#im looking at my nemesis who shit talked me behind my back about my job and being jealous EYEEEE was making money at the time

[taehyunghobi]

bts ticketing/concerts brings out the worst in people sometimes i swear lol

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Time Will Tell: Part Three

note: this is for @peppermintschnappss , who requested a part three (read part ONE and TWO here) so here we go, enjoy :)

words: 3k

warnings: swearing, smut

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty of the accused charges.“

Hearing the verdict felt like the biggest weight had just dropped off your shoulders, you were so relieved that you could barely make out the judge dismissing the court over the sound of your pulse hammering in your ears.

You had just won your first case for your new employer, it had been the first client you had dealt with all on your own, a case of alleged tax fraud, and you had nailed it.

With a big smile on your face, you quickly congratulated your client and, after a short talk with the prosecutor, made your way out of the courtroom, a spring in your step.

Just before you reached the door, the sound of a familiar voice behind you made you stop in your tracks.

“You did it, champ.”

Turning around, you came face to face with your colleague, but more importantly, boyfriend, Chris.

You were surprised to see him, and immediately threw your hands around his neck to kiss him, not caring about the fact that you were technically still in the court room.

“Chris, what are you doing here? Did you watch the trial?” You asked after breaking the kiss.

“Of course I did. It was your first one for the firm, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Actually, I’m here to pick you up. We’re celebrating.”

+++

“You did this all by yourself?”

You took in the living room of Chris apartment with wide eyes. He had put up a beautiful dinner table, and there was a delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

“You’re such a sap.” You said, a bit choked up. „Thank you so much, baby. “

“Only for you, superstar.” Chris replied, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body to his. He was warm and solid, and when his hands wandered down to squeeze your ass, dinner wasn’t your top priority anymore.

"Do you think we can maybe re-heat the food later?” You gasped against Chris lips, pulling his shirt out of his trousers to run your hands over his abs.

“Fuck, yes.” he murmured, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the bedroom.

+++

“Oooh here she comes, trying for the outside jump.” Chris exclaimed, before bursting out laughing as you totally missed the hoop.

“Sweetheart, I‘m so sorry, but that was pathetic.”

You flipped him the bird, running to collect the ball and throwing it at Chris with all the force you could manage. He effortlessly caught it and shot it through the hoop like it was nothing.

“Show-off.” you murmured, sitting down on the bench on the side of the basketball court. You were done, Chris had tried to teach you his favorite game for hours now, but you didn’t manage to make any progress. You just weren’t cut out for ball sports.

“Don’t beat yourself up, baby. It took me forever when I first started playing.” Chris said, slumping down next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull your close.

“Stop it, im gross and sweaty.” You giggled, trying to push him away, but he just laughed and pressed a kiss to your head. His laugh was your favorite sound in the world, so you stopped wriggling and leaned against his shoulder.

“Who taught you to play like that anyway?” you asked, looking up and noticing a far away look on Chris‘ face.

“My dad did.” He said, his voice oddly quiet now. “It was our favorite activity when I was a teenager.” He paused for a moment, and you decided to wait and let him speak. “For a long time, it basically was our only one. You know, with him being governor and everything, he wasn’t around a lot, or had any free time.”

“I’m sorry, Chris.” you whispered.

“It’s alright.” He dismissed you, still sounding a bit strained. “My big brother stepped up for a lot of stuff, you know. Homework, making sure I didn’t get in trouble, he even helped me with my college applications and everything. He’s an ass most off the time, but I still love him, and I’m grateful for everything he has done for me.” He chuckled. “But he can’t play basketball for shit.”

“Sounds like he and I have something in common then.” You noted, trying not to sound awkward. The topic of Chris’ family was still foreign terrain, you hadn’t met them yet, and had decided to give Chris space and wait for him to bring it up himself. You were also slightly nervous, because there was no way Chris hadn’t told them about you, his college nemesis.

Deciding to change the topic and cheer your boyfriend up, you picked up the ball again.

