#apparently the formatting on this is extremely fucked up on mobile and for that i am sorry fellas

[inunanon]

WIP Weekend Wednesday, my dudes

got tagged by @oneshotdepresso, which is basically them telling me to come off anon alr

i dont have any other wips other than one, the rest are just brain wips of fics i'm on the fence abt writing, so send an ask and i'll yap abt them pls send asks im desperate

more under the cut bc i don't want to take too much space in the tag. also, sorry for the jank format, im on mobile browser.

tagged bojere because all of these are bojere lol

not tagging anyone as i don't have enough mutuals to continue the chain, but if you do see this, consider it a tag from me to you <3

;/semicolonfic/whateveryouwannacallit : it's on fic limbo tbh ahahah , but i've written a few words here and there that can clock up to a hundred or so in total. i'm taking it slow and easy, because i frankly don't have the vigor and the braincells to progress the plot at my state rn. especially the braincells.

the rest are my wips in my brain lets go

assassin!bojan au: pretty cut and dry au where i widowmaker'd bojan and made gay bojere angst out of it. i even commissioned @mewnyan for it khihi <33 (pls commish them, their art is so cool :3)

afterlife office au: basically imagine that the afterlife is just like ur local dmv (/j), with office workers doing administrative tasks to ensure each soul is processed to their next cycle with ease. it centers around kris, an afterlife office worker, as he works with the curious case of bojere.

dark meta bojere au: inspired by rumors and allegations floating around that bojan is actually a egocentric douchebag irl. my fucked up ass essentially made a whole-ass meta-type canon divergence narrative about it. and he falls in love with jere in this like some clownass regardless. apparently there's an infamous fic of the same type/plot, but that's most likely not me as i joined the fandom fairly recently.

sleeping beauty(?) au: this is like the shortest description i can give without being extremely long and convoluted about it. it's basically a fantasy au with bojan being a sealed prince/god and jere is some nobody in a scorned race/lineage that once worshipped beings like bojan. one day, jere suddenly became a host of a radiant soul, compelling him to embark on the doomed mission that his kind is fated to do—seek and release the sealed god. there's like lore and stuff in the works, and binging elden ring dlc lore has really bumped this fucker up in my brain wips list.

i have more au's but these are the most structured in my head/most likely to be able to write a chapter 1 if compelled to.

let me know if anything interests you, or if you want to kick my ass so i can finally write any of these, idk

[succubused]

“Kiss me. Just once. For luck.” Akusai or LeaIsa for something happier.

*saïx voice* there’s no crying in football

.

.

.

“This seems like a bad idea.” Isa blinked at the small crowd that had gathered.

“It’s just sparring. It’s not a big deal.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get sulky when you lose.”

“Kiss me, then.”

Isa blanched.

“You—what?”

His cheeks were as red as his hair, but Lea met Isa’s eyes without flinching.

“I’m not subtle,” he said. “And you’re not stupid.”

“I—I don’t understand what this has to do with you sulking.” How did anyone function like this? He felt like his heart was about to take a rain check on running the show, and his brain certainly wasn’t doing him any favors, not with every coherent thought being drowned out by the blood pounding in his ears.

“Kiss me,” Lea repeated. “Just once. For luck. And then I won’t lose.”

Isa stared at him.

“Really,” he said after a moment. “You…really?”

Lea shrugged as though he had said he was thinking of going to get ice cream later rather than having expressed the desire to kiss his best friend. “Yep.”

“For how long?”

“Are you—do I need to take back what I said about you not being stupid?”

“Lea.”

“A while. I don’t know. Forever. For the last five minutes. Does it matter?” For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face. “I mean, if you don’t—”

“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Isa muttered, and before his nerve had the chance to think about fading he had darted forward to kiss Lea very lightly on the mouth. His skin was hot, he thought dazedly. Isa had known that, of course, it wasn’t like he’d never touched his friend before. But he’d never been that close. Certainly never close enough to kiss him. He had never kissed anyone, for that matter.

His heart still pounding, Isa watched as Lea stared at him in shock, then as his face split into an enormous grin that made him look almost like that stupid fireball on those frisbees he was always messing with. Well, he would have thought it was stupid were it anyone else. But it wasn’t, it was Lea, and half a breath later Isa had the same dumb smile on his face.

“Better not lose,” he said, a little breathlessly.

Lea glanced over at the boy he had challenged with an expression that was almost pitying. “Not on your life.”

“My hero.” Isa bumped him on the shoulder. “Go on. I’ll be here.”

“Do I get another one if I win?”

The boldness of it earned him a catlike smirk. As it turned out, kissing Lea had apparently done nothing to stop him from acting like Lea, which was oddly comforting.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Isa said.

“Then I’ll see you in a minute—“

“—Saïx.”

“Be careful,” Saïx said without looking up. “It’s a snakes’ den in there. Or so I’m told.”

Axel knew that tone, the bitterness in his voice muffled to an extent that would have worked on anyone else. He folded his arms.

“Saïx,” he said again, sharper this time.

“You should get going.”

There was always a reason when someone so inclined to staring people down until they withered refused to make eye contact, or even turn to acknowledge he was being looked at.

“There’s no reason for you to be hanging around here,” Saïx continued, still speaking to the wall. “I have everything under contr—“

“Isa.”

He flinched.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

And he thanked himself silently then, because he faced away from Axel, who did not see Saïx close his eyes briefly it what he would have easily and correctly interpreted as an expression of pain. All Axel saw was a gloved hand ball into a fist around the piece of paper he held, crumpling it beyond any hope of return to its original state.

“I’m sure that doesn’t concern you,” he said icily after a pause that lasted a little too long to be natural.

“Don’t be stupid.”

He hated that Axel was always doing that, echoing, speaking words that belonged to the dead. Some things should die and stay there, Saïx thought. He wished it didn’t feel so—but it didn’t, of course. It didn’t feel like anything. That was the whole point. The pit in his stomach was a memory. He knew that.

Zexion had explained it, somewhat dispassionately, how the mind missed the heart like a phantom limb, and would attempt to recreate the emotions it expected, a clumsy patchwork of memories and the clinging scraps of feelings long dead.

Long dead. How he wished they would agree to die like they had been meant to. It was worse than being empty in totality.

“Don’t be stupid,” Saïx repeated slowly. He glanced over and found that Axel was looking straight at him with an expression he had never seen before. He was also standing much closer than Saïx had thought.

“You chose a poor time to experience a resurgence of concern for my well-being,” he said finally.

“It isn’t a resurgence if it was never gone.”

“Right.”

“Isa—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Fine. Saïx. Whatever. Will you look at me, please?”

Saïx closed his eyes again. He wanted nothing more and nothing less than to do so, and yet…

“I think it’s best if you just go.”

Axel was silent for a long moment, and Saïx almost started to wonder if he was going to comply. He wasn’t sure if that would be the best possible outcome, or that which he least wanted to see take place.

But Axel was still a faded version of Lea, and Lea still remembered. He looked out from behind the eyes of a ghost at the blue-haired head before him, slightly bowed, and he knew. The knowledge that he had been hurting Saïx, been hurting Isa, sunk into his chest like a knife.

The certainty that there was nothing he could say that would fix it was even worse.

He stared at Saïx’s back, overcome by the desire to do what he knew he could not, which was make it better, make him smile again, be the friend he needed. Give him back what he’d lost, and keep him safe this time. For a split second, Axel wanted nothing more than to stay.

Saïx opened his eyes when he felt the hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t been touched by another in a nonviolent manner in…had it been weeks? Months? Had the last person to do it been Axel too? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to remember. It made him want things he knew very well he could not have.

“If it really is a some kind of snake pit in there, then I’ll probably need all the luck I can get.”

It was the memory of a lump in his throat. It wasn’t real. He couldn’t cry. You need a heart to cry.

He hesitated, then placed his hand over Axel’s, and finally turned around to meet his eyes. Axel looked down at him with that odd expression again, the only one that Saïx couldn’t read. But there was something close to a smile dancing at the edges of his eyes.

“Ten years and you’re still using the same line,” Saïx muttered.

“Ten years and it still works on you.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words got lost on their way to his tongue when Axel’s hands cupped his jaw. He hadn’t seem him take his gloves off, but then again, he hadn’t been looking.

“Just once,” Lea said.

“Once is never enough,” Isa replied.

But even the moon, in her own way, is selfish; she loved the sun too much to let him stop shining, so she took his light for herself. The night will never have you, she said. You’re mine.

And it wasn’t.

It never was.

There had been countless kisses between that first hesitant moment and today, and Axel was still surprised by how cold and how soft Saïx was, the same way that Saïx had been and continued to be taken aback by the heat that came off of Axel’s skin. He leaned into it almost unconsciously, a muscle memory. Somewhere, deep down, Saïx had always wanted to be warm.

The softness of his lips was almost terrifying. It made Axel feel as though Saïx could shatter at any moment, tearing into pieces at the lightest touch. It was so antithetical to the aura he exuded, the way he looked and spoke and held himself. He had filed his edges razor-sharp because it didn’t matter how soft something was if you had to bleed in order to touch it. And yet it had never stopped Lea, and it certainly didn’t stop Axel.

Quite literally, on occasion. He paused for air and to wipe away the blood from his lower lip where Saïx’s teeth had broken the skin. Saïx chuckled, low and humorless.

“Oh, Isa,” Axel murmured, and this time there was no protest. He rested his chin on the crown of Saïx’s head and pulled him in close. They stood like that for a while, Saïx leaning against Axel’s chest with closed eyes, trying not to think about the creeping feeling that this was a more final goodbye than either of them had expected it to be.

“I’ll leave in the morning,” Axel said finally, and Saïx shook his head, but all resolve had temporarily fled the moment their lips had met. He figured, somewhat uncharacteristically, that he had earned the right to be a little selfish.

“What’s to become of us?” he asked, the edge of desperation in his voice no longer muted.

“Nothing good.” Axel paused. “But I don’t care. Not tonight.”

It was only the memory of how it felt to have tears prick the back of his eyes. That was all it was.

You need a heart to cry.

You need a heart to…

Isa laughed.

It was a wild sound, maybe one closer to a snarl than of amusement. Undeniably laughter, and undeniably coming from him as he swung down, smashing the twisted creature beneath to smoke in a single strike.

Kind of terrifying. And, Lea thought, if he was being completely honest with himself, pretty attractive, too.

When he met Isa’s eyes, they were glowing with something entirely different from the sick yellow light that had belonged to Saïx. The look on his face was fierce, nearly frantic, and his eyes focused over Lea’s shoulder a moment before catapulting himself over it to pulverize the Heartless bearing down on him. Lea had no idea how he managed such speed while swinging that massive thing around. It’s not like Isa was a particularly large man. The claymore was practically bigger than he was, and yet the leonine grace with which he handled it was in a class completely separate from anything Lea had seen from the other keyblade wielders.

He still wasn’t as fast as Lea, of course. But then again, no one was.

“Are we even now?” he called as he took out four of them with a concentrated explosion of flames. Blue flames? They’d never been blue before. Lea shook his head to clear his ringing ears.

Isa looked back over his shoulder. “Not even close.”

“Damn.”

“You could—Lea!”

But he had already swung out of the way with time to spare.

“Wish they still listened to me,” muttered Isa, considering the berserker Dusk that had failed to land the hit.

It was Lea’s turn to laugh with the rush that came with just knowing that he was faster, moving as he did like liquid, or maybe like smoke. He narrowed his eyes at his opponent, considering. Those things didn’t like fire, and luckily, fire liked him.

Isa had wondered, more than once, if the berserkers’ aversion to fire had come from the frustration with Axel that Saïx had been feeling at the time of their genesis. Had it been frustration? Resentment? Bitterness? Regardless of the nature of the thing, he remembered that fire had made him feel sick for months, ever since that which existed between them had started to crumple under the weight of betrayal, both perceived and actualized. Maybe that was it.

Or, Isa thought now as he looked at Lea, maybe it had just been that he’d missed him. And what an unexpected joy it was, to be able to use the past tense.

Lea picked his way over and looked at him with an odd expression. “Seems like a strange time to smile,” he said.

“I…” Isa shrugged, the smile widening to a grin. “I think I’m…happy.”

“Seems like a…weird place to be happy.”

Isa opened his mouth, thought for a moment, then closed it.

“What?” Lea waited. “Isa, what?”

“Nothing. Nothing, it’s—nothing.”

“Oh, hey, that’s not fair.”

“I almost said something very—don’t concern yourself.”

“What, you’re worried about what you say to me now?”

He laughed. “You have a point there.”

“And?”

Isa sighed. “Just that…any place is the right place to be happy when you’re there.”

Lea stared at him, dumbfounded. Isa was looking firmly at the ground, and he couldn’t tell if he was blushing or just still flushed from the fight. It was almost impossible to equate this with the man who had been laughing at the rush of violence earlier, and yet.

