#i literally just got out of work and checked the results

[arkhammaid]

Norris is out in Q1 Baku quali

STOP I JUST FOUND OUT

[frankencanon]

if masculinizing hrt has taught me one thing it's one why sometimes in movies/books/etc a dude will go a long time being unable to shave and somehow not grow a beard

was anyone gonna tell me that not everyone can even grow a beard?! some dudes can only grow a little facial hair, some dudes only grow it in certain areas, and some dudes can't grow much of anything at all

this whole time I thought it was plot holes!

[dafpork]

dafpork is like a modern day speakeasy to me because everyone comes in like it’s forbidden but since it’s the modern day it’s perfectly normal. Little secret club

LMAO YES!!! THIS IS A REALLY GOOD ANALOGY.. AND SEE IT'S SO FUNNY because i'm like I DON'T WANT IT TO BE FORBIDDEN... i'm such an accidental hypocrite in that regard because i'm like "i want more people to talk about them i want people to be loud and proud it makes me sad to hear that people might have been initially embarrassed to ship them there's so much to love :(((( anyway here's my SHITTY ART of these people i HATE i'm so EMBARRASSED thanks for putting up with me in my SHAME CORNER UGH i'm so EMBARRASSED they're so EMBARRASSING i SUCK they SUCK it all SUCKS" LOL and i do mean it in a joking manner... mostly... but i'm kind of now at the point where i'm like. Okay well you're going to have to put in some more legwork if you want people to talk about them. (but, again, just the fact that people talk about and support them enough is so great! it's so weird and wonderful to me that people are calling it on dafpork on platforms other than this one, people who may not know i exist... it's cool hearing a term you and your friend came up with in a private discord be used, it shows how much growth there HAS been since there really used to be nothing!)

a dafpork speakeasy sounds so cool though oh my god can you imagine Porky and Daffy themed cocktails...............

COME JOIN US AT THE DAFPORK SPEAKEASY. which, you are not supposed to advertise that a speakeasy is a speakeasy. but it's subversive. like Daffy. or something. this is your sign to play pig and duck with us. yes you

[diltonsstrangescience]

DANG. Absolutely cold-blooded.

[tkbrokkoli]

nnnnggghh are these ppl fuckling stupid wtffffff

[leafy-m]

So I hit my 700th edit for the WHA wiki today, because I am a totally normal person

[noseboopsanddandelionwishes]

I feel like some of the reason that generative AI and AI tools have become popular and that things like this seem to be helpful, is the focus on completing or finishing something.

We don't necessarily get credit just for showing up to class; we also have to pass the test. The goal is only met when the website page is written and published.

In some instances and scenarios, using completion as a metric is understandable, but to experiment with other metrics of value, I have been trying to allow for areas where that doesn't matter. And just allow to try and fail, or get better, or just do the process because then I'm doing it.

I play guitar though I have no plans to play anything at all - but I put my fingers on the fretboard and experimented with what made sound. I bake a cookie recipe and chase the flavor or texture as the whim takes me and sometimes change it 10 times before the end result.

When the goal becomes "finish the book", then having it summed up makes perfect sense. The goal being "hear the author and their turn of phrase even if it's strange" or "sympathise with the characters and feel their journey" it's different.

Have you ever read lyrics before hearing a song? I don't know if it's just me, but they make no bloody sense when I do. And sometimes it's a song I know, and I read the lyrics and they fall flat, have zero impact, and are completely indecipherable. But when spaced out, set to instrument, emphasized in certain ways, suddenly many meanings emerge as each phrase is sung.

Idk, I think it's kind of like that?

But when I'm just trying to quickly absorb the meaning of the song through the lyrics, I miss the meaning of the song - but I did take in all the lyrics.

Making completed works, and getting good grades, and making products - all emphasize that the only value is after something is finished. So, I kind of get the push for tools to help us finish things quicker, so we achieve the thing.

But sometimes I think we need the space to not do that, and have it be valued - the work in progress, or even just the partially executed ideas, starts of things, and random trails that lead nowhere in the end but were a part of the experience. Running through hypotheticals and discarding choices and only making it 70% of the way through a course. There is no closed loop, or job well done, or finale. But they still matter and added to and enriched my life and sometimes prepared me for some other thing.

what is HAPPENING

[complainblogforthevoid]

I've finally figured out an argument that convinces coding tech-bros that AI art is bad.

Got into a discussion today (actually a discussion, we were both very reasonable and calm even through I felt like committing violence) with a tech-bro-coded lady who claimed that people use AI in coding all the time so she didn't see why it mattered if people used AI in art.

Obviously I repressed the surge of violence because that would accomplish nothing. Plus, this lady is very articulate, the type who makes claims and you sit there thinking no that's wrong it must be but she said it so well you're kind of just waffling going but, no, wait-- so I knew I had to get this right if I was gonna come out of this unscathed.

The usual arguments about it being about the soul of it and creation fell flat, in fact she was adamant that anyone who believed that was in fact looking down at coding as an art form as she insisted it is. Which, sure, you can totally express yourself through coding. There's a lot more nuance as to the differences but clearly I was not going to win this one.

The other people I was with (literally 8 people anti-ai against her, but you can't change the mind of someone who doesn't want to listen and she just kept accusing us of devaluing coding as an art) took over for I kid you not 15 minutes while I tried desperately to come up with a clear and articulate way to explain the difference to her. They tried so many reasonable arguments, coding being for a function ("what, art doesn't serve a function?") coding being many discrete building blocks that you put together differently, and the AI simply provides the blocks and you put it together yourself ("isn't that what prompt building is") that it's bad for the environment ("but not if it's used for capitalism, hm?" "Yeah literally that's how capitalism works it doesn't care about the environment" she didn't like that response)

But I finally got it.

And the answer is: It's not about what you do, it's about what you claim to be.

Imagine that someone asks an AI to write a code and, by some miracle, it works perfectly without them having to tweak it---which is great because they couldn't tell you what a single solitary thing in that code means.

Now imagine this person, with their code that they don't know how it works, goes and applies to be a coder somewhere, presenting this AI code as proof that they're qualified.

Should they be hired?

She was horrified, of course. Of course they shouldn't be. They're not qualified. They can't actually code, and even if by some miracle they did have an AI successfully write a flawless code for every issue they came across that wouldn't be their code, you could hire any shmuck on the street to do that, no reason to pay someone like they're creating something.

When actual engineers use AI what they do is get some kind of base, which they then go though and check for problems and then if they find any they fix them, and add on to the base code with their own knowledge instead of just trying different prompt after prompt until they randomly come across one that works.

People who generate code like this don't usually call themselves engineers. They're people who needed a bit of code and didn't have the knowledge to generate it, and so used a resource.

And there you go. There are people who have none of the skills of artists, they don't practice, they don't create for themselves. When they feed the prompt to the AI they then don't just use the resulting image as a reference point for their own personal masterpiece, and if they don't like it they don't have the skills to change it---they simply try another prompt, and do that until they get something they like.

These people are calling themselves artists.

Not only that, these people are bringing the AI generated thing to interviews, and they are getting hired, leaving people who slave over their craft out of the job.

And that is the difference, for the tech bros who think AI art isn't a big deal.

[baambied]

୨୧ 𝑻𝑾𝑶'𝑺 𝑩𝑬𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑵 𝑶𝑵𝑬

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔 abby, who is "straight" just can't keep her eyes away from ellie's girlfriend, who seems to now live in their shared apartment .... abby also couldn't keep her hand out her boxers anytime she hears the vulgar and inappropriate noises from ellie's room.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 - threesome , cursing, strap(reader!rec) clit stimulation, abby cums untouched , masterbation(abby) , abby lowk a perv, dirty talk , reader described to have kinky curly hair.

m.list

ellie wasn't a stupid girl, very smart, very observant, especially when it came to things she liked..so how could she not notice how her best friend abby acted around her beloved girlfriend anytime she'd bring her over their apartment, the stuttering, the red rosy cheeks on abbys freckled face...of course ellie noticed...anyone with a brain would.

but it did confuse ellie, last time she checked, abby was straight..she was literally in a two year relationship with some guy named owen (who was an absolute dick and abby broke up with months ago but still), and it seemed like abby liked him...atleast from ellie point of view...and abby never seemed to have any attraction towards any women.

now what ellie wasn't aware of is how abby was only with owen just so she could get rid of those stupid butterflies that appeared in her stomach when she was around a pretty girl...what ellie didn't know is that anytime ellie would come to the gym with her on their days off abby's eyes couldn't leave ellie form sometimes resulting is abby's underwear getting a little to sticky though she'd never admit that to anyone.

little did ellie know owen couldn't get abby off for shit..she'd have to watch some type of lesbian porn after owen left the apartment just to feel relieved and to stop yearning sensation between her thighs.