“Do you still have enough energy for another round, Cuomo?” You asked smugly. “If you’d rather go home and take a nap, just say so, would be totally fine.”

Chris laughed, and snatched the ball right out of your hands with ease. You were happy to see him lighten up.

“Please, as if playing against you would require any energy.”

+++

The topic of Chris childhood didn’t come up for another few weeks, you had noticed that he avoided talking about it and were wise enough not to pressure him.

Everything was going fine until Chris lost a big case for a very high-end client. The man had clearly been guilty, and not even your boyfriend had been able to get him out, despite his talent as an attorney.

It was the talk off the whole firm the next day, Chris hadn’t lost a case in ages, and never such an important one. He had been on edge ever since the trial, but it was what happened in the morning meeting that made him snap.

The reason was Smith, another associate and Chris’ number one opponent for the spot of the next junior partner of the firm. You hated the guy, he was vile and clearly only in it for the money. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, and started to attack Chris during the morning meeting.

“Great job you did yesterday, Cuomo.” he snarled, his voice sounding through the whole conference room. “I wonder how many clients your incompetence will cost us. People are already talking.”

You could feel Chris going rigid beside you and carefully put your hand on his back in an attempt to calm him.

“Don’t let him get to you.” You whispered “He wants to rile you up.”

When the man continued to speak, you could see Chris’ jaw going tense, which was never a good sign.

“Seriously, boss, Cuomo is a basket case, how is he still working for us after that fuck-up? Oh, wait, I know it, I’m sure daddy pulled some strings for his little boy.”

You couldn’t prevent what was happening next. Chris surged forward with a angry growl, already taking a swing at the guy.

“Shut your fucking mouth!” he hissed, backing Smith up against a wall. He was considerably larger, and the fearful expression on the guys face paired with Chris raised fist made chaos break loose as multiple people were trying to get him away from the smaller man.

“Gentlemen, stop this!” your boss thundered over the agitated voices of your fellow coworkers “Smith, see me right away. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior. Cuomo, take a walk and then get to work. Come to my office after you’re done tonight.”

Chris gave Smith another deadly stare before storming out of the room. You shot your boss an anxious glance, but he just nodded, signalling you to go after Chris.

You hastily followed your boyfriend, only to see him disappear into his office at the end of the hallway. Carefully, you approached the closed door and entered without knocking.

Chris was slumped in his chair, face buried in his hands. Seeing him like this made you want to go back and punch Smith in his stupid face.

“Hey.” you whispered, gently reaching out to put your hand on Chris shoulder.

He raised his head, and the look of fury and sadness in his eyes almost broke your heart.

"Fuck, I should not have lost control like this back in there.” he said “But this guy has been testing me for so long now, always with the same bullshit.”

He got up from his chair and started pacing around the small room.

“You know how often I’ve heard this crap before, Y/N? That I’m just where I am because of my family name? That my father paved the way for everything I’ve ever succeeded in?”

You swallowed, a churning feeling in your stomach. You knew exactly what he was talking about, because for years you’ve been one of the main people saying just that. You wanted to speak, but Chris interrupted you.

“Those people out there, they know nothing about me. They don’t know how it was to have a father who was absent all the time, to be constantly teased in school. To be ripped out of the life you knew to move to fucking Albany, this stupid one horse town where everyone knew your name, and go to this school full of pricks who all made fun of me and bullied me because of my family. I never asked to be in the fucking spotlight.”

By now, Chris was almost screaming, and there was a kind of emotion in his voice you’ve never heard before, he sounded desperate and sad in a way that made tears well up in your eyes.

“Still, I worked my ass off in that stupid school, and I got into Yale. Only for people to say the exact same shit about me again, and this drags through my whole life, Y/N. I can never get rid of this, I avoided politics and tried to do my own thing here, but everything I’ll ever be to people is the son of the fucking governor, who in their eyes, never worked a day in his life.”

