#like fuck i'd love to live in atlanta

[powerfulkicks]

fuck my gay ass i need to join some sort of fucking club

[carolmunson]

a thousand times a day | rockstar!eddie

fall frenzy req by @saltystormyx: 'I'd like to request a mini-fic with your rockstar!eddie au character. I'll leave it totally open to whatever you want to write.'

fall frenzy set list

back in action with a couple we haven't hung out with in a while! it was nice to get to revisit these two in some way. i had a different story for them to start -- something dirty and slutty -- but i just couldn't get into it. i needed something cozy for them. perhaps now that the seal is broken we can venture into some more slutty stuff between these two at some point. welcome to an early thanksgiving with the munsons before they were married.

tw: 18+, mostly very fluffy, some references to drug abuse, some references to using/addiction/getting clean. otherwise, two hotties in love. reader isn't referred to as 'stella' in this fic but the last name 'rink' is used a couple times to refer to reader and her family.

November, 1992

"I just, ugh honey I feel so awful to cancel on them." You blow your nose into a tissue but also direclty into the phone, making Eddie pull the receiver away from his ear for a second. You called in hysterics from a shoot in New York that you have to do pick up shots in Georgia and the earliest flight back they can manage is on Thanksgiving; leaving your plans to go back upstate to celebrate with your family in the dust. The flights had been paid for, even Wayne was making the trip to Syracuse to celebrate with you and yours. It was finally going to feel normal now that Eddie was three months clean and things had settled down some. He wasn't touring and they were only in the early stages of writing a new album and even then, the band spent most of their nights in the home studio instead of going into the city. Every now and again he'd come upstairs to grab more Pellegrino's out of the fridge and give you kisses on the cheek while you went over potential scripts.

Depsite having moved back at the beginning of November and back to falling asleep tied up with each other, you hadn't put your ring back on yet. It sat resting on your jewelry stand in your dressing room, as shiny and perfect as ever. Your bare ring finger sat as a reminder to him that he's not there yet; that he still has so much to prove -- but he meant what he said. You were gonna be his wife one day.

"Baby, it's okay. They're gonna understand," he assures softly, "It's not like you're doing it on purpose; they know you can't just not go." "It's just s-so stupid. An-an-and it's the first -- fuck, Ed it's the first one without Dad and I just feel so bad for my mom having to look at two empty seats and I don't know, babe. Like, I just feel like I'm r-ruining everything," you choke on your words, fully blubbering into the phone, make up smearing down your cheeks onto the hotel pillows you're leaning against. "You're not ruining anything sweetheart," his voice soft but firm, "You want me to get on a flight to you? I'll go right now."

"N-no it's okay," you sniffle, "I'm meeting up with Simone and getting dinner and we're gonna red-eye back home so we can get ready for Atlanta."

"Oh, so I get to see you tomorrow morning?" he grins, feeling selfish almost at how much he loves hearing your time away from him is cut so short.

"Yeah," you sniffle again, his heart pangs, "Probably really early."

"I'll have breakfast ready for you, okay? What do you want?"

"Um," you shrug to no one, "I don't know. Waffles." "Okay," he smiles, "Waffles it is."

The call home was less sweet; your mom understood but you could hear the dull ache in her voice. The subtle sadness mom's have in their register that they try to mask with an airy laugh -- years of feigning their own disappointement from life barely lived. She knows you're busy and she understands, she tells you a million times. You hear it but you don't feel it; you know she'd rather you blow it all off to come home again and see your family.

You'd rather blow it all off to see your family. Eddie had only seen your childhood home once -- quaint in size, snickered when he saw that you grew up with two guest rooms. He knew you grew up with it made, but you never made it so clear. You had walked through the trailer park to visit his old stomping grounds like you knew was growing up poor was like. Maybe you were a good actress after all.

He had waffles ready when you got in at five in the morning, who knows when he woke up to start. The Belgian Waffle maker you got sent as a wrap gift two years ago was finally out of the plastic, box still on the kitchen floor. Batter dripped down the sides and next to it a serving plate of a small mountain of waffles.

The pink stains on his fingers give a hint to who sliced all the strawberries and other fruit. Separated and glistening in the crystal bowls you really only take out for special oocasions.

Three cans of whipped cream sat at the end of the counter, one already opened with a small peak puffing out. 'Ya gotta try the product first, it's the whipped cream tax'

He's so silly. You missed his silly.

You're not home for very long, a couple days before you start packing for Georgia and you spend it all in his arms. Meals together, sitting on his lap in the studio while he tries out new melodies, you even spent one night curled up in the living room to watch a pay per view fight of Harrington's. Their friendship was finally starting to heal up after Eddie's last relapse.

He pouts when you get ready to leave, shrugging your coat on after you put the cordless phone down to confirm your car. You pout back at him.

"Don't give me that face, you're making me feel worse," you frown.

"M'just gonna miss you," he says quietly, "It's lonely here when you're not around."

"I know," you nod up at him. You don't mean for the comment to sting, but it does a little. It's not like he didn't want to be there with you this past year.

He leans down to kiss you, both hands reaching up to cup your cheeks.

"Don't be sad," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against yours, "We'll have a nice Thanksgiving together when you get back, just us." "What about Wayne?" you ask, heart panging at the though of his Uncle eating alone. "Don't worry about it, sweet thing," he lets his lips linger against yours again for just a moment, "Wayne'll be okay."

The flight had never been more turbulent. Atlanta had never felt more cold.

You hear the phone ring and ring for the second time only to get the tin-like sound of your mothers voice again, 'Thanks for calling the Rink's! We aren't able to come to the phone right now; but please leave your name and number and we'll call you back. If you're trying to reach Stella Rink, please contact her publicist at Starmade PR Corp.'

"Hi, it's me -- again," you say into the receiver, "I'm sure you guys are busy cooking or have the game on but um, I just wanted to say happy Thanksgiving guys...God, come on, I know you're there. Just pick up!"

Your voice wavers, "I'm sorry I couldn't make it I just --" "NOW BOARDING FIRST CLASS - FLIGHT 7995 TO LOS ANGELES."

You feel a slight pull on your arm from Simone, sighing while you hang up the pay phone to make it to check in.

"They hate me," you mumble. "They don't hate you, Rink," she assures, hand soothingly skating up and down your back, "They know what your life is like." The flight is long and you sleep during most of it, the sad pit in your chest spreading through heavy in your body. You couldn't wait to just be home and eat take out on the couch with your man; have him whisper sweet nothings of reassurance while you pout in the glow of the TV.

Rain pours in California, which is not common but of course happening on the day you feel so awful. You hope that they at least called the house; that Eddie had messages to relay to you; anything so that the guilt didn't eat you alive.

You make it home faster than usual; everyone home with their families leaves less people on the road. You tip the driver triple the fare after he helps bring your bags to the door -- holiday cheer already flowing in your veins.

To your surprise, Eddie opens the door as you go to unlock it, his smile evident on his face. He's dressed cozily, black on black Corroded Coffin sweat shirt and matching pants, socks scrunch down on his ankles -- tattoos covered outside from what peek out at the wrists.

"Happy Thanksgiving, baby," he grins. He takes your bags, putting them to the side in the lobby while you kick your shoes off at the door. He pulls you in to a tight hug to his chest and even through the laundry detergent you can smell the food from all the way out here. Aromatics, butter, garlic, rolls, turkey -- it smells like comfort, it smells like home.

"Did you cook?" you ask with hopeful surprise, "You made like, a whole thing?"

"I did the dinner rolls and I bought all the food; but I'm kind of shit at that home cooking stuff so I called in some reinforcements," his laugh is grizzly with smoked cigarette gruffness.

"Come on," he ushers you forward, taking your hand while you walk through the entry way and down the hall towards the kitchen. His hand is warm and worn, still slightly clammy while the nervous teenager in him still stumbles over dealing with you. Being with you. Loving you.

The kitchen is busy, people bustling and moving and at first you think he must've just hired a team but then a flash of your mom's red Thanksgiving apron catches your eye. Your neice's giggle rings through the echoey walls. Your sister Luna sits at the breakfast nook with your nephew to keep him out of the way, helping him with a coloring book from deep in your stash downstairs.

"Wait, what?" you ask outloud. Your mom looks up, a smile in her eyes when she sees you. "Happy Thanksgiving, honey!" she smiles big, both of your sisters getting up and following her while they flock to you, a group hug of Rinks in the entry way of the kitchen. You heart swells in your chest while you feel them surround you, smell the familiar fragrance of your mom's perfume; your sister's shampoo. It had been so long, too long.

"What're you guys doing here?" you ask, tears welling up in your eyes while the emotion takes you over. You try to sniffle back the tingle in your nose while a cry comes on. "Well, Ed called us when you left for Atlanta and asked if we wanted to all come here," your mom answers, "He got all our flights and everything."

You look over your mom's head to see Eddie leaning up against the fridge, wiping his own tear away off his cheek to see you so happy.

"You were so sad, angel," he shrugs, "I didn't want your holiday to feel so lonely. So y'know -- I got everyone here for you instead. Can't have my baby sad on Thanksgiving."

Your lower lip wobbles when you look at him, his soft gaze while your sister's go back to their previous tasks, "Let me help you bring your bags up."