and what ellie didn't know is that...abby REALLY wanted to fuck her girlfriend...you..

she remembers the first time she saw- well heard you with ellie at their apartment...not a moment she particularly proud of...

abby walked through the door stumbling over pairs of shoes that weren't hers as she had just got back from work, a scowl on her face as she muttered curses at her ungrateful coworkers..it wasn't a good day all she wanted to do was get her sweaty clothes off and take a warm shower than sleep her ass off.

she stopped for a moment, putting her bag down, her eyes examining the shoes on the entrance floor... Mary Jane's? when the fuck did ellie wear Mary Jane's???

she walked deeper into the apartment, frown evident on her tired face did ellie have someone over?? this thought slightly annoyed abby...ellie could have gave her a heads up.

as abby turned the corner going into the hall where her and ellie's bedroms sat, that's when she heard it.

gasping? no

loud...breathing? yes but no

this lead to abby standing in front of ellie's door, her eyes wide, cheeks a bright red and mouth slightly agaped as her ears took in the live sound of basically porn behind it, she has only heard a girl moan through her phone..not in real life..

she leaned closer, wanting to get a better listen

and oh boy, did she think whoever was moaning- having the time of their life behind this door sounded so fucking pretty...

next thing she knew, she was laying on her bed, faced down on the side of it, hips frantically moving against the corner on the bed as if she was a dog in heat, her teeth gritting as she tried her best to be quiet, low whines escaping once in awhile when she got to sensitive.. hands fisting up her white sheets eagerly..drool on the side of her cheek as her hips buckled faster, the frabic of her underwear along with the bed sheets rubbing against her wet, sticky pulsing pussy kept on by punishment,she could feel herself clenching around nothing as she went faster...she knew what she was doing was weird....probably even perverted...i mean who the fucks gets off to their best friend fucking some girl?

well, abby did - does...

this week long never ending cycle continued, abby coming home from work, stressed out...pent up...and to hear the beautiful breathy noises that escaped ellie's room seemed to make it worse for her but somehow some fucking way she'd always ended up in her bed with a hand down her pants.

she had meant you face to face one day which had only fueled her hunger for you more.

abby was sitting on the couch, leaning in it lazingly while typing in a laptop with a small frown on her face, all this work for one fucking project? not only was her job kicking her ass but her college work was too, and suddenly she heard pattering of bare feet coming from the hallway..the scowl on her face deepend at the thought of ellie coming in the living room to bother her with nonsense.

"ellie, if you're gonna show me another one of those weird colorful worms you drew that you claim looks like jesse, I'm really not in the mood for it" abby's almost annoyed but tired voice called out, slightly rolling her eyes in the process.

"uh..no..just left my waterbottle.."

abby face frowned deeper at the unfamiliar voice, she snapped her head around and looked to the hallway..her eyes widened and mouth slowly open.

when did ellie have a girl over- were you here the entire time?!?

what the fuck?

abby's eyes looked around your figure, your hair nicely styled as if it hadn't been touched since you did it, you wore what it looked like one of ellie's oversized- wait ...no...abby's hoodie that ellie basically stole from her on...you...abby's cheeks flushed at that little detail and her eyes finally land at your legs...bare...the hoodie was big enough to fit you like a dress..

"uhhhhhhhh ah uhhh" abby's awkwardly- stupidly voice came out in response

you gave her a sweet smile and walked over to the couch she was sitting at, abby's eyes widened face pink as she looked at you... her back, suddenly straightening and her mouth open, ready to stutter out a question, but all you reach at is the counter next to the couch , grabbing a light pink water bottle.

"sorry uhh abby is it? ellie told me about you...." you state all smiley as you held your pink water bottle, fingers moving over the metal as you observed abby who looked like the most awkward person ever "well...uh goodnight.." you finished yourself sounding a little awkward as abby hadn't said anything in response, who stepped away and swiftly turned around to the hallway, making your way to ellie's room once more.

abby could hear the door close, followed by the sound of ellie's faint voice asking, "Why'd you take s' long'

abby gulped hardly as her eyes stared glued at the spot you once stood, you were so.....cute...not only did abby find your moans absolutely beautiful to the point she could get off on them alone...she found you beautiful...and wanted nothing more than to get you off.

and now here abby stands once again...infront of ellie's closed door, inside her mouth gently biting off her cheek flesh.. face flushed and painted a dusty pink as her ears ate up the lude sounds that came from behind the door.

all she wanted to do was ask ellie if she was hungry - it was finally friday and abby had planned to order chinese and in her mind she recalls ellie munching on a bag of lays chips eailer complaining about no more chicken in the freezer to make for dinner eailer in the day..now it was about 9pm.

abby felt waves of different emotions taking over her body, embarrassment, nervousness....even slightly excited...but also guilt since she left the food place worker on her phone in the living room- wasn't her fault she planned to quickly ask ellie what she wanted and get back to them to order it...but now abby stood still ..almost frozen...

a shaky breath left her throat as her muscular arm raised up before fastly knocking on the door

"h-hey...ellie do you want....chinese...food" abby's voice increasingly getting lower with each word that escaped her throat...the sounds didn't stop if anything they got louder..for a second abby wondered if the phone operator could also hear from the living room table..abby gulped slowly...she could feel her knees buckling as she raised her voice again "ellie the chinese food is- i meant do you want - fuck!"

now abby was just annoyed, not because of how pent up she was beginning to feel from the sounds escaping from behind the door but also because she was fucking hungry, and she was being kind enough to pay for ellie's meal- who couldn't stop for a second to open the door.

really, how horny could she be? (as if she's one to judge)

without thinking abby's rough hand gripped the door knob and she threw it open, the sounds becoming more clear to her ears in an instant

"ellie! i- ..." abby's words were quickly stopped once she caught the sight infront of her she tried to look away but...god...

ellie and you hadn't seemed to notice abby's figure by the now opened door...you two were pre-occupied...there on ellie's bed with twisted up savage starlight blankets laid you, your face buried head first in a pillow as you hips was perched up in the air, abby could notice the sweat on your skin and your slightly shaky body...behind you ellie's hips snapping rapidly and roughly, her tattooed hand slithered between your thighs.

abby's nostrils now filled with the smell of sex and sweat..she felt like her throat would close up at any moment from the sight infront of her..her knees buckling the tingling feeling in her stomach now landing between her thighs.

abby - to caught up in her own thoughts didn't realize ellie's mouth moving..seemingly saying something to you, her own ears blocking out any sound from the room.

"abby...abby - please- abby!"

slowly as if abby's consciousness came back she heard her name...not someone calling out to her......but someone..saying her name continously almost to themselves..like a prayer...and it just so happen...to be the beautiful moans abby was obsessed with.

wide eyes and blazing cheeks, abby felt like she needed to pass out, lightheaded

why were you moaning her name?

ellie's green eyes stared at abby's figure intently her hip movements slowing down, she observed abby's shocked face with a small smirk on her face..slightly out of breath ellie leaned down to you...fingers brushing your hair out the way to catch your ear.

"look at her, you got her all shy huh?" ellie whispered into your ear but loud enough for abby to hear..you let out a soft moan as your face leaned deeper into ellie's blankets.

your body suddenly flinching as you let out a yelp when you felt ellie's palm roughly meet your ass "turn your fucking head and look at her" ellie roughly states..her words coming out as a demand you couldn't ignore..slowly you turned your head..and abby's eyes meant your face...your worn out face

god you looked a mess

a beautiful mess

your pretty kinky curls all in your face, spit coating your mouth and cheek,pretty pink swollen lips.. rough breathes, escaping your throat as your teary eyes meant her's.

abby's knees buckled at the sight of your face, the pulsating between her legs growing stronger...hunger for food disappearing and replaced with a hunger for something else.

"fucking slut ..right?" ellie's voice snaps abby's gaze towards her...abby taking in ellie's naked figure, her chest her muscular arms on your waist...toned stomach...waist...holy shit..

"huh-" abby choked out

"she has her girlfriend's cock inside her, yet she's moaning out someone else's name.." you moan out loudly at ellie's words, your own hips moving earning another slap on your ass "don't fucking move"

ellie's eyes goes to abby once more who still stared at her...well..stared at her lower region instead.

"just gonna stand there abs..? i know how much you spent your time with your hands down your pants thinking about fucking my own girlfriend" abby's eyes went wide as i sudden panic waved into her, her stuttering words coming out in "i-i dont- i" she knew ellie was right..so embarrassingly right...

