#gotta keep up my momentum so i can GET TO THE END

[skrunksthatwunk]

thinking about when guts sent a bunch of his men directly into zodd's meat grinder without even knowing demons like him existed. and that moment after the fight where casca runs to griffith unconscious on the floor and tells guts it's all his fault. and the time gambino tells him he's bad luck and should have died instead. and about how he tells griffith he cares about his men, and how casca doesn't seem to see it. and the time guts is thinking about casca telling him it's all his fault (after he got griffith hurt) and then griffith comes to him and says (like it's nothing) do i need to give a reason every time i come to save you? or whatever. like he's worth it. like he's worth dying for, and like it can be a choice people make because they value you. like he's a good luck charm, like griffith needs him to reach his goals, his full potential. like griffith is not enough to make it without him. like griffith finds out when guts leaves. fuckin.g gnawing someone else's legs off because i still need mine to run into traffic

[not-rigel]

Can't do it better

posted on AO3 but im also going to post it here. first sevika fic aaa.

warnings: top sevika, teasing, strapping, riding, multiple orgasms, mean sevika, aftercare, soft sevika, porn what plot, F!reader

Sevika's fingers trailed down your spine, sending a shiver through your body. She was still in that teasing stage of sex, where half her strap was inside you. She was just waiting for the right moment to push the rest of herself inside. You tremble because you know that she knows you love the teasing.

She thrusts with half the length, deciding to drag out the teasing even more. You groan against the pillow your face is pressed into. She echoes your groan, but there is a mocking tone to it. She grabs your hips, pulling your ass higher which pulls you a little further on her strap.

The extra inch of her dick brushing inside you makes you lose control for just a moment but that's all that it takes. You push your hips back to take more of her. Her hands stop your hips after you get another inch inside of you.

She lets out a disappointed sigh, "Oh no, baby.. Do you think you can fuck yourself better than I can?"

You gasp, having been caught and in deep shit.

"I'm sorry. Sevika-"

You're cut off when she hooks her left arm under your torso and pulls you up so you're on your knees with her still inside of you. She repositions herself, remaining kneeled but her thighs are on either side of yours. She pulls your hips down then her arms move back to support her weight from behind.

"Go on, baby," She coos.

"What?"

"Fuck youself on my dick."

You push your hips back, a moan coming from you almost immediately. You just cannot dig yourself out of the hole you created.

"You gotta keep going, baby." Sevika is being evil, speaking that tone. The one that is equally demeaning and sweet.

You grind your hips, trying to find momentum but each time you shift yourself down on her dick you shudder and pause. She always feels so good inside of you. But you know there is something missing.

"Sevika," you whine, "Please. I can't fuck myself like you fuck me."

She flat out ignores the plea and the confession. "Faster."

Pathetic little noises leave you as you obey her order and begin to thrust your hips properly back onto her strap. You moan again and try to push yourself all the way down her length but you end up short.

"If you wanted me that deep, you should’ve let me fuck you," she growls. If her tone is any indication, she is losing her own control.

"Please please, Sevika. It's not enough. I need you."

But again, she ignores your begging. She must not understand. Having her inside you was getting you so close but all you really needed was to be hers. You needed to be taken.

"I can't cum without you claiming me," you admit. You think your confession is pathetic. Sevika thinks it's the hottest, sweetest thing in the world. You swear you can feel her shudder through the strap.

Without warning, she pulls out. She turns you over, pushing you into the mattress on your back. She takes her usual place between your thighs. She grabs her strap and slides it through your folds, teasing but not entering. She is watching the display while you are watching her. She is in complete awe. She pauses her teasing, biting her cheek to hold in a groan then leans over to grab something from the bedside drawer. The one with several toys and accessories you keep closeby.

You hear shuffling and one item is set on the dresser. She returns to her position before you can question it. She ducks down for a kiss, giving you a little bit of sweet affection before claiming you. The both of you moan into each other's mouths, enjoying the passion preceding your pleasure.

Sevika is the one to pull away. She has to see your face when she enters you. You're so wet it only takes some repositioning of her hips for her to slide inside. Half the length slips right in before Sevika can resist the suction of your pussy.

"Oh," both of you moan. Sevika is set on completing her earlier mission, making you wait to take her full length. And there is no way you'll ruin it now. You clenched around her as she forced you to be patient. Sevika pushed herself to the hilt in after a short wait, not able to resist all the ways she wants to make you lose your mind. 

"Sevika!" your shout echoes off the walls and your arm reaches up to grab onto her. Your fingers end up digging into her shoulder. You wait for her to begin moving but she doesn't so you whine at her. Pouting is not the most effective tactic on Sevika but you're so horny you can't think to do anything else.

"I just have to take a moment," her voice is as teasing as it gets. You look up at her to pout more but what you see is her using one hand to tighten the straps on her harness, pulling it tighter on her hips. Before you can even react, she begins thrusting.

She fucks with a power that is so special to her. She isn't going full force, starting at a comfortable pace but there is desire and carnality behind her thrusts. Each push and pull of her hips is so deliberate and precise. Thrusts meant to make you contort for her. Her pace doesn't slow or quicken, but she does reposition your legs whenever you get close to cramping.

The steady stimulation works you up, the notes of an orgasm beginning in your abdomen. "Sev.." you don't finish moaning her name when her lips find yours. There's only one word for it, possessive. Her teeth nip your lips between harsh kisses.

"That's right," she huffs between kisses. The snapping of her hips increases in speed. She reattaches your lips. The new stimulation adds harmony to the impending orgasm. With a couple more thrusts, you're cumming for her. Your orgasm drowns over any other noise, playing its own tune through your body. Sevika hears you reacting beneath her but she doesn't relent.

"Sev! I'm cumming!" You groaned into her mouth.

"Your legs aren't shaking. So I don't care."  Her hips continue their pace through your orgasm and don't stop after you're done. She pauses for a moment and you think you've been spared then she pushes up and hooks your ankles over her shoulder.

She resumes her thrusting but now it's messy, uncoordinated, quick thrusts. She needs this. And evidently so do you because less than a minute later you're cumming again, tears leaking from your eyes, legs shaking.

It's a sight for Sevika, really. Your pussy convulses and cream coats her strap. Your skin is hot, your eyes are rolled back, eyelids fluttering. Your breasts bouncing as she fucks you. She is sure if she looked behind her, your toes would be curled. Pressing a kiss to your calf, she orgasms with you, her's lasting noticeably shorter.

"There you go. Now you're really cumming." She says as she watches you come down from your high. With a warning she pulls out then presses another kiss to your calf before exiting the position. She moves to stand on the side of the bed, loosening her harness and slipping it off. Next, she is bending down to grab your face in both hands and kiss you. There are three words you would use to describe this kiss; caring, passionate, possessive. She is the one to pull away. She has a task she needs to complete.

"Want a massage, baby?" She purrs.

"Hmm?"

She picks up the item she retrieved from the dresser earlier, which you completely forgot about. It was a massage oil, purchased a couple months back. The massage oil was really only ever used for aftercare. Not only that, but it was only ever used if Sevika really needed the aftercare. So of course, you accept the offer.

Sevika had explained it to you before. That she needs to take care of you after sex because she has to reassure herself that you know she cares. It's a bit hard for her to believe you trust she cares about you more than anything especially when you get into intense scenes. 

"I knew I was going to be rough, hence me getting out the bottle beforehand, but…,” she pauses and shakes her head, “I said 'I don't care' to you during that. It's getting to my head a bit," she admits.

She moves to your left thigh and drops some of the oil onto your skin, then rubs it in with her flesh hand. Her way of avoiding eye contact. She hates having to be vulnerable and having someone look her in the eye at the same time. So you compromise. 

"Sev, you know me so well. You know exactly what to do to make me cum as hard as possible. And you know exactly what to say. You did everything you knew to do to give me that best orgasm. And you did. I'd say that's really caring." Your words do reassure her, as they always do.

"Thanks. You're... perfect." She sighs. She feels much better but still wants to take care of her girl, "Whatever you want, baby, let me know. I really want to take care of you tonight."

"You already are, Sev." 

[hedonists-den]

POV: We’re roommates and I’ve finally had it with your fatass behaviors after you help yourself to my chocolate. I let a lot of pent-up frustration out on you before realizing that there’s only one fitting consequence for your greed.

⚠️ Heavy fat-shaming ⚠️

TRANSCRIPT:

[distant] You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Did you take my truffles? You did, didn’t you? I can see the wrappers right there! I can’t fucking believe this…I put up with a lot from you, but blatantly stealing my food? Aren’t you fat enough as is? I mean you’ve already broken three office chairs—two of which I carried inside, by the way—but noooo, you’ve got to have my chocolate. 

Those truffles are the only things I allow myself at the end of the week, you know that? You know how hard I work to keep my diet in check? All the calorie tracking, exercising, and meal planning I have to do? No, you couldn’t possibly understand. You don’t try hard at anything. You don’t even know what self-control means. All you do is sit around all day, stuffing your fat fucking face and getting high. 

I’m being mean? That’s all you have to say to me? No apology, no “I’ll pay you back for it,”? Are you serious? Well how’s this for mean: You’re a fucking embarrassment. You’re a shameless fat blimp of a human being that only exists to consume. You’re no better than livestock, grazing on whatever it can because its only value is how fucking fat it is. The only difference is that you have at least a modicum of self-awareness to know how completely helpless and useless you are.

How much effort does it take to heave your fat ass up from that chair? Gotta get some momentum going before you can actually stand up? Go ahead. Try to lug yourself to your feet without grunting and struggling. [...] Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought. I’m shocked that you were able to even make it to the pantry to take my chocolate after such a pathetic attempt. That must be why there’s always piles of dishes stacked up in here, too. You’re too fucking lazy to even take them into the kitchen. I always have to clean up after these goddamn feasts of yours or else I’ll never have any dishes for myself. 

Fucking hell, when I signed up to be your roommate, I absolutely did not sign up for this. You at least had some decency when I moved in, so what the hell happened? Did you lose some fucking bet? Or did you just wake up one morning and decide that you were going to be a lazy, fat pig? What kind of degenerate shit did you—ugh, for fuck’s sake, pull your goddamn shirt down…your fucking gut is spilling out… That’s fucking disgusting… Nothing you’re wearing right now even fits! Your fat is just…oozing out of everything… I can’t believe you look like this and still you justify to yourself that you need my candy on top of everything else you shovel into your mouth. Just… No, you know what? You don’t want to apologize? You want to be a fatass? To live in this offensively obese body that you’ve ruined?

[unwrapping candy] Then eat. Eat, you fucking pig. You wanted my candy? You’re going to have it. Every single piece, and then some. You’ll never be any smaller than you are right now. I’ll make sure of it.

Oh no, no, no, you don’t get to stop now. Open up, fatty. You’re done when I say you’re done.

[urhoneycombwitch]

im gonna be at work for high night 🙄 so save my self-indulgent idea for later lu

reader who keeps hitting the snooze button on their alarm and groans knowing they need to get up for work but they just really cannot find the motivation to. The bed is warm and they're so comfortable and what's the harm of calling out....

Eddie who notices they're still laying down, eyes closed and in that fighting off being awake state and he knows there's only so many snoozes they can hit before they're definitely going to be running late so he sneaks under the covers....

and he doesn't come back up again until reader is awake, a tired, but satisfied smile on their face as they blink up at the ceiling. He presses some kisses to their lips/cheek/neck, slick and smelling like them, going "Hi, pretty. Ready to get up now?"

nauuurrr anon 😞 we will miss you but hope u see this after ur shift 💖 eeeheeeeheeeheee I’m literally kicking my feet behind my back sleepover-style giggling at this. that ellipses is so sinister I gotta help it out

+18 mdni

cw: R receives oral + fingering while sleeping (has been previously discussed as a 👍), somno, Eddie’s a soft!dom

___

Eddie’s always so attentive to your needs and state of being- he’s naturally super empathetic. by no means a morning person himself, he learns quickly that the rhythm of your day is usually set by how you wake up.

he’s dealt with the consequences of you having been off to a bad start, before- it takes a huge amount of cajoling or kisses or swinging by the diner for waffles to shake you out of a grumpy funk. and based on the way you’ve been tossing and turning this morning, you’re about to have the most miserable work shift ever.

what he doesn’t have this morning, though, is a lot of time- waffles will have to be for another day. he’s got an even better idea for a sweet wakeup.

he moves slow, weight in his hands on either side of your sleeping frame, kissing as he moves down your body. first to your bare shoulder. then to the side of that pretty nightie’s strap. one for your pebble nipple, peaking through the silk.