And yet.

Isa looked up at him somewhat sheepishly when Lea reached for his hand.

“You’ve got a weird idea of timing, you know that?”

“Well.” Isa chuckled. “Point of no return, right?”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Mhm.” His smile faded as he glanced up at the castle, and the path to it they were meant to be taking. “And…I’m not letting anything happen to you up there. Point of no return or not, you’re coming back in one piece. Got it memorized?”

“Got it—hmph.” Isa shook his head, smirking.

“If you think I’m letting you do anything reckless then you really are stupid.”

“Reckless?” He laughed again. “You’re calling me reckless?”

“I’m just saying—“

“I’ll make it out for you if you make it out for me. We went over this.”

Lea brushed the strands of hair that had come loose from his braid out of Isa’s face. It was holding up well, he thought. The plait had held just like he had told Isa it would when he offered to do it the night before. Isa had laughed a little at that, the smile breaking through the worry in his eyes.

“I remember,” he said finally.

And it struck him like a sledgehammer to the chest, how badly he wanted that worry to fade forever. He wanted Isa to smile and smile and say stupid romantic things and not flinch every time he was touched.

He had been through enough.

“If he tries to hurt you again,” Lea said softly, looking hard into Isa’s eyes, “I’ll eat his fucking heart.”

It was the closest thing to I love you Isa had ever heard Lea say out loud.

“You had better not kill him before I get the chance to kick his ass,” he said. “Or I’ll kick yours to make up the difference.”

“That’s fair.” Lea looked up. “We should probably…”

“Yes, we should.” He started forward, then paused. “Lea…”

“Yeah?”

“How lucky do you feel?”

Lea blinked. He looked down at Isa.

“Very,” he said, before taking Isa’s face in his hands the same way he always had and kissing him hard the same way he always had, his skin still too hot like it had always been.

Then Isa found himself kissing a smile, and it was the strangest thing in the world, to have it feel so natural to be this happy in the middle of a war zone.  

But it did, and they were. And they would be tomorrow, Isa thought, and the next day, and the next. He would make sure of that.

“Well, you know,” Lea breathed, “you could always use a little more luck.”

[ratfuck]

first impressions of cyberpunk 2077/critique I guess

In all honesty it's a superb open world action game, with roleplay elements ranging from okay to eh

Graphically, the game is beautiful, but thats like, the selling point of the game

It is VERY buggy, no doubt about it, not as bad as a bethesda game but they really could've delayed it a couple months to fix things. I haven't had any crashes, but the most stand-out problems I've had so far include:

Character model problems, with shit like cigarettes and chopsticks floating around in the air away from character models

I viewed my V in the mirror in the apartment and for some reason she was now bald, albino, and the gamma was so blown out it looked like a fucking nuke went off

I summoned my car and it teleported a few feet in the air above civilian NPCs, dropped on them and killed them, and the cops then went nuts and killed me

Tutorial elements on the HUD not going away, even appearing in the in-game menus

Performance needs optimized badly. I have a high-end PC I built for games and editing and processing RAW-format video and I still have framerates dip into the teens, even after lowering shading and lighting settings

Too early in the game to really tell, but I enjoy the writing so far. I was worried that this game would drift towards "Wow! Cool neon dystopia!" and the shit that makes cyberpunk punk would be given the back seat, but I'm happy with how the game covers themes expressed in classical cyberpunk media and literature like inequality, racism, poverty in a way that isn't performative or edgy/offensive

I am also VERY surprised with the game's inclusion of trans people in a way that isn't a fucking joke or demeaning to us. While I agree that more can be done with character creation, such as nonbinary pronouns as well as different body types, I was expecting a Polish developer financially backed by the Polish government would fuck it up

I've heard that the feminine voice for V is the best way to play the character as apparently the masculine voice actor's performance is dry and makes dialogue stale, I dont know if it's true but I really do enjoy the feminine VA

Gameplay is pretty tight, the combat is fun and player mobility allows you to experience Night City in an extremely immersive and fun way, however...

Driving needs fixed, with PC keyboard controls being unenjoyable, feeling like you're driving a hockey puck in anything larger than a small car

The in-game economy is broken, with it being nearly impossible to buy things such as weapons, clothing, cars, cybernetics because they're damn expensive and trading in junk you find and obsolete items nets in little cash, though I feel like this is almost purposeful as a subtle commentary of capitalism or w/e

You are constantly swapping out things in your inventory for shit you find on enemies or lying around, leading to you not being attached to weapons for more than an hour. This also unfortunately carries over into clothing, you may find stuff that you want V to wear because it looks cool as hell, but you almost always end up replacing it for whatever you find that has higher stats just so you can survive better, leading to you dressing in mismatched and unappealing clothing

The crafting system is all but useless. As described above, you're constantly swapping out shit for shit with better stats. It takes way too damn long to gather resources to craft new items, and by the time you do, the item you crafted is already made obsolete

That's about all I have for problems I have with the game, everything else about it is pretty damn good. The sound design and soundtrack is fucking phenomenal, the game world and visuals are stunning, the worldbuilding is fantastic, the writing is great with both main and side stories and character dialogue being entertaining and thoughtful, it's frankly superb in most areas. If the gameplay mechanics, as well as the many bugs and performance issues I've described above were fixed, it'd probably be the best game of the decade

As for how it fares on the Lawnmower Man/System Shock 2 Media Perfection Test,

Body Horror? Certain NPCs with cybernetic augmentations look fucking terrifying and twisted and horrific, metaphorically demonstrating how consumerism and runaway technology can act like a sort of parasitic infection. Pass

Apes/Monkeys? I haven't seen any simians in game yet, however, there are frequent usage of chimps and monkeys in street art, advertising, and graphic design everywhere across Night City, along with the "Gorilla Arms" cybernetic augmentation. Uncertain

Mind Powers? Nothing related to psionics is featured in game, and cybernetic powers do not count. Fail

So overall, it's a damn great game marred by bugs, performance issues, and features that weren't given enough time and need to be overhauled or fixed. Wait a few months so these things will be patched before purchasing the game, or just pirate it since it's gonna make billions of fucking dollars anyway

[herstarburststories]

Knives & Calls (Dean Winchester x Reader)

A/N: Okay, first I just wanted to do a phone themed thing + incorrect quote of b99 here, but the idea just kept going and I decided to go with it. That format — phone text — was already used by some writers on Tumblr, and I decided to give it a shot. Feedback is encouraged.

Summary: You decided to check on Dean after a hunt, but it's easy to notice that something is missing. A video chat might be needed for you to make sure that he's okay.

Warnings: sexual insinuating, very slightly angst, not beta'd.

You smiled for no one but yourself when the picture of a grimacing Dean popped up. You remembered telling him to smile for you to take a photo, and his first reaction being to turn around and make a face at your phone.

You furrowed your eyebrows together, confused about his answer. Of course, Sam always tends to be more careful, check everything twice and analyze more than anyone else. But not even his slight hunter-like paranoia would somehow trick him into telling Dean to stay one more night in a cheap motel after they got comfortable in the bunker.

Although, you could be exaggerating. The boys could'vee been looking for a brother time, which would still be unlike. After all, spending a weekend with your brother would be way better somewhere away from a random, probably stinky motel. Perhaps for the shake of the good old times?

Dean's next text confirmed that you weren't overthinking, and there was no such thing as your hypothetical brotherhood reunion. You had known him for years. Either it was after a sex marathon in the backseat, 5 hours of driving to the repeated sound of his old rock tapes, or even the apocalypse itself, he would always drive. Not even once had Dean Winchester said that he didn't feel like driving his beloved Impala.

The second message came when your quick fingers were dancing against the keyboard to question if they were all right. You signed in relief as another message arrived.

Yet, you asked anyway. After all, you were talking to Dean Winchester. You had tones of emergency kits for him and Sam's weekly wounds.

Leaning forward, you glared at your phone as three tiny balls shook, indicating that Dean was typing. He was clearly avoiding talking about himself, but there was no subtle way of getting out such a direct ask from you. The texting indicator would stop and start again, as if he was writing, erasing, and repeating a few times.

You narrowed eyes at the glowing phone. On the other side, Dean could almost hear the way you said his name, not putting up for his weak excuses. If he closed his eyes, there would be facility to picture you crossing your arms and giving him a worried, yet half annoyed glance.

You didn't wait any further minute, slipping from the text messages application to the phone one, and calling him.

''Dean Winchester, what the fuck is lightly stabbed!?" Your furious tone englobed the obvious concern. You didn't need to see him to know that probably wasn't even one of his worst injures, but you were still worried. You always were. It just seemed so close to losing him everytime.

He didn't miss his humoristic trait to attempt lighting up your behavior, "I was stabbed, but it wasn't deep. You should see the other guy, sweetheart. Demon barbecue."

Although his voice wasn't near shaking, you could notice a glimpse of fragility there, as if he had just left a combat and wanted to keep up the strong warrior facet, while going through a terrible pain. It was lower than usual.

God, you just wished he was home.

"(Y/N), I'm okay. Don't worry. I'll be home tomorrow." Dean said softly; he knew that you didn't enjoy being a part from him when he got hurt. But you couldn't come with them since you had another case in the opposite direction. In fact, you had got home about fifteen minutes ago.

Squeezing the cellphone against your ear like it held your sanity, you nodded, "Or you could just let Sam drive and come home now, so I can take care of you."

The suggestion was laughed off by both of you. Of course he wouldn't.

A bit more relaxed, you pulled your phone away from your face, looking for a certain button before clicking there.

Just like that, Dean's face saw yours through a screen.

"Told you it wasn't that bad." He arches his eyebrows. Truly, his face was barely hurt. Just a few bruises that would go away within a few days. Rolling your eyes, you answerd:

"Very funny, Winchester. Let me see your--" Dean's smirk at this caused you to shake you head from side to side. He was unbelievable. 42 years, injured by a knife, and he would still manage to have a mind of a 25-years-old. "--Wound. Let me see your wound, Dean."

He huffed but moved the phone towards his main injure of the day anyway. Dean lifted his flannel shirt a little, showing the wound that was localizated near to his ribs.

You had to admit, it didn't apparent great profundity, at all. Away from the top five hurtings you had seen grabbed onto him.

"Are you sure it's not too much pain?"

His camera was fixed on the celling for a brief moment before Dean's face was lined to the screen again. Your own unnoticed tense muscles relaxing to the certainty that he was all right.

"Yeah, I've gone through worse. Besides, magic pills." Dean smiled wryly, grabbing the orange bottle and shaking it before putting it somewhere the video call didn't catch. "Your hunt--"

"The easy but necessary kind of job. Sault and burn." You shrugged, adjusting the phone on the table beside your shared bed.

"So, Sammy is not here." His eyebrows raised in insinuation. You pretended not to know where he was going with you, offering a simply agreeing noise in response. "We could play a bit."

"Maybe..." You purred and glared at him. Interrupting his next words before he could even push them out of his sinful mouth, abandoned your shirt. His eyebrows raised, slightly surprised and very appreciative to the view. You grabbed the phone, allowing the camera to travel from your lips, to your neck, then shoulders and collarbone. Dean's eyes glared at your distant skin in anticipation, his cock starting to tremble from excitement. Fuck, he missed touching you.

Unfortunately, the eldest Winchester didn't get to see his favorite part -- your boobs. You just switched the camera from the frontal one, causing it to show the floor of your and Dean's room instead. A complain was on the tip of his tongue, but it didn't come to the light when his eyes glanced at your red bra being thrown on the ground.

"Sweetheart, let me see you, come on." He whimpers, pressing his teeth to his lip. If Dean couldn't touch you right way, he could at least see your wonderful body; perhaps even watch you play with yourself, while screaming his name.

Your answer came to the light in a soft hearted laughter. Dean winged his eyebrow, very well aware that wasn't your playful, teasing laughter.

You aligned the mobile once again, which focused mainly on your face, well fixed above your collarbone. Dean let out a frustrated sigh as your smiled devilish at him.

"Next time, you better tell me when you get stabbed and not make up excuses, Winchester. Then maybe you would get some tonight." You shrugged, enjoying the small pout on his lips. "You have to rest. Guess I'll go enjoy myself and imagine you here. I'm already wet anyway. See you tomorrow!"

" What the--" You hang up the phone without any further warning, leaving a incredulously surprised Dean Winchester glaring at his mobile as if it had just started flying across the room or anything extremely shocking. "WOMAN! COME BACK!"

Dean screamed at the phone as if it contained you. He tried to call you up a few times, but you just laughed about it from the bunker. Groaning, he stared at his semi erect and clothed member.

His phone made a noise again, indicating a new message. He leaned in and opened it as fast as humanly possible, only to let an exasperated howl escape again. You were one of a kind. Specifically, his kind.