"sit on the bed, abby." ellie interrupted the stuttering girl, abby could tell ellie's sentence was a demand..which caused her to breathe deeply, slowly stepping near the bed, hands sweaty and shaky at her sides.

abby didn't know how or why this happened, but what she certainly knew was that the food operator was definitely not on her phone anymore.

abby sat at the edge of the bed, she could feel her hips softly moving in an attempt to gain some sort of friction, and she could feel how shaky her legs had become...it had been probably 13 minutes...you were in a different position now...on top of ellie riding her as if she would disappear any second but yet...the words that came out your mouth had abby's named mixed into them...abby considered this as some sort of punishment for her perverted behavior for the last 2 weeks...how she had to just sit here and watch, abby swore if she laid a finger on her cunt she'd cum right on the spot.

she could feel ellie's eyes on her...ellie who leaned against the bed frame, chest breathing rapidly up and down at your movements on top of her but yet she kept her composer...or atleast tried to..

...her freckled face pink as her half lidded eyes stated at abby...she could tell how this affected abby.....her body language...she can even see abby's hips move against the bed...she looked like a sad puppy who wanted nothing more than to be touched which ellie wasn't giving her...or wasn't allowing to give her either.

and in all honesty, you did feel like a slut....you remembered when you first saw abby the time you left your waterbottle in the living room...your eyes drifting around...her buff arms...thick thighs..you thought she was pretty...and you told ellie that obviously..

and those little words you muttered about her bestfriend somehow led to this..you desperately riding your girlfriends strap while abby watched from behind.

"wanna touch her?" ellie's breathy voice called out to abby who almost looked liked she was entranced by your movements, she almost couldn't register what ellie said to her..her eyes blinking slowly as she looked to ellie, desperation in her eyes just like the desperation was fluid in your body language.

"touch her..she wants it.." ellie's voice mumbles as she looked up at you on top of her, one of her hands running up your sweaty chest gripping your breast as her thumb rubbed against you nipple causing your body to shudder "e-els - plea-"

"no baby..not my name...beg to her....not me"

you hummed as your hips buckled, you needed to be fucked...you just couldn't do it yourself..ellie knew this.

"el- abby..please i- i need it.." your words caused abby's slick cunt to clench around nothing, a soft moan even leaving her throat..almost whining...abby has never felt this turned on before and it was so fucking exhilarating.

slowly abby made her way closer, knees dipping on the bed...her eyes staring at your back as it the sight of it came closer with each movement.

abby sat on her knees in front of your back...her shaky hands - fingers slowly moving to your hips..when you felt her touch you immediately leaned back into her, your head on her shoulder..abby softly gasped as her hands froze...your head turned to her ear...she could hear the shaky breaths escaping your mouth

"ab - abby please.."

"fuck.." abby nervously breathed out, her underwear soaked and sticky as she tried to avoid the feeling.

"stop being a pussy and rub her clit - she's been a good girl" ellie's hand caressed your cheek, going to your lips, her green eyes glancing between you and abby "she deserves to cum.."

abby tried to shake her nerves as her hand from your hip slowly began to reach in between your thighs, she could feel your body tremble..were you nervous too?

lost in thought she missed how ellie buckled her hips up causing a loud moan to release from your throat...for a second abby wished she was the one with the strap to fuck you...she want to see your pretty cunt squeezing around the silicone....she wanted to make you cum so hard like she did when she got herself off from your moans weeks ago.

finally, abby's hand reaches your pulsing clit...sticky and wet as her finger pads rolled against your swollen bud gently, rubbing in tight circles.

you moved your head deeper in between abby's neck, muffling your whines at her touch, your hips buckled as you felt ellie slowly begin to thrust up into you, you were close to coming undone before but just to feel abby's hand between your thighs giving you such pleasure that felt so heavenly...you felt like you could cum in seconds...

ellie's hips grew faster, roughly snapping up... the silicone going in and out of you in a sloppy - wet pace, she could feel your juices running down your legs to her waist...some of it even creating a little puddle combined with sweat "hmm love this pretty wet cunt - doing so good for us baby" ellie's words making you even more needy, the praise going to your pretty little head as you moaned louder.

the sounds you made only made ellie go faster as soft grunts escaped her mouth, her green eyes glued to abby's fingers that circled your clit, sometimes snapping to your chest, she loved having the view of your tits moving with her rapid movements.

"you like her touching you? hm? you like it better don't you..." ellie's words asked breathlessly as she teased you.

"i- please ellie i need-"

your words cut off by a harsh slap on your thigh, you yelped in pleasure at the feeling, thighs shaking, which only caused ellie to smirk.

abby's hips twitched as the pulsating in between her legs got stronger...small whines leaving her pink lips as she moved her fingers against your bud faster , other hand reaching over your stomach holding you..she felt like she would cum in her underwear with the way your moans entered her ears.

the way your body moved due to ellie fucking you, the way she could sometimes feel your lips on the side of her upper neck when you leaned in farther...to be honest abby felt like she could pass out...her mind still had yet to accept the current situation..

now - suddenly all four of abby's fingers pressed down on your cunt, she could hear you gasp at her action.

"p-please, i wan' it - please-" your words coming out in sentences, ellie or abby couldn't quite understand... not that it mattered.

"gonna cum baby? gonna cum on my dick?"

ellie's sentence could barely finish when your sudden loud moan teared through your body, echoing against the walls of her room..abby could feel your pussy pulsating against her fingers..she let out a loud whine and buried her head in your shoulders, her cunt clenching as she could feel her underwear get more soaked within seconds, hips twitching rapidly as she held you tighter, tears even stinging her eyes..feeling all of this sent her brain into a frenzy.

"oh - oh fuck...shit"

ellie could feel your legs twitching against her's, your body falling forward out of abby's grasp, head leaning against ellie's naked chest..body shaking as ellie's hands wrapped around you...one hand softly rubbing and tangling in your hair...mumbling endless amounts of praise in your ears...saying you did so good.

abby slowly sat down on the bed, readjusting her position and laying back, shaky breaths leaving her body..she could still feel her hips twitching from her recent orgasm.

once abby's caught her breath , her mind seemed to finally register what just occured...and all the girl could think was.

what the fuck?

written by @baambied please do not steal my ideas / work for your own use.

[neverstophyo]

shifting is self discovery.

excuse the yap but i think it’s very important that people realize how fundamental you are in your shifting journey and that you are literally the only thing you need to shift.

you do NOT need:

a method

subliminals

(guided) meditation

to look for advice hour after hour online

symptoms

the void state

lucid dreaming

to visualize

to use your 5 senses

a script

you DO need:

yourself

you can say fuck you to the universe, doubt as much as you want, and still shift. i say that because i’ve done it before even with doubts! so you can too!

“how do i shift?”

every time someone asks this i lose 5 years off my life span. i can’t determine that for you, nobody can. i can tell you what has personally worked for me and so can others, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work for you.

“so what do i do?”

sounds a bit harsh but you figure it out. and that’s what i mean by self-discovery.

of course, you can & should see what other people are doing to create a base line of what you think could work for you. for example try getting into the void state, see what happens from there. doesn’t work or you don’t like it? (because that obviously won’t do the same thing for everyone) try something else!

play around. add new things into the mix. affirmations. intention. you can visualize or use your 5 senses. keyword can. you don’t have to. because what do i think works the best? minding your business and shifting your own way.

remember that you can literally just say “fuck you i want to shift” and shift. you can shift accidentally. so who’s to say what you’re doing doesn’t work? (if it really doesn’t then you can adjust it slightly. look back on your behavior and think about what you want to change.)

seriously!

you can shift:

tired

awake

asleep

in the hypnagogic state (the state of the transition from wakefulness to sleep)

in the hypnopompic state (the state of consciousness leading out of sleep)

while dancing

sitting

standing

laying down

on the floor

accidentally

through a lucid dream

with doubts

and so much more i didn’t mention. seriously no need to overcomplicate it.

just remember that other peoples’ shifting journeys are not yours and that you’re the most important part of your own.

you are what makes you shift.

it’s not your subliminals or your method or whatever, it’s you. YOUUUU. subliminals? “methods”? those things? just helpful tools. they can HELP you shift, but there’s no guarantee.

for example, i personally have been getting more effective results after listening to specific subliminals regularly (psst.. i make sure they’re safe! to check if they are safe, look at the comments around the page and if you’re still not sure and you feel uneasy then do not use the subliminal. if it makes you feel unsafe or weird then do not use it. always read the benefits or what you can find in the description.) it works for me. it got me results (along with other stuff) but it might not give them to you and that’s okay. you don’t have to use subs.

just a reminder that you don’t need anything but yourself to shift <3

it’s self discovery because you’re learning from it and actively finding out (discovering) what works for you.

your shifting journey is yours so don’t make it rely on what someone else does.

THERE’S NO KEY TO SHIFTING EXCEPT YOURSELF.