When he says help he means he takes them all in one trip, you take note that all the guest rooms have been set up. Your family already unpacked and lived in like they've been here a day or two. By the looks of their suitcases they'll be here through the weekend. Your heart swells again. "Where's Wayne?" you ask quietly while you make it into your room. He pops your bags by the entry way of the dressing room to unpack for you later, coming up close to you to press a kiss to your cheek. "He's out back smoking the Turkey and listening to Alice's Restaurant on a loop," he chuckles, "He just drinks beer and hangs out -- definitely has a little crush on your mom though."

"Oh my god," you giggle back, "Well she's very pretty, I get it." "He's got a real soft spot for your neice and nephew," he nods, running a hand over the top of your head, "He's gonna be such a great grandpa."

"I bet he is," you bite your lip for a moment, thinking about a future where that's true. Where you have rockstar Eddie Munson's babies. You wish you could report all of this to the papers instead of whatever shit they put in the tabloid rags about him. HANDSOME ROCKSTAR FIANCE SAVES THANKSGIVING FOR AMERICA'S SWEETHEART!

People would read that, right? You'd read that.

"Was it a good surprise?" he asks, "It wasn't too much to spring on you I was nervous th--" "This is perfect," you nod, "It's so perfect, honey. You're perfect." "You're perfect," he counters, arms wrapping tight around you to give you a tight squeeze, "Why don't you get yourself together and I'll meet you downstairs. I gotta set things up in the dining room, things'll be ready to plate soon."

"Okay," you nod, pulling your airport best off over your head while you watch him disappear back into the house.

Dinner was one to remember. You hadn't felt the true familial magic of the holiday since you were a kid and suddenly it had flown back with a veangance.

In true Rink fashion, the after dinner digestif of Irish Coffee followed you all down to the inhome theater to watch Miracle on 34th street; the little ones and Eddie nursing hot cocoa with way too many marshmallows pouring over the tops of the mugs. "I don't have to have one," you assured him, squeezing him arm gently while you looked at the cup in front of you. "Don't worry about me," his voice calm and confident, knowing he was only going to make it half way through the movie before falling asleep anyway. Most of your family did except you and Wayne who was surprised to find out he was making his way to California instead of upstate New York.

"Couldn't find my good winter boots so it turned out for the best, I guess."

Your sleepy family finally roused, your older sister getting the kids set up in their own room downstairs before she made her way up to her room. Luna and your mom following suit upstairs, Wayne following soon after.

You and Eddie clean up the small theater and head to the kitchen to assess the damage of what needs to be done. Eddie gave house keeping the weekend off to spend with their families; so for the first time in a while dishes like this were all on the two of you.

Thank god for dishwashers and a good Bing Crosby Christmas record -- you're able to clean up the kitchen in no time; stealing kisses in between songs, getting lost in a dance or two.

When you get upstairs to your room you're both exhausted; but not so tired that your eye don't linger when he starts to undress. You know you don't have the energy for the night cap he'd like but it's nice to watch him; the dip of his waist, the way his shoulder blades move under his skin on his back. "Still hungry, Rink?" he winks; heat flames your cheeks.

"No, no, I'm just -- y'know," you shrug innocently, "You look good, baby."

"Thank you," he hums while he changes into a pair of boxers for bed. You make your way into your dressing room and slip into a little night gown for the hell of it, silk and lace so he has something nice to wake up to -- something to show how grateful you are for putting this together.

When you crawl into bed next to him in the still of the night, one arm wraps around you instinctively. Heaviness dips into your eyes at the touch, it's always so hard to sleep without him there. Your hand smooths over his chest when he feels it; the drag of metal across his skin. His hand comes up to take yours and his thumb reaches up to search for it; breath catching in his chest when he can confirm it.

You put your ring back on.

"Really?" he whispers into the dark, "Yeah?"

"Yeah Munson," you nod into the crook of his neck, "Gonna be your wife one day."

[victoriadallonfan]

Hi, since I haven't seen anyone mention this on reddit or tumblr, I'd just like to say, as someone whose first language isn't english, Worm's cape names are fucking weird. Are all of them words? Who knows, i read Worm and Ward without knowing Eidolon and Brandish are real words and not made up words. Or they are words i know but idk wich meaning is? Is March like the month or like the organized walking verb? So do all cape names mean something, and say something about the one who chose them? I refuse to google them at this point, but Anelace? Cinereal? Myrrdin? Couldn't they pick more known 2 word combinations? Do parahumans get a discount on thesaurus? Thats all I wanted to say, thanks. PS. Wildbow, the fuck you doing using Califa de Perro as a name, couldn't you ask any Spanish speaker?, i'll kill you.

BIG ANALYSIS INCOMING

Eidolon = spectre, phantom, and idolized object/person

Brandish = to flourish and wave about an item, usually a weapon. Also an epitaph for Athena

March = to move in a uniform manner and derivative of the roman god of war, Mars

Anelace = double-sided dagger used by civilians

Cinereal = grey matter of the brain and nervous system

Myrrdin = Too many to count but generally tied to Myrddin Wylt, prophetic folklore bard and a facet of Merlin (genuinely more work than I can ever give on the topic of how insanely intertwined those myths are)

The thing about Wildbow's cape names are two-fold:

In the 80+ years of superhero genre, a LOT of cape names have been chosen and used already. Taylor mentions this to Armsmaster as a meta-joke in the first arc (ironically, DC also has a Skitter, who debuted in 2011.... the same year as Worm), so he has to be creative and sometimes creativity is simplicity.

He loves giving character names multiple meanings.

To go down the list:

Eidolon's name is ironic, because he notably not idolized (and pushed out of the spotlight compared to Legend), and he ends up becoming one of GU's spectres.

Brandish creates weapons, yes, but there's connection to Pallas (brandishing) and Athena accidentally killing him while distracted to Victoria accidentally caving her head in while distracted. (There are several story iterations, including one where they had a parental relationship).

March is about how she organizes her megacluster like an army or marching band, but also reference to her civilian name (May), the Mad March Hare from Alice in Wonderland (which her entire fight with Vista is a huge reference to), and the Ides of March (notorious for the stabby stab stab of Julius Caesar)

Anelace is a master of weapons, but he's notably reluctant about that fact, and is noted to have a healthy civilian life by other characters

Cinereal is the grey matter of the brain. She is the Atlanta Protectorate leader that turns things into grey matter (ash)

Myrddin = See the King Arthur and various clusterfuck of mythos

Even his main characters have this: Taylor tailor makes her outfits and is a silk Weaver, Khepri is an Egyptian god that bring a sunny morning... and she debuted on Gold Morning. Victoria is a Roman Goddess of Victory (Contessa uses her to find "the Path to Victory"), Antares means "Anti-Ares/Rival of Ares/Anti-War" and is the constellation "heart of the scorpion" which is Victoria inside of the wretched forcefield. We can even stretch this to Khepri and Antares: Khepri is a beetle that carries the sun on to a new day. Antares is a binary sun system (with one sun being invisible to the naked eye). In the slaughterhouse 9 fight, Taylor and her beetle (khepri) carry Victoria and the fragile one (antares) to safety (to live another day).

WE CAN EVEN GO FURTHER: Atlas is the man holding up the sky in Greek Mythology, which Taylor names her beetle. Victoria's PHO name is Point_Me_@_The_Sky (which is also a Pink Floyd reference). In Worm, Atlas holds Victoria up in the sky.

Its really fun to analyze.

Califa seems to be a simple goof. Or maybe Taylor just butchered his name.

They can't all be winners.

[billthedrake]

TELEPHONE POLE

If it hadn't been for the lousy weather on the long weekend, Frank Grisholm may never have taken the chance. But he'd spent two days straight in his apartment, edging for hours with a vial of poppers, a tub of Albolene, and a collection of his favorite dildos, some quite impressive in size. The former D1 football player had a life change at 30, but for as long as it took for him to come out, it had taken less than a year for the muscled 6'5" hunk to realize he craved to have his hole worked over.

Just like grocery shopping when you're hungry, you should never log onto the apps when you've been marathon masturbating. But Frank couldn't help himself. Something about the dildos felt second-best that day. He scrolled through some familiar profiles, holding his phone in his right hand while his left slowly sawed a black-rubber Big Boy in and out of his ass.

He saw a couple of tops he'd hooked up with. Not fuck buddies, but maybe he could reach out for a repeat. Only his attention was caught by a new profile. Or at least new to Frank. The picture was PG rated. Well, R rated, maybe. A picture of a guys' shorts with a huge ridge filling out the package. The profile listed the vital stats. 20 years old, 5'9, 155#, top.

But the dick pick is what got Frank excited, and maybe a little scared. He'd never seen a dick as fat as this. Sometimes guys used the term "beer can" for cocks that probably weren't quite as big and round as an actual beer can. Unless images deceived, this one was fatter than one. It was a bludgeon of a cock that looked like a butt plug, slightly torpedo shaped with two heavy balls clinging to the stalk and a tuft of dark brown pubes behind it.

Then there was the rest of the writing:

THE REAL DEAL. This isn't photoshopped, fellas. It's a tree trunk cock ready to plow some experienced muscle ass.