Goodnight, babe. Try not to scream too loud when you are thinking about me and touching that delicious cock if yours. ;)

[pip-liveblogs]

Liveblog Introductions!

Hi everyone! Call me Pip. I am Head Administrator for @deearly-official​ and the creator for @twiniverse​! Since Steven Universe is now over, I have to look for new things to be interested in (though make no mistake, I will never be over Steven Universe) and in that pursuit I decided to do a liveblog of a show I never actually watched!

Avatar is a show that always looked interesting from afar but I never let myself get sucked into. Since I’m extremely adverse to trying new things, I thought I should first try a show that I know at least occasionally interests me. So Avatar is it. I’ll be starting with The Last Airbender, but there’s always the possibility I might also do Legend of Korra if I get that far in this process.

The Team

This blog will be mostly run by me, Pip (27M). However, since I don’t want to be spoiled more than I already am (see below) I will be having my sister, Kiwi (27F), be my ask screener. She watched the entire series and will be able to determine which asks are safe for me to see and which aren’t. The method that we’re going to use will be me not ever going into the askbox, and she will send acceptable asks to drafts. Hopefully that works!

Btw I cuss a lot.

I’m also not going to do any research into the show, which means no looking at the Avatar tag on Tumblr, not going to the fandom wiki, and not spending hours on TV Tropes, which will outright kill me. I want this to be as blind as possible, given I already have some prior knowledge.

Prior Knowledge

For complete transparency, I know some stuff about Avatar. How could I not? That’s almost impossible as someone who grew up on the internet and watching cartoons in the 2000′s. And still watches cartoons for like 95% of his tv experience. So here’s what I know about ATLA (and LoK where applicable.) For anything that is incorrect, please do not correct me, because that means I get to be surprised!

Aang is the Avatar and the Last Airbender, which are different things, who managed to survive the Fire Nation destroying the Air Nomad Tribe by ... being frozen somehow. For 100 years I think.

Air Benders were fun people

Aang was told he was the Avatar early and mastered all the bending in like a year like some kind of fucking boss

Aang bows properly to all the different kinds of benders, because he’s respectful as shit

Sokka and Katara are sibling water benders. Katara is team mom

Sokka dates the moon

Sokka’s name is pronounced in a way that has annoyed me for over a decade

“That’s rough, buddy.”

Water Benders seem really stoked about tradition

Toph is an Earth bender who is blind and sassy as fuck. Her hat is not a hat and that bothers me

Toph, in addition to being sassy as fuck, is also a huge fucking troll.

“The Boulder is no longer conflicted about fighting a young blind girl.” (The Boulder is my favourite character)

Earth Benders have crazy wrestling with Earth Bending and shenanigans, which is awesome

Zuko is a dick, and a Fire Bender, and then he stops being a dick. Possibly because his father and aunt are bigger dicks.

Zuko’s Uncle is fucking Mako and that’s rad as shit. (RIP Mako)

Uncle Iroh is also apparently the chillest dude in the history of ever, which is contradictory to being a Fire Bender

Fire Benders do not like fun? They like power and war for some reason.

There’s a giant flying buffalo named... Appa?

I feel like there’s also some kind of little big eared monkey creature.

Aang and Katara get married and have a bunch of kids who are really awesome at Airbending and it frustrates Korra.

There’s war and shit.

Aang grows hair and so does Zuko and Aang looks weird with hair but Zuko looks weird without hair.

Someone fucking blood bends at some point I think? I honestly don’t know if that was a fan thing or not. I feel like Toph metal bends and is the only one who can do it and that the argument might be “I bend metal and there’s iron in your blood” or something. That’s brutal, Nathan Explosion would write a kick ass song about that.

Something happened in Ba Sing Se

There’s a cabbage man with the worst luck in the universe, and Skyrim referenced it

Liveblog Format

So what I’m planning is doing a screenshot at the top of the post and then my thoughts on what I pictured below it. These might mostly be 1 screenshot per post, talking about everything that happened between that post and the one before it. Some may have multiple screenshots and multiple thoughts. Once I’m actually doing it people can let me know what they think about the format.

Every episode will be tagged as the name of the episode (if they have names? By number if not) and there will be an episode list with links to the /chrono. To my knowledge, /chrono links still do not work with some Mobile users and there’s nothing I can do about that.

I will also be tagging every liveblog post for this show with “atla” “atla liveblog” and “liveblog” if you want to screen/block any of those. I ALSO will tag non liveblog posts (like this one) with “pip post” so you can skip those, too!

There will probably be no schedule. I’ll probably just do episodes ... whenever I feel like it? I’ll try to give heads up of at least a half hour but no promises since I kind of just do what I want.

[lordsofmedrengard]

The new Sabre tank for 30K looks completely worthless to me. Here’s a few points about why:

1) One-man tanks are a concept real-life militaries are toying round with. The idea is to make the controls simple and easy to access, and to outfit the vehicle with stuff like autoloaders to cut down on crew-size. Sweden actually had a one-man AFV designed and put into production, that was quite simple to use and mainly intended for a defensive role in ambushes and the like - a low hull meant you could lie in wait, take a shot or two, move from the gunner’s position and take up the driver’s position, and make a quick escape from artillery fire and so on.

The problem is that the Sabre looks like a scaled-down Sicaran hull, meaning it’s a fairly tall vehicle, and it’s intended to go on the offensive. If it’s an offensive platform, why give it stuff like (rare, hard-to-produce) volkite weapons options? You’d want it to go after things like heavy armour, so melta weapons and lascannons are the immediate weapon choices that spring to my mind, especially if it’s a vehicle manned by a single marine.

2) I’m assuming the single marine operating the tank is wired in with a bunch of cogitators or something, so that it operates like a part of his own body, in a similar manner to 40K’s powered armour. Even so, the role this vehicle is supposed to fill is already done by other vehicles in the Legion armoury, and I argue they do a better job of it than the Sabre would be capable of.

Some of the competitors that come to mind are Jetbike squadrons (of both varieties), Landspeeder squadrons, Javelin Landspeeder squadrons, Outrider bikers and Attack bikers. All these platforms are fast and capable of traversing a wide range of terrain, can mount anti-vehicle weapons (usually 1 weapon and meltabombs, like the jetbikes and bikes, or 2 weapons and some hunter-killer missiles) and seem like they’d be cheaper to produce than a small tank simple enough to be piloted by 1 guy when even Predators require a crew, yet complex enough to power all the exotic weapons the Sabre can carry.

Let’s look at the description on Forge World’s website:

“Fast, rugged and heavily armed, the Sabre serves the Space Marines as a strike tank, attacking key enemy targets and destroying them long before they can pose a threat. The speed of these vehicles allows them to evade any counter-attack and reform to strike at the vulnerable flanks of the enemy army, keeping the heavy armour suppressed.”

Now, let’s look at the examples I mentioned. I considered just writing down the cool bits of their Legion Army List entries, but they’re there to provide fluff rather than sell, so I’ll be using GW’s and FW’s sites instead.

The jetbikes: “Squadrons of ‘Sky Hunters’ are fielded by almost all of the Legiones Astartes. These feared strike units are heavily armed and mounted upon sophisticated and powerful craft more akin to small flyers than ground bikes. Their size allows for a potent heavy weapon armament, and it is not uncommon for these squadrons to range far ahead of the main strength of a Space Marine force, striking targets of opportunity at will. “

The Javelin Landspeeder: “Larger and more heavily armoured than the common pattern of Land Speeder, the Javelin Attack Speeder is a nigh-irreplaceable relic of a bygone age of technological mastery. Gravitic nullification plates, the secret of whose production and maintenance have long since been lost, allow the Javelin to mount an array of heavy weaponry more akin to a heavy tank destroyer than a nimble Land Speeder, allowing them to make pinpoint strikes on enemy armour or infantry with devastating lascannon or missile barrage. “ This fucking think is flying around with either a heavy bolter or a multi-melta, and either a twin-linked cyclone missile launcher or a twin-linked lascannon. It can take up to 2 HK missiles as well, and is described as “ mount an array of heavy weaponry more akin to a heavy tank destroyer “. Just look at the fucking Sabre! Why waste resources on hard-to maintain Javelins when you can just replace them with the apparently superior Sabre? It seems cheaper and easier to make, can field stronger weapons, only requires 1 marine to crew it, and you still have basic Landspeeders, vehicles so simple they’re common even in newly-founded Chapters in “modern” 40K.

Proteus Landspeeder: “Mainstays of most Space Marine Legion armouries, Land Speeders are high-speed reconnaissance and rapid attack skimmers that utilise anti-gravity technology to achieve extraordinary battlefield mobility and speed. As lightly armoured two-man craft, they require the kind of skill and reflexes to operate at peak performance that only a Space Marine can bring to bear, and rely more on their extreme manoeuvrability and speed for survival than durability. Land Speeder squadrons provide a Space Marine force with a flexible core of rapidly deployable firepower and make for highly able tank hunters and close air support units. As a result, mixed formations of Land Speeders are often called upon to operate as a rapid reaction force, held in reserve to quickly intercept enemy counter-attacks. “

Normal Landspeeder: “ Land Speeders use a repulsion plate to skim a planet's gravitational field, simulating the effect of flight, and enabling them to perform low-altitude manoeuvres. With their versatile weapons loadout, Land Speeders can be tasked to a variety of battlefield objectives. These can range from lightly armed reconnaissance and scout deployments, to tank hunting or other seek and destroy missions. “ Old but gold, this thing still packs a bunch of weapon systems (depending on how you upgrade them), and I have a hard time imagining an Imperial tank outpacing the most common Imperial skimmer.

The Outriders (with normal marine bikers also): “Outrider squadrons are mechanised Space Marine reconnaissance squads who take to the field of battle mounted on ruggedly-constructed ground bikes. Equipped with twin-linked bolters, often augmented with heavier firepower in the form of melta-guns, flamers or plasma guns, Outriders are used for rapid encirclement as well as hit-and-run attacks against targets of opportunity behind enemy lines. Their chief advantage is speed and mobility, their bikes enabling them to cover ground far faster than infantry, and to go where heavier vehicles cannot. “

“ When part of a larger battleforce the bikes' speed and power gives the Space Marine Commander a fast, hard-hitting punch to his attack. “

Attack Bikes: “ Space Marine Bike squads carry out fast-moving assault missions. Attacking at incredible speeds, they use surprise and momentum to punch holes in the enemy formation, accelerating away as the enemy recovers his wits. Bike squad tactical strikes are often likened to thunderbolts - by the time a foe has heard their approach, the damage has already been done. “ Packing either a heavy bolter, multi-melta or (in 30K) autocannon or heavy flamer, the Attack Bike isn’t exactly a Baneblade, but is quite capable of taking one down with a bit of luck.

Not quite as lyrical as the entries for the Sabre, I think you’ll agree.

I had a few other points and I was going to write more on the two I made, but frankly I’ve forgotten them. The Sabre doesn’t fill a hole in the Legion’s armoury, has a bunch of weird weapons for it’s tactical role like volkite and a neutron blaster that are stupendously energy-intensive and hard to maintain, and doesn’t even have a new and interesting “ambush vehicle” profile to go with it. Bleurgh.

[melien]

My view on the Tumblr apocalypse

It's been a wild few days. I kinda feel like it's serious this time because people are so done with Tumblr's bullshit that they just collectively snapped. Though, I sincerely hope that it'll calm down like it did when safe mode was first implemented. Tumblr is the best platform for posting my legacies and I see no alternative so far. Besides, just before this trainwreck started, I was already thinking about TS3 legacy community dying out and missed the old times when there was more of us, so I would really want to keep in constant touch with all the talented people I met there, check out their stories and share mine.

I really dislike how Tumblr is handling everything. In my experience, a lot of the posts just don't appear in blog search. I haven't posted ns/fw in a while, but I do have some posts of this kind on my blog from older times, which I tagged accordingly (I only have one (1) post with female-presenting nipples though, and it's extremely old). Here's the deal: when I search "ns/fw" on my blog there's nothing. Apparently they hid these posts from mobile view, they're only visible on desktop view. But it's not just these posts - I got proof today that my mistakenly flagged posts (which are mostly parents/grandparents interacting with kids, sims kissing, and some absolutely random innocent stuff lol) also don't show, and this screws up all the consistency. So, mobile view is fucked, and the best way to catch up on any of my stories is to use browser or desktop view, I guess.

No matter what, you can always find me on Twitter: melieennn. I talk a lot about my plans, stories, and characters there. I have a WordPress but there’s nothing so far. This isn’t really the most convenient platform for my story format, to be honest - I like the Tumblr system most of all. And it’ll take time to get used there, which pretty much stresses me out because I want to play and post, not to deal with backups, moving, establishing follower base and everything. I'm still hoping that I won't have to be going anywhere, and that most of the simblrs I follow on here will stay. The most frustrating thing about all this is that I planned a few truly awesome storylines for my legacies. I'm so in love with them and can't wait to share them with the world. And I hope by the time I get to them, this site won't completely collapse.