You were frozen to your spot, just watching Chris through a veil of tears. Guilt and dread were clawing in your stomach, it had never occurred to you that all the things you said in the past had not only been far from the thruth, but had also hurt Chris so profoundly. He had always seemed so cool and unfazed during your arguments.

“Chris.” You began. “You’re more to me. You’re a brilliant attorney, the boss has talked about how great you are at the job the second I arrived here and hasn’t stopped since. Smith is jealous because he knows he’ll never reach your level, not as a lawyer and much less as a person. You are kind, and the most intelligent and dedicated man I know. You’re everything I always thought you weren‘t, and that I am one of the people who hurt you this way makes me sick. I cant even begin to tell you how sorry I am for being so shallow.”

You were crying now, tears rolling down your face. Chris looked devastated, hurrying to you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago, baby. You’ve been my rock ever since we’ve met again, and that makes up for every silly row we had in college.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, and you sighted, nuzzling your face into his chest, your tears soaking into his dress shirt.

“You probably have to change this.” You whispered, tugging on a wet patch on the fabric.

“I have a spare one in here, don’t worry.” Chris replied, taking your face into his hands to kiss you deeply. “We’re not the people we used to be, Y/N. Don’t beat yourself up, and I’ll try to do the same, promise.”

+++

Soon afterwards, you had to leave to meet up with a client for your current case. You had been running around the whole day without a break, and without hearing anything from Chris.

It was almost eight by now, and you were starting to get worried. Pacing your living room, you were anxiously waiting for Chris to arrive. He had told you to not wait up at the firm but promised to come to your apartment as soon as his talk with the boss was over.

The sign of the bell made you spin around and run to your door, yanking it open. Chris was standing outside your apartment, and the big smile on his face erased your anxiety in a heartbeat.

“You’re looking at a freshly promoted junior partner, sweetheart.” He grinned, and whatever he wanted to say next was interrupted by you throwing yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck with a squeal.

“Oh my god, baby, congratulations.” You exclaimed, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Tell me everything!”

Chris followed you into your flat, discarding his suit jacket and letting himself fall onto your couch.

“I still haven’t fully realized what happened.” He began. “I was sure the boss would kick my ass for the way I behaved this morning, maybe even suspend me for a while. But he just told me off really quickly, and then he started talking about how that case I lost was impossible to win anyway, and how good my work has been for the past years. And then he offered me the junior partner position, just like that. I accepted of course.”

He smiled, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I can’t wait to rub that into Smiths stupid face. One of the paralegals told me he got a big ass whooping by the boss after the meeting this morning.”

"Serves him right, that little asshole.” You replied, before leaning over to kiss Chris again. “I’m so proud of you, you deserve this like no one else. Now that I think about it, how does champagne sound?”

“Wow, so were going to be fancy tonight?” Chris chuckled.

“If you becoming a junior partner doesn’t call for champagne, what does?” you responded, getting up to fetch the drinks from the kitchen.

You handed Chris a glass and clinked your own against his. “To you, Mr. Big Shot lawyer.”

The champagne sent a pleasant, fuzzy feeling through your stomach, and you let your eyes fall on your boyfriend, taking in how good he was looking in the warm light of the room.

“You know, I always had a thing for attorneys.” You murmured, setting down your glass to put your hands on Chris chest.

Chris laughed, and set his glass aside as well, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Is that so, huh? Well today is your lucky day then, I just got promoted and I’m in the mood to celebrate.”

His hot breath sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head, exposing your neck to Chris, who instantly started kissing and sucking the smooth skin. You moaned softly and started to unbutton Chris shirt with shaking fingers.

“Bedroom?” he asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, taking his hand to pull him to the other room. Both of you quickly shed your clothes before you dropped to your knees in front of Chris, closing your lips around his already hard cock.

“Jesus, Y/N.” he murmured, stroking your hair as you fully took him into your mouth. “So perfect, baby.”