TURN ONS: Masculine men, linebacker builds, meaty asses. Older guys cool. Cunt training. Seeing that gape.

TURN OFFS: Guys who pussy out. Condoms. Drugged out dudes (poppers and 420 ok)

FRONT OF THE LINE: NO FOREPLAY fucks. Military men.

I need serious takers only.

Frank had enjoyed some intense dildo play, for sure. Even back in his 20s, he had a secret stash of them, and he'd use them on himself whenever his fiancee was out. It was a lie he kept up, until his 30th birthday. He splurged and rented an escort on a business trip to Atlanta. He had to scratch that itch, to get it out of his system.

Only it was the best sex of his life. That big cocked escort had fucked the ex-jock to two toe-curling orgasms in quick succession. He didn't even charge Frank for going over the time.

The next week, Frank called off his engagement and started making plans to get a job in a city, a real city.

"Hey," he now typed. He was actually intimidated to reach out to Mr. Tree Trunk.

But he got a quick, flirty reply. "Hi man. You're fucking hot."

"Thanks," Frank said. Maybe it was the kid's age, or just that sheer cock size, but he didn't expect this easy rapport with the messaging. Frank revealed that he'd been edging all afternoon. Jake said he was taking a study break because he was really horny.

"Feel like coming over man? I'd love to pound your ass." The direct approach might not always work, but in Frank's worked up state, it was just his speed.

"Sounds hot," he wrote. "But I won't lie, that monster scares me."

"You a noob?" came the reply.

Frank had a sudden fear he'd killed the vibe and spoiled his chance to get laid. But his asshole would thank him, he decided. "Not to bottoming," the man replied. "I have some big toys, too."

"Hot," the college dude wrote. "I like breaking in new dudes. I won't hurt ya. Promise."

"That's tempting," Frank replied. "I'm so frickin horny."

"Me too man. Let's do this. My roommate is gone for the weekend." Jake sent his dorm name at one of the universities not far from where Frank lived. "I need to get back to my studying soon, but I wanna get my rocks off, bad."

It felt tawdry as hell, but the 32-year-old got cleaned up and dressed and made his way over to Jake's campus. Frank texted him when he was close, and Jake was down in the lobby waiting for him. The tall, almost beefy man blushed when he thought how transparent this was, being some college kid's booty call. But what the fuck, Jake was an adult, Frank was an adult, and it's not like anyone there knew the man.

"You're even hotter in person," Jake growled as they made our way to his room. He was wearing just some shorts and T-shirt and flip flops, with a college ball cap. He had a soccer player look about him, not a competitive one, maybe, but that tone, lean-muscled look accentuated by his ruddy cheeks and cute face. His body was buff for a college kid's, but his face looked younger.

Jake may have been in a rush, but Frank had to give him credit, he took his time. They sat on his twin dorm bed and made out, then lay back. The ex-jock had never made it with a dude this much younger than him, but the fact Jake had a massive cock gave that age differential a certain thrill. And when the college dude started tugging at Frank's sweatshirt, that put the man in a real bottomy mood.

"Fuck," Jake growled as he lifted Frank's arm and started feasting on the furry pit. The swipe of his tongue sent goosebumps down the bigger, more muscular body. Jake kissed along the chest, then munched at the other pit.

When they finally kissed again, both could feel the temperature rising. Frank reached down and massaged that fat boner in Jake's shorts.

"Wanna see it?" he asked. Boasting.

Frank nodded. "Please."

"Big muscle guy is a frickin size queen, aren't ya?" Jake wasn't a dom, not exactly. He mostly loved the physicality of sex. But he also knew he had 7 incredibly fat inches calling the shorts.

He undid his shorts and there in the flesh, Frank learned that in fact no Photoshop was involved. He was staring at the most colossal prick he'd ever seen or could imagine.

Like a hungry power bottom the big man scrambled to get down and lick it. He actually tried to work the head between his lips, but that cock was too fat.

Jake gently massaged my short hair and laughed. "Don't worry, dude, I've only met one guy who can suck me."

Frank Grisholm felt sad he wasn't that guy. And more than a little ashamed for his lust for that tool. The college kid was cute as fuck but it was the monster meat between his legs that had me acting like a slut. "OK if I lick some more?"

"Be my guest," Jake said, hands on his hips as the man laved him. The thing about dicks that big is they're generally not as hard as smaller cocks. Too much blood flow needed for all that vascular tissue. But as Frank licked him, Jake grew harder and definitely sported a fuck hardon now.

"On your back, man," he hissed. "I wanna eat your hot hole."

The big man did as instructed and when he pulled those meaty legs back, Jake actually whistled before getting down into place. He stared at Frank's pucker and gently ran his finger around it. "So nice... you have a little looseness." He looked up at the guy, a horny expresion on his face. "You been playing with your toys all day, huh?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. But none of them are as thick as you, kid."

That made Jake smile. "Should be a tight fuck, then," he growled and dove in to lick the hole.

Frank loved every part of this. On his back in some goddamn college drom room getting a very eager and skilled rim job. He had to imagine Jake's endowment meant he had a good deal of experience, if he wanted it. Now he softly urged the college stud in a deep gravely voice, coaxing to lick him deep.

The rimming didn't last TOO long. Maybe five minutes. But Frank's hole felt alive and ready. There had been too much stimulation and edging and now he wanted it.

Jake wasn't giving him a chance to back out. At least not unless and until the big guy said no. He slathered on some milky viscous lube, and Frank realized he'd seen it in some toy play videos. The college kid was actually nervous as he pushed that first fat inch past Frank's ring.

The ex-footballer wanted this, bad. But the entry stung and he did his best to hold back a wince.

Jake looked on concerned but also majorly turned on. "Yeah, man, first time's a bitch," he said. "But you got it." He reached down and ran his hands along Frank's beefy furry front. "I'm in ya now, buddy. So just relax and let me in."

Frank took a couple of deep breaths until he decided the heavy breathing was making him tense up.

"Want some poppers?" Jake asked.

"Um, yeah," Frank said. Sometimes they gave him a headache afterwards, but that would be worth it if it allowed him to take this massive cock.

Jake walked as the big guy huffed the fumes. "You're just my fucking type, man," He said excitedly as he fisted that tree trunk meat and added some extra viscous lube.

Frank screwed the cap back on the vial and lay it down on the mattress. He nodded up at Jake.

The poppers rush coincided with the college kid's second entry. That humongous prick was boring right into that slick ass and Frank's body was letting it.

"Fuck!" the big man growled. "You're huge."

"You like huge," Jake said in his turned on voice. He pressed on, feeling a crazy snugness but not an outright clenching of the man's guts, like he usually did with noobies. Soon he felt his balls press against that muscle ass. "I was right, man. You're tight as fuck."

Frank had lost his hardon earlier but the idea he had that giant dong buried all the way up him turned him on and made his cock bone up. He reached down and scooped up some extra lube and applied it to his cock.

Jake was now sawing in and out. Not a lot. But priming the pump. "Not gonna last long today, I'm afraid," he grunted. "Too fucking tight."

"That's OK," Frank said.

Jake nodded down to the poppers. "Take another hit," he urged. "You'll need it."

The ex-jock did just that. Then enjoyed the wave of warmth in his body. Jake was fucking now. Heavy full strokes. It wasn't rough or hard or fast, but with a tree trunk dick, it didn't have to be. Hands down, it was the most intense fucking Frank Grisholm had ever experienced. He tugged at his regular-sized boner and felt jolts of pleasure. His prostate was downright flattened by that torpedo-tapered dong, which sawed over it over and over.

"Shit!" Jake hissed. As he came, that was the only time he lost control, his hips jerking harder and fast as that bazooka blasted deep inside Frank. He'd actually had bottoms pass out with that part, but Jake couldn't help himself. When he was mid-nut, nature took over.

Fortunately, that extra intensity pushed Frank to the hardest cum of his life. Pleasurable to the point of hurting as ropes of seed got pushed out.

Before the poppers wore off, Jake was pulling back, very slowly. With size comes responsibility, and Jake was always careful in the dismount, at least until he knew a bottom was well trained for some rougher stuff.

His eyes were fixated on Frank's well-fucked hole. "Damn, that's one hell of a gape!" he enthused. "Fucking beautiful."

Frank felt exposed and slutty but the fact this kid liked his wide-open cummy hole made him less self-conscious.

"I wish I had more time to play with that," Jake said softly, actually wistfully as his fingers traced the gaping rim. "Is my finger OK, man?" he asked.

Frank winced a little. "I'm a little tender. But go ahead."

Jake was like a kid in the candy store as he examined his handiwork. The man's pucker was a little red and a lot stretched, though it was closing back up before his eyes. Frank leaned back and watched that giant college dong shrink to a soft elephant trunk.

Jake looked at Frank with a leer. "You think you'd ever be up for cunt training, man? You have an amazing pussy."

Two years ago, Frank would have objected to those terms. Now, he was OK with them. "What do you mean, cunt training?"

Jake smirked. "I've given some guys real big pussy lips, just by fucking regularly." He added, "though some of the dudes have also used toys. Either way, it's hot as fuck."

"I dunno," Frank hissed. He'd loved everything about taking on the challenge of Jake's cock, but he didn't want to be a freak or anything.