[just-an-average-dad]

I (26f) made a valiant effort to be bratty with my domme gf (33f)

Hey y'all, I'm typing this from a new computer, so sorry if there are spelling mistakes, the keyboard is bigger than I'm used to. Also, this is from a computer, so I tried to work with formatting it so it's legible to the Reddit mobile people, but sorry in advance if the formatting is weird.

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Intro stuff - It's spoilered and y'all can skip it if you just wanna read about the sex

So, I am a 26-year old bisexual (mostly lesbian tho). I'm around 5'11" tall, which is as upsetting to me as it was to most of the men who were interested in me on dating apps. Apparently women in my family grow until they hit their first period and my hormones weren't playing nice so I just shot up like a rocket until like...literally ninth grade. All the other women in my family are tiny. People think me and my sister are dating sometimes because the height difference is so extreme. Also, because my girlfriend is 5'10", our queer friends call us "Fruit by the Foot" sometimes. I'm not fat, but I'm not exactly skinny either. I would call myself "in shape". I'm healthy, I'm happy, and other than a little bit of belly fat there's really nothing about my body I can complain about. I have C-Cup boobs, a pretty nice ass thanks to all the walking I do, and a vagina that reminds people of Arby's. My girlfriend, apart from being 5'10" as I already mentioned, is STUNNING. She has soft, smooth, pale skin, and she looks like an old Greek statue - her body is exquisite. She has a soft, smooth tum, long legs with thick thighs, C-Cup boobs that have a GREAT shape, and an ass that defies the laws of physics - the first time I saw her naked I kept touching her butt because I was confused as to how something so immaculate could exist. The woman has been blessed, and I have been blessed by proxy. Also, some people might think it's weird, but she has a beautiful neck and her arms can make me swoon. She's also surprisingly strong - like, lift my in her arms and carry me to bed strong, which is SO hot. Like. Fuck, this woman is checking so many boxes for me, I swear to God.

​

As far as sexual stuff goes, we're both "switches", meaning neither of us really has a set/designated role most of the time. Also, she has the world's most sensitive nipples, meaning she can orgasm from just nipple play if her head's in the right space. I am a huge fan of anal stuff, and have a breeding kink that has really only ever been explored in this relationship. Sometimes, if the occasion feels right, we like to play around with a light BDSM dynamic. Nothing full-time, but something that we can do to explore certain aspects of our sexualities. When we do this, she has currently always taken on the role of the domme - typically, she goes by Goddess or Queen. I enjoy being submissive a lot more, and I'm usually called Princess, Slut, or Toy. In the context of BDSM, some of the things we have enjoyed exploring are: My breeding kink, punishment, some mild humiliation stuff, tickling, orgasm denial/edging, and choking. We both also enjoy the power dynamic potential. My previous stories detail some of this stuff.

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ALSO, for what it's worth, I'm actually good at wrestling. It comes up during the story, and to the surprise of mainly just me, she beat me in wrestling. I took self-defense classes (Jiu Jitsu and Krav Maga) ever since I was 12 years old. I was starting middle school, my dad was like "Lol, you're weird, kids are gonna pick on you," and he took me to classes. In his defense, the classes were fun and I am a woman, so they were helpful. In my defense, tho, the "weird" stuff I was doing was having short hair, dressing like a gremlin, and stammering when I talked to women. In other words, I was gay. In the extremely Mormon area I lived in, being Gay was a big "no no", so he was probably right about me getting picked on, but I digress. I kicked ass at the wrestling stuff, so just remember that.

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Also, please, for the love of God, I don't want to join in a threesome, I don't want to be a domme (especially not to an internet stranger), and I don't want to see, hear about, or even think about your penis. Yes, yours specifically. I'm sure there's nothing wrong with it. I'm sure it works fine. I don't care about how big or small it is. I just don't want it involved in my life. I know some people see the word bisexual and think "I bet if I show her my penis she'll fuck me," but unless you are literally (LITERALLY) Jack Black, Jackie Chan, or the one guy from my History Class at BYU I can promise I don't wanna meet your meat.

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OK so the sexy part

For a couple of days we'd been been having what was essentially a date weekend. It started by going to dinner at a new place near our favorite brunch spot - they had served us some incredible food, and the entire time we ate (plus the 30 minutes it took the waiter to remember we had ordered dessert) we had outstanding banter. I'd been having a week, and the date night was exactly what I needed to fix it. At some point when we were chatting, I was listening to her talk and was just ~staring~ at her because she is SO pretty and I absolutely love her, and she caught the look on my face, smiled a little, leaned in close to my ear, and whispered "Wow, you're just a needy little princess, aren't you?"

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Apart from being starved for D&D, we both love the warrior queen/slave princess dynamic because the sex is i n c r e d i b l e. She teases me SO much when we do that dynamic, and I have full license to be bratty, so I can get her really riled up. My heart was pounding, and my mind was racing, basically from that moment on. After the meal, we left for my car, where she pulled me in close to her chest, leaned back against my car so the full weight of my body was pressing against hers, and kissed me for a solid minute if not more. After we broke apart, we realized we needed to finish that kiss somewhere private, so I drove home, speeding the whole way.

​

When we got home, she said she needed to "clean up" and disappeared into the bathroom. She came out moments later with her hair tied back, and led me by the hand to the bedroom. We started with some cuddling, kissing each other the way we wanted to back in the parking lot. I was touching her all over, feeling her warm, soft, smooth skin, and enjoying the sensation of her running her hands on my body - her hands were traveling up and down my back at first, but eventually they moved down to my waist, and eventually my ass and pussy. This, alone, was amazing. This is the kind of kissing I had been daydreaming about since I met her 18 months ago. She started doing that thing with her tongue, where she rubs it on the roof of my mouth right behind my front teeth, and I moaned a little - not too loud, honestly I was barely aware I had done it, but it was enough to light the fire in her. I could see it in her eyes - she broke away from the kiss for a second, then buried her face in my neck, kissing and biting me until I moaned again. Her hands moved to my breasts, massaging them at first, then she started to gently pinch the nipples. Just as I was getting into it - she stopped. I made eye contact with her, waiting for her to keep going, but instead, she just leaned in close.

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"I know my little servant needs this."

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"I'm a princess, and I expect to be treated as such," was my response. She locked eyes with me for a moment, calculating her next step, and then slowly moved her head down to my breasts. Her tongue touched my nipple, and I could feel the excitement start to run down my back. She was really getting into it, lavishing my breasts with her long, agile tongue, sucking on my nipples perfectly - It was bliss. She moved one of her hands down to my clit, brushing it gently for a moment, before moving her fingers lower, towards my vagina and ass. I felt her pointer finger start to brush against my asshole, and shot upright, locking eyes with her.

​

"What are you going to do to me?" I love anal, so that wasn't a problem, but I had a sense she was plotting something.

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"I don't think a Queen should have to explain herself to a servant."

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"I don't think you're a Queen," I shot back. "At least...not my Queen."

​

She sighed, rolled her eyes, and mounted herself on top of me. "You're not really in a position to negotiate this," she said. "Still, if you want to fight about it..." her fingertips moved to my side. My VERY ticklish side. She made a few small movements, enough to make me whimper, and I decided I was going to fight back. Because, as any submissive knows, fighting your domme is a great idea. I reached for her wrist and tried to stop me, but her other hand caught mine, pinning it above my head. Seeing I was trying to fight back, she started to tickle me harder - I started trying to writhe away, but from her position on top of me I couldn't shift her even a little bit - she was pinning the only hand I could reach her tickling hand with way above my head. I tried to use my other hand to free the one she had trapped, but this only served to expose a more ticklish area. I was full-on whimper-moaning as I tried to fight the tickling. Finally, afraid I was going to give in to her demands if she tickled me for much longer, I tried to wrestle my way free. Arching my back and twisting, I managed to free my arms, and was able to sit upright. She seemed surprised at first, but that surprise switched to mild annoyance quickly. She leaned her body against mine, holding me close to her chest, and pressed her lips right against my ear.

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"You want to know what I'm going to do to you? I'm going to make you moan, then whimper, then shake, and then, finally, I'm going to make you beg."

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I shook my head. "I won't beg."

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"We'll see," she said, and the pushed me back down HARD against the bed, pressing me into the pillows and she tickled me. I grabbed at her wrist again, buit the attempt went as well as before. Mockingly, she looked down at me, head tilted, voice pitch raised to a sort of condescending babytalk, eyebrows lifted. "Oh, did my little princess want to fight? Well come on, let's have it!"

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I struggled to free my trapped hands while she sat patiently on top of me. Her arms were WAY stronger than my own, and I couldn't seem to get the right leverage. With a taunting face and the same condescending tone, she said, "It's OK princess, get ready. Just let me know when you start."

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I flushed as I tried to buck her off of me, but her thick, strong thighs just pressed themselves more firmly against me. "This must be so hard for you." I tried to squirm away, seeing if I could get myself to a better angle. "You're trying SO hard, princess, don't worry, I'm sure it will work this time." I tried pushing against her, hoping if I could push her back she would get unbalanced and I could start to worm my way free. "Well, I think I gave you enough time," she said, taking both my hands and pinning them against my chest.

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Now fully frustrated, I was glaring at her. She laughed as she saw my scowl, telling me it was cute that I had tried to get free. She moved herself off of me, moving to my side and grabbing my waist on both sides. I knew if I tried to fight now it would end the same as before - her mounted on top off me, probably tickling me, maybe even escalating it to a spanking (or worse - orgasm denial :c) if I was being too annoying. She was leaning alongside me, giving her access and reach to most of my body, depending on how she moved her arms - her head was positioned near my shoulder, and one hand was running through my hair while her other hand was starting to move itself down my tummy towards my pussy. She slid further down, letting herself lounge closer to my tummy as the hand that had been stroking my hair started to play with my nipples, and the hand that was playing with my pussy...disappeared? I didn't know what was going to happen entirely, but I was waiting. I heard something make a noise by my ass and looked down - sneakily during our tickling session, she had taken the container of lube from the bedside table - the lube we used solely for anal. I locked eyes with her, and saw the mischevious little grin spread across her face. She moved her unlubricated hand to her lips, wordlessly shushing me, and then slowly started to rub the lube from her fingers around my hole.

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In all honesty, I wanted this, but I was also mad about it - I love anal, something she knows, and I knew if there was any way I was going to end up begging for something it would involve anal. She lubed her middle finger, and moved to push it inside me. She was gentle, taking her time, moving slowly and deliberately. It felt nice...very nice. Dangerously nice. I heard a gentle moan as her finger reached its deepest depth - my moan. I hadn't even thought about it, it just came out! My own body was betraying me. She smiled as she heard it, saying, "It's OK, princess, just let the feelings happen." I laid back, allowing the feeling of pleasure and satisfaction to build, and it was building fast. She kept her motions fluid, using her free hand to go between my nipples and my clit, egging me on as she talked to me. "You can't help it, you know. You're just a princess, you don't have the same self-control as me." "Oh, poor princess, you're trying to fight it so hard, I wonder if you'll win?" "Ooh, I see you squirming, do you like it when I touch you like this?" I tried to keep my face stoic as she fucked me, but it was hard. Eventually, the moaning was taking over, and she was starting to smirk like she'd won. I couldn't take it - flushed, embarrassed, and trying SO hard to fight my building orgasm, I covered my face with a pillow, hoping it would serve to muffle my moans and hide my face.

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"Oh no, is the little princess embarrassed? Is she feeling ashamed because she can't help but submit to me?" Before I could answer, she said, "You know I can hear you moaning through the pillow. I must be doing well, even muffled I can hear you giving in. You know this is what you need, princess."

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I stuffed the pillow deeper into my mouth, and she responded by pushing a second finger inside me - just as I'd found a way to hide my imminent submission, she found a way to make me moan louder. She started fucking me harder, making me moan and whimper with the pleasure flooding my body. Just as I felt myself getting close to the tipping point - legs twitching, hands shaking against the pillow I was pushing into my face, moaning like the slutty, submissive princess she had turned me into, she pulled her fingers out. My clit was aching, my pussy was dripping onto the bedsheet (making a noticeable wet spot on the bed sheet that's still somewhat visible - I might have stained the bedsheet a little this time, but I was leaking a lot), my back was arched, and my abs were clenched, and I felt like my body was filling with a dull light - a light that was starting to fade fast after she pulled out. I shot up like a mousetrap, eyes wide, noticeable panic in my voice.

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"No! No no no! Please, please, put them back!"

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"Put...what back?"

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My heart was pounding. I needed this. "Why did you stop? Please, keep going!"