[light-wrath-paradise]

Ok people in this thread either need to stop describing my experiences or I need to get tested.

Actually can plural egg cracking (memes or otherwise) become a thing. It might seem obvious to YOU that emotions don't normally have gender identities and gender fluidity doesn't normally give you different hobbies per gender but nobody bothered to tell ME until I was already knee deep in this shit

[glowettee]

✧・゜: self-discipline doesn't mean hating yourself into action :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✧

i've been thinking about this a lot lately… how did we all collectively decide that being mean to ourselves was somehow the path to getting things done? like, who started this toxic rumor that self-discipline means internal screaming and punishment? because honestly? i spent years believing that the only way to accomplish anything was through this weird self-bullying technique and it was literally the least effective approach ever.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the wake-up call ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

last semester i hit a wall with my essay project. i had been doing that thing where you stare at your laptop, call yourself lazy in your head, promise to work for 8 straight hours to "make up for it," then get overwhelmed and watch netflix instead. but one night at like 2am (why do all realizations happen at 2am??) i wondered what would happen if i just… stopped being mean to myself about it?

what if self-discipline was actually about being the most understanding friend to yourself instead of the worst drill sergeant?

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ what actually works ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

start ridiculously small, i'm talking embarrassingly tiny steps. want to write that paper? commit to just opening the document and typing a single sentence. need to clean your space? just put away three things. the magic is that once you start, continuing feels so much easier.

create environments that make things easier, not harder. i rearranged my desk so everything i need is within reach and visible. stopped trying to work in my bed (even though it's so comfy) because my brain associates it with sleep and tiktok scrolling.

acknowledge the resistance instead of fighting it. when i feel that "i don't wanna" feeling, i literally say to myself "i hear you, and it makes sense you feel that way. what's one tiny piece we could do?" talking to myself like i'm my own bestie changed everything.

use curiosity instead of judgment. instead of "why am i so lazy?" (which never helps), try "i wonder what's making this hard for me right now?" sometimes the answer surprises you. maybe you're actually just hungry or need better lighting.

build in rest BEFORE you crash. i started scheduling actual breaks before i felt desperate for them, and somehow i get more done? it's like my brain knows it's not going to be held hostage forever.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the permission slip approach ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

my favorite technique lately has been what i call "permission slip productivity" where i literally write myself little notes giving permission to:

work imperfectly (first drafts can be messy!)

take breaks without guilt

change my approach if something isn't working

celebrate small progress instead of only the end result

acknowledge when something is genuinely difficult

there's something so powerful about physically writing yourself permission. it sounds silly but it works because it interrupts that mean inner voice that's been programmed into us.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the results speak for themselves ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the wildest part? i actually get MORE done now that i've stopped the self-hate productivity method. turns out your brain works better when it's not being constantly criticized? who knew!

my essay (very big essay) got finished early. my room stays cleaner. i actually enjoy my study sessions now instead of dreading them. and most importantly, i don't feel that heavy cloud of shame following me around everywhere.

self-discipline isn't forcing yourself through misery, it's creating systems that work WITH your natural tendencies, not against them. it's about making things easier, not harder. it's about treating yourself like someone you actually care about.

and maybe the real glow-up isn't just checking things off your to-do list, but doing it without sacrificing your relationship with yourself in the process.

what about you? have you been trying to hate yourself into productivity? might be time for a gentler approach. you deserve that kindness from yourself. (and honestly? it just works better.)

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[tfatwsbarnes]

baby, i | jesse tlou

summary: pregnant with jesse’s baby, you navigate the task of telling him plus everything that happens after the fact

pairing: tlou!jesse x fem!reader (no use of Y/N)

word count: 3.6k

trigger warning: bad language, kissing, sexual themes, mentions of smut and a breeding kink lol. pregnancy and child birth. this is just corny fluff tbh

a/n: there’s one thing i eat up more than husband!joel and that’s a devoted!dad. this is set in a world where dina and jesse never got together but jesse is still an avid no wrap but still tap guy x

gif credit: @pedgito

Two lines. Two perfect red vertical lines.

You thumped the test on the palm of your hand thrice, hoping a little shake of the urine saturated strip would miraculously alter to a singular vertical line with some shaking.

This was the fourth pregnancy test taken in the span of a week.

Positive, positive, positive and — yup — positive.

You snatched the box up, flipping it around to check for an expiration date. You did this for all four tests, you were amidst, essentially, the apocalypse so these little plastic things had a shelf life.

In date. For another year. OK. That could've been the issue for all four tests. Faulty the longer it had been unused. You were being optimistically obtuse.

Head hitting the tiled wall behind you as you sat on your bathroom floor, you thought back to the moment that you were pretty sure landed you in that exact predicament. If it were a police line-up, nine times out of ten, you would be able to pick it from the line without question; it was that blatantly obvious to recall.

Jesse had been announced as a new council member. He had worked hard, endless hours to ensure that Maria Miller and her band of council members could put their trust in him to be unbiased in the face of debates that could strike a nerve with his own personal views. He was the epitome — in your opinion — of what a council member should be.

You two celebrated by christening the council table after hours.

Legs held up by his hands, you were sat atop the wooden table, stark naked, as it juddered beneath you. Perhaps you got lost in the moment, Jesse was just so excited and in turn, that spiked your adrenaline levels as he came close to finishing.

        "Jesse—" You grabbed the nape of his neck, sweat taped his hair to his forehead, "—Put a baby in me."

        OK. You didn't think he would take your words so literally that he did, in fact, impregnate you that one and only night that you had begged for it. You cringed at the memory.

        If the bathroom could depict how you felt as you stared at yet another positive pregnancy test, it would be aflame with wails of terror.

        As your inner turmoil peaked, the front door opened and slammed shut announcing Jesse's arrival back to your shared home within the Jackson Commune. It was a new thing, a foreign concept to you both as you navigated how to live with the person you were in love with. Jesse had been the one to ask you to move in, and you — without hesitation — said yes.

        He even had pointed out the spare bedroom whilst moving your boxes in, suggesting that it would make the perfect nursery if you ever wanted to have a baby with him. Ah. That suggestion may have also been a contributing culprit.

        Now? Now you were scrambling to pick up the evidence of your fourth pregnancy test, profanities muttered under your breath as you looked around to rid the evidence. There was nowhere that wasn't an easy find, so, you resulted in stuffing it down your bra — wincing at the contact due to the soreness of your breasts.

        You went to stand as Jesse opened the bathroom door, the top of your head smacked against the ceramic of the sink bowl making both you and Jesse wince at the harsh contact. You cradled your head as Jesse rushed to your side, knees on the tiles as his large palm cradled yours.

        "Hey, baby." You squeezed your eyes shut. You had to tell him. After you were one hundred percent certain you didn't have a concussion.

        "What were you doing on the floor?" God, did he have to be so observant?

        Your head throbbed, "Oh. I was feeling a little sick again, sometimes just sitting on the bathroom floor cools me down."

        It was no secret that you had been throwing up. Profusely at that. It started after you had eaten your favourite dish, going green after the first bite, you hurled the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl whilst Jesse rubbed your back, confused at what he had done differently to your favourite dish that made you puke your guts up.

        After that, you had been sick more times than you could count. It made you miserable. Debilitating when it was near impossible to keep even water down.

        "We should really get you a check-up with the doctor." Jesse frowned, the pinch of his brow offered an insight to you that meant there was more on his mind than just you throwing up. Not that it didn't worry him throughout the day whilst he worked that you couldn't sustain a meal. But, you knew him.

        Something was afoot.

        "Is everything OK?" You perked up, tender headed but assured that there was no sign of concussion. You weren't seeing double of Jesse, as brilliant as that would have been.

        This had Jesse lean back onto his backside, his back against the tiled wall with his arms rested atop his bent knees. He exhaled deeply and shook his head with disappointment. Oh god. You thought. He's going to break up with me.

        Being a first time single mom wouldn't be so bad. Right? Right.

        Shaking the thought, you placed a reassuring hand on his bicep and he offered a weak smile. Oh fuck. He's really going to break up with me.

        "I made a mistake on Patrol this morning." Oh good! He wasn't going to break up with you. You were going to tell him you were pregnant after a few consoling kisses. He continued with gritted teeth, "It almost cost the life of another Patroller."

        You bared your teeth. Not so good. Maybe it wasn't the best time to tell him you were pregnant.

        You had to be considerate. Jesse took his job seriously. He was a perfectionist to the bone. If he made a mistake, which was rare, he would punish himself for a couple of days before he got over it. Usually it was minor things that he had slipped up on and you did your job as the doting girlfriend to assure him he was human and mistakes were little reminders that it was OK to not be pristine perfect at every given moment.