"Just think about it, man," he urged. He pulled up his finger and licked off the fuck juice from it. "You'd have a lot of fun doing it."

Jake patted his meaty thigh. "Listen, I really do need to study for my midterm. But dude, that was incredible... I'm glad you hit me up."

"Me too," Frank said sheepishly, gathering his energy to get dressed again. The popper headache was coming on, but he'd been right: this was all worth it.

"Seriously man," Jake said as he slipped his shorts back on over that soft heavy, flopping meat. "Let me know if you want a repeat. I'm not looking to date or anything, but it would be hot to have a longer session."

"We'll see," Frank answered, but with an encouraging smile. Jake stepped up for one last kiss, then Frank was off.

The whole way home, the ex-jock's hole felt tender and used, but that very feeling made him smile.

[bedlamsbard]

how the FUCK am I supposed to change the lightbulbs on the twenty-foot ceilings in this apartment????

ALL of the overhead lights in this apartment are like this. (there are a handful of hanging lights that I can change myself.) I understand that there's some kind of grippy lightbulb changer suction cup or basket on a pole you can get at Lowe's or Amazon but a lot of these lights aren't normally recessed, they're beneath covers. And a lot of them are already burned out. (I can also tell that several have normal bulbs behind the cover, which means they were replaced before with the wrong kind of lightbulbs -- the one in the laundry room has two regular bulbs, one burned out, and there's literally no way I can get at it. I'm not climbing on a sixteen-foot ladder, I will die.)

*dubiously* I guess this is what handymen are for. (I mean, in a college town I'm sure I can always hire an enterprising college student to do various things, but perhaps not for the lights. I'm sure one of them would buy my excess mattress, though.)

I'd honestly be willing to try the lightbulb changer on a pole, but I'm not sure I can physically manage it with all of these lights, and the ones behind covers (which includes both bathrooms and the laundry room) I definitely can't. Also I guess I'll send another plaintive text to my property manager. (I am still trying to figure out where trash goes.)

this is a recently renovated apartment, but it is immediately evident to me that the reno was designed by (a) a man who was (b) COMICALLY taller than me (not hard, I'm 5'2.5"), (c) probably left-handed, and (d) didn't actually cook much despite the nice kitchen. (I do have SUBSTANTIALLY more counter space than in the Decatur house, but it would actually be difficult not to have more counter space than in that house -- I dealt with it by having a kitchen cart.)

on the other hand, there are FIVE MILLION outlets in this apartment. so it has that going for it. literally, from where I am sitting in the not-quite-open plan kitchen/dining/living room I can see thirteen outlets and I know there are two more in the office nook (built-in desk!). on the third hand it is a second-story walk-up and if I'd known the stair situation I'm not sure I would have rented it. (I had a video tour but didn't realize the stair situation until I got here.) probably the restaurant below also has twenty-foot ceilings.

this is the kind of apartment that would be a few grand in a city (I looked up the rent for an equivalent apartment in Decatur and it was $3-5K a month), but this is small town South Dakota, so while it's more expensive than my duplex in Decatur, it's not actually that much more expensive, especially considering that it's larger, new appliances, washer/dryer, 2 full bathrooms, and parking. also I wanted an apartment that made me feel like a Real Adult Professor and not a graduate student, especially if I had to live in rural South Dakota. (As I have bitched about endlessly, I didn't want to leave Atlanta and I didn't want to leave the Deep South; I'm one of the people who actually wants to live in the South (apparently rare? at least of people I know at my previous institution who were all like 'I don't know how I ended up here') and I do expect to go back on the market in an attempt to move back, TT job or not, unless I absolutely fall in love with this school/town. though if I absolutely hate living here, I can move to one of the nearby cities and commute (there's one half an hour away over the state line, and one an hour away in the same state). but like, I wanted to stay in the South and the universe said the best it could do was South Dakota.

but also jesus. this light situation makes me nervous. I do own floor lamps (because the Decatur house actually had terrible lighting), but come on, man. also I haven't yet found where I packed the cover for one of the floor lamps. I also can't find the bulbs for my regular non-floor lamps. found the bulbs for one of my floor lamps because they take E12 chandelier bulbs and they were packed in one of my 'random things' boxes. I will be unpacking for...a while.

[mariunnnn]

I have so many pictures in boxes, my sisters have pictures in boxes - little one and I are sorta nearby now. Middle one is across the country. US.

Our parents died before we were adults. I am the oldest.

Middle one has the great quilts our mom made. Littlest one has her wedding dress.

We each have different photo albums. They're truly one of my most protected things. They each have theirs. We went through them like kids, cause we essentially were.

I live in Atlanta - core Atlanta - and I have our mother's GSU (GA STATE UNIVERSITY) master's degree, framed.

Everything is silly, but that mattered to me and how she got it. She lost her mom when she was very young, had people in a fucked up Southern Baptist church tell my grandfather to give her and my uncle up, and they said nope together.

Said grandfather called me by her name - my mom's and his wife's (who I never met, but I'm named after and she is HOT in pictures, but also, eek) when he was too stubborn to go to a doctor for his heart, nevermind everything. He died after my mom because I don't think he could take the same thing twice.

Same cancer, same look.

That said, I remember my mom. My sisters didn't have that privilege. I was holding her hand before she had to go to hospice, for her own comfort. I was there whispering in her ear that I'd make sure they'd be okay. Literally. We had in home hospice care, but at a certain point death was real.

There is so much more to our story, her story, but I will FUCK OVER with my full heart who tries to call GSU and her love of teaching and her degree over.

The way my lunch ladies, my sister's teachers, counselors that were both DeKalb and Gwinnett, parents who met her once when she was a nothing in a shared office and made time and told me about it, and more came to her funeral will always be one of the most glorious moments of my life.

Our mom dying wasn't all bad. She's always why I will support public schools, will always support women, and will always make uncomfortable choices if necessary.

Trump might say that school where she got her Master's degree is too liberal, but mostly it's because he's racist and stupid. And he can't fill the seat. He doesn't know Atlanta. Or anyone from here. He's an ugly human. And that is me being kind.

Please vote blue. Thank you.

[runthepockets]

I feel like talking about music. I'm gonna post 7 albums that describe me. Shit that shaped my worldview, reflects my aesthetics, and all that other stuff. Puttin it under read more so no one's dash gets clogged.

ZUU - DENZEL CURRY.

I'm a huge fan of southern Hip Hop. It's dense and eclectic and always so full of life and culture, everything from Andre 3000's thick Atlanta twang on Intl Players Anthem to DJ Paul's production on any given Three 6 Mafia project, it's just my shit. It all speaks to the state of living in the south and has made so much impact on the broader state of Hip Hop. especially in the modern day.

This album feels....so personal. Like coming back home and meeting up with an old friend and realizing you both still know that secret handshake you made up in middle school, or watching the emotional climax of a coming of age movie. I was as wild as I was loving in my youth, so tracks like Ricky and Speedboat and Shake 88 which reference everything from getting in fights in your high school Dickies and football hoodies to escaping hood life to spitting bars about neighborhood bad bitches. It just speaks to me and my experiences, It's always good to know there are other black dudes out there writing love letters and cautionary tales about the violent environments and close knit & loving cultures that surrounded them in their youths spent below the bible belt. I wish I'd had this album when I was 17.

2. VIVA LA COBRA - COBRA STARSHIP

I've been listening to Cobra Starship since I was about 15, and this album has never left my all time greats. It's so fucking fun, like an 18 year old stole his dad's credit card and drove up with his friends to hang in NYC with fake IDs. The bragging, slightly macho, slightly cynical, fun but not too stupid persona Gabe Saporta personifies on this album speaks to me so deeply and shaped me into the man I am today. He has the cynicism and self aware, sarcastic edge that only a former Punk making dance music could have.

3. THREE DAYS GRACE - THREE DAYS GRACE.

Around the age of 13 I was carrying a massive weight; some of it was dysphoria, some of it was internalized racism, some of it was just plain average shit that comes with the territory of being a child under capitalist patriarchy. I felt lost and misunderstood, until I found this album completely by accident. Tracks like Home and Drown spoke to my experiences with abuse and the intense bouts of willpower and self sufficiency that I knew I was capable of but didn't have the courage to act on. I'd put these songs on in my room and drift away, all the pressures my parents and friends and school had put on me just washing away. It was loud and raw and angry and fueled the newfound passion and teen rebellion that would make up the majority of my teens and shape my worldview in adulthood.

4. RUN THE JEWELS 2 - RUN THE JEWELS

The aggressive machismo on this album and the general fuckboy-isms of it all speak to me. Bars like "you want a whore in a white dress, I want a wife with a thong" and verses like "I got that dick in her mouth all day" are just standouts. Just laying everything out, speaking your mind, holding back no punches. The album also weaves in tracks about police brutality, class warfare, and the harsh reality of being pushed to do things you aren't proud of to make ends meet (Killer Mike has a bar about having to sell cocaine to a pregnant woman, and another about his wife being shot by police in front of his son.) I honestly can't see who wouldn't be changed after listening to this, or at least feel seen. It's a no skip banger from beginning to end, if you really wanna understand the essence of Jared, this is it.

