#because there’s no actual monologue/dialogue

[poorlydrawndirk]

We're on air.

More precisely, I was on air when I recorded this, but the details are largely irrelevant. Because I don't really feel like covering fuckin' introductory quantum mechanics and telling you exactly how the influence of the Skaian universe, when applied at the quark level and taken alongside the probabilistic effect of quantum behavior, superposes via particle states and results in the formation of what you might refer to as "overlapping timelines". And that's already getting real abecedarian about this shit.

Yeah, sue me. Try boning up on basic physics while you're at it.

So. I'm sure you'd love to hear about how I managed to rig this sick as hell channel-cum-blog up and get it to straddle the space-time continuum like an antediluvian Olympic gymnast doing mad splits over baby's first toy pony, but that ain't the point of this little exercise. Posting what's effectively a vlog is enough of an onanistic venture without adding Skaian Principles For Dummies: Electric Boogaloo to the schedule.

Where was I?

(Rhetorical question. Don't answer, if it needed to be said.)

The name's Dirk.

Strider. Yeah, that Strider.

I'd be more worried about internet safety, but seeing as there are only up to two people alive around here no matter how far you pull my timeline back, and I'm one of 'em, it doesn't exactly compute. Face it, brosephine: you aren't getting to year 24xx post-hilarocaust, and you sure aren't getting past that. Wasn't shat out of a lab yet when you were committing identity theft and scamming doddering old ladies out of their sadsack pensions.

(If you manage to get pizza delivered out here, I'll tip extra.)

Besides, you already knew my name, didn't you?

Maybe your next question's going to be:

"Why are you calling this a vlog when it's obviously just a blog?"

Or maybe,

"Why is your URL poorlydrawndirk when it's totally malapropos?"

Buckle in, kids. Strap yourself into that convertible toddler-safe harness and keep your ass glued tight to all the prime polyester-lined foam, because this ride's about to pull into the station and vehicular standards are some passé 21st century horseshit.

The first thing you have to understand is that even peering upon the brink of these echelons of irony is a skill that you'll never grasp in your life. But that's fine. I'm around. And if it puts your mind at ease,

I'll be the one pulling the strings here.

(There's the tired callback. It's not wrong, but it's tired. Worn out enough for it to be begging you to take it out back behind the shed and put it out of its misery.)

(I'll leave it at that for now, because self-referencing is one thing, but if I get any more meta, I'll have to start narrating in twelve-point Times New Roman.)

Anyway, I'll be breaking it down, just this once. Magnanimous as hell, I know. I could wax poetic and in doing so obfuscate the actual meaning once more from obtuse minds, thereby adding another strata to irony so layered that it's settled past sedimentary and is ready to unearth some fossil formations, but let's be real. That shit would fly over your head so far it'd be trying to dial ground control at Houston.

Here we go.

Vlogs aren't cool; making one ironically is.

Putting in this much effort into making a multiversal vlog makes it cooler, ironically.

Putting in this much effort to make a multiversal vlog when the doomed timelines are all inherently fuckin' doomed, as the name implies, and therefore functionally useless to communicate with, makes it more ironic.

I have Heart powers and am able to achieve my ultimate self through my alpha timeline. Therefore, not only is this pimped-out vlog functionally useless, but I actually don't need it at all.

Which means this wasn't too hard to set up to begin with. Ironic, considering the complex presupposed conditions necessary for bridging that 'verse gap.

And despite framing this as a vlog, this is obviously a blog.

Even though it's just a blog, all these drawings I've made had you convinced that I really thought I was posting a vlog.

And in a way, I'm still making one. It ain't the traditional format, but the almost videographic mannerisms I've been laying on you more than compensate for the fact that the video part of "vlog" doesn't exist.

Except it does, for me.

And because it does, none of these pictures are drawn to begin with. They're all film stills. Screenshots, if you prefer.

Which makes the qualifier of "poorly drawn" untrue.

But it's also almost true, because you can call them poorly drawn by virtue of them not even being drawn. Ride that definition of "poorly" down the one-way rail and you're here, selfie central, population two, me and you.

Of course, that means we have to cover the quandary of truth itself. What constitutes the truth? Titillate that thought for a second.

If I consider the attached files to be selfies, but you consider them to be illustrations, which is it actually?

An analysis of the "truth" means that we have to start delineating how much of this is subjective, tying us in bed with the concept of knowledge. The Socratic take calls for dialectical conversation and inquiry via questioning; therefore, if I just bequeath my knowledge to you on a pretty little metaphorical platter, it won't mean fuckall. So we have to keep digging. Get your pickaxe ready, 'cause we ain't hitting any diamonds of wisdom any time soon.

In fact, maybe that ain't the right direction. Flip it turnways. We gotta climb a li'l higher for what we need.

Maybe we gotta head to the roof.

now. brought cal.

where making this HAPEN.

Haha.

Just fuckin' with you.

Welcome to my blog, dude.

Want water? Imagine I got you a nice, chilled glass.

Let's get this parasocial relationship pumping.

Questions? Concerns? Misguided pseudo-parental queries about whether or not it's safe for your pipsqueak to be exposed to a full dose of radically Stridered bullshit?

Cool.

Make it all three and drop it in the asks, yeah?