        Nevertheless, he was meticulous about rules and if it was at the expense of another life, you could presume that Jesse would carry the burden on his shoulders for weeks.

        An unexpected pregnancy announcement probably wouldn't have the effect you thought it would.

        Another time.

        Your nose bumped his side-profile, your hand rubbed the length of his back as he leant into your touch.

        "The key word is almost, here." You noted and he turned to look at you, noses just a kiss away from each other. You tilted your head and smiled, "They're still alive because of your quick thinking even after you made a mistake. That's what separates you from your error. Don't let it haunt you."

        Jesse mulled your words over.

        He nodded, a small quirk of the corner of your lips told you he would be over it much sooner as he swallowed your words of wisdom.

        "Since when did you become a prophet?"

        You'd tell him you were pregnant another time. For now, you were going to make his favourite dinner — nose tucked into your t-shirt whilst you did.

        -

        It was becoming more apparent that you were pregnant. It had been two gruelling weeks and one more pregnancy test for good measure that you had solidified the idea that you were carrying Jesse's baby. A small foetus that rained terror on your day to day life.

        You were still incredibly nauseous, even the scent of Jesse smelt like vinegar to you, making you screw up your face when he pulled you in for a morning kiss — it hurt his feelings but he loved you enough to not bring it up there and then. You had become overwhelmingly tired even when performing the most mundane task such as giving the horses at the stable some extra snacks. Not that, that was classed as a job but you enjoyed being the horses favourite.

        You'd pass out upright at council meetings. Everyone close to you knew that you preferred to be horizontal to sleep. It had annoyed Jesse, for the first time in your relationship, as they were discussing resources to vote on, there you were next to Ellie and Dina who had elbowed you after you let out the softest snore to alert those nearby that you had drifted off.

        You yawned into the palm of your hand as you sat with Dina as she prepped for her next patrol that afternoon. Her eyes flitted upward to your face before she halted her inspection of her gun; a smug smile on her face.

        "What?" You asked when she didn't stop staring at you. It made you feel as if there was something on your face.

        "Are you fucking pregnant?"

        Your eyes almost popped out of their sockets, "Dina—What the fuck?" You gawked, "You can't just ask a woman if they're pregnant. Who knows their background with it."

        "You're right. But you are pregnant. Aren't you?" She folded her arms across her chest in succession of her deduction.

        "You can't tell Jesse."

        Her hand slammed down on the table which made you jump. She externally celebrated with a fist pump, immediately calming herself by clearing her throat and clasping her hands together with her lips pulled into a thin line — as best as she could of course.

        "You have my word." She broke into a grin again, "Oh my god. He is going to shit!"

        "Yeah. I know. I'm working on it." You ran your hand down your face. It seemed whenever you had cemented the idea of telling Jesse your little, but growing secret, something else cropped up that overruled it.

        It was OK. You thought every time. You were patient and Jesse needed you. Although, you could only keep this kind of secret for so long before the swell of your stomach spoiled it for you.

        Dina sensed your apprehension and leant forward to squeeze your hand briefly before returning to clean her gun. "You know he will be ecstatic. Fuck, he will raise a second Captain Wyoming."

        "I know." You beamed, "I'm so happy."

-

        There was no time like the present and at that present moment of time, you had solidified the decision that you would tell Jesse when he got home from his Patrol meeting. Albeit exhausted, you were giddy to see his reaction, to finally spill the beans on your behaviour that deviated from your usual self with the Jackson Commune.

        You kicked the wet mud off your boots, scuffing the remains onto your doormat before entering. There was a dim light that glowed from the kitchen and you frowned, you were overly cautious at making sure that all electricity was turned off prior to exiting the house.

        Quick to check, you found Jesse sat at the small table you had inherited from Joel Miller, one leg shorter than the other, it was a mock-up table for one he was going to create for his and Ellie's home. He called it a 'house warming gift'. You loved it. It had character.

        He had a glum look to his face. Despite his resting face usually equating to one that read dismay, Jesse was putting this face on. Your shoulders fell; another night of not telling him.

        You were starting to think you'd tell him when you went into labour.

        "We need to talk." Jesse stated coldly and you felt the nerves creep up your throat. He never intimidated you, just those around you. Like a dog pissing on an object to claim their territory. Now, however, he was using his scary dog tactics.

        "OK. . ." You put your bag down on the table and sat across from him.

        He swallowed. "You need to be honest when I ask you this." Oh. Did Dina spill the beans? "I've noticed a few changes to your behaviour that have had me questioning things. For instance, you don't want to kiss me, and when you do, you grimace as if it pains you to do it. You've been a little withdrawn, you never tell me how your day was—" As Jesse listed the details of his concerns, the realisation creeped on your face, "—Not to mention, you've not been turning up to fulfil your duties for the Commune. These are all key factors to someone who may be possibly having an affair."

        What the fuck?

        You blinked at his accusation. Mouth agape, you had been accused of cheating on Jesse. The man you looked at as if he strung the stars. You, the woman who was head over heels, hopelessly devoted to Jesse — Captain Wyoming — were sat across from him with a finger pointed claiming to be a cheater.

        You couldn't help the laugh that escaped.

        "What is funny?" Jesse glowered.

        You swallowed the rest of the jest, "Nothing is funny. I promise—"

        "—Then answer me!" His voice was raised an octave. A rarity for someone like Jesse, but not impossible when pushed to the edge of his emotions. He wasn't so sure what he would do if he found out that you had been cheating on him.

        "Don't shout like that. You'll scare the baby." You said flippantly.

        "What?"

        "What?" You repeated as you digested what you had just slipped up on. Your hands gained clamminess, rubbing them against the fabric of your pants whilst a nervous giggle left the back of your throat.

        There goes the speech you had been reciting every morning for when you told Jesse the news.

        "Are you pregnant?" Jesse almost demanded with wide eyes and baited breath. His fingers twitched on the table as if he wanted to hold your hand.

        You scratched your neck, "Remember that time when you were appointed council member?" Jesse thought back to that moment as you nodded at his realisation, "Yeah. Turns out I kind of manifested it from begging that hard."

        The legs of the chair screeched from underneath him as he stood. He slowly rounded the table and knelt before you, hands coming to your stomach that hadn't reached the milestone of protruding from your clothes as of yet, but your jeans no longer fit your frame. He looked to you in awe, lips parted as he manually computed this revelation.

        It was a double whammy. Relieved you weren't cheating on him, but in fact, pregnant with his child. It all made sense now.

        "I'm a little offended you thought I was cheating." You feigned hurt as his thumb stroked your abdomen.

        He ignored you, "I'm going to try and be the best dad ever. Whatever it takes."

        You thread your fingers in his hair as he rested his cheek on your lap, "I know you will."

-

        The seasons changed and your stomach grew rounder, you bid a farewell to your feet, unable to see them from the protruding belly holding your baby.

        From the moment he found out, Jesse had been exceptionally thriving in the aspect of fatherhood. After the the night he found out, you had woken up to his side of the bed cold, and everyone knew that Jesse was a stickler for an early bedtime routine to ensure maximum hours of rest. Bare feet padded through your shared home, you had found Jesse hunched over his desk, muttering to himself as he shuffled a few priorities around in his life to give his full undivided attention to becoming a father.

        He would come home after Patrol, books on pregnancy, breastfeeding and babies stacked up to his chin. Quick to press a chaste kiss to your lips before delving deep into his studying on how to perfect all three — despite not being able to breastfeed himself, Jesse still wanted to be as knowledgeable and supportive to you when the time came.

        One time, as you were drifting off on the couch, Jesse strolled through from the kitchen, a half eaten apple in his hand that was browning, a book balanced between his fingers as he looked up with the concentration still apparent on his features.

        "Did you know about Perineal Massages?" He asked as you rubbed your growing stomach. You shook your head and he hummed, "It helps prepare the perineum for childbirth. We should do that tonight."

        You were positively glowing by the end of the Perineal Massages he suggested, that never ended up being just a Perineal Massage.

        OK, Jesse was relatively obsessed with the idea of you being pregnant with his baby. Come your third trimester, he would catch you waddling through, hand on back to support it before it crumbled beneath the weight of your child. He licked his lips, flipping the pages of the pregnancy book he had nose-dived into, to see if there was a possibility to keep a woman pregnant for the rest of their lives. Maybe it was a selfish indulgent fetish but he's sure he'd be forgiven.

        "I swear my throat might actually have caught fire from this heartburn." You had stated as you clutched your neck, "If your baby doesn't have a head full of hair, my suffering has gone amiss."