Eddie trails his kisses down- one on your stomach, one for the bump of your cunt- pulling the sheets away as he goes.

with fingers nimble and dextrous, he feels for the band of your underwear while keeping his eyes on your face, careful to pause if your expression changes. the goal is to keep you pliant, for this next part…

he gets his head under the edge of your nightdress, pussy fully exposed to the eager lappings of his mouth. with one hand on your stomach to keep your center grounded, Eddie slips the middle two fingers of his other hand into your slippery cunt.

a soft shift of your hips, a whimper, and Eddie moves his hands with your pelvis, using the momentum to dip and catch your clit in his mouth.

he follows with his head as your hips sink back down into the mattress, sucking hard on your beating clit as he goes.

you must’ve been having a dirty dream, ‘cuz you’re already so tight around his fingers, slick pooling in his palm. he laps noisily into your cunt, wet squelch of his fingers bringing you to bleary consciousness.

“whuh- uh- oh fuck, Eddie-”

your legs jerk close on impulse, trapping his head between your thighs, and Eddie thinks he might’ve died and gone to heaven. fully clothed, about to cream his jeans from eating his girl out. sure, he’s down to meet god, but can it wait a second?

“was dreamin’ you- ah, yeah, there- dreamin’ of you doing this to me. fuck…” your voice ends in a hoarse rasp, your hands shooting into Eddie’s hair, tugging at the roots.

he ruts into the mattress, cock leaking steadily into the fabric of his briefs, humming with pleasure against your clit.

your back arches off the mattress, he hears that tell-tale, breathy little gasp, and you’re gone- clenching around his fingers like a vice, flooding against his pistoning fingers.

he’s gone just as soon as you, coming in hot spurts with each upstroke against the quilt below, moaning into your pussy.

he kisses a sticky trail back up your body, sliding your nightie strap into place, loving and firm- “morning, princess. go take a shower, and no complaining. as a thank you for the wake up gift- ‘kay?”

you wouldn’t dream of complaining, nodding easily to his command, sleepy and sated smile on your face. your arms reach to encircle his shoulders, and Eddie leans in for a kiss- he tastes like you.

[darlingofvalyria]

❝—Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!❞

part 02 | baby, all you gotta do is trust me

chapter summary:

[ Cregan is a menace in bed (sexily), Aemond is a menace on social media (derogatory), Helaena is a menace (lovingly). ]

[ 4,715 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— smutty beginnings, a bit angsty, mostly fluff - nsfw: p & v sex, orgasm denial, degradation kink, mating press - lemme just introduce you to firefighter!cregan stark ahe - toxic alysmond but both of them are at fault, fwb situations, fake dating, slow-ish burn - sad sack aemy is a pathetic meow meow - viserys i has a spank kink, no i will not elaborate further - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— it's entirely my fault, i know. i made cregan too hot. aemond might be a bit op w/ his relationship with reader, but he & her have a comfortable past...soz. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

There's this thing that Cregan does with his hips.

It's always that sweet spot when your legs are either over his shoulders or haphazardly splayed against his waist, wide open as he drilled into you like a miner trying to find gold (and he would argue that in fact, your orgasms are gold to him)—

There's that moment when he feels you clenching, when you're so close to the precipice of seeing heaven that the motherfucker of the North slows down, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, he slows down enough at the haze of you reaching orgasm where he just.

Produces waves across his body, keeping a slow, toe-curling momentum with his hips, body-waving his dick in and out of you in a slow but purposeful movement— and he's smirking down atyou're fucked out state growing irritated doing something for him.

And before you're truly out of that orgasmic state, about to curse his entire bloodline of ruined orgasms forever or push him off his own godsdamned bed and break his stupidly good penis, he's bracing himself against the side of your head, laughing— not meanly, just amused, the asshole —and asks, almost like he's just asking you for the weather, "Does the pretty little slut want to cum?"

And he's not really asking, because he's grasped your thighs, shoving you into a mating press, and having you see stars in seconds.

"You think my neighbours called 911?" he muses, fixing his hair while in front of the floor length mirror in his room as you lounge about lazily on his bed, already washed and dressed for your own shift at Meleys, sans your pants. That's still in the living room from where Cregan yanked it.

"Hm?" you ask idly, not really focused on the conversation as you scrolled through IG, rolling your eyes at Aegon's post; Hel's big brother was in Ibiza getting sun-tanned in the morning (as much as his pale as fuck skin could tan) and getting it down at clubs at night, liking it nevertheless.

"Your scream at the end there was so loud, I'm pretty sure you broke Mrs. Beesbury out of her coma." You look up at Cregan's menace of a grin, playful and goofy in his tight shirt and thick work pants for his shift at the fire station. "I might be expecting five jars of honey from Mr. Beesbury as thanks."

You roll your eyes at him, laughing. He always got like this post-orgasm; loose and goofy and prone to making the dumbest jokes. It's cute, and on a good day, it does it for you.

It's not like you don't find Cregan attractive. It's how you got into this FWB situation with him in the first place; the dark hair, the scruff on his face, the firefighter bod— and by the Seven, what. A. Bod — when he and his co-workers stumbled into Meleys two months back, seeing your former high school crush aged up and hot had you on your knees for him in the back alley faster than he can hold you from the roots of your hair and grunt.

On a good day, it's easy to see getting past the easy arrangement of sending emojis to alert you wanna get dicked down and him sending a tongue and a heart, sending memes just for the hell of it at random parts of the day— breaking the easy friendship, the nice arrangement, and see where it gets you two, with Stark. On a good day, you can be submerge in the what-if, cute couple-y scenarios and giggle.

But despite the orgasm that could shatter a septa's vows quicker than you can say 'Oh holy Mother', your good day was tentative, broken with a click.

Aemond had made his first social media post since breaking up (the latest one) with Alys.

A darkened bathroom with explicit, orange-glowed lights that covered most of his person but not the slick show of water, freshly showered, against his torso, his chest, his abs. Droplets clung in places one would imagine licking him all over.

You know that bathroom to be the one in his high class gym, one of his favourite places. Since the toxic cycle with Alys started, he frequented it more. Aemond Targaryen was a man of routines and sharp o'clocks, so you know this isn't particularly off-key for him. But the posing (mostly) completely bare with water on his wiry muscles?

"Oh, this whore." You can't help it, as much as it irritated you— because it is clearly a means to get it across that he is newly single without actually saying anything, you can just imagine his DMs firing up with notifs — you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity.

Aemond Targaryen. Publicly posting a thirstrap.

As public as his social media can get, it's a private account with less than 200 people.

A call rings in your phone, Helaena's face flashing, and you're still giggling when she half-shrieks, "DID YOU SEE HIS IG STORY OH MY GOD."

Your gaze meets Cregan, his bushy, dark eyebrows firing upward upon being able to hear Hel's voice while you winced. You put her on speaker as Cregan giddily comes closer to the phone.

"Good evening to you too, Helaena," you say warmly, giving Cregan's arm a light kick, mouthing, 'Don't you have work?'

Stark had the audacity to shush you, pressing a finger against his lips. You mouth, 'Gossip.' In a mature response, he stuck his tongue out.

Truly a wonder that not twenty minutes ago, this man had you keening over an orgasm.

Helaena continues on, "— I've had enough of this. I already have one slutty brother, I cannot have another one. There can only be two sluts in this family and no more. And that backlit? Seven hells, the whorishness."

"Hel, babe, you are not a slut." You meet eyes with Cregan who waggles his eyebrows, pursing his lips in an air kiss. "Trust me."

Hel snorts. "I know that, I meant my father. The whore of Babylon got nothing on Viserys first of his name, spank king extraordinaire."

If you could simultaneously choke on air and saliva, you would. "Helaena Targaryen!"

Cregan smacked his entire face down on his bed and ate his covers to muffle his laughter, his body shuddering as he did his best. His ass did look good in this view.

"What? Stranger may have mercy on me, but I tell you, before he died and before their marriage imploded, and at times traumatically problematic, they sure did get it freaky when they could. They gave it a good run and traumatised me in the process. I shouldn't have insisted my room was that close to them, maybe I would have ended up being an upstanding citizen of the community."

Cregan flips up, giggles spilling him as he muffled it with his hands. You kicked him again, trying to keep him away from your phone lest Hel figure out where you were again.

"Helaena, my love, compared to your brothers, you are such an upstanding person of the citizenry, the mayor should be giving you an award at this point."

"Right? Maiden have mercy, how busy do you think your shift is going to be tonight?"

You bit your lip guiltily while Cregan smirked, standing up as he finished lacing his boots. Hel thought you had gone straight to work, making up excuses about trying out a new recipe for next month. "Um. Not sure? Probably not by much, it's a weekday."

You don't lie, not really. Cregan mouths 'liar' and throw a pillow at him.

"Good, I'll send Aemond to you tonight. I already told him yesterday and he kind of just made a noncommittal hum— praise hands for another traumatised child of Alicent Hightower who has his own brand of communications issues —" You can just see Helaena's hard eye roll, and you massaged your lips to keep your laughter. The first time you met Hel, you never would have thought she slapped-back self-deprecating jokes out of her pockets faster than you can think a response to the last one. She was sweet, kind, a floral, bohemian girl with her pastel lavender pants and daisy flower clips.

And then you met her, vibed, and there was a dark funny humour to Helaena Targaryen that you always fought just bursting out laughter at the most inopportune of moments.

As sweet and floaty as she appeared, she was a menace.

"— anyway, Mr. Social Whore is going there later tonight, I made him promise. I said if you don't tell me he didn't come, I'm posting every photo I have of him from his naked baby pics to pre-pubescent Teen Teeny-Weeny Aemond, I do not care."

You whistle. "Damn, Hel, okay, I'll tell you when he comes."

"Good. OPLAN Get Aemond Out of This Bad Track Before He Fully Becomes Aegon 2.0 has now commenced. I love my brothers, I truly do, but I can only handle one Aegon at a time. I cannot be scrolling through social media in fear for my life times two, bestie, I refuse." Hel's voice pitches. "I'll talk to you later, bye, babe."

"Bye, Hel!"

Before you could put the phone down, she calls out, teasing, "BYE CREGAN!"

Silence. Then Cregan laughs, calling out, "Bye, Hel!"

The last thing either of you heard is her tinkling giggle before she drops the call.

"Fuck," you mutter, call finished.

Cregan wolf-whistles. "She's good."

You throw another pillow. "It's because you kept giggling like a schoolgirl!"

"Excuse me, that was a manly schoolgirl giggle, I'll have you know." He picks up his keys, winking. "Come on, I'll drop you off at the bar before I pole dance the night away to my job."

You cracked, snorting through the mental image of Cregan Stark, Lead Firefighter of the Ice Wolves Division, shaking his ass on the pole. You pad to the living room. "I'll give you a dollar for your troubles."

"Cheap ass!" he shouts after you.

Aemond arrives two hours into your shift, a little awkward— no doubt remembering your silent judgment of him the morning of his post-break up affair as that has also been the last interaction you've had with him before this, almost a week ago, and now here, meeting you at the insistence (and plotting) of his sister.

Your eyes meet ice water blue. He freezes, then straightens up, giving you a shrewd tilt forward. A nod. It's jerky, mechanical. You roll your eyes, mouth twitching, before you motion him over.