[in-kyblogs]

My greatest fear is that I will end up hating season 3 because I have already read the vampire lestat and loved the book while I watched season 1 before reading iwtv so I wasn’t as much attached to it

[ratatatastic]

i, like most unlucky bastards, am cursed with the affliction

[lesbianusahana]

Does first writing for the first time in ages. It’s just weird sad bad end drabbles. #likeaboss

[immolatiism]

[ just ran some of my drafts/replies through a word counter and... 400+ words? are you serious? there was one that was 500+ words too. like, listen. I know I like writing but... come on man.

[ anyway... I'm going to bed.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

No no no no no. These are severely brainwashed, horribly stunted fascists, this is exactly how they should sound. Plus the bathos is top-tier. Centuries-old, 900-pound supersoldiers who are constantly hyped up as the Emperor's Angels, the greatest thing since sliced bread, and they talk like berserking middle schoolers. Peak hilarity, I love it.

Saw this in a review of Space Marine 2 (emphasis added):

However, hulking squadmates Gadriel and Chairon are distrustful of Titus' long absence, while Titus himself is frustratingly standoffish. This translates to a lot of catty snark – space marines are many things, but emotionally literate they are not – but we don't get to explore these tensions in any real depth, which leaves the story a little shallow. Dialogue can be boiled down to 10 hours of the word "brother," while the straightforward yet serviceable story rarely reaches beyond carrying players from one desperate shootout to the next.

So clearly the writers nailed Ultramarine dialogue.

[shiroselia]

This is spoilering what I'm doing with my fanfic A Quintessential Jorvegian Summer Vacation, like legit what the entire point is, so if u somehow care about spoilers for that, don't click the read more, alright

Centeris' post about Elizabeth's death being fucking meaningless reminded me once again of why I love joking that I'm better than SSE cause while I started QuintSum completely on a whim because Zelda awakened some Mad rattlesnakes in me. That's one of the main reasons I'm committing. Elizabeth is going to become a main character as it stands, she already Is at the point where I'm writing (I'm in the mid 50s writing wise, I just published chapter 15, if you wonder why I still publish once every week it's to allow myself the space to breathe, and to actually utilise the backlog I've got), and it's just so fucking nice to know that I'm going to do what SSE failed at.

I'm not saying that because I'm doing it because I love showing SSE up because that's just the joke that spawns from it. The entire reason I do it is because I fucking hate Elizabeth's death and think it's shit. It exists entirely because nobody expected SSE to do it and they definitely knew that and it's Entirely held up by the player's amount of care. The only reason Elizabeth's death was "good" was because nobody expected it and SSE had never done something so bold before when it dropped, and Liz had existed in the game for like 8-9 years by that point so the older players Cared. But newer players sure as fuck don't because Elizabeth isn't a character and the most interesting part of her character (her backstory) only gets revealed post-death and is arguably weakened because SSE just do not know how to write stories (read: Wynna). And I've always been excessively fucking petty about it, so now that I'm making a main story rewrite fic I'm putting my money where my mouth is and making Elizabeth's death what it was always supposed to be.

Worth it.

(Also I say this as someone who Knows my writing is good, that doesn't mean you have to agree. My writing style especially is Incredibly niche and different and I know it's not for everyone, that also goes for what I'm doing with the story. I believe in it, I like it, and I don't sell myself short. That doesn't mean you have to agree on how much stock I've got tho lmao it's fine if u don't give a shit it exists Purely for me and that's why I make choices I inherently believe very strongly in.)

[homunculus-argument]

A video game where you can move the camera POV around in the cutscenes, but it impacts the gameplay somewhat. If you keep looking at things other than the thing happening at the scene, you might not get the information you needed from the scene, and later on the dialogue options feature you asking about them instead of talking about the things you should have seen, and the NPCs may respond negatively to the fact that you evidently weren't paying attention to the Huge Fucking Demon Explosion because you were too busy looking at a bug.

You might actually die if you get distracted and wiggle the camera too much during certain cutscenes - if you look around too much during the villain's monologue, they'll go LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M FUCKING TALKING TO YOU and just start beating you instead of continuing to ramble through their speech.

[counting-stars-gayly]

This might be a hot take, but I actually like that Percy figured out Luke was the traitor at the last minute. There were A LOT of clues that would’ve been hard to ignore, and he ignored them for as long as he could. And it’s clear that even after accusing Luke, he’s still surprised and heartbroken at Luke’s confirmation of his suspicions. He was holding out hope, guys!!

Also, the Betrayal Scene flows better as an exchange of dialogue and a swordfight than it did, in the books, as a monologue and a scorpion sting. This also leaves a bigger impact on the viewers and characters because it’s more emotional.

[astroismypassion]

Astrology observations from real life 🪷🪷🪷

Credit goes to astrology blog @astroismypassion

A few in my mailbox asked me to post about astrology playing out in real life. I still have to preface that the view is mostly based from the viewpoint of my own individual Natal chart. So it’s coming from a perspective of Taurus Sun, Aries Moon, Scorpio Rising.

🪷 For me 8th house Synastry with Cancer or Taurus, Libra over the 8th house is not the usual “love or hate connection” at all. So this is one thing I definitely didn’t relate. I think love hate dynamic could be perhaps more prominent if you have a malefic, Capricorn, Aquarius etc. over the 8th house. So I have Cancer over the 8th house. And best I could describe 8th house Synastry with Cancer placements is “failed attempts”. I really like them, but nothing ever gets of the ground with them. I had already someone’s Cancer Sun and Mercury in my 8th house and another person’s Cancer Sun, Venus, Mercury and Mars in my Cancer 8th house. Each Cancer was completely different, but there was usually a pattern I noticed, that after 3 years of knowing them, there is usually a breaking point and it’s always after 3 years. They either rejected me, friendzoned me or weren’t looking to enter a committed partnership. So technically, on paper is nothing particularly wrong in the 8th house Synastry, just stagnant and not much happening and the connection just never got of the ground to begin with. So that’s why I don’t really understand the 8th house love or hate thing. I would say we are pretty neutral toward one another and don’t hate each other, but aren’t in love either.