        Jesse looked up from the pages of the book, disheartened not to find anything on keeping a woman pregnant. He narrowed his eyes, "I read that's a myth. Hold on. I can find exactly what it said — I think I bookmarked it—"

        "—Jesse." You interrupted him with no guilt. Patience had been lost in the third trimester. Fingers pressed to the ache coming from your pregnant belly, you pleaded, "Knowledge break, OK?"

        Knowledge break meant stop explaining pregnancy to you through the bookmarks of the tenth book he's read about pregnancy and the astounding myths that came from it.

        Jesse closed the book in his hands, "Ah. Sorry." He was so inexplicably nervous to become a father that the extensive research where he read pages ten times over to digest the knowledge, became an irritant to you in your late stages of pregnancy. 

You smoothed your hand over your stomach, Jesse’s eyes flitting to your the stretched skin. Oh god, he was so obsessed with it. You smirked, he wasn’t so subtle with his wide-eyes as the corners of his mouth watered over you.

Who wouldn’t take advantage of that?

“Will you take care of me?” You feigned innocence, a slight pout of your bottom lip and Jesse pounced on you like a savaged animal. Head between your legs, you leant your head back and thanked the Council Members for choosing Jesse for the Council that night.

Timing was everything. And then you heard it before you felt it. A ‘pop’ before you felt a gush of water flush from between your thighs and all over Jesse. You eyes wide as he raised his head, hand swiped at his sodden face as he blinked the liquid out of his eyes.

Oh my fucking god. You stared wildly.

Jesse gasped, “Did you just—?”

“—No, Jesse.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, “My waters just broke.”

You had never seen Jesse crumble under pressure. He was the epitome of cool, calm and collected even back when you had patrolled the outskirts of the Commune with him, prior to the pair of you dating. Now, when the words escaped your mouth, Jesse was close to the term of a headless chicken, rug slipped beneath his feet — thankfully, catching himself — as he rushed to the bedroom to snatch the bag Maria Miller had helped you with that accumulated all specific needs for giving birth.

You winced, teeth gritted as your stomach tightened, before you managed to push yourself off from the couch. Eyes caught Jesse sprinting between rooms as you waddled toward the door.

“Whew. OK.” The contraction had passed, your hand still tightly pressed to where the striking pain had located from.

Jesse, in a thunderous panic, slid past your frame, bags tenfold in his muscular arms, before he swung the front door open, “Fuck, it’s happening!” He exclaimed into the night sky before the door to your home slammed shut, leaving you stood perplexed.

“Jesse?”

After a few seconds with baited breath, Jesse swung the door back open, wide-eyed with his broad chest heaving under his black t-shirt. He was by your side in an instant, hand under your elbow as he guided you through the threshold into the open air. You grinned knowingly.

“You forgot about me.” You teased and he tried to make face by sternly shaking his head.

“I didn’t. I was checking for any possible threats.” He was reading off his patrol script whenever he deviated from his own plan out in the wilderness. You knew. You had been there when Maria told him off.

You felt the contraction coming as he spoke. No time to retaliate, you hunched over and Jesse almost screamed in panic. There was no debate who was more calm, even when you were the one about to push a tiny human the size of a watermelon — or bigger, considering the height of Jesse.

Reassured with a smile from you, the pair of you continued your trip to the medical facility.

Jesse was going to be such a good dad.

Oh, and the baby had hair. Lots of it.

[alidiggory92]

His Girl - One Shot

Jackson!Joel x F!reader

Summary: Joel and reader have been together for a few years now, and live in his house in Jackson with Ellie. You forget to lock his truck after driving it, and he gets a little upset.

OR you call him Daddy, Joel melts, and Dina walks in at literally the worst time.

Notes/tags (16+): Age gap (Joel is late fifties, reader is mid twenties), established relationship, domestic fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, soft smut, teasing, banter, Joel is kinda mean, no use of y/n, daddy kink (reader literally says it once), glasses!joel, oldman!joel, Dina walks in but it's not exhibitionism, TLOU season 2 spoilers (not really just characters from that are used), Every Breath You Take by The Police (song is played, cause the reader likes it), protective Joel, no smut just sensual stuff. Hopefully I got it all!

Word Count: 2.5K A/N: Okay! Here we go! First one shot so please be nice to me, okay? No smut, just all fluff and sensual talk, since I've stated that I feel weird about writing smut (for now.. mwehehe). Reader is not described apart from having hair long enough for Joel to comb his fingers through it, and that she likes music.

Joel was busy in the house, working on some circuit board. His glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes squinted slightly. He needed a new prescription, his vision has been getting worse over the years, but he always brushed you off when you commented on it. 

You watched him through the window, coming back from a small patrol. The only kind Joel would let you go on were the ones around town or right outside the walls. You weren’t scared exactly—just nervous.

Earlier, you’d driven his truck, and forgot to lock it once you got back home. You came out of the garage just in time to see Joel unlocking the truck with his spare keys. He paused, sighed, and chewed his bottom lip—fourth time you’d forgotten.

Sure, Jackson was a pretty safe town, but you know Joel. Doesn’t trust most people. Plus, men. With their trucks. You never understood that. Maybe it was a boomer thing.

His frustration–already high from construction– was only heightened when this happened. Which only resulted in a ‘stern talking to’ –as Joel called it–. You hated getting lectured. Made you feel like a kid. Which, compared to him, you are. 

Regardless, you ended up nodding along to his words, tears forming in your eyes. 

“I’ve told you, as soon as you get out of the truck, you lock the damn door.” Joel held up his keys, dangling them, “You insert, twist, and double check. Ain’t complicated.” 

You nodded, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn't cut it this time, hun.” He scratched his beard. “Show me how you lock it.” He nodded at the truck.

You scrunched your nose, and sniffled as you walked over to his truck, grabbing the keys from his rough hands, fiddling with getting them into the lock. Swallowing thickly, you lock it, then tug on the handle to show him it’s locked. 

“Good girl.” Joel murmured, patting your hip and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

That was about two hours ago, and you still feel weird going back inside the house. You have no reason to be. Joel wasn’t scary, except for when he had to put you in your place, but that was years ago. You knew his boundaries and he knew yours. Mostly.

But apparently his therapy sessions with Gale were helping. Which you didn’t know about until a week ago. 

You sniffled, your nose running from crying the cold. Then you open the front door quietly, hoping Joel wouldn’t hear you come in, considering he was working on that circuit board, and was half-deaf anyway.

You take off your jacket, put it on the coat rack, then wipe your nose with your sleeve. 

“Hey, darlin’.” Joel says, looking up briefly.

You swallow, your gaze low. The guilt from not locking his truck again shouldn’t be this severe, since he seems to have forgotten about it already. 

“Where abouts you been for the past coupla hours?” Joel asked, poking and prodding with some tools you had no idea what the purpose of them was. 

“Out.” You mumble, busying yourself with the fridge—nothing inside but water, a whiskey flask, and a half-eaten sandwich. You grumble quietly, then shut the fridge, leaning back against the counter, gazing at Joel’s hunched back.

“Out.” Joel echoed. He’s silent for a long time. He sits up, looking over his shoulder at you, “What’s the Ellie stance for?” He asked.

You fix your stance, uncross your arms from your chest, “I’m not-” You defend yourself then Joel tsks. 

“Tch, no, you are. Acting like a damn teenager.” 

You huff, he knew you hated being called that. “I’m not.” You argue. 

Joel stayed quiet. Ever since those damn therapist appointments started he’s stopped picking up your arguments. Or he just stays quiet until you decide to engage with him. The whole ‘I’m not responsible for someone else’s emotional state’ had you surprised but also a little upset. Especially with how dependent you’d become on him. 

He didn’t mind of course, you’re his girl. But the frustration and slight guilt or the damn hormones you had, made your mood swing like no other.

After a few minutes of nothing but the tapping of the tools against the circuit board, you walk over to his chair, and sit on the floor next to it. Joel paused, sighing through his nose. “The hell are you doin’ on the floor?” he asked.

You sit on the floor in silence, fiddling with the laces of Joel’s boot, your fingers slow, almost absent-minded. The clinking of the tools fills the space, but it doesn’t cover the ache in your chest. You’re still carrying the guilt, the weight of disappointing him—even if it was just about a damn truck lock.

But maybe guilt isn’t the only thing pressing on you. 

You shift closer, resting your cheek on his thigh, under the table. You feel him pause. He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets out a soft sigh through his nose. Then—

“Tch,” Joel tsks, his tone low. “No, darlin’. Not right now.”

Your fingers trail up, finding the buckle of his belt, toying with it lazily. His breath catches. You smirk a little to yourself.

“Honey, I said no.” His voice is firmer this time, but his hand never moves to stop you. That familiar tension in his body tells you everything.