You wrapped you hand around the base of his length, stroking him while moving your head up and down. Suddenly, Chris hand grabbed your hair and softly pushed you away.

“If you keep it up like that, this will be over soon, and I’m not done with you, sweetheart. Get on the bed, baby.”

You quickly complied, laying down on the duvet and looking up at Chris expectantly.

He climbed on top of you and started stroking your inner thighs with his fingers, softly nudging your legs apart.

“I bet youre already wet for me, baby.” He murmured, voice smooth and dark as his fingers dipped between your legs. “I knew it.”

“Chris.” You whined at the feeling of his fingers brushing over your clit. “Fuck me, please.”

“Patience, baby.” Chris replied and continued to tease you, softly circling your bud with increasing pressure until you were sobbing, legs shaking as you fell apart under his touch.

While you were still riding out your climax, Chris slid between your legs and pushed into you. You cried out as he started to move, you were still so sensitive that you could feel yourself already approaching the next orgasm.

“Shit, baby, you’re tight, I’m not gonna last.” Chris grunted, his thrusts were already getting more erratic.

“Let go, baby.” You whispered, your voice breaking as you reached your peak again, pulling Chris with you this time.

+++

Afterwards, you laid next to each other, Chris arm loosely slung around you as you played with a lock of his hair. His blue eyes found yours, and you had to smile, your heart fluttering when he smiled back at you.

“It’s funny.” Chris suddenly said, “So many things happened today, but the only thing I care about right now is that you’re here with me.”

He propped himself up on his elbow to properly look at you.

“I would’ve never thought that this” he gestured between the two of you “could happen.”

“Not in a thousand years.” You agreed, laughing softly.

Chris face got serious, and he reached out to softly stroke your cheek.

“If you want, I’d like to introduce you to my family this weekend, Y/N. You know that I’m a private person and talking about emotions isn’t exactly my strong suit. But you make me really happy, and I want everyone to know.”

“I’d love to meet them.” You whispered, and the smile that took over Chris face made you forget your nervousness.

Everything would be fine.

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/the-love-song-of-dril-and-the-boys/

The Love Song Of Dril And The Boys

I have not read dril’s book. I cannot read dril’s book. 

Dril Official “Mr. Ten Years” Anniversary Collection compiles 1,500 of the pseudonymous Twitter user’s greatest tweets, and it is simply too funny for me to read for more than a page or two at a time without laughing so hard, I feel physically ill. Ask my family if you don’t believe me. Ask the patrons of the West Babylon Public Library, who have been shooting me dirty looks since I began writing this essay. Every time I crack the book open, I’m seconds away from hitting something like this … 

“hello 911 I need a moat dug around my house immediately” “sir this line is for emergencies only” “Thuis is an emergency moat”

— wint (@dril) May 18, 2014

 … or this …

koko the talking ape.. has been living high on the hog, wasting our tax dollars on high capacity diapers. No more. i will suplex that beast,

— wint (@dril) September 7, 2014

… or this … 

where do girls live

— wint (@dril) October 20, 2010

… and that’s it. Show’s over. “Goodnight Irene,” as Gorilla Monsoon would say. (“I will suplex that beast.”)

Dril’s blend of fist-on-the-table bluster, abject confusion and burned-toast syntax — the style of humor he pioneered, which became the lingua franca of Funny/Weird Twitter in toto — has my number. Like Monty Python’s run-on sketches, non sequiturs and Terry Gilliam animation; like the endless awkward pauses, omnipresent electrical humming and recycled animation of “Space Ghost Coast to Coast”; like Tim and Eric’s garish colors, glitchy video and non-actor stars, dril’s tweets are a new way to be funny, with a rhythm and vocabulary all their own. I love it.

But dril? Dril loves the boys. 