🪷 Aquarius Moon can end up being quite narrow-minded in a way that they have hard time fully accepting the other’s perspective, but only their own. That’s why sometimes having a conversation with them, doesn’t feel like a dialogue, but more so like they are in a monologue with themselves. Some can end up being quite preachy, because of that.

🪷 In my experience Taurus Moons, natives with Taurus IC are some of the most secure individuals. Because they have the needed self-love and most that I have met don’t even feel the need to start a partnership, just because they are just so comfortable on their own.

🪷 Pisces Moon can either be incredibly intuitive, compassionate or really mean “in the name of the truth”. But I feel like you have to know them for years, before it really becomes apparent how blunt, truthful and sometimes mean they actually are. They can kind of be unhealthy towards themselves by not believing they are capable. But also have the ability to negatively influence others with their negative mood as well. They are really observant and good listeners, therefore often times they choose words that know will sting you.

🪷 I noticed that stereotypically labelled as “players” when grown up, Aries Moon men, even Moon aspect Mars natives, appear that way only in adulthood. But what I found, that in childhood/teenage years they were often ignored by women or didn’t receive much romantic attention at all. They were rarely picked or chosen. So later they seem to quite enjoy the attention. I’d say maybe it’s the same for Aries Moon women? I don’t know, but Selena Gomez (Aries Moon) did talk about how boys were never interested in her when she way much younger, that she didn’t receive much romantic attention.

🪷 Libra Chiron people have strange behaviour. They still pursue people who rejected them and fall even deeper in love. Like what?? You guys deserve reciprocal love and not this one-sided thing.

🪷 Scorpio Rising, Pluto in the 1st house native is really one of the realest people you meet out there. They become so open and honest about life with time and in adulthood. They are not pretentious at all and I noticed they even don’t mind if they embarrass themselves a bit, as long as they are being authentic and living their own truth and purpose. A lot of them also went through a major breakthrough in life (dropped out of education, lost an important job etc.) and that launched them in a totally new life direction, career path, where they end up being successful then. They are very artistic, even though they appear logical, excellent problem solvers too.

🪷 Natives with Moon at a Leo degree (5, 17, 29) low key are Cancer Suns. I noticed you have troubled love life, because you get taken advantage of your kindness and you are genuinely so nice. I wouldn’t say this rings true too for Leo Moons or Moon in the 5th house natives (you more so attract rather selfish people).

🪷 Libra Moons probably rarely saw the conflict resolution between parents, so many of them are so conflict avoidant (are even scared to have tension) in a partnership, because deep down they didn’t really learn conflict resolution and don’t know how to solve it.

🪷 Cancer Moon men desire a wife, a housemaker, a best friend, a lover, a wifey in one person. They often secretly wish for a very traditional marriage. But to be fair, they probably had parents that were married for years or married couple goals, so they had role models and want the same for themselves.

🪷 A lot of Scorpio Risings or Pluto in the 1st house native have this idealisation with wealth going on. A lot of them dream of extreme wealth and are very money, financial stability oriented.

🪷 You really get along with someone who has their Rising sign in the same sign of your 11th house. For example: you have Scorpio over the 11th house, you could have a good chance to get along with Scorpio Risings.

🪷 Libra Chiron don’t find themselves attractive. But y’all are models for real. So so many people find you very conventionally attractive.

🪷 Aquarius Eros people can have a tendency to be so random. And you guys love love surprising others. Just not the other way. 😂 You dislike surprises. But I don’t find the stereotypes of being into “group sex, threesomes, kinky af” true at all. Most of them are oddballs with specific humour and often postpone intimacy, because they prefer touching people with their words. They really like hangouts and long talks over physical intimacy or touching. A lot of them also don’t understand why people rush intimacy so much. They like to take their time. However, they are into connection with people that has proved time. The longer they have known you, the more they are likely to consider you an intimate option. They really like people that stick with them or have been in their life for years.

🪷 Pisces Descendants doesn’t come across to me as delusional. Instead quite controlling towards the actions of their partner. They are idealistic about love and want their partner to act accordingly with their wishes. So they get “their way” by presenting themselves as a hopeless romantic.

🪷 Cancer Moon, Moon in the 4th house both men and women often feel like they can’t protect or defend themselves in the world. So they are often attracted to “protector” type of partner. However, the potential downfall of not learning how to protect themselves is falling into a parent child dynamic with their partner (with Cancer Moon, Moon in the 4th house native acting as a child).