5. SOUL GLO - DIASPORA PROBLEMS

Growing up a black kid who liked rock music was extremely taboo, back in the day. It earned you some level of alienation in both black and white dominated spaces. I'd always felt in between worlds; The gritty realism of Hip Hop spoke to me just as the maniacal, commanding essence of Rock and Metal did, and it seemed neither party wanted much to do with me.

Imagine my excitement in 2022 when I find out about Soul Glo, an all black Punk band from my town, who frequently scream their hearts out about everything from police brutality to fake friends to feeling ostracization and tokenization as a black Punk band, with absurd humor and such intense display of vulnerability unlike anything I'd seen before. Finally, I thought, a band that understands me. A band for guys like me.

6. MOBB DEEP - THE INFAMOUS

I got way too high on acid while solo tripping last year and spent a lot of that trip freaking the fuck out. Doom Metal was too much, looking in the mirror was too much, watching tv was too much, everything was just too fucking much.

Except for this record.

This record saved my life and got me into Rap music again. I've cried to it as many times as I've lifted and shaken my ass to it. Though I've never been involved in the street life-- especially not to the degree that Havoc and Prodigy lay claim to-- I grew up privy to it. My environment was incredibly violent. A lot of moralizing by mass media and white people of all backgrounds was lost on me; my father sold drugs to keep me fed and to put Christmas presents under the table, and he'd brought a couple of sex workers into the mix as well (all of whom were incredibly kind women), I felt if anything or anyone was failing, it was the justice system that put guys in these positions.

This album is fucking ruthless. The Jazz and Boom Bap elements add depth to it that I can't really say any other Jazz or Boom Bap rap album has done the same way since. It's also incredibly vulnerable at times. These guys have more nuance and versatility than any other rapper of their time, and it speaks to me as a black dude of working background and experience.

7. THE SLIM SHADY LP - EMINEM

Anyone who's followed me for more than a day knows how much I love Eminem. I think he's witty, charming, funny, and a really down to Earth dude, which probably sounds insane considering the amount of violence and bigotry he spews on the mic at any given time.

This album practically shaped my life and the way I internalize other people's opinions of me. As a kid, I grew up with a pretty abusive mom, and as such always felt the need to apologize or shrink in on myself just for existing. I hadn't really learned how to nurture the spirit until Eminem. The rage, the insanity, and the violence, was all a sheen for an album that truly told a story of how to power through life only trusting yourself and a few other insane, close friends, but most importantly to not let anything get you down and to simply not give a fuck (and to tell anyone who insists otherwise to get on their knees and suck it). The guy spoke real shit and had the credentials to prove it, he knew what he was about and made his dreams a reality, and that was awesome to me.

[illmindchatter]

Returned Favor

It's a typical Atlanta Friday. Nothing glamorous. I took the day off to recover from an intense four days of negotiations and closing a major deal that blew out my quota for the quarter. I'm feeling like a Corporate Silverback- a beast in my career field- and things couldn't be going any better professionally. My girl is out of town and my weekend is free of responsibilities. Trying to figure out what I'm going to get into, I figured I'd straighten up the crib. Living such a washed up life to say the least.

We have this mutual friend named P. P is a stud who doesn't believe in not shooting her shot. If shooters shoot, nigga she's Kobe F. Jordan... the F standing for Fucking. P met a lady at the pool in our subdivision a few months back. I assume she was leaving from the neighbor's house and saw my car outside and decided to stop.

P came in, asked about my girl, and ended up on the couch with me while I was finishing folding clothes... the boring shit. We're shooting the shit and, never one to miss an opportunity to gloat, P says she was leaving from Pool Lady's house and noticed I was home. I took the bait and asked about her. Just like I figured, P wasted no time and spared no detail as she went on and on about how she ate her pussy until she came all over her face and how she fucked her with the strap. Typical nigga shit.

P is medium height, around 5'6", really petite, and has big titties but she wears a lot of baggy shit so it's hard to see her figure. I caught her sagging a few times, enough to notice she has a nice firm but round ass that she tries to hide. Listen, she's the homie BUT I still recognize her as a woman so her shape doesn't go unnoticed. All of that asside, the woman she met at the pool is taller and significantly thicker than P. I fucked with her by saying how that woman probably broke her in half and how she couldn't handle all of those curves on that woman. She kind of smirked and rolled her eyes. Seeing past my attempt to jab at her ego, she started flicking through channels on the TV and mumbled under her breath "I wish."

I had to pry a little bit and ask what she meant by that comment. She went on to explain how she always did all the work and how the woman was more of the pillow princess type and rarely returned the favor. She would never use the strap on P and just barely ate her out. Even getting fingered was just as rare. She was tired of being the woman's "little gay fetish" and wished she returned the favor sometimes. 

"Welcome to life as a nigga!" I replied.

She laughed but said niggas aren't any better.

"Bullshit." I told her how niggas love eating pussy and returning the favor and how women forget that. "My girl is gone for the weekend and left me backed up because she has been on her period all week. At least you got some. I'm over here, dick dry as fuck!"

We both got a good laugh and kind of let the conversation die on its own. No need to stir up something neither one of us was prepared to deal with.

I couldn't help but ask though, "what does my neighbor taste like?" I'd be lying if I said she didn't catch my attention that day at the pool. I could only sneak glances as my girl was at with me and P but I definitely remember this woman was stacked. She had to be around 5'11" or 6 feet. Her hair was styled in a pixie cut, black with strands of gray. She wore large framed glasses that hid her eyes but her lips were plump like she sucked the skin off her husband's dick. I seen him around a few times and could only wonder how they fuck he was able to keep, let alone bag, and stallion like that. She had huge double D cup breast that I could tell were natural. Her areola would spill from the cups of her bikini top causing her to adjust multiple times that day. She carried a little extra weight around her waist and visible stretch marks around her stomach, one could only assume were from pregnancy. Her hips spread and she carried the fattest ass that chewed up her bikini bottoms. They weren't thong bottoms but you wouldn't be able to tell if you weren't studying this woman like I was trying to. Even my girl made a couple comments in admiration for this woman's build. She was stacked with thick thighs, well pedicured toes and white toenail polish to tie it all together.

"She definitely takes care of herself," P said snapping me out of my daze. "She's always well put together, smells nice, and her skin is always smooth to the touch. She gets waxed regularly too."

"That explains it! She probably doesn't return the favor because you don't wax P!" I said half jokingly.

P fired back, "how you figure I don't wax my shit?"

"I just assumed Studs do what niggas do. Grab the clippers and trim that shit!" I said ignorantly.

"Nah nigga. I get my shit waxed too. My homegirl from high school do it and lick my shit clean when she done."

I lost it. Shit was hilarious! I told her I didn't believe her and to let me see.

"Nigga don't be weird."

I wasn't serious... just mildly curious.

Later that day, P and I decided to step out to find something to eat. We usually sit at the bar most places and talk shit. Louisiana Bistreaux was the move that night. P wanted to grab a shower before we left (typical P, making my house her home minus the bills and other household responsibilities). I needed to clean up as well. I had a remodeling project going on in the hallway bathroom so P had to use the shower in my room after I got done.

I could hear the shower running so I dropped my towel, sit on the edge of the bed and began lotioning my body. I thought I was in the clear since I assumed P was in the shower so I took the liberty to revisit the thoughts of my thick ass neighbor spread over my bed begging for me to dive in. I give my rock hard dick extra attention as I use the lotion to glide up and down my rigid pole as I thought about plunging inside my neighbor's plump, glistening pussy. Suddenly, the door swings open with P asking for a wash cloth. Fuck! I didn't expect her to open the door and sure she wasn't expecting to catch me on the bed, dick on hard sticking straight, and me stroking my shit! I know she caught me because she slammed the door and kept apologizing. I didn't really give a fuck. I had been horny all week and in need of a release. There was part of me that found this situation quite funny. I got up, grabbed her a wash cloth and towel, and took it to her in the nude and dick swanging. She called me crazy, took the towel, and closed the bathroom door in my face. I noticed her eyes never left my dick though. I also noticed she didn't lock the door.

I waited until I heard her get in the shower and start to wash off. I gave it a little more time until I figured she was almost done and walked I'm the bathroom. My shower is glass enclosed and I could make out her figure through the steam and water on the shower door. I was still naked and dick semi hard and she seen me approaching.

"Bro, what are you doing? Get out!"

"Come on P. You seen my shit already. Let me see yours."

"Nigga, what?"

"You said your girl hooks you up on the regular... let me see!"

P smacked her teeth, paused, then replied, "If I show you, you'll get out?"

"Only if you want me to," I said with a smirk, dick starting to stiffen.

As P opened the shower door, she propped her leg on the shower bench revealing a beautiful, slick, meaty pussy. Her lips were thick and full, one of her labia minora longer than the other, and her clit was huge. It came out from under her clit hood and it was a bright pink. It looked like the tip of someone's thumb. My dick throbbed as I watched her spread her pussy and run those same two fingers over her clit and through the trimmed bush of her landing strip before closing the shower door and commanding me to get out.

I felt intoxicated. All I could think about was wrapping my lips around her engorged clit and sucking it. Is this how women feel when they desire to suck a dick??? Fuck. I'm trippin!