You are already making his favoured drink starter, Sazerac, when he slides into an empty seat on the bar. Your back is to him, refusing anymore interaction, and you know the usual comfort he finds in the eased silence you provide is nonexistent.

Out of all of Helaena's brothers, you've always liked Aemond the most. You teased him it was because the others are Aegon, duh, and Daeron, still in high school and never really around you "old people", but it's also because it's so easy to be around Aemond. When Helaena introduced you to the tall, lithe man who hummed politely at his sister's introduction of you, you found him intriguing.

It's not just the scarred eye, or the pretty, almost marble-statue visage (because by gods, seriously. The Mother took her sweet, loving time crafting the fourth Targaryen, bloody hell— like those cheekbones? With that cupid's bow lip? Okay, Mother, you have your favourites, we get it), or that he tended to keep himself in the background, let everyone else stretch into the conversation.

He often dipped in and out of the social pool like a mirage; a trick of the eye. A nod, a hum— almost, always an answer to someone else's direct question or someone— usually Aegon — dragging him into the conversation with an anecdote needing an input, not matter how inane.

And it intrigued you.

You took yourself and your drink of choice at the time— a Shirley Temple — and sat right beside him. He looked up at you, that one eye of violet widening slightly because you had just. Plopped beside him, thighs touching, before he smoothens out his expression, shifting at your direct eye contact and small smile.

"Can I... help you?" he finally asks, thoroughly waylaid but trying not to appear so.

"The scar." You nodded to his face as he froze. "Tell me about it."

His face had been so controlled, so guarded, when he tersely said, "My sister didn't tell you?"

"Nope. It's not something for her to tell me, isn't it? It's a personal thing. Most scars are." You shrugged. "Even if they aren't, I'd prefer if you tell me. It's your body. Your body your story."

He stared at you for a quarter of a minute before he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No, why?"

"You're too... forward."

You smirked. "I've been told. So are you telling me or nah, pretty boy?"

And he stared at you for a minute longer, or two, or three— the stare flickers to emotions so fast; shock, confusion, flatter, his own intrigue — before he told you about a stupid fight between children, about a stupid reason par another, and though his words had been concise, obviously keeping a hell of a lot more between vowels and tightened jaw, you don't press him. You let him talk.

At the end, you said, "Badass. Definitely less of a lame reason than what I was imagining, but 9/10 story. Your voice really sold most of it. It's good for telling stories."

In his brain, you could just see the click when his eyes flicked to his sister and back to you. Ah, so that's how they're friends. And he hums, truly, more than anything, stumped by you. And you smiled.

"You're definitely going to be my favourite Targaryen Brother."

It's no wonder then, that you two had gotten close. You had forced a friendship out of him, and the very unattached guy to literally anything new— suspicious of offerings, angry at pity, wary of kindness — had taken into it with a white flag.

So when the whole Alys situation happened, things shifted.

"Sazerac," you announce finally, placing the drink in front of him. He thanks you with a quiet hum, having stopped fidgeting now that you've acknowledged his existence. You raise your eyebrow as his sips turns to gulp, crossing your arms.

Just because you had promised Hel you were going to help him, doesn't mean you were going to make it easy for him. He knows you're pissed; despite the calm structure he had composed himself in, you can see the twitch in his fingers, the way his eye turned away from you the moment you refused to project your normal, warm aura with him.

He settles his drink down, watching the rim of the glass for a minute before he speaks, low and steady. "You're angry with me."

You snort softly. "Wonder why you think so?"

He sighs. "I didn't mean to. To let it get this... messy." He winces at the word, hating it.

You sigh. "Aemy." He comes alive at the familiar nickname, sitting straighter, a relief on the edge of a cliff. "Honestly, I don't give a shit. You want to be trapped in this mess? You don't want to listen to other people tellign you, 'hey dude, maybe no?'"

He winces, remembering the third time he and Alys had broken up. The police car, Aegon vomitting, Hel crying. It makes you roll your eyes.

"Sure, have at it. Have fun, in fact. There's only so much sympathy I can give you for seeking out the problem that you know is a problem before I get tired. Before I stop giving a shit, because there's someone else I love that is starting to get hurt by it. I can only love you enough as much as you are willing to help yourself." Your eyes then narrow, half-glaring into him. "But what I'm truly getting angry about is how much this is affecting Helaena."

"I understand." He sighs again, calling your name but you raise a hand.

"Hold on, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Okay."

You look at him. A second. He waits. And waits.

He speaks up. "Yes?"

You sigh. It's hard to stay mad at him, you've always found so. "I don't know. I had paragraphs to say to you in front of a mirror, but now that it's you I'm looking at, everything just went away." Under your breath, you mutter, "stupid pathetic meow, meow face."

His mouth twitch. Ah. The familiar Targaryen smugness. Pinch Cocky Aemond is back. "Did my face distract you too much, ñuha riña my lady?"

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smile. If you called him Aemy, he called you the High Valyrian, his ancestral tongue, my lady. To tease, to establish comfort. You've always liked this better, being closer to Aemond than despising him for his stupid choices and big feelings he has a hard time unraveling, so he makes said stupid choices.

It's ease, it's familiarity, and you both fall into a high step.

"Okay, nerd, so what did Hel—" A customer calls you. "—One sec. Sorry about that, what can I get you? Ooh, nice choice, alright give me a minute." As you pulled a measuring cup and gin, you nod back to Aemond. "What did Hel tell you we're doing exactly?"

"That you're helping me... with Alys." A hesitance. "I know you don't like her—"

"— whoa, hold up, Aemy, I like her. I like her very much. I think she's a bad bitch, absolutely sexy, and clearly, she has good tastes which I respect her for." He had the good graces to blush, still sort of unused by the compliments you so freely give him. "What I don't like is how your relationship with her— here, hey, you're welcome! — has evolved. You were so good with each other, Aemy. And then..."

You mimic a sound of a crash and burn, and a tiny person screaming. He huffs out a laugh before sobering.

"I know." He sighs. "I don't... I don't understand it myself. There's a part of me that recognises I should walk away. And then there's another part that is just... it's Alys."

His palms, open and upturned, falls on the counter. Pensive. Begging. A confused, wanting penitent looking up at a god asking for direction. "I've loved her for so long." His voice quiets, like the words are sacred.

"I've loved her for so long," he repeats as if the words have worn itself out on his tongue, "it's hard to see past her. Ñuha riña, she has always been my future. It's all her. I don't know anything else outside of her."

You pour an Arbor Gold in a stemmed glass and pushes it to him. It's his favourite drink and he smiles at you, at the care, at the memories.

"I understand that," you say carefully. "And I already promised Hel I'd do it, whatever you need of me, to make her see you. But you should know that I'm doing this more for her than for you because... Aems, I believe you deserve so much more. A love that's exciting without it being harmful. A love that's pretty, as easy as breathing. One that doesn't hurt at the edges and pinches like a barbed wire."

"Is that possible for me?" he asks ironically, trying for a joke but you catch that lilt at the end. At that exhale. So much of his history had been broached by pain, borne from it. There are injuries that run so deep, they continue to bleed.

"Honestly?"

He places the wineglass down. "Yes."

You smile. "Yes."

You don't know if he believes you, or if he just indulges in your starry-eyed view of his future, but he smiles nevertheless, as best as he can and murmurs a gratitude.

It's pacifying, insecurity. You let it go for now because there's nothing you can say to a person truly down to trust your words.

"You're going to do this, then?" he asks. "For Alys and I?"

You shake your head. "I'm doing this for Hel and no chores for a month." And you, to show you that there's more past a future that you and I both know doesn't exist anymore. That if you prolong it, ignore how deep the barbed wire has gotten into your skin, it'll be too hard to untangle it when you realised you've bled out enough.

So will you just wear the pain proudly after that?

You shake another order in place, pulling ice and mint. You raise an eyebrow. "I've always known I was going to help. Are you willing to do this? Honestly Aemy, this can go two ways. One, she'll realise losing you is the worst thing that can ever happen— truly losing you to someone else, or two, she thinks you're truly moving on from her. And that's assuming she even thinks it's real, like I mean come on, it's me and you."

He arches a perfect silver eyebrow. You had already asked him if he gets his eyebrows done, and apart from Helaena messing with him back in high school, has been all natural. You think he's lying.

"And what is me and you?"

"Aemy, come on. I'm your sister's best friend. We're like... I dunno, family? She's always known that."

"Doesn't mean she's never felt jealous of you," he hums, swirling his wine with pinch fingers. It's elegant. Entrancing. The red liquid swirls and there are knots and strain in his hand, going through his arm.

And despite the bags under his eye, he still looks so good. Silvery blond hair wrapped in a low half updo, the shirt that hid nothing of his muscled chest.

His words sink in, breaking you from the hypnotizing reverie of looking at a marbled statue. "What? She felt jealous of me?"

He smiles gently, a little bit cockily. "Ñuha riña. Of course she did. Just because she understood your place in my life, in Hel's, doesn't erase the fact that you're gorgeous and we get along well. She liked you, truly, but she isn't blind. It's nothing that you've done, even she knew that. You're just too perfect."

You blink at him, unable to stop yourself from blushing. He chuckles meanly.

"Shut up."

He exhales a laugh. "I didn't say anything!"

"You know what you did." You give him the stink eye before you serve two more customers, thanking at a pretty hefty tip from one of your regulars, bidding him goodnight as he left. It is a slow night, you didn't lie to Helaena.

You almost don't catch Aemond murmuring, "I've missed this. I've missed you. I never like it when you're pissed at me."

"Good," you joke. "So you can watch yourself better. But yeah, I've missed you too. So how are we doing this?"

"I thought you had an idea, having agreed to Hel's plan before I even knew there was a plan."

You roll your eyes. "Well, I've had a few ideas here and there... it's more your comfort I'm worried about."

He frowns, pouty lips pursing. "My comfort?"

You place your palms behind the bar and hitch yourself up by your physical strength. He leans forward, confused still. You smirk. "Well, Aemy, I'm wearing a skirt."

"I... I don't know what that means, ñuha riña." He blinks his one good eye. "Nice skirt? You look pretty."

You force a pout instead of getting flustered by the compliment out of the blue. "I forgot you weren't all that popular in high school."

"No need for insults," he deadpans.

You laugh. "We're going to make Alys jealous, right? It'll be too much to hard launch my new status of existence in your life when you just broke up... but... if we can allude, at least..."

"I-" His frown deepens, the skin on his other eye, the scar, pinches as you see his mind whirr and whirr where your mind was reaching. "I'm still confused."

"Gods, alright, I'll just show you."

"Dude, bro, just put your hand under my skirt—"

"Ñuha riña—"

"Yeah, you know what, godsfuckingdamnit, if I alienate you that bad just shove your fist up my skirt, yes, Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!"

He calls your name, tips of his ears beet red, as a few patrons turn to you two, bewildered and a little amused. You wave at them but you sigh noisily at him. You're sat beside him on the counter, your phone on one hand with the camera app open, and you're glaring at him.

"Are you seriously telling me you've never placed your hand on Alys' thigh?"

"Of course I have!" He lets out a strangled sigh and groan.

"What's the difference?"

"I've never done it so publicly," he explains as calmly as possible, as if he's talking to a child. "And with the idea of posting it for everyone else to ogle. I've always just done it... under a table. Or. On her knee..."

"You're blushing so hard, you look like a tomato?" You snort. "I'm your fake Alys now, and we're soft launching an intimate relationship. This is basic."

"You're not my fake Alys. You're not my fake anytihng and you're not Alys." he says seriously, frown sharpening into a point before he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can't it just be my hand over yours?"

 You frown, forgoing the uncomfortable twinge from not my anything and not Alys. "Is this uncomfortable for you? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"It's not that, never that." He purses his lip. "It's the opposite. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with my touch."