Credit goes to astrology blog @astroismypassion

[impactrueno]

thinking a lot about how to go about having beetlejuice actually talk and open up in a semiserious manner. serious enough to get the emotions across but not that serious because then it wouldn't be beetlejuice

apparently this whole monologue was filmed in english with michael's voice like normal and only later dubbed in the (very mismatched) italian voice to make it funnier. but honestly i'd kill to hear michael's take on this. please sir. a crumb of characterization I NEED THE VOICE

my writing hinges a LOT on being able to hear a character's voice in my head when i write the dialogue so i would seriously love to hear it. god. the monologue had its humor obviously but it was the closest thing to a serious talk he's ever done in the movies

the famous "why" from the first movie is doing some serious heavy lifting for me here

all of this because i want him and lydia to have what i felt was missing from the sequel:

an actual conversation.

he does seem impossible to have a heart to heart with though. and she doesn't seem very willing to listen to him either. but being forcibly stuck together in the white void of my comics could be a way to push them in that direction.

we're gonna have some unpacking and character exploration whether you two like it or not 🔪

[razrbladekiss]

GUILTY AS SIN? | Joel Miller — PART TWO

SUMMARY: after a chance encounter, joel miller is faced with a dilemma. will he be able to resist temptation, or will he crumble beneath your mystifying gaze?

PAIRING: dads ex-best-friend!joel miller x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.6k.

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, 18+ WORK BELOW THE CUT. soft!joel, i yearn for this amidst all of the angsty, grumpy old man joel. some dialogue that melts me. dirty talk. pervy joel. mentions of f&m masturbation. pussy eating. fingering <3 protected piv cus if you’re gonna fuck your dad’s ex best friend, then you need to at least do something sensible!! sarah calls joel while you’re…yano.

happy birthday joel <3

PART ONE

Should I really be doing this?

Joel’s inner monologue—and conscience—is about to implode, firing fragments of stupidity into each corner of his brain it seems. Because that’s the only way this could be described rationally.

He’s fucking stupid. He has to be. To come back to Point Pleasant, for one, to admit that he has a crush on his ex-best-friend’s daughter another, and then take her HOME with him.

To the house that your parents used to go to every Saturday night for parties, gatherings, meals. Joel used to host Superbowl Sundays there, too, which were arguably some of the best days had by your father and something he’ll always remember regardless of the precarious terms that he’s on with Joel.

That house would be your after-school retreat, when you and Sarah were best friends growing up. You’d spend hours there playing games, riding your bikes in the yard, telling one another your deepest darkest secrets.

You took your first sip of alcohol in that house at a party that—to this day—you and Sarah still keep secret from your parents. You had your first fight there—at the same party, actually—and the scar from the Jack Daniels bottle still sits uncomfortably above your right bicep. The scar that your dad still believes is from you cutting yourself on chicken wire, and not a result of an intoxicated kerfuffle with a college senior when you were sixteen.

You haven’t set foot in Joel’s home for years, and that’s what terrifies him.

What if this all becomes too real? What if she doesn’t want me when she remembers all the history, all the things that happened here?

His brain is working faster than what his mouth or body can even dream of keeping up with, and he hasn’t even realized that his truck is still stationary outside of the bar.

“Joel.” You say his name for the third time, and he finally manages to cut free the ties between his reluctance and desire. He smiles at you.

“Yeah?”

Eyebrows fused together, you stare back at him. Joel fiddles with the keys to his truck before he’s stuffing them into the ignition.

You choose to stay silent. He knows that you know that he’s playing dumb. How couldn’t you? You’d been having those same reticent thoughts leaving the bar, too.

It’s a tricky situation to be thrust into, but it’s not exactly your worst nightmare. Banging Joel is only something you could’ve imagined. And, truthfully, it was.

You’d spent many a night with your deft fingertips between your legs, touching yourself to the mental image of Joel’s cock splitting you open and fucking you so hard that you’re seeing stars. But you’d never admit that.

How could you? He’s Sarah’s dad. At one point, he was your father’s oldest friend. A man that—despite his physical allure and more than charming personality—is much, much too old for you.

You swallow your indecision, rolling down the window when you feel the air getting thick. A cool—almost orgasmic—breeze flits through the cabin and you’re suddenly comfortable again.

Too comfortable, maybe.

“When did you realize that you wanted me, Joel?” You ask. It’s a bold question. One that he mightn’t hold the answer to. But it’s worth a shot.

Joel clears his throat, focusing on the road ahead. His knuckles begin to turn white for the grip that he has on the leather-bound wheel is unyielding. Though, he doesn’t feel as tense as he appears.

“Actually, you don’t gotta answer—“

“When you left for college.” He speaks over you, feeling an inexhaustible shade of maroon bleed into his cheeks. “When your father called Sarah ‘n I over to say our ‘goodbyes’ before you went, that’s when I realized.”

Your heart starts to thump.

“I think it was the thought of not seeing ‘ya for a few months that put it into perspective for me.” Joel admits somewhat uninhibited. It was nice. “I was so proud of you, goin’ ‘n chasin’ your dreams. Always been a bright girl.”

You smile at him. He’s still focused on the road, trying not to heed too much the glare from oncoming vehicle lights as Joel’s old age has cursed him with damn astigmatism.

He squints.

“Always had more of a soft spot for you than what I should’ve.” He says. “Not in a gross old-man way. Just always saw so much of your dad in you when you were growin’ up, and it took me back to when we were kids ourselves. And then when you turned eighteen—and grew up a hell of a lot—I couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Perv.” You joke and he just shoots you a pointed glare. But he knows you’re kidding.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t think that I forgot ‘bout what you said. How you’ve always wanted to fuck me.”

Eighty-five million shades of crimson flush into your face at Joel’s crude remark, but all he can do is laugh at your suddenly reddened state.

“How old were you when you had your sexual awakening?”

“Fuck off.” You chuckle and swat at his shoulder. “Eh. Dunno. I always thought you were kinda cute, but the shitty sex in college made me yearn for a good pounding from a seasoned professional.”