You sit back on your heels and chuckle softly, gaze dropping to the front of his jeans. Your hand still fiddles with his belt, not unbuckling it, but more tapping against the buckle. You nudge your nose against his inner thigh, shutting your eyes at the feeling of the denim against your skin. 

Joel groans under his breath, setting his tools down with a small clink. He looks down at you, kneeling, his glasses sliding off his nose a bit, but he catches them with his index finger, pushing them back up.

“I hate when you’re mad at me,” you whispered, voice small.

“I ain’t mad.” he replied gruffly, but the way his hand makes its way to thread through your hair says otherwise. “Just worry about ‘cha.”

“I’m sorry.” you muttered. 

Joel furrowed his brows, “Sorry don’t mean crawlin’ under tables and actin’ like a brat.”

You huff, “You like when I act like a brat.” You joke, hoping the crease between his brows would relax.

Joel huffs a breath that would’ve been a laugh if he weren’t so focused on you knelt before him, “Ain’t the point.” He runs his hand through your hair, being careful not to snag any fingers on potential knots. 

He reaches down with a low grunt, his hands going under your arms to help you up off the floor, “Don't want your knees bruisin’.”

You let him lift you, despite feeling bad for the way he grunts as you settle into his lap. Joel noticed, of course, and just tutted at you, leaning back into his chair, his hands settling on your hips. You lean forward, chest to his, then nuzzle your face into his neck. He smelled like work, he always did, even before you got to Jackson. The musky smell of pine and leather, or as you called it, ‘the old man smell’ just to get a rise out of Joel.

Joel noticed your silence, which meant you were fighting with your thoughts on what to say, “You’re mine to look after.” He started, then cleared his throat, the vibration going through his chest to yours. 

“You don’t have to worry so much.” You muffled against his neck, shutting your eyes tightly.

“That’s like tellin’ the sun not to rise.” He gently grabs your face with one hand, then kisses your forehead. “Just… lock the damn truck next time,” He muttered, though there was no malice to his tone. 

“Yes, sir.” you mumble, your cheeks squished between his fingers.

Joel chuckles, releasing your face, then pressing another kiss to your forehead. His hands settle back onto your hips, rubbing up and down your sides slowly, feeling the curve of your waist. 

You study his face, seeing the more prominent crows feet up close, and the crease between his brows from concentrating too hard. Your thumb comes up to smooth the crease and Joel huffs. 

“That’s permanent, I know. My fault,” Joel started, already knowing you were about to say he worries too much. Again.

You only hum, leaning closer, your nose brushing against his, and breath hitting his lips. His hand slides up to your back, pressing down so you’d arch into him. 

“C’mere.” He grunts lowly, and you do. Your lips connect with his, gentle and slow.

Your hands come up to the collar of his jacket, tugging him closer, though there was already no air between you two. He groans against your lips, a hand sliding into your hair, the other still on your back. 

He gently tugs at the hair at the base of your neck, pulling back, just enough to take a breath, “Damn things are foggin’ up.” He muttered. 

You open your eyes, cheeks flushed, as Joel pulls back with a huff of annoyance. He takes his glasses off with one hand, setting them on the table behind you without looking. You whine quietly; partially from not thinking about his glasses getting in the way, but also because you liked when he kept his glasses on.

“Should’ve left them on,” You whisper, your fingers combing through the gray curls at the nape of his neck, “I like them.”

Joel chuckles lowly, rough and breathy. “Can’t see shit when they steam up like that.”

You peck the corner of his mouth, then trail down to his jaw, his beard scratching at your lips, “Still think you look good, Daddy.”

You reach back to grab his glasses, using your shirt to clean them.

His hand stills against your waist.

“Haven’t heard that in a while.” Joel says gruffly. Which only makes you giggle quietly.

“Nuh uh,” You argue, putting his glasses back on his face.

“Jesus,” he breathes before kissing you again – deeper this time.

Joel pulls back after a moment, just enough to speak, his voice low and breathing a bit labored. “Go put somethin’ on. You like that one with the creepy stalker singin’ about love, right?”

You blink, lips red and swollen, “Every Breath You take? That is not creepy, it’s sweet.” 

Joel scoffs, giving your hip a pat. “Baby, the man’s talkin’ about watchin’ her every move. That’s not love, that’s a restrainin’ order.”

You slip off of his lap and sigh. “Whatever. You’d stalk me if I left.”

Joel snorts, picking his tools back up, “I’d just follow the sound of you talkin’ shit under your breath.”

You glare at him over your shoulder as you walk into the living room, flipping through the stack of vinyls he had gotten you over the years. You hum happily as the needle drops onto the spinning record, the guitar riff filling the house as you turn it up.

“Goddammit, girl.” Joel put his tools back down, realizing you turned it up way too loud for his liking despite his half deaf ass.

You flop onto the couch, laying on your stomach, using your forearms as a pillow. You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps as you’re met with his thighs in your face, standing by the couch. 

“You know it’s creepy, right?” He murmurs, moving your hair out of your face. 

“And you know you’re old, right?” You shoot back, which only earns you a playful swat on your ass. You squeal and giggle, but huff when Joel turns the turntable volume down.

“I still got you.” Joel said, walking over to the couch, moving your legs so he can sit down. 

“Barely. All I get is beard trimmings in the sink and grunts now.” You huff, even if you’re only teasing him.

“Grunts, huh?”

“Mhm. And that one look you get when you’re about to say something mean but decide to kiss me instead.” 

Joel rubs your thigh, making you turn to lay on your back, and coax your head into his lap, “Such a terrible way of livin’.” He teased.

You only hum, turning your head in his lap, to be faced with his stomach, starting to play with the buttons of his flannel. He kept talking.

“-and Maria wants so many things done before Spring, I also reckon Tommy’s been lyin’ to me lately,” Joel rambled. Shit, was he talking? Too late, you’re focused on something else right now.

You manage to unbutton about three of the buttons at the bottom of his flannel, lifting it up to kiss his stomach, making Joel stop his talking and look down at you, keeping his glasses on his nose with his index finger. 

“Y’keep doing that,” He warns, “and I’m gonna take it as an invitation.”

You sit up a bit, “What if it is?” 

Joel takes his glasses off, “You wanna start somethin’ right now, sweetheart? While that creepy-ass record’s still playin’?”

You chuckle, “I don’t hear you getting up to change it.” 

“Shit,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss you, more hungry this time. Your hands are in his hair again before you realize it, and he groans. His hands trail under your shirt, warm and slow as he traces your spine. You lift your arms, and Joel rolls your shirt up, tossing it to the floor.

He lays you back on the couch with a short grunt, settling between your thighs, his flannel almost completely open. Oh, how did that happen? The sight made you giggle

“Goddamn-”

Knock knock.

The front door swings open. 

“Hey, Joel, you – OH MY GOD.”

Joel freezes. You blink, lifting yourself up to look over his shoulder, hair a mess, and shirt gone, but it was enough to give the full picture.

Dina stands in the doorway, her hand over her mouth.

Joel sighs like he just aged another five years, “Dina, for the love of-”

“Nope! No, no, nope,” she says, already backing out, looking up at the ceiling. “I didn’t see anything, swear to God.”

The door shuts with a clatter.

For a second, you both just stare at the now-shut door. Your heart’s still racing, not just from being caught half-naked, but from the warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours. He hasn’t moved. Neither have you. And maybe that’s the funniest part; how normal it feels to be interrupted like this.

Joel rests his forehead between your breasts, and groans into the skin, “She’s never gonna let me live that down.”

You chuckle, your hand still tangled in his hair, “She’s gonna tell Ellie, too.”

Joel groans louder, his cheeks dusted pink as he rests his chin on your sternum, “Goddammit.”

[headdinthewall]

MATCH CELEBRATIONS ── g.clarke ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

summary : in which george forgets to celebrate his goal during the match, so he makes up for it afterwards a/n : my brain is just full of creative ideas atm so… also can you tell george is my favourite? but i was rewatching the charity match and got this idea // italics is stephen doing the commentary content : established relationship ,, sexual innuendos ,, mentions of injury ,, a severe lack of knowledge on how football works xx

─────── THE ENERGY THROUGHOUT Wembley Stadium was electric and buzzing. The match had gone incredibly smoothly so far, with a new record of 16 goals being scored, making the overall score be 8-8 with only eight minutes to go. Your fingers were crossed on your lap, knees bouncing nervously as your boyfriend was subbed back on.

You were sat between Sabina and Arthur, both of them talking to you and making casual conversation. You and Sabina murmured over what the hell was going on during the match and the newest make up releases that were actually worth buying, while you listened to Arthur just complain about the constant off-side passes — whatever that meant.

You continuously checked your phone, a nervous habit you picked up when George wasn’t around. It made no sense — of course — because it’s not like he could text you right now anyway, he was literally on the pitch.