"Aemy," you say softly, smiling slightly. "I am giving you permission. Wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. And you touching me has never made me uncomfortable. Now, come on. Hand on my thigh, pretty boy, so I can take this pic and get the ball rolling."

There's a second more of restraint, of holding back, and before you sigh and suggest something else— maybe he is truly uncomfortable with you, with you not being anything to him, and not being Alys, but is too polite to say anything — he places his palm, warm and heavy, against your exposed thigh.

It's a... new sensation. You've held hands with Aemond before, smacked it a few times even, but it's different when it's on a more... well, when it's not on a non intimate area of your body. New skin, new nerve endings to his familiar warmth and crease.

It makes you swallow how big his hand is compared to your whole ass thigh. Thumb to pinky and he nearly swallows the gaps.

He really has pretty hands. Knotted veins twisting upward to muscled arms.

Both of you nestle in the quiet, just staring at his hand over your thigh.

"Okay," he says, voice even. He's taller than you, always taller even when you're both sat down, and he's closer to the top of your head at this distance, his breath flutters against your hair. "What now?"

"I... take the picture." You blink, shaking your head slightly, as you take his drink and add your hand within the frame so it looks like you mean to take a photo of your drink and not the glaringly obvious hand on your thigh, before you you angle it. You take one, two, three. A few different angles before you feel you've got a few nice ones. "Okay, done."

It feels cold when he takes his hand away, giving your thigh a soft tap before it's back on the counter. He hums.

You get back on the work, choosing one and posting it promptly on your stories. You place Meleys' location and a kiss mark emoji before you post it.

"It does look intimate," Aemond hums, observing the story from his own phone. "But why did you post it on your account and not mine?"

"She's your ex, Aemy," you say, hopping off the chair and moving back behind the counter. The world re-orbits. Everyone back in their positions, the lines clear. The planets move in their normal trajectory again.

"She'll know it's your hand. And if we post it on mine, it has more of an impact, don't you think? We're friends on IG. She sees it on my stories, a man's hand on her thigh, in a background that's no doubt a bar. The hand is sorta familiar. And you posted that slutty mirror pic earlier tonight."

He blushes, you smirk. Planets and moons orbit back, their pace slow, their lightyears fast. Best friend's sister. Sister's best friend.

"If she doesn't recognise your hand at first, your story will prompt it on her brain. It's not a hard connection, you've been together for years. It's a girl thing. An exes thing. Bingo bango, the brain is running. Surely it isn't Aemond's hand? Even if it is... is it truly romantic?"

He exhales. "You're... kind of an evil genius."

"Just kind of? Damn." And you smile because he laughs, the sound spreading warmth across your chest.

Yeah, this is better. It always feels good when you and Aemond are on the same team, when you're not mad at him and vice versa, no matter how stupid the reason.

Saturn rings snap, black holes sink and swim in galaxies so far, far away.

You put your phone on DND as soon as the first five notifs pop up, prompting a barrage of other notifications. When you took a glance at it, it's all a varying degree of 'WHAT THE FUCK', 'WHO THE FUCK', and 'GO GET THAT DICK, GIRL OMG!!'

Only Helaena's message matters, and it brings a smile on your lips.

 'Noice'.

Another ping.

'Also— what a bunch of harlots'.

You show it to Aemond and both of you burst in stupid laughter.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr

[thejockout]

New File Time! Lifting is Leisure

Alriiiight. Gotta be honest folks, I did have to produce and upload this one in a hurry; I have completed my writing + recording output for 2024 but as of writing this, I have yet to produce/upload them all. This is the first one in the "crunch", so hopefully I'm better prepped for the rest to come.

This file was actually, I believe, born out of a conversation with Avis Sapiens where he used this phrase with me to defend himself lifting on one of his rare days off. He called lifting leisure, and I kinda laughed at the time because it was so muscle-pilled of him, but it also made me think about how lifting can be reframed/enjoyed by so many in different ways.

This file therefore seeks to help YOU reframe lifting the same way. To tie the incremental progress made in each workout to an incremental experience of the pleasure, triumph, success, arousal, or whatever else you believe lies at the end of your bodybuilding journey. It will be of benefit to you if you're seeking to make lifting a habit but haven't quiiite found the momentum yet, OR if you already lift dilligently but just want to enjoy it more. It's a myth that exercise has to be a slog; and in this trance, I'm going to bust it.

(As a final bit of housekeeping, you might notice that there are two versions of this file attached at the bottom of the post, Complex and Simple. Complex is "as Jockout intends" with backing tracks and whispers, a new production element I'm including. Simple is stripped down, just my voice and a binaural/rain sounds. Let me know if you have feedback on the new backing elements.)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

Honestly if you read the description, there is nothing else to add. No real trigger work here besides very soft "you drop for my voice/finger snaps" work at the beginning of the file, and POSSIBLY "soft" trigger work with the gym/weightlifting triggering positive feelings in you.

WARNING: THIS WILL MAKE YOU HUGE?

WARNING: THIS IS GONNA BE A FUN TIME?

WARNING: BRO YOU'RE GONNA GET SO SWOLE

--------------------------------------------------------- https://linktr.ee/jockout When I'm not dropping myself or others, I'm off being a mystical forest bro in the wilderness of Ireland. But I am always available for commissions if you reach out via DM. My flat rate is currently $65-100, but you can check my pinned Tumblr post for more up-to-date info. Keep listening, bros.

[millerscoffee]

Hi brilliant Bee 🐝 can we please get the “do you want my fingers?” prompt from either Frankie or Joel 🤭

hi, sweetheart! i went with joel for this, i hope that's okay! it's a little longer than i intended, so i just want to say – please don't take this personally, everyone else! i'm a sucker for joel and got carried away. sue me! i could've gone longer, and i'm showing great restraint! tehehe. i hope y'all enjoy ♡

take me on

1710 words | joel miller x inexperienced f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: age gap (joel: late 50s, reader 28), reader is a virgin/late bloomer (right on time bloomer if you ask me), fingering (f receiving), pet names, praise kink

A/N: this is part of my 500 followers celebration running until 9/9 ♡

To put it simply: you were embarrassed.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with anyone in your years of life, you just hadn’t found the right time or person.  Living in Jackson was more comfortable than most places, but it wasn’t like it was easy meeting people – not necessarily a lot of new people to meet.

And that’s when Joel Miller showed up.

He was moody, his time was spent scowling at others while keeping close to his family… for the most part.  Sometimes he was scowling alone when the waters were rocky.  But when he saw you, the subtlety of his features softened: his shoulders, his eyebrows.  It was something you didn’t pick up straight away, but iteration made it obvious.

Like the one night Joel was in the middle of an argument just outside The Tipsy Bison, when he saw you show up.  He was presenting to be a different person around you – his words fell off to the side, and he opened the door for you without a word.

Of course, he continued the fight the very second the door closed behind you.

A grin splayed over your face.

A few days passed, built up until Joel found the courage to speak to you.  And that burn was just as slow.

A small crowd of people left until the two of you were on either side of a bench.  His eyes met yours, wide and curious.  His larynx buoyed upon swallowing, a grunt slipped through his nose.

“Hey.”

Man of a few words.

But it didn’t take long for the two of you to strike up a conversation, and even shorter for you to learn the pathways that it took for him to unravel for you.

That was a month ago.

Now, you find yourself in Joel’s house, nestled up in his room.

There had been a couple of times leading up to this point.  You’ve kissed, you’ve spent hours heavy petting.  Joel calling you darlin’, wanting more of you.  He understands that you’re nervous, but he is but a carnal being at the end of the day.

So are you, you’re finding.

And you know it now underneath the dark duvet, the desire you cannot contain.  The slick rising between your legs.

“Joel,” you whisper: lips chaste, thighs quivering as he settles between them. “I- I want you.”

These are the words he’s been dying to hear, but still you watch his gaze shift – fire and flame, eagerness and concern.

“What can y’take?”

You swallow a whimper at his attentiveness.  His desire to take care of you.

“I don’t really know,” you bite your cheek, and god, it’s silly.  You should know what you want by now.  You’ve built up so much momentum for this moment, even before Joel was in the picture, and now that it’s here, you freeze.

“Hey,” Joel’s palm soothes over the side of your neck and your pupils blow wide at the sensation, the observation, the unmentioned praise. “You don’t gotta know.  We’ll go slow, alright?”

You nod feverishly, your hands exploring – timid and clumsy – over his sides through his flannel, and fuck, he loves that.  Loves the sensation of your delicate grazes exclaiming their inclinations for him.

“Okay,” you muster it, and Joel helps you undress.  Clothing is off of you until you’re in your underwear and top on his bed.

It’s slow, this process.  He takes his time.  Admires you with kind eyes, with soft words, with grunts and muttered damn’s.  A good half hour of this build up, of his lips on your skin.  Of him taking his time with you, to work you up, to make you feel safe.

And you are rattling for him.

“Joel, I–” you don’t mean for it to sound like a moan, but his ears perk up when it happens.

“Talk t’me, baby,” you shudder at his big palms crossing the landscape of your thighs.

“Y-yknow I’ve never, I’ve never.”

You can’t get it out.  Twenty-eight.  A virgin.  Never been naked for someone like this, much less touched.

“I know, darlin’.  And you’ll let me take care a’you?  ‘Cuz we can stop, y’just gotta say the word.”

“N-no!” you feel blood pooling at your cheeks, and that tugs a grin from him.

“No?” He's amused now, but still tender.  His head tilts to gaze between your legs, and lets out a weak whistle. “I know you’re nervous, but do you know how damn irresistible you are?”

And fuck, you’re ruined by that.

“I’m not nervous,” you grin weakly, hips shifting under his gaze.

“Yeah, I know.  So brave for me, aren’tcha?”

“I’m brave,” you breathe the repeated phrase, “I want this.” Hearing just how brave you’re being makes you feel braver than you may actually be.  Sneaky man, it’s working.

“Do you want my fingers?”

Says the man whose fingers were curled under the collar of some man earlier in the day for cutting him off in line for lunch.  How could they be delicate now?

Regardless, it pulls you.  You feel your core pulse at this, your clit tingles at the prospect of being touched and all you can do is nod, “Y-yes.”

That’s all Joel needs.

He shifts on the bed, noises of age escaping from him as one knee is bent on his bed, other foot planted deep into the floor.  Hovering over you, but not in a way that makes you nervous.  It makes you feel cared for.  Your eyes look up, wet and round up to his deep brown eyes that stake their claim over you.

“I’m gonna pull these off now.  That alright?”  he nods in the direction between your legs and you tell him yes before you even realise it.

The cool air against the dampness of your cunt draws a gasp from you and your hand instinctively wraps around his wrist.  “Joel,” you whimper, biting the plush of your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” he coos, nodding in acknowledgement of how intense it is.  “Doin’ so good f’me.  You know that too, don’t you?”

You swallow down, nodding back.  Legs split innately, spreading your mess down your thighs.  “Lord,” he breathes, “You are somethin’ special, you know that?”  you’re speechless, but the peak of your nipples through the fabric speak a lot for you – the breathy sighs, the needy hips.  And he allows it.  Because you’re fresh, you’re new, you don’t need to be demanded.  He wants this right for you.

“Gonna touch you, okay?”  “Okay,” you mewl.  At first it’s your legs, right at the crease; at your hips.  And then, he’s cursing under his breath when the pads of his fingers finally – patiently – run up and down over your folds.  It’s lazy, it’s unhurried, his skin is so hot it throbs you.  The ache is all-consuming, and you could come apart just from this.

“This for me?”  the sounds of your wetness rebound in your ears, causing your brows to knit and whimpers to fill in beside the slick as you bob your head.

“Please, please.  I want to feel you.  Need to feel this.”

You find the words as he finds the green light.

One finger dips down in this tentative headspace.  His eyes flit from your face to your core, and you feel so gorgeous under the gaze.  You swallow then, knowing his fingers are far larger than yours, but you are brave – remember?  And he knows it.  He’s slow, intentional when he grooves over your entrance: the source of your wetness.