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"Stop what?" She asked. Her face was wide, making her expression of surprise look exaggerated and mocking. Suddenly it clicked - she wasn't playing dumb, she hadn't made a mistake, she was fulfilling a promise. My hands had just started to tremble when she pulled her fingers out - she had promised to make me moan, whimper, shake, and beg. I felt my body crying out for her touch - it was almost painful how bad I needed her, but my mind would not let me speak the words I knew would get her to resume. She raised an eyebrow expectantly. I shook my head.

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"I can't, Queen," I said. She watched my face, seeing my trembling lips, looking at the wet spot beneath me, before rolling her eyes.

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"Oh, you're so stubborn. Here, lean in close, you can whisper it to me. Nobody else needs to hear you."

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My face was burning all the way to my scalp - I needed this. I leaned in closer, then pulled my head away, still conflicted between my need to win the battle of wills and my need to cum. She locked eyes with me, rolled her eyes again, and said, "Go on, say it. Say 'please, my Queen, fuck me in my needy ass.'"

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I leaned in close to her face, beaten and desperate. "Please, my Queen, fuck my needy ass."

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She shoved me back into the pillows, lubricating her fingers again, and moving them back inside of me. No words were spoken, but they didn't need to be - the pleasure was building. She had beaten me, but it didn't matter - I was getting what I needed and I loved it. I let myself moan as loudly as I needed as she fucked me into the mattress. After only seconds, I felt my muscles clench, my body felt like it was filled with electricity, my fingers began to tingle, and my moans seemed to catch in my throat. An orgasm was hitting me like a Tsunami and I couldn't get away even if I tried. She didn't stop - I knew she wouldn't. She had worked too hard to get me to this point, and now she was going to make me cum until I hurt. Her fingers kept moving, the same diligent movement as before, her fingers rubbing my clit, her tongue now lapping at my nipples - less than a minute after the first one hit, I felt the next jolt as a lightning bolt orgasm made me gasp. Tears were leaking out of the corner of my eyes - I felt SO good as she fucked me into a puddle, and then kept going.

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A third and fourth orgasm hit in rapid succession afterwards, before the final one. The last one was taking longer - it felt like it was building up from deep inside me. To bring it out, she had moved another two fingers into my drenched pussy, fingering my g spot with on hand while her other hand pleasured me from the other hole. It took almost 5 more minutes before the last orgasm finally reached the tipping point. Eyes wide, I told her it was happening, and she told me to let it happen. The orgasm didn't wash over me - it ripped through me. It was like a tornado, like a gunshot, like an explosion, it hit so hard my ears started ringing. I started seeing spots dancing in front of my eyes, my fingertips were tingling like they were touching live wires. I wasn't moaning now, I was whimpering, and I was doing it loud enough I was worried people outside our apartment could hear it.

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As soon as she took her fingers out of me I went limp - the hum in my ears was still present, the spots in my eyes were starting to dissipate. I was weak after the session, and my Queen knew it - she left quickly to wash her hands in the bathroom sink, then ran back to the room. She lay down next to me, and pulled me up onto her chest. For almost 20 minutes, we were totally silent as she ran her fingers through my hair and kissed me head. Finally, I turned up to her and told her that she had been incredible. She kept brushing my hair with her fingers, and told me I had done good. She kept calling me a good girl in a sweet, tender, quiet voice, brushing my hair until I was ready to stand up. On weak, shaky legs, I walked to the shower, and when I was done we sat on the couch watching Buzzfeed Unsolved until almost midnight. She cuddled me so tenderly that night, and the next morning we woke up feeling amazing.

​

I have a few more stories from this weekend, since we were just having too much fun for like 4 consecutive days. I'll post them soon!

submitted by /u/lizardho07040422 [link] [comments] from Sex Stories https://ift.tt/3rtNony

[reddiess]

Hello there! i really like your reddie fics and wanted to request a prompt. i was thinking something like they accidentally kiss and realize they have feelings for each other.

Hello there!! I’m so sorry this took so fucking long bsjsjf I’m having the busiest weeks at work and I normally don’t have any spirit left in me to re-read and finish anything. Thank you for requesting ahh, I hope you like where I went with this ❤️ (also, mobile won’t let me format anything so i’ll post it without italics i guess (it’s like soup without salt. ew. will fix later!)

“What the FUCK!”

Somewhere from deep within, a sigh pushes its way out of Eddie Kaspbrak. His headache is thrumming away, a persistent thump-thump-thump at the middle of his forehead, sitting heavily onto him with a smug and steady rhythm. He would gladly take a pill to aid his pain, open his fanny pack and down the medicine with some water - except that’s what Richie’s been doing for the past ten minutes now. Trying to open his fanny pack, that is.

“How the hell is it so stuck?!” Richie exclaims. “It cut my finger open!”

“You didn’t manage to open it but it somehow cut your finger?” Eddie answers in a tone that is strictly reserved for Richie and his bullshit. “What are you- wait what are you even doing?”

“We have to cut it up,” Richie explains, already halfway to the kitchen in search of something sharp. “You’ll have to buy a new one or maybe your mom can fix it after-”

Eddie is about to tear his face off. “No fucking way! Don’t you touch it!”

He stomps over to where Richie is stood and tears his (beloved) fanny pack out of his hands. “Give that to me.”

Richie doesn’t let go and Eddie is somewhat stronger than he looks, so he yanks on it anyway, the movement resulting in Richie tipping over. His obnoxious friend yelps and tries to keep his balance but their weight shifts and they’re falling over. Before he can even register what happened his back is against the floor with Richie’s weight on top of him and something wet bumps against his lips. What the fuck-

“Ew! Dude!” Richie jumps off of him in a heartbeat. “You kissed me!”

Eddie can’t believe what he’s hearing. “What the fuck do you mean I kissed you, you literally fell on top of me!” he retorts with just as much passion. “With your mouth!”

“I can’t believe my first kiss was you!” Richie shouts and okay, first of all, rude.

“I can’t believe my first kiss was you!” Eddie shouts back and then they’re just standing there looking at each other. Richie looks mortified for approximately three more seconds but cannot keep his composure anymore and crumbles to the floor wheezing. There is a moment of panic at first where Eddie thinks his friend is having problems breathing, but as soon as he realizes Richie is laughing, small chuckles bloom into laughter in his chest as well. Then he looks down beside him.

“Look! It’s open now!” he exclaims, snatching the fanny pack from the floor.

“How in the—” Richie mutters but Eddie takes him by the wrist and pulls him until he’s seated on the couch.

“Shut up Richie. Let me see your finger,” he starts to apply antiseptic and band aids to Richie’s cut, and with that everything is normal again.

*

Well, seemingly normal.

Eddie would like to forget the incident, he really would but he just can’t seem to get over it. Not only the fact that Richie handles it much better than him, ignoring what happened, but also the knowledge that Richie Tozier stole his first kiss. Not only is he fucking fed up with Richie’s shit every day but he also rid Eddie of the kiss he was saving for Marie Glattfelder (who is four years older than him and never even spoke to him, but hey, let a boy dream).

But other than that, everything seems to be okay. They don’t talk about it and Eddie slowly also comes to terms with the fact that it was just an accident, nothing more and nothing less. Because that’s what it was. It’s not like he and Richie would ever kiss willingly.

That’s why it almost gives him a heart attack when Richie brings the topic up some weeks later. They’ve cycled out to where the town ends and the woods begin with the group, except everyone else went home already. Eddie has almost twenty more minutes until he has to hop onto his bike and go home so his mother doesn’t send the police looking for her “lost child”. He’s sitting on a log picking at the grass between his feet; Richie is seated across from him indian-style. There’s a comfortable silence between them – or at least that’s what it is for Eddie. If he were to look up at his friend, he would see that Richie is not at all comfortable, fidgeting and frowning in worry. And then he says it.

“I’ve been thinking of kissing you again, you know.”

Eddie is glad he is sitting, because if he was standing he would be falling over right about now. What did Richie just say?

The other boy looks away when Eddie raises his eyes to him. He is chewing on his lip. Eddie doesn’t like to see Richie so stern and worried, he likes the Richie who laughs obnoxiously and always has a “your mom” joke right under his tongue. He wouldn’t want to be the one to rid him of his carefree attitude.

“I’m sorry?” His voice is meek, higher than he would like but.

“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy. It’s not like I’m gay or anything, at least I didn’t think I was, you know? But I just, I can’t stop thinking about it. Tell me if I’m freaking you out.” He’s rambling, something he does when he’s nervous.

To Eddie’s biggest surprise, he doesn’t find it weird, or repelling, or strange. To his own biggest surprise, all he thinks is that somehow it would be okay to kiss Richie right now, even if it’s just to calm him down, even if Eddie wouldn’t like it at all. It’s just Richie. Richie’s always been there, funny, loud Richie who can somehow make Eddie feel extremely annoyed, infuriated and fond at the same time.

So Eddie kisses him. No words, he just drops to his knees where Richie is and touches his cheek and kisses him. It’s very soft; Eddie has never thought about how soft and warm a kiss would actually feel. It’s nice. His mind is at a good place during it, albeit a little confused. The thing that freaks him out the most is the fact that he isn’t freaking out.

“Why does this make so much sense?” He asks and cringes at how sappy and ridiculous he sounds.“What?” They’re still very close.

“To be kissing you.”

Richie has this dopey fucking look on his face like kissing Eddie is the best thing he could be doing. Weirdo. “I don’t know.”

They kiss again. It’s clumsy, they don’t know what they’re doing. Eddie has heard about tongues involved in kissing but he’s not sure he’s quite ready for that yet. So they press their lips against each other’s awkwardly like two high schoolers would until Eddie realizes he’s going to be late and his mom is going to kill him.

He keeps smiling all the way through the evening because what Richie and he did, well, it was very nice. He never would’ve thought he would like it that much, but now Richie and Richie’s lips seem to be taking up the most of his mind. He has trouble falling asleep , but even after the realm of dreams claims him, the soft feeling of Richie’s lips linger.

*

It becomes their thing.

They find more and more occasions and excuses to be together, just the two of them without raising suspicion in the group; study sessions, sleepovers, non-existent science projects. That is, if you don’t count the private biology project they have going on behind closed doors, mostly in Eddie’s room when his mom is watching tv downstairs or is out with her book club. Eddie doesn’t know why they call it book club since all they do is gossip about the neighbors.

Which is nice sometimes, you know. For example, when Richie starts littering small kisses all over Eddie’s neck, having to tilt up his head because the smaller boy is sitting on his lap. Eddie is not ready for the sensation of it at all – come on. He’s sixteen. He doesn’t know things like that about his body yet, and that’s why he has Richie. So as he lets out an embarrassing moan against Richie’s temple, he thanks all forces of the universe that his mom isn’t home that afternoon.

Richie just laughs against his neck like it’s a funny thing. It’s not. Eddie is getting hard in his shorts just from having Richie’s mouth on his skin – he doesn’t know a lot about it, but even he knows that’s fucking embarrassing. He does it to Richie later though, and the boy basically goes pliant against him so they’re kind of even. That’s a lesson for today, Eddie guesses.

*

Richie can be surprisingly hot sometimes, if he really gets into it. He has the passion, and once he’s  in the right mindset it only takes one look from him and Eddie’s gone. But he’s also a fucking brat, many times almost killing the mood mostly with comments about Eddie’s mom or immature jokes. Seriously, one more and Eddie is going to start talking about Richie’s grandmother’s saggy old boobs just to get back at him.

*

But it’s not a relationship, Eddie thinks bitterly. It’s not – anything serious, really. *

Well, that’s what he thinks, apparently. Then comes Richie’s side of it. They’re out with a friend group at a diner where not everyone knows everyone and Richie just goes,

“Hello, I’m Richie, this is my boyfriend Eddie.” while shaking hands with some guys from another town’s high school.

Eddie stops. All of them stop. “What?” Richie asks with a shrug.

“What?!” Bev’s eyes are like two small plates. All hell breaks loose between their tight-knit group but Eddie just smiles and melts into Richie’s side and lets him handle it.

He’s the one who got them into this shit, anyways.

[irikahkrios]

2, 4, 14!

2. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

ohhhhh boy,,,, well, there's the cursed captain, which takes up like 50% of my thoughts on any given day. but i'm equally excited to work on stuff for my main canon; i'm currently planning a rewrite of the shadow broker dlc that, in my humble opinion, Absolutely Fucks so far, and there's also a little fic called "try hard" focusing on my shepard's clone and conrad verner that i'm extremely excited about. i've also fallen headfirst into planning fics about both of my shepard's kids as adults. basically i have A Lot on my plate and i'm Extremely excited about it.

as for specific scenes, there's one really big scene i have planned in the cursed captain that absolutely floors me every time i think about it. i can't go into details because of massive spoilers, but it's pretty much a sucker punch that makes you see the entire story up to that point very differently. i'm so fucking excited oh my god

also the final confrontation in try hard (which, as the title would imply, is a die hard parody/homage) is gonna be absolutely *chefs kiss* in terms of character development payoff and also just cool guns and explosions lmao

lastly, i'm super excited to write one of the very first scenes of my fic about norius. it takes place at juniper's wedding, and is just going to be so much fun. it sets up character motivations and several plot threads, i get to write a whole bunch of the squadmates more than thirty years after the end of the series (some of them are retired. most of them are Very Much Not), and i get to write emmett in his sixties, mellow and happy on the day of his daughter's wedding. and finally, it just wouldn't be an interesting wedding without the older brother of one of the three brides getting into a fistfight with his rival in the art world, who happened to be a family friend of one of the other two brides and was invited to the wedding, because somebody in the wedding planning process apparently didn't keep up with the tabloids and wasn't aware that if you put norius shepard-vakarian-krios and avan'zular vas shabiiv in the same room, somebody's gonna end up getting socked. it's a great scene that sets up the whole rest of the fic.

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

i haven't been able to write anything i'm really proud of lately due to lack of adhd meds and have mostly been planning fics instead of writing them, and i'm not super proud of most of my old stuff anymore, but uhhhhhh have this little me3 thane/irikah snippet from a few weeks ago that i thought was cute (minus proper formatting because i'm on mobile and i literally had to pull the doc up on my laptop and type it in word by word on my phone lmao)

Irikah puts a gentle, steadying hand on his upper arm, and her touch soothes him just as it always has.

"With everything that's going on, I don't blame you. Just make sure you aren't so distracted that you forget the essentials. I'm sure Emmett and Garrus would appreciate the view if you forgot to bring a shirt, and you know I would as well, but I'm afraid fighting Reapers will require heavier armor than that." He turns to her as she speaks, and the teasing glint in her violet eyes fades as she sees his somber expression. She brings her hands up to rest on his shoulders as she closes the distance between them. "Thane. Something's bothering you."

"Don't trouble yourself with it, siha." His lips curve into a weary little smile. "You have enough burdens to carry without taking on mine as well."

"I thought we agreed almost twenty years ago that all our burdens were ours to share." Her voice grows soft, reminding him that he is safe with her, that he always has been and always will be.

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

depends! almost everything on my ao3 was titled like ten seconds before i posted it. (that's why none of the titles are good lmao.) but where i'm at right now, spending massive amounts of time planning my fics while waiting to get back on meds that'll let me actually write again? i come up with titles very early on. i have very few planned fics that i don't have titles for. (i don't have titles for the norius and juniper fics yet and it is Bothering Me)

[gospacegay]

LRTIHEW: Part One

The title stands for “Longest Rusame Thing I Have Ever Written”. I have been writing it for a very long time and have no idea what to name it anymore. I will post extra chapters when formatting isn’t being a cruel mistress. I will leave reference links for previous chapters. Enjoy some creepy Ivan!

There is swearing, fluff, eventual smut, insanity, and lord knows what else.

American politics could be so volatile, yet entertaining. No one had expected such a sharp change in Alfred's disposition after the American elections. Granted, the happy blonde was mildly affected by his frequent leader changes. But never had the blue eyed blonde seemed so calm and collected before at a world meeting. Normally he was sleeping or bouncing off the walls with stupid ideas.

Ivan, the immortal symbol of Russia, watched with immense interest. He was curious as Alfred wore a trademark Hollywood smile, not listening to the current speaker like usual. Canada's speech about a political trend towards extreme bipartisanship was ignored by most anyway. Russia jotted down the highlights, only pretending disinterest. He loved to make the nearly invisible country squirm like that.

Royal purple eyes swept back to Alfred, surprised to lock with beautiful blue. The younger seemed to be sizing him up, analyzing the taller ash blonde nation. Finally his real smile showed through. The expression existed only a short time but it was so warm. Alfred then resumed dissecting the rest of the room with his eyes, being noticeably more subtle than usual.

Happy to see his plucky American scheming much like himself, Ivan returned to the same hobby. When the meeting finally ended, Ivan trailed behind. He could hear Alfred arguing hotly with his former motherland in the hall outside. “I'm fine. Leave my leaders to me, Arthur!” the loud mouthed American yelled, stomping off somewhere. “Boy, you don't know what mess you're in now!” Arthur rebutted, always wanting the last word.

Ivan used extreme stealth, trailing a hall away from Alfred at all times. He was very good at it despite his towering height and renowned strength. When the distress American slipped into an office alone, Ivan followed. He closed the frosted glass door noisily, his form of an introduction. Alfred whipped around in alarm, then slumped his shoulders. It was an discovery to see him relax now of all times.

“Oh thank god it's you big guy. Thought it was someone scary!” Alfred greeted teasingly. Taken aback by the younger nation's genial tone, Ivan's false smile changed to a flat hard line. Something was definitely going on. He wasn't sure what to say now, the usual hostile string of insults no longer suitable as an opener.

“Going the quiet route huh? I can respect that. Leaves me more room to talk,” Alfred started, dropping into the luxury office chair. The whole office was quite nice, probably belonging to a German politician of some sort. “You know, I've been thinking. These past 16 years... I know my leaders have been jokes. I know. But I'm really tired of being a living joke? You know?” he continued, frowning.

It was true. The past four American presidents had been international disasters. From drunk social media posts to 'losing' deadly missiles, each term had been a fumble. Ivan didn't envy the internal economic damage his former enemy was surely suffering.

This serious and unhappy aura, it didn't suit Alfred at all. “I understand, little America. It is over twenty five years since my soviet fall, but I am joke of the whole world.” Ivan replied honestly. There was no risk to truth, he decided. Ever since the elections, Alfred hadn't called him a communist once. It was a pleasant change from the tired rhetoric. Perhaps he was finally maturing?

“It's nice... just talking to you. No bullshit.” the honey blonde sighed, reclining a bit. Ivan hummed in agreement, not sure how to proceed. He dealt with international rage, ridicule, and doubt well. Having civil conversations not tainted by sarcasm was something Ivan was not well versed in. These past few decades had been hell for foreign relations.

The silence was killed by America's own anthem for a ring tone. He looked at the display screen, visibly cringed, then answered the cell phone. “All American awesome speaking.” he greeted cheerfully. His forcibly light attitude dropped instantly as he rubbed his temples. “Yes, boss. I understand.” he mumbled. A minute later, he continued “Of course. I'll take care of it. Just don't say anything yet.” he sighed, hanging up after. Ivan intimately understood the look of frustration after being chewed out by superiors. America wore it with resignation, covering his face with both hands.

“FUCK!” Alfred cursed suddenly, startling Ivan. “I have to go, but maybe we can hang out sometime.” the younger nation offered casually, winking at him mischievously. He ran off without waiting for a response. Ivan wouldn't have known what to say anyway. Sure, he had dozens of practiced and sardonic responses. Normally, that was all that was required with the rashly stupid American. This civility and distant kindness was boggling. What did he want now? What game were they playing?

Three weeks later, Ivan decided to test the limits of the informal offer. He wanted to get away from work for a few days anyway. The price of oil was a mess right now and his grossly incompetent officials were blaming him for the short fall, as usual. The nine hour flight to Washington, DC, was mind numbing. Russia instantly regretted not bringing some nice literature from his own culture.

By the time the plane landed in the United States of America, jet lag was starting to take it's toll. Ivan blinked heavily during the taxi ride, the driver glancing back in concern. The burly Russian glared back with a silent promise of violence. The cabby was suddenly less curious, looking fearfully pale. Good boy.

Alfred's Washington home was easily one of his oldest, and his most sentimental. It was a small white colonial house with normal proportions and a second story. It was quaint in comparison to some of the mansions in other states. Due it being three in the morning, there was no point in ringing the door bell. Like Ivan would ever do that anyway. There was no challenge to it!

He scanned the building dimly lit orange by old street lamps. The sly ash blonde could scale the sides and get in through a window. Not only would it be test of acrobatics, but it would scare Alfred. That was a worth while deal. Rubbing his hands together, Ivan spotted a lone sunflower on the southern style veranda. Abandoning his plan, Ivan jogged over to the patio. Oh beautiful flower, who could leave you to suffer? Scooping up the single bloom lovingly, he noticed a large paper tag tied to the robust stem. He read the tiny looping writing immediately.

'I know you want to get through a window or a toilet or whatever, but I left a key. There's no way in hell you're wrecking my siding again.'

Oh, yes. Ivan had forgot about the last time he broke in. He was doing something lithe and graceful, but a window sill gave under his great weight. A large chunk of siding fell with him. Not one of his best feats of athleticism. Still, to be given a key... It completely sucked the fun out of breaking and entering.

Begrudgingly, the Russian looked around for this 'key'. Maybe there would be riddles or tricks to solve. The pale nation adored puzzles and mind games. Ivan huffed, unimpressed at once. He could see a fake rock for holding keys from the veranda. It wasn't even the right color to blend in with the soil. Popping open the plastic 'rock', there was a key with a gold star sticker on it. Wondering if the gold star was a reference to his soviet era, Ivan tried it on the front door.

It worked, the door swinging open silently on oiled hinges. Once inside, Ivan locked it shut and quietly padded around. Exploring the kitchen, he found muffins. They were raspberry, his favorite. Eating one, he explored the rest of the place. Alfred's gun cabinets, all six of them, were looking well stocked like usual. His overflowing movie collection was heaped around the big screen television in the main room. Upstairs was a poorly locked war planning room, a bathroom, and three bedrooms. Having broken in and memorized these places before, Ivan skipped them. He entered what he knew to be Alfred's bedroom, not caring about personal invasion in the slightest.

America looked so tired as he slept. Ivan was glad to he wasn't the only one being dragged down by crashing oil prices. The global market was quite stressed at the moment. Placing the sunflower on the huge oak dresser, Ivan rubbed his eyes. A soft yawn ripped out of him, confirming the obvious. Dumping his small bag of clothes in a corner, Ivan made himself comfortable beside Alfred. Not only was his bed the softest, it would weird out the American until he sputtered like a fish. Making his former foe overreact and make a idiot of himself was hugely entertaining.

Wondering if he should set small traps and pranks around the house, Ivan lay down in his travel clothes. It probably wasn't worth the effort to set traps. Alfred was very skilled at disarming them. Russia could get the same result from less effort by playing mind tricks and moving around furniture. Scheming happily, Ivan drifted off.

It was a terrible screech, like a surprised chicken. Ivan couldn't recall hearing that sound in a very long time. Cracking open one eye, he spotted the thing that wretched him from sleep. His pillow was actually America, in full freak out mode. Oh, what a treat. A sleeping companion and mobile entertainment.

“Fuckin' Christ! What are you doing here?” Alfred squawked. Apparently Ivan draped an arm around the other in his sleep, so might as well run with it. “Oh, so you don't remember? We had so much fun too.” he teased, looking smug. Letting the younger nation assume the worst, Ivan watched as Alfred rolled out of bed. Oh, nothing but NASA boxers. That was just adorable. Perhaps Ivan could tease him about it mercilessly during a meeting.

“Take a picture! It'll last longer asshole!” The tanned blonde snarled, picking himself up off the floor. “You are such a hospitable host! I will take a picture.” Ivan replied happily, digging his phone out of a pocket. Two blurry pictures later, the American had fled to the bathroom. Already not bored. Visiting another country had been a great idea.

[precise-desolation]

[[Okay, guys.  I am slowly, slowly working my way through drafts.  I’ve been mostly over on my Doctor Who blogs lately.  What with the reveal of the Thirteenth Doctor’s actress (yes, actress; I am excited) and with having finally watched Scream of the Shalka recently, I’ve kind of thrown myself headlong back into that fandom.  I haven’t consistently watched the show since sometime in undergrad.  Mostly because I didn’t get BBCA, but also because I just got so fed up with Eleven and his companions who were puzzles rather than people that I didn’t feel like making the effort to keep up anymore. 

And I am very long-winded and also a huge Whovian, so I will put the rest of my rambling under a read-more.

But my roommate and I are watching New Who (we started with Nine because he’d never seen any Doctor Who) and Twelve has given me hope.  Watching Clara change when she was with Twelve verses when she was with Eleven is like night and day.  Takes a few episodes, but it’s like “Wow, you’re actually a human being with actual flaws and strengths and feelings and not just an enigma with no personality.”  I do rather agree with the theory that Peter Capaldi came in and led a revolt and somewhere along the lines they just tied Moffat up and shoved him in a broom closet, because the writing did basically a complete 180.  It still has its issues, to be sure, but it’s amazing the differences.