A recurring collective character in dril’s oeuvre, the boys occupy a unique place in his taxonomy, which, thanks to the book’s arrangement of tweets by topic, is easier than ever to get the hang of. For example, girls are mysterious sources of intermingled awe and terror, like the monoliths in “2001.”

ah, So u persecute Jared Fogle just because he has different beliefs? Do Tell. (girls get mad at me) Sorry. Im sorry. Im trying to remove it

— wint (@dril) November 1, 2015

Brands are icons of integrity, as admirable as they are untouchable.

just deleted 23,000 tweets at the request of Sbarro. feeling Purified

— wint (@dril) July 5, 2015

The trolls are contemptible pests, an implacable obstacle.

will no longer be livestreaming foreskin restoration process; the trolls who attempted to summon [インプ] (Imps) into the chatroom are to blame

— wint (@dril) February 3, 2012

And then there’s rival Twitter user @DigimonOtis, a class by himself: He is nemesis, the anti-dril.

(reading my latest death threat ) “from the desk of DigimonOtis…” this is bullshit. digimonotis has never owned a desk

— wint (@dril) November 6, 2014

But the boys are on dril’s level. The boys welcome dril with open arms. They share his hopes and fears, his loves and hates. He’s one of the boys.

Just met w/ Boys Lunch Club. Seems to me, That we are very pissed off that teen girls would rather kiss, “Soldier Boy,” than Actual Soldiers

— wint (@dril) May 16, 2016

pleased to report my custom beer tap that makes a dramatic diarrhea noise while filling the glass is a hit with the boys at the fondue club

— wint (@dril) October 16, 2014

best 90s memory is gathering around the old oak tree with the boys and passing around trading cards featuring all of our dads #DamnGood90s

— wint (@dril) April 30, 2013

Crucial to the boys’ appeal is their exclusivity. Like any clique, they’ve invested their aesthetic preferences with moral weight, and those who violate them do so at their peril.

darknet 2002: pics of dead guys in bath tubs, warez darknet 2017: discussions amongst the boys as to which of our acquaintances aren t funny

— wint (@dril) August 11, 2017

me & the booys are riffing on 78 hours of stolen walgreens security cam footage. this guy on here just bought a toilet brush. bitch!! bitch!

— wint (@dril) December 8, 2014

me and the boys have decided that the least gay way of wiping your ass is to dump a quarter bottle of Palmolive Spring Sensations back there

— wint (@dril) September 17, 2016

Dril may be a member in good standing, but membership brings responsibilities as well as privileges.

the boys held an intervention about me “Going hollywood” because i;ve been buying plastic toothpicks now

— wint (@dril) June 1, 2018

THE BOYS: were watching the mr bean episode where you can see his ass. get over here ME: cant. wifes making me watch mr beans holiday (2007)

— wint (@dril) June 14, 2017

If the boys function as dril’s superego, instilling and policing values, they are also his id — an embodiment of his most voracious physical drives.

pussy log 12.29.11: justin unscrewed the knob from the door to the ladies’ room and now the club boys all take turns cradling it

— wint (@dril) December 30, 2011

“Ah!! Lunchtime, Boys!” i snort several lines of Hamburger Helper, tilt my head back and shake with unbearable agony as my head turns purple

— wint (@dril) May 15, 2013

The comedy and tragedy of dril is that he is a man without ego, the mediating force that balances the needs of id and superego. He is perpetually out of balance, careening from excess to shame. He requires the intervention of the boys, the example they set, just to function.

This is why the saga of dril and the boys is a love story — conditional and occasionally unrequited though that love may be. It is poignant because it is impossible to imagine dril living without them any more than Juliet could live without Romeo.

When the lovers are in harmony — when the needs of id, ego and superego are aligned at last — the result is a thing of beauty.

going ape shit at the gym. rotating in full 360 degrees with the boys, flawlessly synchronized

— wint (@dril) November 28, 2017

The boys can be peers, contributing to the good posts for which dril is best known at a level beyond dril’s own imagining.

cant wiat to see what devilish thanksgiving scenarios me and the boys of twitter can conjure up. “The turkey was taken by spiders? ? Whua??”