He watches you carefully, tempting the digit inside at the very tip and you hiss reactionarily.  It stings.  No matter how turned on you are, this is new and your blood is pumping around his finger.  But you let him know it’s okay, how you can take it.  His other hand pushes your hair back in awe of you, in praise, and gently nudges the finger up.

“So full,” you gasp, almost giggling from the stir.  That sharpness melts into pleasure and you nudge your cheek into his palm as he sits more now.  In front of you, palm traveling down your side to land at your hip, the middle finger tempting to press deeper until he’s at the knuckle.  It’s delicious – cosmic and veracious.

“Tight, fuckin’ gorgeous,” he can’t help but utter and it’s within him rolling his thumb over your clit do you feel the pressure inside you build.

It’s strange, too.

You don’t expect the feeling to pull pleasure out of you, but the repetitious movements make your eyes roll back – his skill, and his intent.

“I ca… I c-can’t last, p–”

“C’mon, pretty girl.  You can let go for me.”  He’s so soft like this, albeit in complete control of you.  And that unfamiliar permission sends fireworks from your core, down your legs – your hips rocking up and you inhale sharply at the feeling of him moving in deeper from that.  “Joel!”

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, but makes light work in keeping the focus on you, on fucking you through it.

And it’s not that you haven’t orgasmed, but you didn’t expect to – not within your first experience with someone else.

But you’re quickly understanding Joel isn’t just anyone else.

His eyes are hungry, grunts spilling from him as he absorbs this.  Just nodding – at least you think he is in between your eyes screwing shut, and the ringing in your ears.  You’re flashed with white hot pleasure, and you don’t want it to end.

“That’s it, sweet girl.  That’s right.  Look so pretty cummin’ around my finger like this.  Sound so pretty for me, too.”  And just before you become too sensitive, he slows down.  Takes his thumb off of your clit, the vice grip you have on his thick finger makes it difficult for him to pull out – but he manages just fine.  A pleased grin plucking him.

“Wait.  Are you okay?  Do you need anything?”  You shift, realising that he hasn’t been addressed, but he’s quick to shake his head and clean you up.  Those rough hands that have done mean things are so gentle as they place the clothes back on your body.  His lips flutter over your forehead.

“All in good time, babygirl.  All in good time.”

[shini--chan]

I really like your ~Cantin~ story with the dark Canada. It's my favorite! Can you write please what will be next when the reader wrestle the phone from him and trying to call Alfred for help. Maybe with a little bit yandere Alfred too. Thanx and sry for bad English!

Of course, let’s see what will come of this. And darling, your English is better than you probably think ;D

Yandere Canada - Sanctimonious

Your body simply moved of its own accord. Maybe it was the hope that hadn’t died already, maybe it was pettiness and you just wanted to see Willams suffer; either way, you found yourself lunging at the phone in his hand. Although surprised, your false lover managed to side step your attack and the unstopped momentum sent you sprawling in the snow to the side of the snow. 

Spluttering, you spat out snow that you had nearly swallowed and shook your head to cast off the snow that had gotten caught in your hair and the outside of the scarf you were wearing. Sadly, some snow had slipped beneath your clothing - the uncomfortable cold was spreading across your neck and chest and your calves. However, you had bigger fish to fry - there was a phone you had to get your hands on. 

Quickly you scrambled to your feet and lunged again, this time managed to get your hands on his arm and then his wrist. Fruitlessly, he tried to keep the phone to his ear but finally saw that he wouldn't be able to simply ignore you for much longer. 

“A moment Al, gotta take care of something”, he quickly shouted in the speaker and then grasped your wrist. The phone was held high in the air and with him being taller than you there wasn’t really a chance of you grabbing it from him. 

So you did the next best thing that came to mind - kicked him in the kneecap. You didn’t care which knee you had damaged, or how much damage you had inflicted. The only thing that mattered was that the hand went down and you could pry the phone from his grip. Turning around, you set off into a light jog and put the phone to your ear. 

“Hello, hello! I need help, sir”, you hissed into the phone. 

“Jeez, who are you kid, and why do you have Mattie’s phone?”, came an enthusiastic voice from the other end. American, judging by the accent. Matthew had told you he had a brother but this couldn’t possibly be him. What sense did it make to have a blood brother that was of another nationality? Difficult parents could be a reason but it would be unlikely. 

“I was kidnapped by Matthew Williams and am being held against my will. He claims to love me, but it can’t be love since… since I’m just his captive and plaything that he uses as he pleases. Please, please sir, you have to help you”, you pleaded into the phone, tears welling up in your eyes. 

There were a few moments of silence on the other end and hopefully it was because he was thinking of how he could rescue you. To your horror and confusion, however, the pause was ended by laughter. 

“You must be the one that stole Mattie’s heart. Christ, I can see why he loves you - so polite and still feisty. I’m even tempted to steal you to have you all for myself, but don’t tell him that”, he remarked once he managed to calm down a bit. 

“What the blazes do you mean? You have to…”

“Not so quick kiddo. I don’t have to do anything and since you’ve stopped being so nice, I sure am hell not gonna do that now. Not that I intended to do anything really before, but that is besides the point

“The point here is, that while Mattie and I have some fundamental differences, at the root we are cut from the same cloth. So sweetie, I can’t say that I would have done anything different than my bro. We talk, y’know, so I’m completely in the know of what is going on between you two love birds. Hell, he even asks me for advice on how to handle you. 

“So let me give you a tip, for free ‘cuz it’s you: Just give in and it will be all smooth sailing. Don’t make it more difficult than it already is.”

[chirpingfromthebox]

My favorite bits from the Boston post-game press interviews after PWHL Finals Game 4

You can find the entire interview here! Be sure to give them some views/likes/nice comments/etc.

At the table were Aerin Frankel, Alina Müller, and coach Courtney Kessel.

Since we're so close to the end now, I just went ahead and did the full transcription so as to be sure y'all didn't miss anything. I'll still put dividers between the questions though, just to aid in readability.

All that and a handful of my closing thoughts after the break.

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REPORTER: For all of you, did you think that game was over before it was actually over?

COURTNEY KESSEL: I didn’t think it was over, I thought it was goalie interference. But you never know, right? So you challenge and kinda wait. So, no.

AERIN FRANKEL: Obviously being in the net, I didn’t really know what happened other than the fact that I was pushed. But I didn’t know who pushed me into the net. It kinda just all happened really fast. But then after seeing the replay I was confident they would maybe overturn it. Obviously it’s tough being in their rink, and second overtime, and stuff. But I’m glad that they made the right call.

ALINA MÜLLER: Yeah, same. I had no doubt that it was goaltender interference. And I knew- I mean, that’s tough when you get a goal overturned. The momentum is for the other team, for sure. For us.

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REPORTER: Maybe to follow up on that, Alina, or for anyone who wants to take it, how did you guys kind of keep the emotions of that in check? Or did it really feel like you knew that the momentum was going to be in your favor?

ALINA MÜLLER: Yeah, just really saw the play and knew that this could be a good challenge for us, so just try to stay in the game. As I said, I think once it got overturned we had more power, more speed, more legs. So, yeah, it was on our side.

R: Aerin, do you have a thought on that? Like how do you lock-in as the goalie, knowing that the game is either over or you have to go back in?

AERIN FRANKEL: You just gotta force yourself to. You don’t have the option. We made it that far into the 5th overtime, so at that point you’re playing for everyone in our locker room. It’s just a family, so it doesn’t matter how tired you are, but everyone just competes until the job is finished.

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REPORTER: And for Courtney, Aerin has played 7 overtime periods now and hasn’t been scored on yet. What can you say about the way that she’s been able to rise to the occasion in the most important parts of a hockey game?

COURTNEY KESSEL: I think we’ve seen that she’s the Green Monster. Tremendous. I think from the moment we came back from World’s we’ve come back with a different group and the resiliency has been tremendous. They’re gonna kill me, but I think it starts with our goaltending and it starts with Franks. Just her ability to stay calm through all these ups and downs. And her ability to keep us in games and win games for us. And that’s what you want heading into the championship. If you have a hot goalie you can win.

------------------

------------------

REPORTER: Aerin, when you first heard of “The Green Monster,” what was your reaction to it?

AERIN FRANKEL: Coach actually sent it to me and I was laughing. I thought it was funny. My teammates have started saying it as a joke. Yeah, I think it’s cool, because Boston’s one of the greatest sports cities and obviously that’s a big part of the history at Fenway Park. So, I think it’s cool. Kudos to whoever thought of that. It’s pretty awesome.

------------------

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REPORTER: Alina, congrats on the game winner. Can you take us through what you saw in the play?

ALINA MÜLLER: Uh, yeah. I just tried to put my body against the wall, against the other player, trying to break the puck out and then somehow try to get inside positioning and the puck bounced to me. I think it was a good forecheck and I tried to get it off as quick as I can and as high as I can. I didn’t really see much.

------------------

------------------

REPORTER: For either of the players, so when the goal gets taken off you mentioned the word momentum. What is that like to now realize you have this new opportunity? Do you feel like you have the advantage in that moment? Is it a mental thing? Take us in your minds right there.

AERIN FRANKEL: Yeah, I think so. It’s obviously deflating when you’re playing a game this long and you think you score a goal and then you’re celebrating on the ice and it gets called back. I think right away we just kinda hit the reset. We’ve been in overtime so much already this year and we just stuck to the systems that have been working for us this year.

ALINA MÜLLER: Yeah, same. I think the advantage was on our side just from a mental side. It reminded me of the World’s Final, I think it was Finland against the U.S., where the same thing kind of happened. It’s pretty tough if you’re on the other side.

------------------

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REPORTER: For Courtney, wondering if you can speak to what you’ve seen from Jessica Digirolamo tonight and through these playoffs?

COURTNEY KESSEL: Yeah, Jess is- it’s funny, I coached her since she was like 13 years old, so it’s pretty special to be standing behind the bench now she's a grown adult. I think her physicality, you know, her physique, her build, is built for this game, this style of hockey. And she’s raised the bar since we’ve been back from World’s. And I’m not surprised at all. I really do think she has all the skills to be on the national team one day if she continues to develop and work hard.

------------------

------------------

REPORTER: Do you [Courtney Kessel] have a thought on Alina’s game winner?

COURTNEY KESSEL: I’m not surprised. I’m not sure who I spoke to, yesterday or two days ago, but they asked me who we should be watching out for and I said Müller. She’s just a tremendous 200-foot hockey player that can put the puck in the back of the net. We’ve been waiting for it all year and I know it’s there and I’ve been telling her that it’s there. Just so happy to see that happen and just watch her grow this year, in the first year with this league.

------------------

------------------

REPORTER: Alina, your coach talked about your goalie, can you describe just being on the ice with Aerin and what the- if you’re often amazed, do you see all the stuff- you know, just what it’s like and speak to just how much she kept you in the game for the chance at the game winner?

[It might not looks that way, but for the record: this was a beast of a question to transcribe. The reporter was really fumbling on their words here and I had to rewind it a ton to try and get it down right.]

ALINA MÜLLER: Yeah, I mean, she’s the best goalie in this league, in the world. I got the chance to get to know her really well through Nordeastern already. We’re really good friends. I trust her so much. She makes it so much fun in practice too, trying to shoot on her. Just the competitiveness. The fitness, just everything is elite. She deserves all the success there is.

------------------

------------------

You know, I said I was hoping Boston would battle back in true Boston-style and sure enough: they did! This game felt very different from the other games this series to me. Reminded me more of how a lot of other playoff games seemed to go...except with a lot more Boston-style physicality.

If anything it has shown once again that you never want to get into a defensive war of attrition with Boston.

And now the shoe's on the other foot. Boston seemed a little defeated after last game and now it's Minnesota's turn. The difference is that Minnesota either refused to do a post-game press session or I just can't find it. So I can't really say how they compare. While I can understand not wanting to talk to the press after something like that, I can't say that it bodes well for their mental state.