“Oh! It’s a corner! It’s a corner!” Arthur exclaimed, hand gripping your arm ridiculously tight, causing your bracelets to dig into your arms.

“Arthur!” You hissed, pushing him off like an annoyed older sibling.

“Sorry.” He laughed, staring at the huddle of players in front of the goal.

Tobi was stepping back, preparing to boot the ball towards them.

Just as he did, Angry Ginge completely missed his defence kick, the ball flying straight past him and into the foot of—

George.

All of a sudden, the stadium burst into screams and yells of support and excitement, everyone raising from their seats as your boyfriend’s foot knocked the ball into the back of the goal (and himself in the process as he stumbled into the net).

“Oh my God!” You screeched, standing and jumping whilst clapping, “Yes George! Oh my God, yes!”

Arthur and Isaac were just as excited as you, arms around each other’s shoulders and jumping in joy. Arthur pulled you into it and you laughed at their boisterous celebration.

George looked incredibly confused as he ran towards Tobi, gesturing between the two of them and trying to figure out who was actually to be credited, but when the rest of the Sidemen team joined in on clapping his back, he relished in the feeling.

He found you in the crowd and waved, resulting in him getting an air kiss back.

“And there goes George and his mrs, subtle PDA, we love to see it. Blowing kisses at him, though I’m sure he’ll be getting more blowing of another kind for that goal.”

You cupped your mouth with both hands and whooped for him, screaming loudly.

The cheering died down as the game continued to progress but you still couldn’t get over the adrenaline rush of the love of your life scoring a goal right in front of your eyes.

The grin never left your face, even after Theo Baker scored a last minute equaliser, making the score 9-9.

“Does that mean penalties?” You looked over at Arthur and Isaac, and they nodded.

You refrained as much as you could from biting your nails, considering you’d just had them done a couple days ago.

The crowd was in utter shock as Sketch saved Simons goal, as he was known for being a great penalty shooter.

As the game came to an end, with Speed getting the winning shot for the Youtube Allstars, a lot of people began filing out of the stadium, ready to leave and go home, yoy however, could not, as you had to wait for George.

From your spot, you could vaguely see Munya and Els doing interviews on the pitch, grabbing different players and putting a microphone in their face.

“Clarkey! Clarkey!” Munya called out, grabbing George’s shoulder and turning him to the camera. “Your goal virginity is gone!”

“Yes.” George laughed.

“How does that feel?”

“Well, it’s one of them ticked off the least, hopefully that means the second one tonight!” He joked, smirking, “No, um, honestly I had absolutely no idea that it was my goal, hence the complete lack of celebration and just, sort of, pointing at Tobi, um, but no, insane.”

“With more time, how would you have celebrated?” Munya asked.

“I—“ George laughed with a scoff, “I don’t think time was the problem, I think it’s just that I’m a pure idiot— uhm, but I do have a celebration now … where is she?” He hummed, eyes scanning the crowd and then pointing at you. “Isn’t she beautiful.”

He beckoned you down, waving his hand at you.

“Me?” You mouthed, pointing at yourself.

“Yeah! Come down!” He shouted, even though you probably couldn’t hear him.

“Is this a camera moment?” Munya questioned, confused as to what was going on.

“I mean, it’s going to be caught on the fifty thousand phones that are here, so might as well get it in good quality.” George shrugged with a laugh.

You made your way down the stairs and through the tunnel, when security stopped you.

“Sorry, love, players and interviewers only.”

“Oh, no, my boyfriend asked me to come down—“

“Tom, it’s good.” Simon came through, patting the security on the back, “She’s allowed through.

Tom nodded and let you past.

“Why does he want me?” You asked Simon, as he clearly had an idea as to what was going on.

“No idea.” He lied, gesturing for you to follow him.

You jogged up to George, ecstatic to be seeing him, and threw yourself at him, arms around his shoulders, “I’m so proud of you!”

He laughed, arms around your waist, and tapped your bottom to put you down.

“I’ve got something for you.” George stated, stepping back slightly.

Munya and the camera man cleared the scene, allowing him more space.

“What— Oh my God.”

The air was knocked from your lungs as you watched George, panting and flushed red from his exertion, as he got down on one knee.

His eyes were full of pure adoration and nothing short of unconditional, eternal love.

The air around you seemed thick, and despite the roar of the crowd and buzzing atmosphere around you, it didn’t seem real. You were grounded by his presence, and the scenes around you disappeared, as if it were just you two, alone, on a field of grass.

“Reader … you have been in my life for seven years now, and those seven years have been the most wonderful, exhilarating years of my life, and I genuinely couldn’t have done this whole Youtube, social media thing, without you.”

You burst into tears, unable to control yourself.

“Waking up next to you every morning is like witnessing the human embodiment of an angel, and there is no one else I could dream of doing that with. I don’t usually believe in ‘everything happens for a reason’, but I whole-heartedly believe that we met for this reason. Because you are my soulmate, through and through. You’ve been there for me through everything, from tough times like when my mum was sick and to the best days of my life, like asking you to be my girlfriend, and every day that’s followed since.”

Your sobs were uncontrollable as you nodded with his words, your hands on your cheeks.

“You’ve put up with me since day one, which shocks me, especially since I sweat like a pig when it’s only eight degrees outside, and even though we lost the game today, I know that I’ve already won in life, because I get to call you my girlfriend— and hopefully my wife.” He laughed, clearing his throat as he neared on crying himself.

“So … reader … will you marry me?”

The question lingered for a split second and you were entirely speechless, opting for a shaky nod instead of saying anything.

“Yeah?” He muttered.

“Yeah.” You croaked, holding your hand out.

He grinned and slipped the ring on. Once it was secure, he shot to his feet, lifting you off the ground. Your arms locked around his neck and your legs around his waist as you sobbed into his shoulder.

“To Mr and Mrs Clarkey!” Munya exclaimed into the microphone and everyone erupted into cheers.

“I love you so much!” You sobbed, pulling away from his neck and placing your hands on his cheeks, “Of course I’ll marry you, oh my God!”

He laughed at your reaction, giving you a chaste kiss, keeping it appropriate and sensible for the cameras and children in the crowd or watching.

yourusername

liked by arthurtv georgeclarkeey chloeburrows and 439k more

after five years on knowing you and four years of dating you … i can legally call you mine (soon)💓

tagged : georgeclarkeey

georgeclarkeey aren’t you sweet x

↳ yourusername and you’re performative, proposing in front of everyone like that x

georgeclarkeey loving you forever x

↳ yourusername loving you forever and always x

chloeburrows awww, the cutest! so happy for you two💞

arthurtv ‘we might have lost the game but i’ve won life’ 🥶🥶🥶 (congrats you guys❤️)

↳ georgeclarkeey cheers, was waiting for your approval (thanks mate❤️)

chrismd10 proposal was almost as cold as my free kick mate

↳ stephen_tries give it a rest, it was one of 18 goals

behzingagram best proposal oat🙌🏼❤️

sidemen ❤️❤️❤️

↳ georgeclarkeey thanks for letting me do that guys

livvydimartino beautiful girl🥹 so happy for you xx

↳ yourusername thank you ml💓

bambinobecky he can’t take my munchkin from me. tell him i’m coming for him

↳ yourusername nothing can split us apart becky x

↳ georgeclarkeey i can read her comments🤓🤓

arthurnfhill george please film fifty more platform roulettes before a baby clarkey is on the way

↳ yourusername don’t plan on getting preggy for a while yet finchy x

↳ faithlouisak neither did i babe x

user1 everyone’s getting married and having babies now!! this is so cute it’s so nice seeing everyone make their own families!

user2 the fact that she immediately burst into tears🥹

↳ user3 she’s so real for that honestly

user4 clarkey for the best proposal of all social media couples!!!

user5 they’re so in love it makes me feel sick (with jealousy)

[anim-ttrpgs]

The Hottest Way to Get Got: A Eureka Tournament

Alright for fun we added up all the distinct ways a monster PC in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy can kill* someone and regain Composure from doing so. And because our fanbase is like this I’m making it a tournament to figure out which one they think is the hottest.

*Not literally all of these result in death but sometimes they're still pretty bad.

Also to clarify, "you" can be on any end of any of these for finding it hot. Done to you, you doing it, or just being a bystander.

We determined there’s 74 distinct ways for a monster PC to get someone in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. 74 turns out to be a pretty awkward number for a tournament bracket so Round 1 is going to be relatively small while the biggest round with the most matchups will be Round 2.

I’ll keep this post updated each week as the rounds progress. Check the notes for links to all the polls.

This is going to be a lot of work so y'all better reblog and promote and propagandize this shit. I wanna see some arguments.