— wint (@dril) November 24, 2014

Together they can be silent guardians, watchful protectors, dark knights, defending boys both within and outside the circle from the depredations of rival groups.

me & the boys will be holding hands., forming a Covenant Ring, to protest girls who only want to fuck the main pirate from the pirate movies

— wint (@dril) June 4, 2017

the epic shit of 2017; is the boys getting TheSegaPimp fired from his job at The Red Cross for not wishing me a “Happy Halloween”

— wint (@dril) January 2, 2018

the boys are enjoying their fave jukebox when ths sarge steps in SARGE: TURN OFF THE DAMN JUKE BOX! ITS WAR ME: Fuck u sarge. The armys crap

— wint (@dril) July 7, 2015

Not every tweet about the boys made it into the book. This is fitting, as when they’re operating at full force, nothing can contain them. 

thje opening riff of “Life In The Fast Lane” repeats over and over forever while me and the boys shoot at a septic tank with airsoft rifles

— wint (@dril) August 1, 2014

me N’ the boys eating messy sandiwches, sneaking around with big binoculars looking for girls & letting every one know who runs this TJ maxx

— wint (@dril) July 21, 2016

So we come to the crux of the matter. Dril and the boys are the great love story of our time because their insecurities, their mania, are our time’s prime motivators.

Dril and the boys wallow in the same miasma from which all our era’s reactionary movements have emerged — the MAGAs and Pepes, MRAs and incels, GamerGaters and ComicsGaters, Sad Puppies and Proud Boys and all the other doofuses with unwittingly infantilizing sobriquets.

With “the boys,” the humorist behind dril has tapped into the overall vibe in this country that there exists, somewhere out there ― perhaps in a TJ Maxx ― a lost masculine ideal. No one agrees on what it is, least of all dril, whose psyche is as piecemeal as his punctuation. It could be yelling at NFL protesters to stand for the national anthem or screaming at Disney for committing white genocide in the “Star Wars” films. It could be having sex all the time or having no sex at all. It could be respecting the majesty of the law or flouting it or both, depending on whom the law is meant to penalize. It’s the nightmare superego-id hybrid, 10 pounds of Blue Lives Matter shit in a five-pound “Live free or die” bag.

When men fail to live up to the puritanical amorality of the boys, they’re less than men, which is to say — as women have a lifetime to learn — they’re less than human. Such men earn sexualized insults like “betas” and “cucks.” They’re reduced to contemptuous acronyms like “SJWs” and “NPCs.” They make the soy face. They listen to dad rock. This blend of macho aggression and childlike vulnerability cannot be resolved in the real world, where it results in a racist, revanchist, minority party controlling all branches of government and installing sexual predators in every available position of power yet still acting like the David to the Goliath of Me Too, female gamers and the theoretical casting of Idris Elba as James Bond.

me and the boys watching james bond morph into a black guy before our very eyes , and braying at the movie screen like distressed cattle

— wint (@dril) September 4, 2018

Dril and the boys reside in this all-American astral plane where the Large Son–Libtard civil war rages, where misandry is real and must be guarded against with magic spells. We recognize our own reality in their incoherent but nevertheless militant search for reasons to hoot and holler. As such, their romance presents us with an opportunity to convert the problematic into the pleasurable, just as surely as antihero dramas or even halfway decent kink.

In the world of dril and the boys, all the pride and greed and wrath and lust and envy and sloth and gluttony of the movements that have fouled the entire adult lives of multiple generations of Americans can be boiled down to a gaggle of morons screaming about toilets. It’s a beautiful fantasy, and like all fantasies, it’s as romantic as it is remote.

Sean T. Collins has written for The New York Times, Rolling Stone, Pitchfork, Esquire and Vulture. He and his partner, the cartoonist Julia Gfrörer, are the co-editors of the art and comics anthology Mirror Mirror II. They live with their children on Long Island in New York.

Source: https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/dril-and-the-boys-twitter_us_5bb66529e4b028e1fe3bfd71