Joel’s jaw drops. You’re filthy. He loves it.

“Have you ever touched yourself thinking of me?” You ask completely nonchalant, mainly because you have fingered yourself to the mental image of Joel.

He huffs out a laugh—humorless—and turns to you when he hits a stop light.

Joel never thought he’d be asked a question like this, let alone have to answer it.

“Yeah.” He concedes. “I—uh—I have.”

Your pussy throbs.

“Spent a lotta time fuckin’ my fist ‘n thinkin’ of you.” He divulges and suddenly feels that familiar ache in the chasms of his tummy. His jeans start to constrict as his dick feels like it’s getting strangled by taut denim.”Those vacation pictures you posted on Facebook last summer…”

Joel shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“That little bikini.” He continues, torturing himself. “Fuck. The things that I’ve wanted to do to you—“

“Then do them.” Bold—completely brazen—you say. “Joel, I didn’t say that I wanted to fuck you just for the sake of it. I want you.”

“And I want you, too.” Joel tells you, shifting a little to look at you as he promptly realizes that his house is another ten minutes away. “But I can’t wait.”

Hastily—in a moment of complete madness, blinded by the most lecherous haze—Joel takes a sharp left turn down some slightly sketchy side-street. He yanks up the parking brake.

“What?” You blink at him, heeding the raging boner he’s flaunting. “You want to do it here?”

Joel nods. “Car sex not good enough for the princess, huh?”

He starts unzipping his pants while you, on instinct, pull off your dress.

“No.” Your head shakes. “No, absolutely not. Just didn’t think you’d want to eat me out in the passenger seat, s’all.”

“Yeah, well.” He pulls his jeans and underwear down, and his prick springs free. Its so hard it looks almost painful. “I’ve waited long enough to get you alone, ‘n I ain’t wasting no more time.”

You nod, pulling almost sheer fabric over your head. Fair enough.

Joel’s eyes all but pop out of his skull at the sight of your tits. They’re even more alluring in person, than what that goddamn Facebook picture alludes.

“God. Your father is gonna kill me.”

“What daddy don’t know won’t hurt him.” You retort with a smile. It’s almost innocent. It’s almost driving him fucking crazy.

His features harden. As Joel puts one hand to the back of your neck and the other wraps around his cock—slowly pumping his length—he kisses you. It’s teeth and tongues, and he’s moaning because the pleasure flowing straight to his tip mixed with the saccharine liquor on your tongue is almost too much.

It’s intense. It’s steamy and needy, and Joel just smells so good. He tastes pretty sweet, too.

You whine into his mouth, feeling a haze of lust devour any sense of rationality that you might’ve had before this very juncture.

“Fuck.” He rasps as he pulls away, his hand still affixed to his literal throbbing cock. “Get on your back.”

You oblige in a heartbeat, laying against lukewarm leather, skin already sticking to it as its getting damp with sweat.

“Jesus Christ.” He lets out an expletive, feeling his already solid cock harden to an almost painful degree as you begin to leak liquid sexuality at the mere thought of Joel eating you out.

Your chest heaves as Joel starts to lick at your cunt.

A searing warmth percolates through your body as his tongue works your heat, licking a chaste trail through your folds. Its demure, its soft yet lascivious, and its driving you absolutely insane, the way he’s touching you. Feeling you. Eating you.

He laps at your honeyed sweetness, hastening the pace at which he licks and sucks and jabs at your core. Your wanton—borderline licentious—whines only encourage him.

“So sweet.” He comes up for air, slipping his middle finger into your pussy while he writes his fucking name with his tongue on your clit and wrenches inside of you. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Joel—“

“Baby.” The man murmurs against your swollen bud, overstimulating you to a point of almost no return, and you whine. You cry and whimper for him as he laps at your weeping bloom, feeling every ounce of pleasure twist within the chasms of your abdomen.

He spreads both of your legs apart and pulls them over his shoulders—hands firmly clamping against your stomach—and goes at it, hammer and tongs. No remorse. No mercy. No goal aside from making you squirt and scream the place down.

And of course it feels wrong, to be pinned beneath the man whose first sexual escapade was most likely shared with your father mere moments later. But you don’t care.

You don’t care that half of Joel’s life was spent by the side of your parent, or that he was there the day that you learned how to ride a bike for the first time. Because it’s so different, now.

You don’t know him anymore. Joel isn’t the same. He doesn’t look the same, or act the same. He was so grumpy, so mad at the world for the longest fucking time. But now he seems to be at peace.

Here. With you.

“Bet those stupid college jocks never tried suckin’ your soul outta your cunt.” Joel mumbles against trembling thighs, kissing and biting a little trail before he’s diving straight back into your heat.

Your head shakes and you whisper a little “no.” Speaking feels impossible, now.

And while the words won’t fall from your lips, a sharp mewl—shriek, almost—falls from your lips as your warmth devours Joel’s tongue and fingers. You tighten around him, immediately feeling your release.

But he doesn’t stop. Joel stays at it. He laps up the desire that’s pouring from you, feeling his cock start to leak at the sound of you and the way that he’s forcing your body to convulse.

You writhe and moan and he wants to take pity on you, but he can’t stop. He paws at his length and jerks his hand in time with his tongue as it slips through your folds.

“Joel—“ your hand goes to his head on instinct, wreathing fingers into his hair as his hold is relentless. “Fuck me—I—“

“You what, darlin’?” He lifts his glance, watching your eyes roll back in your fucking head. “You can’t take it anymore? You want me to show you what a seasoned professional can do?”

