listening from April through June, most of which was not via Spotify.

6. Favorite movies of the year

Done :)

7. Favorite TV show episodes of the year

See, this is the kind of thing that’s easier to answer when you watch shows as they air...ugh! All right. I can try this, at least w/ shows that aired this year.

Blood & Treasure: 2x04, 2x06 and 2x08 (Into the Forbidden Zone; Mystery at Poison Island; The Lost City of Sana)

The Amazing Race: season 33 finale

Abbot Elementary: 1x11 (Desking); 2x06 (Candy Zombies); 2x10 (Holiday Hookah), probably more tbh

8. First fandom of the year

It’s a tie between “holy crap I love The Amazing Race” and revisiting Blood & Treasure season 1, which occurred near simultaneously with my random love for the original video game series Uncharted.

(Honestly, watching husband play Uncharted 4: A Thief’s End for most of January, while I sat next to him alternating between reading and paying attention, was one of the coziest times in my life.)

9. Best new fandom discovery of the year

Oh, for sure Abbott; it is not often that a comedy can make me care about the characters and think about them beyond the weekly episode.

Unless we count the fact that this is the first time I actually dove into the fandom aspect of Jurassic World, in which case: that by a mile.

10. Biggest fandom disappointment of the year

A) I honestly can’t think of any bummers except the Blood & Treasure S2 DVD being expensive as hell and having no extras beyond a 2-minute gag reel (that they released online anyway). Which, considering it was locked up on a streaming service while airing, I AM grateful it’s on DVD at all + I do love a gag reel, but...season 1 had deleted scenes on every episode and I really wanted more of those, ideally plus some BTS stuff about filming since this is one of the few shows where I care about every little aspect of the production.

A-2) If I’m being really picky, I am disappointed that the one shippy thing I didn’t get in season 2 was any sort of pillow talk or other snuggling in bed. I got everything else under the sun I could possibly want, sure, but not my favorite.

B) and I am of course generally disappointed in HBO Max for being a little bitch and disappearing so much of its content. None of it was relevant to me and this is the last streaming service I would ever pay for, but that sets a scary precedent.

C) I just learned that DCC: Making the Team has officially been canceled after 16 seasons, the last one covering the 2021 season. Aww. Guess I only have 1.5 left unseen. (supposedly the organization is “in the process of negotiating a new partnership and [looks] forward to continuing to feature the DCC on a new platform,” whatever that means, but that was in April.)

11. Biggest squee moments of the year

I should honestly make a new post about this, because my brain is mostly a  blur of ideas re: --

* The nine thousand seven hundred and forty-four squee-worthy Claire/Owen and general found-family bits in Dominion

* every episode of Blood & Treasure S2 (I really do need to make a new post to count all the shippy bits up -- kisses and I-thought-you-were-dead moments and two other near-death experiences and reunion hugs and, and, !!!)

* THE KISS (Severance)

* Valor giving me exactly what I came for in terms of intense makeout sessions and two gunshot wounds

* too many family and/or shippy bits to count (still) in Disenchanted -- here are some of them -- and also a very unexpected yet soul-fulfilling “I used to be good at things :( “

(sidebar, I am still a MESS OF FEELINGS about the lyric I thought I’d found a place where I could makes things better / but all I did was change where I would fail. GISELLE!!)

* post-danger bed snuggles (NCIS: LA) and adoption joy!

...huh, that is actually more squee than I remember, good to know.

12. Favorite main character of the year (see #1) 13. Favorite villain of the year

"The Great Khan” on Blood & Treasure :)

14. Favorite m/f ship of the year

Danny/Lexi. Not even Claire & Owen took me to the stars like them.

15. Favorite f/f ship of the year

Normally I got nothin’ here but I would endorse the idea of Violet / Lexi in their younger days

16. Favorite m/m ship of the year

I got nothin’. The Klaine Stands Alone.

17. Your fictional true love of the year

Guess. (although, honestly, there were some fantastic dudes in books who could compete in this category too. In fact, here are my four favorites --

A. Joshua Avery (Before I Called You Mine) B. Everett St. James (Very Sincerely Yours) C. Adam Bradford (Lake Season) D. Jack forgot-his-last-name (Lease on Love)

18. Fandom that you never expected to get into

Honestly I’m still pretty stunned I found anything to enjoy about Severance and Mythic Quest at all.

Also, Hit the Floor is definitely not something I’d have been able to stand before I fell in love w/ the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders show. The fact that it is continuing to hold my interest despite having zero ships to root for and a maximum of two arguably handsome men is truly something.

19. Fandom that made an unexpected comeback

SIBERIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (plz watch it) (it’s on Tubi plz plz watch it)

20. Last fandom of the year

Valor or Hit the Floor

21. Overall favorite fandoms of the year (see #22) 22. Your main fandoms throughout the year

2022 will forever be the year of The Amazing Race, Jurassic World and Blood & Treasure* (*part II)

23. The most missed of your old fandoms

I do miss when there was an official @nbcsiberia​ Tumblr that interacted with us all

24. Fandom resolutions for next year

Find/watch more shows with shippy kicks! Finally watch the shows on my watchlist* instead of whatever low-emotional-impact nonsense I can find on a streaming service! #MyGoalsAreVerySpecific.

(*maybe this should also be its own post; I really need to make A Plan)

On a serious note, maybe finish posting my semi-to-entirely complete fics over on AO3. I thought finally making an account was the only obstacle to my inertia and everything would be fine once I posted my first fic, but nope! Still a monumental effort to convince myself to put anything out in the world.

25. Fandom predictions for next year

????????????

(I’ve been thinking for a week but I have nothing)