Reluctantly, I got dressed and waited for P to get out of the bathroom. I threw on some light blue jeans, a white short sleeve button up, and sprayed my neck and wrist with Tom Ford Oud Wood. That's when P came emerged from the bathroom dressed in some black skinny fit men's jeans and a fitted black tee and gave me this weird look.

I made my way back into the bathroom to oil my beard while P hung out in the room. We sat in an awkward silence until I decided to break the ice.

"Ol' girl tripping if she seen that pussy and didn't want to eat it. Couldn't have been me!"

"The fuck you mean bro?"

"I'm just saying. The pussy you showed me would've gotten devoured. That clit looked too good to pass up."

"Man you trippin. Niggas can't eat pussy. Besides, women like it when I tell them to suck this dick since my clit big. You ain't ready for that lol."

I felt like she tried me with that one. "Pull that dick out then and let's see."

She paused for a minute, debating whether to make a move. She saw my eye contact didn't waiver so she stood up and pulled her pants down. She wasn't wearing any underwear and her clit was sticking out.

The silence was deafening.

"Yeah. All I see is a clit and a fat pussy that would get wrecked."

"Yeah right bro. Issa dick. Just like I figured, you ain't ready."

I turned to her, pulled my dick out and replied "THIS is a dick. That's a clit. And I'll suck it until you bust."

She tried to play it cool and pull her pants back up and I asked her what she was doing.

"Putting my pants back on because you bullshitting."

"Nah, leave them off and sit on the bed." My towel was still on the edge of the bed so she sat on it.

As I walked over to her, I told her to let me get a closer look. She spread her legs but was still sitting upright. As I approached, dick fully erect, I told her to take off her shirt and lay back. She laid there in front of me in a sports bra and her jeans bunched around her ankles. I got on my knees, removing each leg from her pants until shr just laid there in a sports bra as i slid my hands up her smooth legs.

"You want me to suck your dick?" I asked.

"Please."

For the first time, I heard P plead like a wanting little bitch in heat, needing a release. I slid my tongue between her lips and into her opening as far as it could go and pulled it out.

"Just like I thought, still a pussy."

She couldn't do shit but cover her face and question her decision. Before she could have a second thought, I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked hard while my tongue slid underneath and danced around her opening. She gasped and bucked. I grabbed her thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed and onto my face while I inhaled her clit. I sucked it sloppily as her juices drenched my beard and slid down the crack of her ass. I took two finger and slid them inside her pussy and hooked her gspot and massaged it while she grinded on my face. My other hand reached up and freed her titties and pinched her nipples. I sucked her pussy like my air depended on it. Her pussy began to squeeze and pulse my fingers and I could tell she was about to cum. I kept my pressure on her clit and massaged her gspot harder until her body began to buck. She let out a wild scream and grabbed my head pulling me deeper into her pussy as she shook uncontrollably as wave after wave wrecked her body and she came nonstop all over my face. The side of the bed was a soaked mess and her body continued to spasm as each aftershock crashed her body. I wiped the wetness from her pussy and used it to stroke my dick while watching her come down from her climax. Before she could fully regain her composure, I rubbed the tip of my dick up the slit of her pussy and massaged it against her clit. I took off my shirt and began to play with my own nipples while rubbing my dick against her swollen clit.

"Our dicks feel good when they touch, don't they?" I asked with a devilish grin. My body and thoughts running on demon time.

She looked at me while biting her bottom lip and nodded her head. Her eyes began to roll to the back of her head as her head fell back to the bed and another orgasm crashed her body.

Grabbing her thighs so she wouldn't close them on me, I pulled her back to the edge of the bed. My dick slipped down and the bulb of my tip rest right at her openinging. She didn't do anything to stop me or move away so I slid my dick in as deep as her tight pussy would take me.

She screamed "oh fuck!" Her eyes shot open but she didn't tell me to stop or move away. I pulled out completely, giving her a split second to recover. I leaned over to give her delicious pussy a lick then realigned and dove in deeper.

"This is the dick ol' girl should've gave you with that strap on."

I grabbed her neck as I slammed into her aggressively, each thrust more violent than the last. She screamed "yes!" and grabbed my waist, pulling me closer. I fucked her tight pussy until she creamed all over my shaft. I played with her clit with my free hand while I filled her wanting hole, bringing her to another orgasm. I officially owned P's pussy in that moment.

I flipped her over onto her stomach and straddled her, sliding deep inside her from the back. I hit a the bottom, right at her cervix, when I felt her legs kick. I breifly wondered if anyone had ever fucked her like this before. She was always the masculine one with all the women I seen her with. We referred to each other as bro and I always viewed and treated her as one of the guys. Yet, here I was fucking bro's pussy and loving every minute of it. There was even this dominant part of me that was insistent on showing her what it felt like to be a woman and under the control of a man. By this point, my ego was in control.

I pulled her locs and whispered in her ear "who got the dick now?"

"You do," she whimpered.

I pounded her pussy with hard, deep, slow strokes. She clawed the bed as I dug deep inside of her. As I bottomed on each down stroke, I could feel my balls slap against her swollen clit. As I continued to knock at the back of her pussy, grind at her cervix, and balls slam against her clit, she would cum again and again, squirting and soaking my bedding.

I leaned to her ear, nibbled on it, and told her "I love fucking this pussy, bro. You feel so fucking good. I know you feel me throbbing. You about to push me over the edge if you cum on my dick like that again."

I must have struck a nerve because I could feel her pulsing and rocking her hips back trying to meet my thrusts.

"oh fuck, I feel you P. You got a nigga so close!" I bottomed out and grinded my dick deep inside her pussy as I throbbed deep inside of her.

"Ohmygawd! I'm cumming daddy!!!" She screamed loudly as she began to cry in ecstasy as she trembled uncontrollably.

I couldn't hold it any more and moaned "fuck P! I cumming! I'm cummimg deep in this pussy! Oh fuck! I can't help it bro!"

I blasted P's insides and came rope after rope of hot cum deep inside her pussy. It brought P to another orgasm and she crashed flat onto the bed, limp and exhausted. I held my dick deep inside her pussy until every drop was well spent inside her pussy, no regard for the consequences. When I was fully drained, I rolled off and laid next to P for a moment. In that moment, I saw P as a person wanting and deserving of pleasure and I fortunate to be the one to give it to her. Bro or not and sexual orientation aside, all that mattered in that moment was giving the body what it craved... actually, what it deserved.

I got up and got dressed. P eventually did the same and met me downstairs, neither one of us said anything about what had just happened. P had a smile and a satisfied glow while we ate dinner and shot the shit at the bar that night. We drove separate cars and split up after leaving Louisiana Bistreaux and I went home to clean up the mess in our bedroom. A few hours later, almost 1AM, I get a text from P with an attachment. It was a picture of a plan B pill and a message that said "Thank you for returning the favor."

[docholligay]

What's the three best and three worst places you've been?

I assume this is like, cities, and not, you know, prison.

Cities to which I very likely can and will return someday I enjoyed them so much:

London, UK

Boston, USA

Minneapolis, USA

Glasgow, UK (I know this is four I know I know shut up)

Cities where I am unlikely ever to darken their door except by absolute necessity:

St. Louis, USA

Cambridge, UK

Atlanta, USA

I enjoy so many more places than I do not enjoy, and this was shockingly hard for me in the positive to narrow it down to three. I have friends outside of London and Boston, and so I had to think carefully on whether or not that affected my answer. I enjoy seeing them, and so that's always a positive.

So, what cities would I return to outside of getting to see a single person I know? The other problem with this is I'll go almost fucking anywhere, I am a very adaptable person and find many ways to have a good time. Even NYC, which was very very hard for me the first time I went, I think I've figured out how to have a great time there. So even my bottom of the barrel, given a cheap and easy chance, I'd probably give another shot, just with knowing what I know now and trying to massage the things I didn't like.

London: Samuel Johnson said that when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, and that's remained true for me. Not only is there a lot to do--this is true of many big cities--but the vibe of the city is much more low to the ground is the only way I can think of to say it, compared to NYC and LA, both of which genuinely have a lot offer but feel extremely frenetic to me in a way London does not. Narrowly beat out Paris simply because the subway is better than Paris'. Also it is I think more chill than Paris, but I sort of like the ways Paris is out of its mind.

Boston: This is another one I would call "Low to the ground" in a way that I think makes no sense to anyone but me. It feels like people live in Boston. Also I eat my weight in oysters at least once a trip. Great food scene on both expensive and cheap ends.

Minneapolis: The whole world is sleeping on Minneapolis. They have a rapidly growing food scene, great craft beer scene, the sculpture park is immense amounts of fun even in winter (a/n: I am cold-hardy), and minnesota nice is a REAL thing. We walked into a brewery and were standing at the counter, I said something offhandedly to Jetty about how it was real wet and cold out that day, and the guy at the counter was like, "Oh you don't have to buy a beer just to get out of the cold! Go ahead." I wanted the beer, mind, but I thought the attitude was great. We went to a piano bar that made its own mini pop tarts that were shockingly great, also go to Black Sheep Coal Fired for pizza.