[they did do one! It just got posted wicked late for some reason? I dunno. I haven't got a chance to watch it yet, but it exists!]

As the players here noted, it's hard to mentally come back from what Minnesota had to deal with there. It certainly had an effect tonight.

But we'll have to wait until Wednesday to see if they wind up letting it weigh them down or fuel them forward.

We already know you never want to put Boston into a corner. And if Minnesota comes out for blood in Game 5? Should be a spicy end to the finals.

(and hopefully that end is a more decisive, less "what is even happening right now?"-styled one)

[twincaptains]

Obsequium Part I: Chapter One: Ford's September

TITLE: Obsequium Part I: Chapter One: Ford’s September PAIRINGS:  Dipford (Ford x Dipper), Bipford, (Bipper x Ford), regular Billford (Bill x Ford) Pinecest (Dipper x Mabel), Stancest, (Stan x Ford), and possibly others. Gotta see where this thing takes me. SUMMARY: It’s been four years since Ford emerged from the portal and reclaimed the Mystery Shack. Stanley, Soos, Wendy, Mabel? They’re all gone, but he and Dipper remain to destroy what’s left of Bill. Dipper and Mabel’s parents have since divorced, their mother living alone on the east coast and Mabel living with her father in Seattle. As the Mystery Twins enter their 17th year, things seem to be going poorly. Stan and Ford are still not speaking to each other, and that doesn’t look like it will change anytime soon. Meanwhile, Dipper is receiving a top-notch education from Ford – he’s already graduated from high school and has several bachelor’s degrees. Still, something is amiss … I wonder what that might be? Is it Dipper’s perpetual sweatiness and unignorable teenage shortcomings? Or is it the whispers that keep beckoning from the woods … Ford journals about it, and is a jerk. NOTES: I am posting to Tumblr for now, but eventually will be cross-posting to Ao3. I am in line to get an account, and should have one by the end of the month. So … this thing is gonna get pretty intense in fairly short order, so I suggest you look under the cut to see if there’s any triggering content on the road ahead that might bother you. I don’t want anyone to get invested and THEN get upset.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drug abuse, caregiver neglect OVERALL WARNINGS: Incest, sibling incest, minor, coercive control, mind control, caregiver neglect, physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, dubious consent (dubcon), body horror, suicidal ideation, food restriction, sleep deprivation, self-harm, drug abuse, being drugged, lost time, and I’m going to specifically going to warn for “Ford being cruel to Stanley”, because it made me upset when I wrote it so I want to warn for it. If I forgot anything, please let me know and I will fix it IMMEDIATELY. I will add more if anything else comes up.   Chapter Two is here!! Alright. Now that we’ve established where this is going … let’s get there.

FORD’S SEPTEMBER

-

Saturday, September 3rd:

Dipper returned late last night from his week-long sabbatical with his father and sister in Seattle, eager to begin his fourth year of study. By the end of this year, he should have his first Masters. He says that I should find his thesis both stimulating and hilarious, which I doubt but I commend him for the effort. He is a very capable student but is still held back by some of the unfortunate distractions a boy of his age typically deals with. He confessed to me before he left to visit his family that he'd been feeling quite lonely and isolated lately, which I understand, but unfortunately that's the nature of our work. He'll have plenty of time to make friends and enemies after we finish sealing all the cracks that Bill made in the fabric of this town. While I was annoyed that we had to halt our momentum so that he could fulfill familial obligations; it did give me some time to think about how to better mentor him. Another thing: while I never had an issue with being distracted by such urges; he's clearly struggling with his hormones. An acceptable problem for a boy his age to have, but it's really starting to get in the way of our work. He can't focus on anything for longer than a few minutes and the sweatiness is starting to become medically concerning. I've tried directing him to meditate or thinking about something else, which always works for me, but I forget that not everyone has my admirable levels of self-control and willpower. He is just a boy, after all.

In my dimensional travels, I'd encountered a device that would come in handy in a situation like this: A virtual reality helmet that can quickly and efficiently satisfy biological urges and clear away burgeoning curiosities. The problem would be obtaining one of the damn things; while I can easily find somewhere to order one on the VerseWeb, they don't ship to this dimension or take any of the currency I have. Furthermore, I can't just hand a teenaged boy a device like that without calibrating it first and making sure certain safeguards are in place -- and an off-the-shelf model just isn't going to be able to penetrate the plate in my skull.

 What I am able to do is find the schematics online, modify them, build my own and then download the software so I can calibrate it myself.

So, I did that!

The next time I notice him getting all twitchy and distant; I'll sit him down and present him with the OBSEC-8177, software version 3.2.9. He can go off and do whatever for about 15 minutes, and then hopefully become a more manageable student and more productive assistant.

Today we're working on some coursework, and then after the sun goes down it's out into the woods to track down the source of the whispers we both keep hearing.

-

Tuesday, September 6th: 

Our search for the whisperer was unfruitful, but it was at least refreshing. I'd been stuck in the house building the OBSEC the entire time Dipper had been gone. I sometimes forget the power of a good night walk, gets the blood pumping and the brain moving. I was able to have a decent talk with the boy, about where his studies are heading next and more about the important work we are doing.

I try not to tell him too much, for one I don't want to overwhelm him -- he's been through a lot and even though he's quick on the uptake, he still has his limits. For another, even though he has not shown me any reason not to, I don't trust him. He was very easily deceived by Bill for promises much more foolish and pettier than what I was offered, and his general anxiousness leads me to believe that he'd have trouble keeping his mouth shut if he were ever faced with torture, or even a light interrogation. He just doesn't have the focus nor the tools to endure that kind of thing.

Speaking of, the OBSEC is going to make its grand debut this evening. It didn't take long for Dipper to get distant and distracted on me, and it's very clear where his mind keeps wandering. I fear that week with his sister did little to dial down his inner tension, if anything he seems more agitated than ever. If this trend continues, I may have to insist he suspend his visits with her after next year, when he'll no longer be subject to the tempestuous family court system.

My hope is that spending some time clearing out the chemical garbage clogging up his brain will be able to help him find a proper center so that I can start letting him know about what we're doing, here. When he's done erasing all the messages Stanley's left me on my answering machine in the last few days, I'll let him take the helmet for a spin.

-

Friday, September 9th:

Success! Dipper has been an amazing assistant and an above par student these last few days. The OBSEC was just the shot in the arm he needed to become fully grounded and invested in our work. We've been able to make substantial progress in expanding and fortifying the forcefield that will keep that rancid triangle out of here for good. In the meantime, it will give me some space to either figure out a way to repair the dimensional rift OR keep it so well guarded that it will never be in danger of breaking free.

For now, the only way Bill is getting anywhere near my lab (and the rift) is if he's invited.

And he won't be, simple as that.

I really can't emphasize enough how much Dipper has improved. I had him take another look at a quantum problem that he was having immense difficulty with before his break, and he was able to see past his snag and solve it almost immediately. He demanded several more to make sure he'd really gotten it, which I was happy to provide. He finally believes me that they're fun, enjoyable, and foundational for the rest of his education. We'd been stuck here for a moment, it was going to be impossible for me to move to the next phase until he understood these concepts. It seems he has found his footing now, and I have a feeling he's going to really like what I have for him next: xenostring theory.

Oh, to be young and naive again ... I'll never forget the way I felt when I started studying xenostrings for the first time. Sure, I was 43, but I still felt the same rush of excitement and thrill of discovery that I'd feel when riding roller coasters and educational dark rides as a red-faced teen. And after xenostring theory, then...

No, no. I don't want to get too ahead of myself. I'll end up rushing the boy through what should be a sacred experience that he needs to take at his own pace.

-

Tuesday, September 13th

I've been busy these last few days helping Dipper with the basics of xenostring theory, which he has taken to like a duck to water. I'm encouraging his enthusiasm, which I admit is a little bit mean, as that has set him up for failure.  However, the overall lesson his failure will teach him may very well be more valuable than what he's trying to learn.

What he doesn't know, and what most that get into the field don't understand at first, is that xenostrings abhor enthusiasm and infatuation. The harder you fixate on them, the more impossible they are to discern. Dipper needs to learn to become more detached from his core emotions so that he can better perform his work, and until he learns how to do that, the array I've requested him to arrange will refuse to hold its shape. He's threatening to stay up all night to try and get it to work, and I'm debating whether I should intervene. Sleep is necessary for thinking, yet his current frustration is going to make the eventual lesson that much more potent and memorable. I'll see how I feel about it when we pause for a nutrient break this evening.

-

Wednesday, September 14th

Dipper is still working on the xenostring array, undeterred. He requested some stimulant medication earlier this morning, as coffee just wasn't doing it for him anymore, and I relented and let him have some of the green capsules I picked up during my extended layover on Vulpis VII. This may have been a mistake, as he seems to be having some sort of episode over the collapsed pile of xenostrings on the lab floor. His vitals seem fine, so I'm not concerned as of yet. If he pulls any more of his hair out, I may have to force an antidote of some sort into him. I think the purple ones I got on Canis IV should work well enough, though I should probably leave him in the bathtub overnight if it comes down to that.

Still, the wailing, moaning and gnashing of teeth will all be worth it in the end. I think he's getting close to figuring out that he needs to care less about what the strings are and what they're doing, and more about the fact that the strings are just plain nifty. But not too nifty, nifty in the way a tabloid cover entertains you while you're waiting in line to buy more peanut butter.

I should wrap this up, I think he just tried to choke himself out. Maybe I should be watching him a bit closer.

-

Saturday, September 17th

The comedown from the stimulants wasted two whole days, and I learned to never trust the boy's stated tolerance levels ever again. I didn't have to give him any antidotes, but anything he managed to learn he did not retain. He's frustrated with me, but I'm more frustrated with him for missing the point entirely. He said he felt better this morning, at least, but instead of sending him back to the xenostrings I suggested we investigate the whispering in the woods again. It was particularly potent last night, to the point both of us were sure that we could hear it indoors. Neither of us can quite make out what's being said, but it doesn't seem to be hostile in any way. Almost... inviting. Which means it's probably hostile.

Dipper had the brilliant idea of staying in the area around the house and trying to catch the whispers on some sort of audio equipment. He says that some spirits prefer magnetic tape, others prefer more modern digital means, and luckily for us we have both. He says that he has software on his computer that can enhance and analyze the audio, if we manage to catch any, which would be extremely useful if that's true. I don't really have a grasp on what computers can and can't do in this world. They were never really my forte in the first place; I just brute force my way through and have someone else clean up my mess a little later. Those were the days before software came in neat little executables and instead needed to be manually programmed and engaged each time you wanted to use it. I'll leave all of that to him, he needs a genuine win after his week of abject failures.

-

Tuesday, September 20th

We certainly heard a lot of whispers, so many that we went out a second night. Dipper is arranging and analyzing the audio now, which takes a bit of time. He says that he's already managed to isolate some of what we were hearing, he just needs to finish scrubbing through nearly 20 hours of waveforms to see what else we've picked up. It's promising, to be sure! I just wish there was a way it could be done a little more quickly. He said if I knew how to use the computer even a little that I could cut his workload in half, but I have neither the time nor the desire to learn the ins and outs of that showy, anorexic rectangle he calls a computer. I have been spending my time doing something much more sensible: investigating the logistics of getting a restraining order on my brother.

He already knows not to come around here, I'll shoot him if I see him on the property again, but the phone calls are really starting to get to me. Sometimes up to twice a day, if the mood strikes him. I have no idea what he's playing at, I don't have the patience to deal with whatever con he's running. Probably just asking for money. I wouldn't know; Dipper has been dealing with these messages for years. They're just so ... incessant, lately. Sometimes I can hear his voice when I'm in the other room, and I'm just so sick and tired of it. It makes focusing on my work much harder than it needs to be.