You cringe at your words being thrown back in your face, but you nod. Because Joel’s calloused fingertips strumming away at your clit is making you fucking ascend, and you’d like to leave his truck with at least some of your dignity.

He goes back down for another taste, drinking your come as it pours out of you. He licks a final trail through your pussy and lands at your clit, sucking it before releasing with a soaking pop.

Joel pulls away and gets on his knees bwteeen your legs, admiring the mess that he’s made of you beneath him. It’s a beautiful sight. But he worries that if he basks in it for too much longer, then he’ll blow his load all over you.

Fuck. His load. Joel grunts, pulling a hand over his face.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, propping yourself up by your elbows. “Joel?—“

“Condoms.” He rasps. “You got any?”

“No.” Joel throws his head back, frustrated. “Hey. I’m sorry that I don’t carry them around with me, but I don’t usually go fuckin’ around with people that I run into in the hardware store—“

“Sorry.” He apologises, hoping that he hasn’t ruined the mood. “Think I got some in the glove box.”

“Hope they’re in date.” Joel glares at you. “What? When was the last time that you got laid, Miller?”

He rubs his lips together. He ignores your remark, instead pulling a lone rubber from the glovebox. Joel sighs, complacent.

You peer at the back of the foil. 02.04.26.

“Huh. Got your dick wet pretty recently.” You muse, slightly downcast. But if it weren’t for being at the store today, you wouldn’t be in this situation and all would be so different.

Joel feels your trepidation. But counters with “I’m pretty sure that Tommy put these in here after I went on a Tinder date in January.”

You watch as he rolls it over his prick, and raise a brow.

“You haven’t had sex since January?”

He shakes his head.

“Fuck. That’s wild. I thought you were always out bangin’ bitches.”

“No.” He chuckles, gripping firmly his cock. He lines it up with your—still completely soaked—core. “Used to be, but not anymore.”

“Aw, I feel special, now.”

Joel leans over, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Always been special, sweetheart.”

Throbbing once more, your cunt glitters. It’s humiliating, getting so wet so fast. But Joel is fucking luxuriating in it. He loves this sight, you underneath him.

“You ready?” The search for consent—or at least approval—forces butterflies to wreak havoc inside of your stomach.

You nod at him. “More than.”

Joel’s heart pounds. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe that he’s being so fucking stupid. But, here you are. Here he is. About to have TRUCK sex with you, like you’re just some girl that he’s picked up from the bar.

IDIOT.

But he heaves all disinclination to the side, and pushes slowly his cock into the searing warmth between your legs.

He hisses out a “fuck” while you throb around him. You’re tighter than he thought, and he can’t believe it. He can’t get over the fact that he fits you almost perfectly, like his prick was just fucking made for you.

He could stay like this all day.

But he needs to get off. Quickly. Because it’s almost eleven-fifteen, and he promised Sarah that he’d call to see how her flight to Kansas was at eleven-thirty.

“Christ, Joel.” Your head hits the seat with a thump, feeling quickly the second orgasm that he’s bestowing upon you this evening. “Feels so good.”

“Can say that again.” He replies, breathless as he starts to hasten his pace. His knees dig deep into the leather-bound seat as he strives to keep his balance while rutting into you.

Your back arches as a surge of pleasure strikes your core, and Joel puts his right hand beneath the curve of your spine while the left is gripping tightly your thigh as it shakes and shivers.

“This pussy.” He groans through gritted teeth, watching his cock slide in and out of your weeping cunt. “This fuckin’ pussy is perfect.”

More of that arousal seeps onto his cock, slick and wet. A sharp squelch urges you to cringe, but the physical sensation cancels out any feelings of sheepishness.

You’re a mess. In Joel’s truck, on the front bench, you’re a fucking mess.

But it’s some of the best sex you’ve had in—well—forever, and you can’t even dream of elucidating the gory details to anyone. Because this is wrong. Completely forbidden. Yet it feels so good.

You’d die if anyone found out, but you’re hardly being private about it.

Your moans—loud and obnoxious—reverberate through the cabin and you’re pretty sure that people a mile away can hear how well Joel’s fucking into you.

“Wanna get on top.” You muster out and take him by surprise. But he’s into it, and pulls out to sit back down on his ass.

You clamber over—and feel that pooling wetness seap down the inseam of your thighs—watching him watching you.

Both legs land either side of Joel’s, and he takes it upon himself to line his cock up with your slit. You rub over the tip, slowly sliding down onto him while your eyes are locked on his.

Joel twitches and writhes underneath you. You put both hands on his chest—exposed through his green and red flannel—and slowly ride him. You’re gentle, with your movements. Unyielding, but gentle.

“Love your cock.” Through bated breaths, you say. “So, so big.”

“Love your pussy—“

He’s cut off by the almost offensive ringtone that came default with the phone that—honestly—you couldn’t put a name to even if you had a gun to your head

“Aw, fuck. What time is it?”

You shrug, rolling your hips. “Like, eleven-thirty.”

Joel grunts and groans, fishing around for his cellphone. He pulls it from between the seat and the door.

Sarah.

“Darlin’—it’s Sarah you’re gonna have to—fuck—gonna have to stop.”

You shake your head no. “I’ll just be quiet. And I’ll go slow.”

“Fine.” He says, though knows that you “going slow” will destroy him.

Joel clears his throat, feeling quickly his release looming.