Glasgow: I will spend the rest of my natural life trying to talk people into going to Glasgow, and probably fail because everyone wants to go fucking Edinburgh because it's instagrammable and ~'arry Potter~ and whatever. Anyhow, I did not hate Edinburgh at all despite that bitter little screed, but much like Minneapolis, people are sleeping on Glasgow. Great boutique hotels at extremely fair prices, amazing Indian food (Dishoom did beat Mother India out, but damn is it close as fuck, and Ashoka won for me for casual Indian), and again, like Minneapolis: The people. Are so. Nice. Legit if I had left my passport on a bus in any other city I feel I would have been fucked, but on a weekend, the bus system and the extremely nice people at the coffee shop were all working to try and get it back to me (and we did!) And the gal at our little hotel took time to chat with us every evening (full disclosure: She was Irish, and when she found out we were from a rural part of America, she spent so so much time trying to talk us into rural Ireland for our next trip, because we'd love the vibe of it. Someday), and I had the ABSOLUTE WORST old fashioned of my life made by the most amazingly kind woman in history, and I drank the whole thing and thanked her profusely. The pub near our hotel was incredible and homey (little boutique hotels are in neighborhoods there. Fantastic.) Glaswegians GET THEIR PARTY ON EARLY, mind.

[sutton-ho]

New to the WNBA, I'll tell *you* who to root for

I noticed a bunch of posts, especially on reddit, from new fans to the league looking for advice on who to support. Luckily I already have years of experience forming snap judgements and comitting to spite and adoration at the drop of a hat, so instead I thought I'd tell you about the teams from the view point of someone who as seen every game this season but also had never seen basketball before last friday. I knows 0 things but I have Opinions. Buckle up ya knuckle puck chuckle fucks let's feel some fucking feelings!!

Villains

Las Vegas Aces: The players for the Aces seem pretty cool and I like how they let the other team have some success in the 1st quarter before they crush them. But STAND UUUUUUP ALL VICTIMS OF OPREEEEEESION FOR THE TYRANTS FEAR YOUR MIGHT! DON'T CLIIIIING SO HARD TO YOUR POSEEEEEESIONS FOR YOU HAVE NOTHING IF YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS!!!. There's no coming back from violating labour protections, you're a cartoonish villain now.

Minnesota Lynx: The Aces were the easy choice for villain, but I've decided based on an inadequate sample size that I don't care for the coach of the Lynx. Spending all your time screaming at the refs instead of talking to your team is gross to me. Especially satisfying to cheer against because her coaching isn't exactly leading to victories.

You could do better

New York Liberty: Such fun basketball to watch but their home court is grey with seafoam accents that screams through the screen into the itchy parts of my brain.

Seattle Storm: The Storm play by play announcer seems like he's watching a stats feed through an old timey teletype instead of being in the same room as people doing shit that's rad as hell. Perhaps he's a mermaid and simulates human speech through sound clips of other boring cis het white dude announcers. The firefox tab I was streaming in warned me about AI generated content every time he spoke.

Respectable Choices

Indiana Fever: Aliyah Boston is cute as a button and good as heck. The Fever seem so young and full of dreams and optimism. A great team to root for if hope still lives in your heart. Sadly I'm a recovering Oilers fan so it's medically inadvisable for me to get invested, but I want nothing but the best for this team.

Chicago Sky: The Chicago Sky sure are a basketball team. I don't have a lot of strong feelings except for Courtney Williams, whom I adore. I do also love Marina Mabrey and the focus faces she makes.

Washington Mystics: I really enjoyed their home opener. They were so coordinated and used the power of friendship to beat a super team. I personally don't love the home fans booing every free throw - then it's less special when you boo a player you really hate or a bad foul call!

Atlanta Dream: This is the team that ousted an openly racist owner. I didn't think it was possible to get justice against ownership like that until they did it, and I will always be pulling for them. Rhyne Howard leading their come back against the Aces was so exciting even if they fell short. Also their home PA sometimes plays the smoothest music I've ever heard in an areana while they're on offence.

LA Sparks: Solid contender for best all around graphic design. The little stars on their shorts! Clarendon will steal your heart and while you're distracted Canada (the player, not the country) will steal the ball and go zoooom.

Dallas Wings: Arike Ogunbowale is small but zooms around the court and then defiantly sinks 3s. It's so fun to watch and her superfan brother agrees. Dangerfield is even tinier and Sabally scores with poise. Super fun to watch.

RIDE OR DIE

Connecticut Sun: I don't know the difference between Connecticut and Cincinatti (Americans please don't explain it to me), but I love this team with all the best parts of my heart. I have actually teared up about the stretch passes between DeWanna Bonner and Alyssa Thomas. The whole team has a deeply endearing earnestness. I have an emotional journey watching them every time.

Phoenix Mercury: I love this team with all the best and worst parts of my heart. It is grounding any time someone else is angry about the same things as you, and healing when they do dope basketball with that anger. Britney Griner is an electrifying prescence and can make me laugh of cry at the drop of a hat. Diana Tuarasi is fun like Arike Ogunbowale except she traded up from being fast to being old. They build a defiant energy that means I hardly notice when they lose because it feels like a victory.

[blackrosesfanfic]

Chapter 253

Rollie

Leah comes over to me rubbing her stomach. I narrow my eyes at her. She sighs as she get to me.

"What's wrong, Love?"

"Nothing. Shay wants to spend a night at Lexi's. I told her I'd see what you say."

I rub her hips. "You in pain?"

She drops her arms. "No it's nothing. I'm okay."

"You couldn't tell Shay whether or not she could stay? You had to come ask me or you wanted to get in here to lay down?"

"I'm in the middle of washing clothes. I don't have time to lay down."

I stand up. "I feel like you ignoring your body. I'll do it alright?"

"Do what Rollie? The fucking laundry?"

"Whatever needs to be done. Make a list." I lay her down on the bed putting her feet up. Ain't no reason why I can't help."

She closes her eyes not saying shit else. I watch her for a minute then walk out of the room to Jordan's room. It's dirty as shit. Stuff thrown everywhere like she in the middle of playing. I walk into the living room. Her and Lexi are on the tablet.

"You think you going anywhere with your room like that? Your mama trying to grow a baby while cleaning up after us and we can't help?"

"Yes sir I can." She scrambles up.

I look around the living room. "You think people want dirty people coming to their houses? They see this shit you won't be allowed."

Lexi starts cleaning the chips up. "Sorry."

"Is mommy okay?" Jordan (Shay) says folding a blanket.

"We will see after she is done with her nap. She went straight to sleep."

Jordan looks worried. "Mommy doesn't usually nap."

Lexi turns the TV off. "Did we stress her out? Oh no. Pregnant women are at risk. Let's do your chores the right way."

"Yeah." Jordan straightens the pillows. "God I love my mommy."

"She will be okay." I say cutting my eyes at them.

Fucking Bible reading got these girls shook. Don't know if I should be worried or not. I go into the kitchen. I got to ride over to Cammie's Atlanta house and check on things. Kirven was there the other day. I didn't ask him how long he was going to be staying there. Cammie should have rented the place out. Got that nice ass house sitting.

"Dad?" Jordan sits her laundry basket on the floor. "You washing these clothes?"

"I'm folding these clothes. You wash your own damn clothes."

She giggles. "You folding clothes?"

I fold the socks up. "Don't it look like it? Go on about your business."

"I never seen you take clothes out the machine. You be like what wrong with your hands. Jordan help yo mama."

"She pregnant and it getting harder to do this stuff. I can't make you do everything. You still a kid."

"Thank you." She smiles at me.

I smile at her. "You welcome precious. We need to have a talk before you go stay at a man's house."

"Okay." She opens the washer.

"Look at me." I say touching her hand. "Grown men don't touch little girls under their clothes. If your clothes cover it nobody touches it. Not your breast, butt, or anything between your legs. And don’t fucking touch anything on anybody's body. Kids don’t play like that. Got it?"

She nods her head. "Okay."

"You poke his eyes out, run and hide, then you call me. Always have your phone close by. Don't be playing so much you forget. When you away from home you got to keep your eyes on everything. You not a tiny little girl anymore."

"Yes, sir."

"And be clean." I hit her with a towel. "Nobody wants messy girls at their houses."

She giggles. "Yes sir."

I nod my head. "Your mama gonna cut your ass you wash them clothes like that."

"It takes so long." She throws the clothes back out the machine and goes through them.

She knows her mama don't fucking play with her about throwing everything in the washer. She separates them the right way. It didn't take her ass long at all. I reach up to the detergent for her and start the machine. She smiles at me and sit the basket with the next load neatly to the side. She grabs the vacuum and drags it out the room. I answer my phone.

"Yo?"

"Yeah, what's up?" Trey says.

I shrug. "You called me."

He chuckles. "Yo, my fault. I was tryna read this text. But yeah. When does Leah have her baby?"

"In like a month?"

"She having it in Atlanta?"

I get a bit irritated. "Where else She gonna have it?"

"California, South Carolina, wherever her people from."

"Her people from Atlanta. The ones she got."

He clears his throat. "Lane, boy I'm going to cut your ass. Stop. No. Hold on man."