-

Wednesday, September 21st

Dipper has insisted I stop researching restraining orders, pointing out that it would only antagonize my brother further. The best thing to do, if I really want to keep him at arm's length, is to let him babble into the void. He may be correct about that, but I am more correct.

I'll just pursue it the next time Dipper's not here. I think he's expected in Seattle for Thanksgiving; perhaps I'll find the time, then. Granted, a lot of government offices will be closed, but perhaps I can yell at one of those rectangular surveillance devices people call phones and it will tell me the information I need.

This is annoying and unnecessary!

-

Friday, September 23rd

Dipper presented his findings from our excursion last weekend to me today, and I have to say -- they're quite impressive. He managed to catch several instances of the voices we heard, but not all. It was fascinating because, as he said, some existed on the magnetic tapes that did not exist on digital devices running at the same time, and vice versa. Others, which we reacted to, did not seem to be picked up by the equipment at all. Dipper was able to enhance the audio and noticed that it sounded a bit like backmasking -- which inspired him to reverse the sounds using his software. To his surprise, we captured what is, without a doubt, intelligible speech. In plain English, each time it showed up in the recording, it was saying:

"You'll trip and fall right into me."

It sounds like a bad song lyric, if you ask me, but it seems rather ominous, doesn't it? The voice doesn't sound like Bill, but Bill can sound like anything or anyone. Is he behind it? His taunts to me are usually much more direct, there's no reference to my body odor which has me doubtful, but if it IS from him, what does that even mean? I'll trip and fall right into you?

Hardly.

HARDLY!

I'm more fortified than ever. There is no angle I have not considered. Any vulnerability he might exploit is either out of sight or out of mind. Dipper isn't foolish enough to be taken in by him again, and I'm not foolish enough to put him in a position where he might be.

Get over yourself, Bill. Trip and fall right into a bottomless ravine.

-

Sunday, September 25th

Unexpectedly, Dipper had an interesting breakthrough with the xenostrings! He had left them alone for a few days, and sure enough, when he returned to them, they behaved much better. He's figured out that they're responding to his emotional state, which I am impressed with. It took me quite a while to get there, given how frustrated I used to become when I didn't get something that seemed obvious to everyone else.

This breakthrough also happened to come after an unfortunately needed break in our work to tend to the property itself. The leaves are already coming down, and we need to stay on top of them before they get on top of us. Then there's the matter of trimming trees, seeing if any need to be knocked down, and just general maintenance on both the grounds and the house.

By throwing himself into physical labor, and by focusing on the task of decoding the whispers we captured last weekend, he managed to detach himself from his infatuation with the strings. Maybe I should work him a bit harder; it might stimulate further eureka moments for him.

-

Wednesday, September 28th

Last night was another notable one for whispers from the woods; though the message definitely has changed. Dipper and I are debating over whether it's Bill trying to mess with us in some way, or if it's some other creature trying to get our attention -- for nefarious purposes or not. We've found the more we ignore it, the more insistent it tends to be. Occasionally saying "Sure!" or "Whatever!" will get it to quiet down for a little while before it works its way back into a constant hissing in the background.

We haven't set up any equipment to try and record it yet, I'm waffling on whether we should engage at all. It seems aware we were able to figure out the first message, which is why there's something new for us to look at now. Something doesn't feel quite right about it.

I'm outside listening to them build, now. Dipper needed to take a break with the OBSEC machine, and I'm inclined to let him. That thing is a miracle, I'm finally working with the protege I deserve. It's kept him so focused and level-headed, much more able to follow my lead. We've made such progress in such a short time! I can't even begin to imagine where we'll be by the New Year.

The whispers sound even more different now, and louder than before. Probably insults I'm better off not hearing. Dipper did leave his recorders out here, though. Maybe I'll try and catch some of this, it might interest him when he gets back from putting his head on straight.

-

Friday, September 30th

"Don't be so sure."

"I'm closer than you think."

Nonsense. Utter NONSENSE!

The whispers are indeed different. Still backmasked, still desperate and pathetic.

I can't believe this, I'm almost certain it's Bill now. This is what he's spending his time doing? Trying to get me to play Marco Polo in the woods? I used to think that was fun, but I don't anymore. I have no idea what he's playing at, nor why he's able to project his voice so forcefully into the barrier I spent so much time meticulously crafting.

I suppose the makeup of the town itself is to blame. I can't get far enough under the house to fortify the bedrock of the property; he might be able to seep in via the groundwater. Running water is always a problem, and of course I live in the middle of a lush forest instead of the desert.

If I'm aware I'm being taunted, I can't be taunted. Dipper is similarly unimpressed, though he does seem a bit troubled by it all. He doesn't seem as interested in eating lately, which is a sign that he's thinking too much. I think he needs some extra time with the OBSEC, the stress of both his xenostring array and Bill being annoying might be testing his limits.

-

TBC In Part I, Chapter Two: Dipper’s September

[spicyvampire]

Hi, since GMM has many Thai BL series, just wondering, do you have favorites from them? If you do, do you have 10 you like most so far?

I do not have the best relationship with GeeMeeMee but over the years they have provided some tasty bls here and there, I'll try to give you a little top 10

1.Not Me (2021)

To me that's like the best GeeMeeMee show ever made, great activism story, all the storylines are compelling, it gets accidentally funny with the twins stuff and the fact that Yok the resident arsonist is tryna fuck that cop so bad, but with Yok's help Dan finished realizing that he was part of a system that was beyond fixing and it was better to get himself free of it than staying, honestly has one of the best storyline and character development ever written in a bl

2. 3 Will Be Free (2019)

A gay mafia son, a stripper and a gogo bar manager walk into a bar, shenanigans ensue. To this day, the only GeeMeeMee show to have given me an endgame throuple and frankly one of the only cannon throuples we have in bl

3. Moonlight Chicken (2023)

By god Wen fucked that old man in the chicken shop, but in all seriousness this bl probably has the best breakup storyline I've ever seen in any media ever, it's a truly masterpiece; also we saw the story of a deaf character who uses sign language and that's not something you see often in bl tbh, wish we had more Gaipa and Alan but you take what u can get

4. Cherry Magic Thailand (2023)

Honestly this one took me by surprise, I'm not a fan of remakes but they did a really good job adapting those japanese characters to a Thailand setting while keeping some of the japanese background there, and go a bit further and deeper than the original did with some of the characters

5. Wandee Goodday (2024)

This one was my obsession for the last few weeks, unfortunately I think the show lost some momentum around the middle of it, and it needed more balance on some stuff, like one of Dee's big trauma wasn't even resolved even if they showed it affecting him pretty severely at least twice, while we spend like almost the whole 2nd half of the show on Yak's, overall very silly and enjoyable and also nice asexuality representation which is not something you see often in bl

6. The Eclipse (2022)

I'm not really a high school boy bl type of person and I usually avoid them but they got me with this one, I think Akk's storyline ressemble Dan's a lot in the sense that he had to realize he was part of a system that is bad and is using him to maintain a bad status quo and then had to free himself from it even if that's all he's ever known, Ayan is of course of a great help with his flirtiness, shenanigans and overall fuck the rules attitude

7. Bad Buddy (2021)

Thai bl's Romeo and Juliet, what I loved the most about this one was the attention put on the dynamics of Pran and Pat and their respective families, and how even if they didn't succeed in changing their fighting parents minds, they stayed together and continued to love each other because at the end of the day, the love was between them and it had nothing to do with their parents

8. He's coming to me (2019)

I love me a ghost story like any other guy, so this was right up my lane, I gotta admit it's been like 4 years since I've seen this so I don't remember the storyline clearly, but it left a good impression on me, so much that years later I still think of it as good

9. Only Friends (2023)

Top 10 messiest friend group ever created, this could have been higher on the list if they didn't do Boston dirty in the very last goddamn episode of the show

10. Dark Blue Kiss (2019)

I honest to god remember nothing about the mains but this show has the best coffee shop au in the ql universe and it's from 2019, SunMork chemistry is just firing all over the place, definitely my favorite Gawin ost too

[numinously-yours]

What to leave behind and what to bring into the new month

Happy last week of January! Pick a group for insights on what you should leave behind as the month ends and what you can focus on in the new month ahead. Let me know if you have any topics you'd like me to pull for!

My dear pile one,

It is time to let go of your need to do everything on your own. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or weighed down by your responsibilities – or what you think is your responsibility – try remembering that you’re not alone and there are people here to help carry the load. Allow others to help, even in small ways.

Personal growth and development may be a great focus point for you in the upcoming month. The Magician brings forth the tools and energy you need to make progress in this personal journey. Focus on your “why” and look inward at your power. This period of growth will last you throughout (and beyond) the month, so don’t get hard on yourself if you don’t see immediate results. Growth is not linear.

Hello lovely twos,

Rather than the Tower representing a destruction that has already happened/is currently happening, I think you’re being told to leave January with a bang (semi-literally), and create the destruction of your self-limiting beliefs. Light up some sticks of dynamite, rev up the bulldozer, or get that wrecking ball swinging cause we’re not going into the new month with any of our same thoughts. Your self-limiting beliefs have felt like a chaos storm in your brain, and this is your permission to let them go.

February is a month of self-exploration. It is a month to figure out why these self-limiting beliefs exist. This may be a good time to do some shadow work. Shadow work is tough, but I think some good realizations can come out of it. Here are some shadow work prompts if you’re ready to get started. You may find truths you didn’t know existed. Or you may find yourself answering just as you’d expect, but this time… it’s gonna hit different. You’re going to find answers for yourself which will put a lot into perspective and really help with letting go of your self-doubt.

For those who aren’t ready to dive deep into the darker parts of your soul (which is A-OK!), take a look at the resources at your fingertips. How can you align these resources with your goals? For example, do you have a goal to say nicer things to yourself each day? Make yourself a daily check list – add some normal items like “1 hour with no screen time” or “brush your teeth” and then add “say one good thing about yourself”. As you check of the easier items, you’ll see the tougher ones. And in an effort to make those check marks, you’ll get in the groove of participating in the hard tasks.

My pile three friends,

Teamwork and collaboration seems to have been a theme in January. Whether it be your new years resolution, a project at work, or homing in on a new habit, the foundation was set in this last month. I wouldn’t say you’re really leaving anything behind, but the creation stage is ending. You are moving forward into the stabilization and growth phases of this beautiful thing you’ve launched.

Bring this sense of accomplishment into February with you to start the month off strong. You’ve done really great work! One great way to keep momentum is a partnership between your higher self and the work you are doing. As you continue to build on the project you started think: what can I get out of this project personally and what can I bring to this project to ensure it thrives. You will feel better about the end results knowing that it made your heart happy and that you had something to do with its success.

To my pile fours,

You know what your higher self is trying to tell you. You know what your guides are hinting at. Maybe it seems too good to be true or it’s scary, but either way, you gotta get rid of the clouds you’re using as a way to doubt yourself. I know from experience that self-doubt speaks LOUD. It is MEAN. But it is soo worth getting past. It doesn’t mean it’ll go away for forever, but it sure can get quieter.

In this situation, “clarity” can be seen as the opposite of “cloudy” , and mental clarity is exactly what the King of Swords wants you to bring into/work on in the new month. You may not be ready to jump right into this new thing in February, but you can do the work this month to feel more confident when the time officially comes. Lay out the facts for yourself: I have done hard things in the past; I have the resources I need to be successful; I have people I know will support me when it gets difficult. And repeat these facts to yourself as much as you need to. As with pile two, you could do some shadow work to  bring clarity to why you feel this hesitancy to move forward.

[maryellencarter]

Leia found a Youtube channel that has a lot of classic NHL games (filmed on potatoes of course as the NHL is wont to do) and now that I have glasses --

-- did I mention I had to get glasses to pass my vision test to get my ID? Anyway now that I have glasses it turns out I can usually read the jersey numbers so I don't have to rely on telling the players apart by their body language and playstyle.