I’ve also, as I said, watched Scream of the Shalka finally.  It’s part of the Doctor Who Extended Universe (or EU) and hails from the time after the movie but before New Who when BBC was almost certain they would never get the show back on air.  Their solution?  The internet.  It’s this very short six part flash animated story arc featuring a new Doctor and Master.  Of course, if you’re familiar with the movie, the Master dies at the end.  But more specifically, he falls into the Eye of Harmony, which is basically the heart of the TARDIS.  That bit is important.  And then at the very end of the movie, the Eighth Doctor receives a message about a war between the Time Lords and the Daleks and returns to Gallifrey to lend whatever aid he can.

Of course, that movie was supposed to bring the show back on air.  (I remember my dad losing it over that.  Have I mentioned I was raised by utter nerds?)  But it just kinda... didn’t.  That was the only thing Eight ever appeared in on screen until Night of the Doctor, the short prequel to the 50th anniversary special, Day of the Doctor.  A full seventeen years later.  (Although they did do another flash animated short featuring the Eighth Doctor around the same time as Scream of the Shalka.)  Now, this was back in the day before YouTube.  Yes, there was an internet before YouTube.  We had things like NewGrounds and Albino Black Sheep.  Which featured a shitton of flash animated videos.  I remember this because I am old.  But in keeping up with the tech of the day, they flash animated these arcs.  Which can make them a bit odd to watch if you aren’t used to that.

Scream of the Shalka, though...  It introduced the first Ninth Doctor and a new version of the Master.  This iteration was later replaced in the primary canon by Christopher Eccleston’s Ninth Doctor when New Who started.  There are some striking similarities in the two, but also a world of difference.  Eccleston’s Nine was very much a soldier who had seen too much of war.  That was true, too, of Shalka Nine.  However, the Shalka Doctor was much, much closer in characterization to the Classic Who Doctors.  I think the only New Who Doctor who has come even remotely close is Twelve, but even there the differences between Old and New are steep.  There’s a huge difference, too, in the characterization of the Master between Old and New Who.  Again, I’d say the closest to the Classic Who characterization is Missy.  So it probably doesn’t come as a surprise that the dynamic between Twelve and Missy is also the closest to the dynamic between the Master and Doctor of Classic Who out of all the Masters and Doctors of New Who.  But the Shalka Doctor and Master retain that very definite “best frienemies” sort of relationship.  They act like an old married couple, assuming that married couple consists of a psychopath who enjoys making the other’s day miserable in tiny, petty ways and also occasionally poisoning their food and a put-upon “responsible” partner who runs around the universe cleaning up the other’s messes.

So some of the things I’ve mentioned earlier should make it no surprise that I grew up on Classic Who reruns.  My father actually wanted to name me after one of the Fifth Doctor’s companions, that is the extent to which this has been involved in my life.  I watched primarily Four and Six growing up, but did see bits and pieces of the others.  And one thing I have always loved is the relationship between the Doctor and Master.  It’s dysfunctional as all hell and most definitely not healthy, but it’s also interesting and oddly charming.  Mostly, I think, for their snark and pettiness over ridiculous things at some times but their genuine concern for one another at others.  And they did care for one another, no matter how disturbing the manner in which that care and affection was expressed.  They had been close friends since childhood, a point which is addressed in both Classic and New Who as well as extensively explored in the EU.  Their relationship was dynamic and layered and interesting to watch unfold.

Scream of the Shalka retains that.  As I said earlier, at the end of the movie, the Master dies by way of falling into the Eye of Harmony.  The heart of the TARDIS.  The TARDIS is no ordinary ship, though.  It’s sentient.  It is essentially a living, intelligent being that grows and changes and expresses opinions and makes decisions.  It just also happens to be a bio-mechanical entity.  And it exists across all of space and time simultaneously, which is how it’s able to travel the way it does.  So basically what you have, then, is a living mobile supercomputer.  Another detail about Time Lords is that when they die, their consciousness is uploaded into a huge database, called the Matrix.  (No, I could not make that up if I tried.)  Time Lord technology.  So it stands to reason that if Time Lords can upload their consciousness into what amounts to a really advanced computer data base, then a sentient supercomputer of a species that has co-evolved with and been heavily influenced by Time Lords would be able to do the same thing.  This is why the manner of the Master’s death is significant.  He fell into the heart of the TARDIS.  His physical body would have been destroyed, as the Eye of Harmony is basically a star trapped in an endless sate of decay.  But I see no reason why his consciousness, which basically amounts to electrical impulses, couldn’t have been uploaded by the TARDIS.

So if he was destroyed, how is he present?  Well, that’s not terribly clear.  You see, all we really have, at least in a film format, of the Shalka Doctor and Master is six, fifteen minute episodes.  Not a whole lot of time for backstory.  However, two things are revealed that are extremely significant.  The first is that the Doctor is apparently not able to travel freely.  Someone - ostensibly the Gallifreyan High Counsel, since it’s not addressed whether or not Gallifrey survived the war in this timeline and the Doctor was living as a fugitive prior to the war - seems to be controlling or limiting his and his TARDIS’s ability to move within the Time Vortex, just based on his dialogue.  So he is seemingly a prisoner in his own TARDIS.  That does make the Master’s presence make more sense.  Evidently, at some point the Doctor was either so desperate for company or missed his friend so badly that he built an android fashioned after the Master.  (He appears to be a blend of Delgado and Jacobi.)  One would have to assume, then, that he was also able to download the Master’s consciousness from the TARDIS into the android.  Now, the Doctor is many things, but an idiot is not one of them.  Letting the Master back out to roam the universe, this time in a body made of circuitry rather than soft, vulnerable flesh, would be a terrible mistake.  The Doctor may be fond of the Master, perhaps even love him, but he is also aware that the Master is dangerous.  Because of this, he has fail-safes built in that don’t allow him to leave the TARDIS and that give the Doctor the ability to switch him off if need be.

And if you’re wondering, I do have good reason for thinking all of these things.  As far as the Doctor and Master’s relationship, when the Master is first introduced in Scream of the Shalka, he tells Alisha that “I pride myself that I am the dearest companion of the owner of this craft.”  Fast forward to New Who and we have a scene where Missy gifts the Twelfth Doctor a legion of cybermen so that they can conquer the universe together.  The Tenth Doctor tries to get the Master to abandon his scheming and run away with him to see the universe together.  Their close, if horrendously fucked up, relationship is a well documented fact of the Whoniverse.

And then there’s the situation with the Doctor’s ability to travel and with the Master’s reappearance as an android.  In one of the first scenes of Shalka, the Doctor is seen seemingly shouting at the sky that “I won’t do it!”  It’s worth noting that at this point he doesn’t even know what “it” is.  He basically walked out of his TARDIS, went ‘this is not the time/place I was looking for,’ and then declares he won’t do it.  “It” ends up being saving humanity.  Again.  As to the Master, given what we know of Time Lord tech, the nature of TARDISes, and the manner of his most recent death, it’s really the only logical answer.

And I don’t even remember where I was going with all of this, but it’s a quarter to 3am.  So I am going to go sleep now before I ramble for another two pages or so.]]

[tylerbiard]

Y and Z

Do you guys remember when analysts, insiders, and marketers were trying to “crack” the Millennials (Gen Y)?  It wasn’t even that long ago when articles on figuring out how to connect with my generation were vogue.  My dad even attended a conference on how to integrate Millennials into the workforce, circa 2010.  It still happens from time to time, but now, things are shifting towards figuring out my successor, Gen Z.  Makes sense, I guess, considering they’re almost as large as the Millennials and the Boomers, and despite the oldest members being 21 (born in 1996), people haven’t really been looking at the differences between those my age and those born a decade later, largely because they’ve often been lumped in with Millennials.

I’m towards the tail end of the Millennials (born in ‘93), and so I have some friends that are at the beginning of Gen Z, but overall, my friends tend to be Millennials, both younger and older.  In some regards, I find more similarities with early Gen Z members than older Millennials, but altogether, I’d say my affinities are definitely more with the Millennials than Gen Z.  That’s not a slight against Gen Z, rather just a noted difference, which will probably become blurred as we all get older anyways.  Going back to school well past when most people do also puts into perspective a bit of the difference; many of my classmates in first year courses were fresh outta high school (born in ‘98) and it does make me wonder where things are headed as Gen Z grows and matures, and where the generation follows it takes us as a society.

With the Millennials, Boomers and Gen Xers had to learn how to professionally work with a generation that grew up with the Internet in its infancy, with a generation that was given so much from its parents, including growing up being told we’re each our own “special snowflake” and that we should reach for the stars, and so long as we got a degree -- any degree -- we’d be happy.  We were considered idealistic, liberal, and tech-savvy.

Well, now, everyone’s used to it, and perhaps because Gen Z is also very tech-savvy and educated and grew up being given participation ribbons, nobody sought out the difference until more recently.  But there are differences.  Gen Z is more conservative apparently (I don’t see it in terms of social issues), more into “branding” oneself and generally more consumerist.  Gen Z is also way more immersed in digital technology than I ever was growing up.  I remember into junior high knowing people who still didn’t have Internet or a cell phone; I can’t see that really happening now except in extreme scenarios.  Furthermore, they grew up with high speed internet, not that dial up shit I had. 

I’m still one to prefer browsing on a stationary, desktop computer, rather than on my phone.  The phone is often more handy when I’m out, but if I have a choice, I’ll always go for the computer.  Which is partly why I loathe mobile-specific social media for not being more browser-friendly.  Being a photographer is no doubt an influence here, as I like being able to view visual media on a larger screen.  But I also grew up with desktops, and was used to having to physically go home to chat with people on MSN, and when I was out, I was basically disconnected.  I had a cell phone, sure, but I wasn’t texting on it (which was expensive) or browsing the ‘Net on it (which was even more expensive).  None of that happened until I got a Blackberry in 12th grade.  Millennials grew up around the PC; Generation Z grew up around iPads and iPhones.  Apparently, on average, Generation Z does not value time offline, while I personally value being disconnected on occasion (not permanently -- I’m not that much of a luddite).  I know when I’ve spent too much time in front of screens.

Gen Z is also more visual.  Well, I’m a photographer, so I’m naturally a very visual person, so this works for me on some level.  And as a Millennial, I’m not unaware of short attention spans among my cohort.  As digital technology continues to make inroads, it only makes sense that attention spans continue to wane.  But even still, I’m here, writing long blog posts and I enjoy photoblogs which are more long-form as well.  They aren’t easily digestable, though, which is why there are less viewers.  It makes sense that social media, then, has moved towards less politicized, more mobile and visually-orientated platforms like Snapchat and Instagram, while Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr are waning, especially among Gen Z.  I’m not too happy about that, to be honest.  I find value in political discourse and believe that if we don’t fight for rights we may as well not have them.   You’re not getting discourse if you’re busy posting aesthetic selfies on Snapchat.  It seems like youth (including Millennials) have kinda accepted things as they are, and, perhaps due to overstimulation, are a bit fatigued at all the information out there, and so there is a certain sense of complacency.  The general mood of memes seems to be “yeah, the world is shit, I’ve accepted it doesn’t make sense and therefore I’m gonna shitpost rather than do anything about it.”  Maybe I’m reading into it too much but I’ve seen others corroborate this mindset.  It’s quite a different mentality from 7 years ago, when Twitter was at peak, which is all about discourse, often political.  I don’t think the interface of many websites now helps, which bombard you with ads and offers before you can see anything.

It’s a bit early to say, as the youngest Gen Zers are between 0 and 7, depending on who you ask, but I hope one thing that Gen Z and its parents (mostly Gen X) learn from the Millennials is regarding education.  It seems like the eldest members of Z were brought up with the same ideas as us, though.  I hope that they realize that it is important still to follow what you’re passionate about and you do need to find something of a career that you will enjoy, but I hope that there is more of a practicality about it.  My generation was told we’d be set as long as we had a degree -- any degree -- and I can tell you that that simply isn’t the case.  It isn’t that there are “worthless” degrees, but that there are degrees which require you to market yourself harder than if you got an Engineering degree and then becoming an Engineer.  I already know a few older Millennials who went down that path, and are or have gone back to school later for something more practical yet still enjoyable.  Academia works for certain fields, certainly, and the program I’m in is practical, but we’ve flooded universities too much because we’ve imbibed the idea that we need a degree to succeed, which is utter poppycock.  A lot of people in university would be better suited to a technical school or a diploma of some sort, which often yield great success without having to pay back a mountain of student loans.  I don’t know if Gen Z will learn this, as I know parents of Gen Z kids who’ve really imbibed the post-secondary ideal as much, if not more, than the Millennial’s parents.