“Hey, baby girl.” He greets her, and you hear her mutter something back. Something about him needing to stop saying that, and asking him to refer to her as something normal.

She hasn’t changed. You smile. It’s cute. You just want to kiss him.

But you want to torture him even fucking more.

Both hands take purchase against his shoulders, and you rock at a pace that you know is killing him.

He grinds his lips together, humming in response to something that she’s saying.

“That’s great, Sar’.” Joel shoots you daggers as your tits press against his chest. You moan quietly, writhing on top of his prick.

You’re not going to quit, and he knows that. So as she’s describing—in depth—the ordeal that she had at the airport, he takes it as his cue to lift his hips and pound into you. All the while striving not to make a noise.

“Fuck, Joel. I’m gonna cum—“ You whisper, hating how quickly you’re unraveling atop him. He jolts his hips upwards—fast and lazy—as you’re orgasming in front of him. Again.

And it’s only a matter of time before he starts his unyielding release, and so you ride him until you’re seeing stars. You’re so sensitive and overstimulated, and feel as though your cunt is going to drop off.

But it’s worth it. To see Joel’s face contort, and his breathing grow sporadic, is so worth it.

“What—uh—what day will you be home?” He asks her, throat hitching.

“Saturday.”

He groans, watching you throw your head back.

“Dad? You alright?”

“Yes.” He says, short. “Sorry, that was blunt. I’m alright. Kinda caught up in an emergency, hon. Mrs. McKaye’s pipes are blocked. Can I call you back in the morning?”

She mumbles something about him being too nice and how he can never say “no” to anybody, and agrees to speak in the morning. Joel switches off his phone and throws it behind him, quickly fastening his palms to your thighs.

“”Mrs. McKaye’s pipes are blocked?” Joel, you are such a shitty liar.”

“I know.” He says, letting his cock hit the spongiest part of your cunt as he slams into you—hilt deep—and mumbles a slew of curses entwined with your name. “I never lie. That’s why I’m so bad at it.”

You laugh for a millisecond, before pleasure is surging over you and your sweat-slick torsos are fused together. A gorge of complete and utter rapture almost drowns the two of you, and before you know it Joel’s cock is twitching—pulsating—inside of you as he hits his release and cum is spitting from the tip of his prick.

You’re grateful for the condom—as getting pregnant by your dad’s ex-best-friend is literally a death sentence—but desire the feeling of Joel’s hot cum painting threads of white against the walls of your pussy.

“Fuck.” You whimper, wriggling as he’s still deep within you. “Joel, that was—“

“Fucking amazing.” He finishes, panting. Sweat beads against his forehead, chest and neck.

Joel—hesitantly—pulls out, and his head hits the rest behind it. You peel yourself away and reach for your dress, quickly shimmying back into it before you’re curling up next to him. Joel puts his arm around you.

“Kinda glad that I went lookin’ for a gate lock, now.”

“Mhm. Me too, sweetheart.” He replies, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

“I’ve gotta go and get caulk tomorrow. You gonna be there?”

Joel chuckles. “Depends. You gonna come home with me again?”

“We haven’t even made it back to your place once.”

“This is true.” He says.

Joel reaches for his pants and jeans.

He leans into you, nipping your ear. “But I ain’t done with you yet.”

[writingwithfolklore]

Making the Most out of your First Draft

As someone who used to write every first draft without planning and then use that to figure out characters and outlines, I have a lot of experience in first drafts that are incredibly helpful to forming an actual story, and drafts that don’t add much.

              So here’s how to make the most out of your first draft:

1. Write what doesn’t make sense

One of the most helpful first drafts I ever wrote abandoned plotlines and started new ones as though they had existed all along like several times. It was also the longest draft I had ever written because I had packed so many ideas into it. The reason why this is helpful is because you can test out what a plot point will look like in the middle or even end of your story without having to go back to the same beginning again and again.

It doesn’t need to make sense, just try things out. Disappear characters who don’t work, add a best friend near the end that acts like they’ve been there the entire time, whatever idea you’re interested in you can try out without worrying too much about what makes sense or what you’d need in place to set it up. It's like literally stream of consciousness writing, and you're going to learn so much more about your world, plot, and characters than trying to make it make sense.

2. Write poorly

I spent a lot of that first draft having characters monologue to themselves or each other about their interests and problems and lives which allowed me to explore their backstories and voice even if that’s not something I would do in a final draft. I had the wackiest plot points to see how my characters would react, what would happen to the plot, and if I didn’t like it I would keep going like nothing had happened, I did a lot of yadda-yaddaing over worldbuilding and setting the scenes and making up things on the spot to see if they’d stick, skipping sometimes to the interesting stuff, or adding in a random scene just for fun.

It doesn’t have to be good. Even a little bit. You’re learning about your world and your characters and the story you want to tell, but you aren’t writing it yet. Allow it to be the worst thing you’ve ever written.

3. Make notes on what you like

As you go through and throw spaghetti at the wall (figuratively speaking), make notes on the things that stick. If you write a line of dialogue you really like, or a piece of backstory or even a vibe, make sure to make a note of it somewhere. This will help you narrow down your ideas to what you want to keep when you start writing your story. And if you’re like me and you want to outline or plan your subsequent drafts, these notes will be invaluable to start forming your planning.

Anything else I missed?