So I've been watching Wayne Gretzky, who I swear had eyes on the end of his hockey stick to get some of the shot angles he got, moved like a roller skater, fell like a martial artist, let the puck chase him instead of the other way around...

We've been doing good work on our current X-wing story with comparing different pilots' flying styles to the playstyles of hockey greats, since I let Leia try to get me into the hockey a while back and it turned out I get very *specific* with my analyses of certain players (since I'm coming at it from a background of soccer, a little ballet and karate, and watching other people figure skate). "Wedge Antilles flies like Sidney Crosby skates" was not the take I expected to come up with but it honestly really helps?

Anyway I wanted to watch some Gretzky because, you know, he is the standard by which all other hockey players are measured, and I was hoping to maybe come up with some more insights about starfighter piloting, but the main thing I've got is that he was playing more *ice* hockey than anybody else. Definitely anybody else on the rink, possibly anybody else ever.

What do I mean by that? Well, of course, hockey skating is a balance of the goals of the other two kinds of ice skating. Figure skaters (and ice dancers, pairs skaters, that whole category) are about Must Be Graceful/Precise. Speed skaters are of course about Gotta Go Fast. Hockey is about *maneuverability* -- you're fast to catch the puck and make it go where the other team is not, but the most important thing is making the puck go to Destinations, and the second most important thing is keeping the other players from sending you to Destinations (such as the boards, the penalty box, or the hospital).

So anyway, a lot of hockey players, when they're trying to catch the puck, they're basically sprinting down the ice, pumping their elbows and usually flailing their stick to some extent. They're treating the ice like a floor that happens to be slippery, and their skate blades as how they compensate for the slippery. They'd do just as well or better playing field hockey.

Gretzky would have been, I think, absolutely terrible at field hockey. He did not run on the ice. He worked *with* it. He didn't go flailing after the puck -- he kept his center of gravity very controlled in general, his stops were very clean and he played almost crouched a lot of the time -- and while he was waiting for the puck to pop out of a scrum against the boards, he'd be gliding along doing those little wiggles a figure skater uses to build speed, or just moving forward like he was on wheels instead of blades. When he had the puck and was trying to hustle it down to the net, he'd do these smooth crossovers like a figure skater or a rollerblade dancer, keeping his momentum perfectly in line with his center of gravity, no wasted energy at all.

None of which is directly translatable to starfighter tactics, and yet I think it might be helping. It's really hard to articulate what makes Luke Skywalker a good pilot other than he has the Force plus Skywalker recklessness. But I think... I think it's not inaccurate to say that he's just working on a slightly different surface than everybody else?

Like. I don't know if that makes any sense. The other players were running on a floor that was fighting them. Gretzky was *skating*. Luke is flying through the same space as everyone around him, in one sense, but he's also interacting differently with that space -- the Force makes him more able to connect to what's around him and work with it instead of having to fight it.

[khiphop-discussions]

RAP:PUBLIC Ep.8 Part 1 Thoughts

"Bitch, I said what I said" - "Paint the Town Red" Doja Cat

Not Jtong lowkey calling Block 1 dirty lol.

At least they're (Block 1) funny

Block 4 just subtly dropping hints that Since should come back

Since said she was surprised by how dirtt Block 6 was and all I could do was laugh.

Nah, the editors should have cut parts about some blocks being dirty out cause this is embarrassing. They're too funny for this.

Damn, she called them out!

Ahhhh Joonie's so lucky getting lessons from Since! She wins.

OK back to Block Competition! No more rappers calling each other dirty haha

This is kinda another infinite challenge.

Block 3 vs 6: This reminds me that Yang Kyle and Haon have a song ("Fly You Out") they dropped recently. I'll go check that out.

I hope Block 3 wins but I think Block 6 is gonna be hilarious.

Damn Kohway so much energy. Super clear, powerful voice.

Adebayor!!!

"Fuck whatever you talking about bro. Let us talk our shit" Kyle don't give NO type of fucks lol. I would hate to face him. Thank god I'm just a viewer so I can laugh.

Kyle's husky voice makes his raps sound so gritty.

Then Haon's verse comes in perfectly.

"We Want More!" That's how I feel about Block 3 performances

"I'd rather attack than show my back" "I'd rather be alone than join a team" Get 'em Gwangil

OK Haon's lyrics are crazy but it's too much to type them all cause it's too fast. He ate Block 6 up!

"Fuck your opinion. I do my thing" Yang Kyle !!!!!!

"You should be glad to have your name next to mine. I don't plan on having brothers who are losers" SINCE

Damn, Geegooin messed up but he was doing so well.

"We never lose, we the A team" Yunha

Dommiu's got it all too. This wasn't even her best rap on the show so far and it was still solid.

KYLE! THAT'S ENOUGH!

Yeah, someone's gonna try and recruit Kyle soon but I don't think he'll be with it.

King Kohway!

Mckdaddy comes in and kills it too.

I'm sorry. Block 6 is dope as fuck. But despite that I still feel like Kyle is still the standout to me right now.

Haon is going crazy too though. I can't catch all his lyrics to write them down but bro he's going crazy!

Yunha's rap is great.

"I move smarter, LE SSERAFIM. Walk in this I'm VVIP" somebody cut off Kyle's mic off. There's no reason why ONE rapper is eating pretty much everybody on stage alive.

Haon's amazing, Yunha, all the rappers on block 6. All dope. But Kyle is just that dude in this challenge

"That's it?" Yeah, I thought Kaogaii would come harder with the disses. They hyped it up during the practice at the block.

This Yunha, Haon, and Kyle trio is fucking insane.

"You're always going backward since you keep doing rash things" Damn...

Odomar is killing it. His lyrics are so good too.

Joonie!!!

James killed it

"I'm painting my dream" - Dommiu

Okay I like the way block 6 set this up. Everyone keeps the momentum perfect.

"Goofy looking motherfuckers" Kyle square up, right now. Cause now you're just playing in their face! 😆"Step the FUCK up, Kyle!"

Kaogaii has to mock him cause his offense is too strong hahaha. He's gotta try and make him look goofy so people don't take him serious lol. Nice strategy but I don't think it will work.

The last verse was just pure diss. Block 3 ate them up round after round then ended with that. Damn.

Kyle was the MVP of this match up. Or VVIP

Yunha said it too.

Block 3 wins as expected.

4 vs 5: idk how this one is gonna go. It's a wild card for me.

[twothpaste]

Thoughts about Porky?

my thoughts on porky are such a vast tangled web of forever spaghetti that i'm not even sure where to begin or what to pin down. the premise of a tormented child ascending to near-godhood out of sheer misanthropic spite towards the whole wide world makes my brain do backflips like a sea world dolphin. i'll ramble a bit about him.

he's ness' foil. just two chubby kids who probably grew up with their (un)fair share of bullying. the only thing distinguishing them was the familial abuse porky suffered, which he inevitably regurgitated. then destiny comes along, choosing ness over porky, and the jealousy just eats porky alive. watching his bestie accumulate friends and accolades, unable to accept it's his own rotten behavior that's driven a wedge between them. gotta imagine the burden of cutting porky off was almost unbearable for ness. somethin' that keeps him up at night, wondering if he'd just been a little kinder, or sterner, or more understanding - maybe he could've saved his old friend? not quite yet realizing it was Not At All his responsibility to "fix" someone who'd dug his grave and laid in it. porky's the kinda bad guy you love to hate, but considering his upbringing, you hesitate to blame the poor schmuck. all he knows is authority and manipulation. if you gave any ornery ostracized thirteen year old unlimited power - instead of empathy and guidance - they'd probably go down the path of vengeance, too.

he's lucas' foil. both of 'em were given plenty of reasons to hate the world. when faced with an unhappy childhood, do you choose love anyways, and move forward? or do you let it become your villain origin story? porky refuses to grow up, to such an extreme degree, that he's gotta drag everybody down into neverland with him. thinks he's got human nature all figured out, when really - kid dropped out in eighth grade - his expertise starts at the middle school lunch table and ends at Lord of the Flies. where lucas seeks to bring about a brighter future, porky's terminally obsessed with the past. barfs up the same old hierarchical capitalist bullshit he grew up with. hoards memorabilia. makes monuments to his warped nostalgia, as if anyone on the nowhere islands knows or cares. even tries to mold lucas into a makeshift ness - one last final battle, one last chance for destiny to stop me, here, take this baseball bat, come get me, let's play. but it doesn't worrrrk, because the gilded past he aches for is long buried, and these people aren't actors in his self-aggrandizing biopic. where lucas wakes up and says, "i don't have to be the same coward i was yesterday," porky says, "me? change? not a chance in hell." even if it costs him everything. porky's real worst nightmare is a world that moves on without him. once he's trapped in his time capsule, that's exactly what he's got in store.

i think he's the sunk cost fallacy incarnate. the sheer momentum of a thousand horrible decisions he can never turn back on. earthbound porky might get a little bit of slack, sure. but given a bazillion years worth of opportunities to change, mother 3 porky actively chose to get worse. what fucks me up most is how real he is. can't call a villain like this "insane", or even terribly exaggerated, when i'm lookin' out the window these days at billionaires, covid deniers, fuckin' terfs and maga hats. some people really would sooner die, or become all-consuming monsters, than admit they were wrong. it's all or nothing. in his eyes, either he's a visionary hero, or everything he's ever done was irredeemably reprehensible - and all the torment and criticism and loneliness he endured was therefore deserved. he can't bear the weight of it, so he simply doesn't. that's what underpins his character, to me. like. the moment he'd admit fault, or apologize, or express an ounce of regret? he'd cease to be porky. denying himself the human capacity to grow, forever, just to spare his fragile ego. could almost pity him. almost.

a perfect villain for both of the stories he terrorizes, and my favorite villain in anything ever. when itoi said "porky is truly a poem in himself" he wasn't kidding.

[coldgoldlazarus]

Honestly like

I've been in a zen state of "whatever happens with RWBY happens, it's out of my hands either way" basically ever since the last big RT controversy and Volume 9. I wasn't going to push for a Volume 10 greenlight like some of the fandom were, but I would still watch and enjoy it if it happened. Companies all suck and almost all of the media I love was built on miserable worker treatment; I can name the Metroid Prime trilogy off the top of my head as a known example, the first two games were made under extreme crunch and the third was only marginally better. Metroid Dread seems to have been similarly rough behind the scenes. Across The Spiderverse, too, for a different example. RT wasn't special or unique in this, and I never bought into the parasocial aspect of that enough to feel betrayed by them like many apparently did. It sucks that it is this way, but like, if you tried to weed out every problematic thing from your life you'd be left with nothing; you gotta pick your battles.

I digress. Point is, RWBY's future has been up in the air for A While now, so this doesn't feel all that different for me. And maybe in the long term this could turn out to be a good thing, if someone else does pick it up and can get most of original CRWBY rehired to keep working on it. It is a long shot, but if anything slightly less of a long shot than when the idea was originally brought up during that whole controversy drama. Though I do want to caution people, hope for the best, brace for the worst. This could just as easily turn into another Gen:Lock Season 2 situation.

Honestly, the show I'm much more concerned about at this point is Recorded By Arizal. Those pilot shorts were really promising, but then it's been radio silence since, last I heard, and now whether or not that will get to have anything done with it is unlikely at best. RWBY at least has the benefit of momentum and attention behind it; RbA didn't get a chance to get off the ground, and I'm not sure whether RT or WB or both were to blame. But as unlikely as it is, I do hope that that Yssa can find some way to make it a reality.

But at the end of the day, they're just shows. RT was just a company, and while not uniquely awful like some insist, still a pretty bad one. I'm not really that broken up about it, neither do I see it as cause for celebration. What happens, happens.

The important thing here is the people left behind. Casey Lee Williams having to find out from twitter bothers me a whole of a hell lot more than everything else I previously mentioned about this situation; I really hope everyone left in the drift from this can recover quickly, and I wish them better going forward.