I guess if you’re reading between the lines, I’m a bit sardonic about the future.  It’s nothing to do with Millennials or Gen Z specifically, as we’re both products of the time we grew up in.  A friend of mine joked that I was “born too late” and, considering how slow I sometimes I am with accepting technological trends and how much I like late 20th century pop culture, maybe he’s got a point.  But it’s always easy to romanticize the past.  The ‘50s were great, if you don’t factor in how close we were to nuclear annihilation or how discriminatory the hegemony was.  Furthermore, I’ve definitely become far more aware of things due to being able to access the Internet than if I grew up in an earlier time.  Despite the overstimulation, I think we can take for granted how much more aware we are able to be now; friction of distance has been reduced to rubble.  Also, my earlier comments about Gen Z favouring visual, favouring mobile, really apply to us all.  Millennials have orientated towards these formats, as well as older generations.  It definitely seems like my grandparents are more into their smartphone than they ever were Windows 98.  It’s just Gen Z is the generation that has no basis of comparison to a pre-mobile era, just like Millennials can’t compare to a pre-Internet age (except maybe some of our eldest members), and both have an influence on their respective generation.

Still, I’m not only curious how I’ll survive progress, but how society will as a whole.  America is in late empire, and there is no new Western power to take the helm like after Britain.  It’ll be interesting how that plays out for still-maturing Western countries like Canada, Australia, and New Zealand, but it seems like we’re shifting to a pre-Columbian paradigm dominated by the East.  As with any change, there’s uncertainty, although America will likely remain a major player in geopolitics for the long term, even if less hegemonic in scope.  I’m even more curious about what will become of us once those degrees we hammered thousands upon thousands of dollars on are rendered obsolete by AI.  Some say the singularity is nigh, some say it already happened and we were too busy tweeting to notice.  But I don’t think it has happened in the Kurzweilian sense, and once that happens, it’ll be interesting to see where things go.  If we can “survive” it, we’ll probably be better off.  But then there’s still climate change.  Maybe once we become a (hypothetical) Kardashev Type 1 civilization, we’ll have progressed towards not killing ourselves over differences and will have finally survived progress. 

But for now, I still have to live in a world ruled by filters and brands, all-the-while we became increasingly connected yet disconnected.  Maybe I’ll fuck off to Dawson City before having to bear the full front of our digital future.  Sounds nicer for someone unwilling to embrace digital advances like so many of my peers.  Then again, how different, really, is seeing a bunch of people, disparately glued to their phones, from seeing a different bunch of people glued to their books.  Despite being social animals, we’ve long desired our own “space” and privacy, at least in the Western world.

[automatismoateo]

A long rant/story. Moral: A strict biblical interpretation can cause religious & cultural predjudices, academic closedmindedness, as well as falsely-percieved moral superiority among children. via /r/atheism

Submitted May 22, 2019 at 08:33AM by MuchosWaffles (Via reddit http://bit.ly/2X3DAAs) A long rant/story. Moral: A strict biblical interpretation can cause religious & cultural predjudices, academic closedmindedness, as well as falsely-percieved moral superiority among children.

Im on mobile, sorry for formatting.

So my one friend is a hardcore christian. He blindly follows what his religion and parents tell him and take it as fact without question. His views on questioning religion are kind of like a NAZI youth camp's views on questioning Hitler's intentions. He also pushes his religious beleifs onto everyone else, too. (I dont dislike those decent people who are religious. I just think that you don't truly have faith in your religion if you haven't fully questioned it. Once you've questioned each aspect of your faith and can support it, you really know that you believe it. I also don't think that you need to be a part of the next crusade.) But anyway, I recently found out he was a creationist. Honestly idk why I thought this, but I thought those were about as rare as flat-earthers among my generation because of the school's science classes that taught basic evolution at a young age, but aparently I was wrong, there's a lot at my highschool. He says he "doesn't believe in evolution". So I ask him what he means by he doesn't believe in it. Aparently discrediting a proven scientific theory based on a fairytale doesn't take much thought because he hadn't even considered the evidence for evolution. Aparently he's completely clueless as to what evolution actually is. He knows the very basics of what it is, but he didn't really understand how slow the process was or much about natural selection or really anything other than "monkeys became humans".

So I'm wondering how he managed to avoid actually learning about evolution four 15 years.

(He's not entirely stupid either. He takes the highest available classes for my grade. AP physics I, Honors English I, Honors Algebra II, etc. )

It turns out he didn't even know what a neanderthal was or how mutation works despite have specific lessons about evolution last year.

So I ask him what he believes, and ge gives me the basic genesis story and I find out that he also thinks Hetm created the sun and ALL that, too. He takes the whole bible as fact. ALL OF IT.

So I question him a bit more about what he thinks about the science that contradicts his beliefs and find out he knows practically nothing about the "big bang", cosmic background radiation, not even a basic idea of how planets and solar systems are formed, etc... NOTHING. His class had studied these at some point, but because he didn't believe in evolution or the big bang, he didn't care to learn them because to him, they were just false theories.

I know about both sides, the bible and the science against it. I don't just ignore that it exists because I don't believe in it. I took 8 long years of CCD/religious prep. I'm confirmed into the catholic church for my years of suffering. I was once religious, too and still have to go to church and pretend I believe that shit in front of my family.

The next thing I found out was that his mom is an anti-vaxxer. She "stopped believing in vaccines" right before he would've gotten his tetanus shots before 6th grade and his poor little brother wasn't even vaccinated as a baby.

His older brother, who I also know, pretty much gave up on his parents and practically disowned them. I don't blame him. He says that whenever he tries to explain how vaccines work and that they are beneficial, she doesn't listen, calls him disrespectful, etc... and acts as though he was directly insulting her.

I asked him who he believes goes to heaven. Of course, he says those who beleive in and accept jesus (not mentioning good people). So I ask him about Ghandi. And because the bible says so, Ghandi, fucking Ghandi, is apparently in hell. And he's fine with that. Completely apathetic. The "merciful" god of his is the most morally fucked up role model for any child if taken straight from the bible without interpretation.

His family also forces so many religious and cultural predjudices on him and his siblings. He grew up with parents with such a strict interpretation of their bible so he was given role models that reflect the culture from centuries ago and are prejudice against other beliefs and cultures from a young age. His parents and family are extremely racist and he doesn't even realize it.

I grew up with a looser interpretation of the bible because my parents understood that a lot of it was morally twisted and they believed that good people go to heaven and really bad people go to hell, regardless of religion. That's often what CCD/religious prep programs teach children because it takes away a lot of the "you don't believe what I do so rot in hell" aspect of religion and reinforces that kindness is rewarded.

I think that too many parents and churches teach children to look down on others and that Christians naturally have a moral highground, which often ironically leads to morally fucked and arrogant crusaders, not the "kind-hearted and merciful children of god" that they preach about. That's one of the main things that drove me away from religion. Everyone preached of a merciful god, but then showed all of these biblical stories of god not giving sinners a second chance and killing and punishing them. The people also pretty arrogant.

[mozurii-blog]

17 Penis Horror Stories Guaranteed To Make You Laugh

New Post has been published on http://www.mozurii.com/17-penis-horror-stories-guaranteed-make-laugh/

17 Penis Horror Stories Guaranteed To Make You Laugh

We asked the BuzzFeed Community for their craziest and most awkward experiences with a penis. Here are hilarious results.

1. The allergic reaction:

“Years ago I dated a guy from work and gave him a blow job. He randomly started distancing himself from me, but later on we grabbed drinks. He asked me, ‘Do you remember what you had for lunch on Sunday?’ I had no idea, but he said, ‘You had cashew chicken… I’m allergic to cashews.’ Apparently his dick had exploded into a swollen, itchy, red, skin-peeling member from the blow job I gave him. Whoops.”

—carlyp4

Columbia Pictures

2. The girthy jaw:

“I occasionally get lockjaw. One time I was giving my boyfriend a blow job – he’s quite big and girthy – and my jaw started to hurt. I thought ‘fuck it’ and kept going, which was a big mistake. It got to the point where I couldn’t open my mouth wide enough to get his dick out, so I had to pry my mouth open with my fingers. Whoops.”

—shelbeed

3. The curry dick:

“I was giving two guys blowjobs in the back of a gay bar in London, when a third guy came up and presented his dick to me. Being the nice guy I am, I started to suck it, when I was hit with the overwhelming taste of curry, and I REALLY don’t like curry. I did everything to keep from puking before I got up and excused myself. It really sucked (pardon the pun), because all these guys were really hot.”

—tomb4ad

Warner Bros. Pictures

4. The wreck it and ralph:

“Gave a blow job before he gave me a ride back home. In those days I was a swallower, but I think that was the last time ever because I had to make him pull over so I could vomit on the side of the road. Ever throw up semen? Traumatizing.”

—marthagailj

5. Whatever the heck this is:

“Things felt a little wetter than usual when my boyfriend and I were fooling around, but I assumed we were just extra horny. He looked down and asked if I was on my period. I wasn’t, but when he pulled out there was blood EVERYWHERE. We noticed the blood was coming from his penis. We grabbed a towel and put pressure on it to stop the bleeding. It stopped, and we realized his frenulum had snapped, so we went to the hospital. While in the waiting room, I felt a rush of liquid come out of my vagina. Since we hadn’t immediately stopped having sex, he basically filled me up with blood. I was, of course, wearing a white skirt. Whoops.”

—Conz Preti, Facebook

Disney

6. The scratched penis:

“I had just gotten my first set of acrylic nails put on. I ended up giving my friend a hand job, and apparently I completely tiger-striped his penis with scratches. I didn’t find out from the guy though; I found out from his guy friend who received a text from my hookup with a picture of his torn-up penis.”

—thedrakequator

7. The pesky tampon:

“I was really horny so I drove 45 minutes to my ex’s house to have sex. The next morning I realized I never took out my tampon. I proceeded to stick my fingers as far up as possible, but his penis was so big that it pushed it too far up. After 30 minutes I gave up and called the guy, asking for a favor. I went to his work, locked the door, pulled out some medical gloves and a towel, and spread my legs on his desk so he could pull out the tampon. He fished around for 15 minutes and finally got it out.”

—lauront

Sony Pictures

8. The dismembered member:

“I had to drive my college roommate to the hospital after he ‘broke his penis’ in the shower. He was with his girlfriend in the shower and apparently thrusted too hard.”

—thedrakequator

9. The impromptu health lesson:

“I was pretty sheltered as a kid, so, despite being 17 when I saw my first dingly-dangly, I was extremely concerned about the large growth he had directly below his penis. He then gave me an anatomy lesson and taught me that they’re called balls.”

—ashleyf16

UPN

10. The nostril catastrophe:

“I was giving my horrible ex a blow job, and he ejaculated so forcefully that the cum came out of my nose. It burned like hell and I threw up a little on his bed. I spent the rest of the night hanging over the sink, coughing and unable to talk because it still hurt so much.”

—shaelagm

11. The fresh, never frozen, penis:

“My first experience with a penis took place in the storage room of a Wendy’s that my ex worked at. He whipped it out and I started screaming at the sight of the first dick I’d seen, swinging my purse at him and yelling, ‘OH MY GOD, IT’S DISGUSTING. GET IT AWAY, GET IT AWAY.’ I swung my purse a little too hard and ended up giving him a black eye. Yeah, we broke up after that.”

—hulachickbeasley

NBC

12. The colorful punk:

“It was my first experience with a penis, and I was very scared. He was one of the more ‘punk’ guys at school, and he pulled out his penis. All of his pubic hair was dyed in a rainbow. I ran out of the room as quickly as possible.”

—thedyingwhale

13. The SpongeBob re-creation:

“I, being a lesbian, had never seen a penis at the time. I was tipsy and having a threesome with my girlfriend and a male friend of ours. Not knowing what to do with his penis, I quoted a line from SpongeBob and said ‘FIRMLY GRASP IT,’ and then I did exactly that. Cut to four years later when I got married to the girl, and the guy was my best man. At the end of his speech in front of our family and friends, he asked everyone to ‘firmly grasp their glasses and toast to the newlyweds.’”

—mirandag4f9

Nickelodeon

14. The American Idol audition:

“I don’t know why, but I sang (into, on, at?!) a penis, like it was a microphone, one time.”

—dnorthern11

15. The numb mouth:

“I tried to put a condom on a dick with my mouth, but the condom was one of those tingly sensation condoms, which meant it was covered in chemical lube. The second I tasted it I ran to wash my mouth out. My boyfriend at the time thought I was puking, which actually made him start to puke.”

—claired4f1

16. The true blow job:

“I was a little sheltered, so I took the term ‘blow job’ literally, like, thats what you do to the penis… you blow, like it’s a balloon. He wasn’t amused.”

—hollycc

The CW

17. And the bloody surprise:

“I was on my period, but my boyfriend and I decided to have sex anyway. Everything was great until we both started to feel pain. He pulled his dick out and the condom was gone. He started digging around in my bloody vagina for it, while complaining about his tip hurting. We got the condom out and saw that his penis was covered in blood. He thought something was stuck in his pee hole so he went to the bathroom and tried to pee it out for 30 minutes. Finally a clot of my blood came out of his pee hole. Right after that he tried to have sex with me again, so I would say he survived.”

—wallaceed13140

FX