[barrenclan]

do u have any insight on how you write deepdarks dialogue so effectively.... Odd. cuz oh man its good. like boy can you say one normal sentence

Actually, I can expand on it! I do a couple things specifically to write Deepdark's dialogue, I'll provide some examples and talk about it here:

Deepdark uses more big words than other characters - a loquacious speaker, you could say. I do the same thing with a character from my other comic, Applestar; it sets them apart and gives them a more bureaucratic, old-fashioned feeling to their speech. For example; "paltry", "piquant", and "loath" in the last issue.

I purposefully write some of Deepdark's sentences in a way that is ungrammatical, because it gives his words an off-kilter rhythm where your brain has to take a split second to process what he means. Deepdark's voice is meant to be song-like, with all his words flowing into each other, and his ungrammatical sentences show a clear falseness and intention to how he speaks, rather than it being natural. For example; "Not a touch to her remains", "Death already to me as I speak", and "[...] this does not lead my only path forward".

If you've ever attended a slam poetry competition, you'll be familiar with the kind of patter that slam poets use when they're reaching the crescendo of their piece. Words get shorter, more staccato, more snappy, and it speeds up the rhythm of their voice. You can also use dashed words to speed up how the sentences feel, because you're combining the speed of two words into one. Alliteration also naturally speeds up the way you speak. This lends to the previously mentioned singsong tone, but it also is intended to manipulate emotions and keep your attention focused on the speaker. For example;

Here's a 'slow sentence', from the beginning of Deepdark's unbroken monologue: "I’ve got quite a lot of thoughts of which to sort out, and I think I could use some help from such a bright young buck as you."

Here's a 'fast sentence', from the end when he's threatening Pinepaw: "I own his legacy, bathing in its gore, and swallow the salty-sweet taste of its final extinction."

4. I studied a few transcripts of speeches from famous cult leaders throughout recent history to see how they speak before I started writing Deepdark's character, and how they put sentences together, as well as what emotions they play on. It's a lot of grand promises, repeated phrases, exciting and lengthy and talkative and emotional and bold language that's meant to stir you up.

Hope that makes sense and reads alright! I enjoy thinking about individual character voices and how to write them.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

What're your thought on Skully/Skelly so far? Personally, I like the kid, he seems fun and cute (might even adopt him too lol)

I’ll make an update post later once the full event is out; this post will be my first impressions of the guy! Thought it might be interesting to document my feelings now and see how those change over time.

First thing I’ll say is while I like his design, his personality didn’t match my expectations. I expected him to be polite yet also eccentric and a little sinister, not… going around kissing the hands of everyone he meets. Skully also comes off as much more harmless than he appears. It’s an odd mix of demure but also really excitable when his special interest (Halloween, lol) comes up in conversation. A fun-loving guy! He definitely looks a lot more imposing and mysterious than he actually is.

I think a lot of his intimidation factor comes from the shades. If you take them away, he looks more like a dejected fuzzy animal or a Halloween-flavored Idia/Saeran (Mystic Messenger boi). LIKE SORRY BUT WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE A SAD PUPPY LEFT OUT IN THE RAIN… His spiral eyes are cool though ^^ It’s just slightly hard to see sometimes because of the shadow his hair casts and the shading around that area.

His overall expressiveness is great! He looks cute when he smiles and blushes (from his idol complimenting him, haha). It feels very pure and innocent, which contrasts with his more… deranged expressions.

The way he speaks surprised me too… He talks about coming from a rural place, but he speaks so formally! Sometimes even more formally than Jade. I wonder if that implies being of high class/social status or if he just taught himself to speak this way for personal reasons. My worst nightmare (hah) is that Skully devolves into a heavy Kansai accent later in the event (if only because I’m not sure how to transcribe the Kansai accent into English when I write his dialogue 💦).

I mentioned in an earlier post that Skully’s outfit is a Nightmare Suit provided by the book. We don’t know what he actually dresses like irl which is a shame. Knowing that would really help with getting a read on his character, even if he were just in a school uniform (because different people can wear their uniforms very differently, as we can see in the NRC School Uniform line of cards). Stuffing Skully into a Nightmare Suit by default doesn’t tell me much about how he presents himself outside of the book, in reality.

There’s definitely a lot of interesting (and vague) lore around him 🤔 like how he doesn’t know what magical pens are and how his hometown is the only place that knows who Jack Skellington is… Hopefully those questions get answered by the end of the event. I also have to wonder why he’s such an intense Halloween otaku??? There could be no deep reason behind it, but I’m a little suspicious since this is a Halloween event. It feels like Skully’s hiding something and/or he’s not confident in himself since his dialogue implies he’s a loner irl. Maybe he’s attracted to the idea of Halloween because even the dead and creatures of the night can fit in (so he, the outcast, can also have a place among them)?

That being said, I do find Skully’s personality charming, especially when he’s opening the event with his little dramatic monologue about Halloween. It’s a nice way to interpret Jack Skellington’s whimsy and child-like wonder into a Twst character. However, I don’t exactly find myself completely endeared to his character yet. He feels a little too… safe? Too… sweet. Unless this was all intentionally and he's actually a RSA student or something/j I’d like to see more of his villainous traits and weaknesses on display to get a full scope of his character. *rubs hands together* I want to see what he’s like when he snaps… We already saw some glimpses of his nastier side when he calls his classmates worthless for not understanding him. I want to see that unleashed on the NRC students! As is, I’m not sure if I enjoy him talking down to others (he calls his classmates worthless) for not being on the same wavelength as him when it comes to his interests. It feels like something elitist otaku do (Idia has definitely done this), and that’s a big yikes for me.