I chuckle. All I could hear was screaming and Trey talking far away from the phone. Trey can't fucking handle that boy. He bad as shit and does whatever the hell he wants to do. I prepare myself to laugh. I'm so ready for it. I know he done did some bad ass shit. Trey comes back to the phone.

"Jayla." He blows. "Keep him in there with you. Cause. Naw he keeps fucking taking his fucking clothes off and putting a diaper on. I don't know where he getting the diapers from. I done put his draws back on 3 times."

I laugh. "Nigga wild."

"He fucking crazy. He go tell her that I'm hitting his butt. She thinking some weird shit."

"Cause she know you not spanking him." I laugh.

Trey blows. "I'm trying to plan this boy birthday party and make sure we are able to come to Atlanta for your baby shit. When is the baby shower?"

"Who supposed to do that me?"

"I don't know. I just know we didn't have one cause Caden was early."

I suck my teeth. "I'm already cleaning the damn house and shit. Don't give me more shit to do."

"Naw call and ask a woman about the baby shower."

"Like my mama?"

"That's who I would call. My mama."

I sigh. "Aight. I'll have her let you know."

"Aight. She here."

"Oh, she was just in Charleston." I laugh. "Yeah with Lane pulling some little girl hair."

Trey laughs. "I got to go ask about that story."

"Yeah." I say hanging up then calling my mom.

"Hey, Tummy. I only invited 5 people."

I chuckle. "Okay. Trey asked me about a baby shower for Leah. Is that like a woman thing or what?"

"Cammie, do you have plans for Leah a baby shower? Me? I would love to throw a baby shower. I usually just attend stuff."

"Well this not April's son so she can mind her business." Cammie says laughing.

"Be easy." April says.

Ma chuckles. "Don't worry baby we will get something thrown together. You would get more gifts if you had it in Charleston at the church."

"That's fine. Leah needs God's hands according to these little girls."

"Amen." Ma says. "Little children will lead the way. Little Lane got Ike to talk to his mother. At 2 years... well almost 3 years old. He is wise beyond his years."

"Ike talked to his mama?" I confirm.

Ma smiles through the phone. "He sure did, Tummy. Now he back to being quiet. There's gonna be a day when she wants that boy to shut up. Tummy let me get off this phone. Lane, Sweetie, why are you wearing that diaper?"

"I pee."

"Lord have mercy." She hangs up.

I laugh out loud to myself. That boy a damn fool. I swear. I get a picture to my phone from Ma. Lane has on no shirt and a damn pull up. Not fucking Caden diaper but a damn pull up. Where the hell he find a damn pull up that fit his ass? I laugh some more staring at the picture. Lane had a big smile on his face like he was proud of his diaper. He a fucking clown. The moment they put him in school the fool gonna get kicked out. They gonna stay changing schools.

"You talking to yourself?" Jordan ask pulling the vacuum back.

"Aye don't go wearing diapers when this baby comes."

She touches her chest. "I would never."

I show her Lane. She falls on the floor laughing.

"This was today?"

"Yes." I nod.

She rolls around holding her stomach then she grabs the phone. "Let me show Lexi. Lane so funny. His butt too big."

"Yeah."

"I promise I won't put on no Pull-up." She laughs walking out with my phone.

Cammie

I hit Lane on his naked butt. "What you doing?"

He laughs picking up his old baby bag. "Put on my draws."

"You stop acting like a clown. Let me see that bag."

"It say Daylan." He says digging through it.

I kneel down digging in it with him. Where the hell did this bag come from? It was from last year. Have we been gone from California since last year? It is his old overnight bag. His ass wants to dig through the damn bag like it actually belongs to him. Put the Pull-ups on. I pinch his butt. He falls over holding his ass.

"My cup!" Lane snaps digging in the bag. "Open it Mommy."

"Lane, I know that cup stank."

"No it not." He smells it. He makes a face. "Smell it."

I laugh. "No."

He smells it again then throws it. Trey just so happen to walk up and get hit by the cup. Lane gasps looking at Trey worried. Trey wasn’t bothered.

"This old ass cup."

"Smell it." Lane says standing up.

Trey smells the cup then holds it away from him. "Damn."

"Throw it." Lane giggles. "Throw it, Nevers."

"Boy." Trey says narrowing his eyes at him. "What you call me?"

Lane was back digging through the bag. I smile at Trey. He called him Neverson. He loves changing Trey's name. But Neverson. Trey points at Lane.

"Why your son naked?"

"This is where he has been getting the diapers. He ran out though. Lane put on some clothes."

He is playing with a toy that he finds. He starts crying, dropping the toy, and walking away. I shake my head. I don't know what his problem is. Trey touches the top of my head. I swat his hand away. He takes his foot and taps my ass crack. I suck my teeth. He chuckles then taps my ass again.

"Can we talk?" he asks

"Yes." I say standing up. "This house is crowded. Do you want to talk privately? Maybe take a walk."

He shrugs a little. "Ditch the kid and fuck."

"Talk."

"Nobody out back, sexy."

He winks his eye at me. I start to walk around him. He steps over a bit but not blocking my way. I run pass him but he grabs me anyway. Thinking I'm so fucking fast. I laugh to myself as he pulls me to him.

"Mommy." Lane says.

"Oh Lord." I yell running from Trey to Lane.

This boy had my baby. Oh my gosh. Lane had Caden by his shoulders hugging him with both hands with his legs fucking dangling. I take him from Lane checking him to make sure he breathing. He just chilling.

"Lane." I start. But what the hell I supposed to say? Don't touch my fucking baby? "Lane why do you have Caden?"

"Cammie!" April says coming down the hall. "You could have fucking said I'm taking the baby."

Trey chuckles taking Caden. "Lane had Caden."

April makes her eyes big. "Daylan! I told you not to touch your brother!"

Lane was unbothered. "I give Taden to mommy."

"I'm done." April says turning and walking away. "Hell."

"Nanma no say that." Lane follows her. "Nanma go outside?"

April spins around. "You gave Caden to your mommy so you can go outside? I can't believe you."

"Go outside?" Lane whines.

"Lane, Mommy going outside." Trey says walking behind April.

Lane cuts his eyes at me. "Mommy go outside?"

"Yes, let's go."

He runs his short ass legs through the house. I can't believe he took Caden from April so that he could go outside. What do you say to this little man who think he is 10 feet tall. I see Ike on the way out the door. He waves at me. I wave back. He is drinking juice sitting at the table by himself. He is such a sweet kid. He gets out the chair running over to me as I walk outside behind Lane. He looks at me.

"Yes?" He whispers nodding.

"Yes, you can go outside." I nod back.

He runs out the door behind Lane. He hugs Lane then runs to the bikes and power wheels. He hops in a car and ride off in it. Lane climbs the jungle gym all by himself. JJ runs outside with his draws on and nothing else. He freezes when he sees me. I just watch him. He walks out towards the yard staring at me. His partner in crime running around with only draws on as well. I guess April put them on him.

"Jayla?" Trey says hugging me. "We have a lot of talking to do before dancing with the stars."

"Yeah."

He kisses my neck. "I missed you."

I touch his hand. "Don't you get worked up about that. It's gonna be just like me teaching that class and that movie."

"Naw, man. Bae, who the hell watching Lane? And JJ? Caden plus Minnie?"

"JJ and Minnie are not your problem."

He blows. "But you gone be working with MiMi. Devin ain't shit. Bitch know just as much as me. We know the time that Mommy comes home. Two feedings and a couple diaper changes. Mommy will be home. Mommy in the next room."

"Tremaine, stop. Lane has April and Rose. Plus my mother."

"You not gonna let Lane stay away."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Cause they will come help if they know we have to be here. My mother will come. We can afford a nanny as well. Are we in financial trouble?"

"Naw."

"Okay then." I nod. "All those weeks I stayed in the hospital."

He sighs. "We each had a baby."

"Tremaine." I grab his face. "I did it for a year with Lane right there like Caden's age. I got this okay? I'm not leaving. I will be right there."

"Right there?"

I kiss him. "I like you stressing over our future. Now next thing."

"Breastfeeding and dancing."

"We take breaks. Plus these pumps are amazing these days. Just put them in your shirt and pump. Do a little dancey dance then empty."

He blows. "Church."

"Oh." I smile. "I found one. Celebrity friendly in Beverly Hills. Diverse, no cult like shit. My mom and Lonnie been there for a wedding before."

"Okay." He smiles.

I kiss him. "You were prepared."

"And what you say about birth control?"

"In my arm." I hold it up.

He touches it. "Oh."

There's screaming. It startled the hell out of me. I look around the yard. Lane is standing there staring at Ike. Ike swings down from the top of the fireman's pole. I don't know who screamed but JJ is riding a bike off to himself. Ike screams. It was Ike the first time as well. I watch how happy he is playing with Lane. Maybe he needed a friend or a family member to encourage him to let go. I hug Trey as he watches JJ fight with the bike.

[westleyjackson]

I live pretty close to Conyers (luckily outside of both the evacuation and the shelter in place areas) so I feel like I've got a little more info about what's going on than tumblr at large. We're about 20 miles from the fire, which as far as the wind is concerned, is not far at all. I could smell it before they even sent out the alert on our phones about it and assumed one of our neighbors was burning something they shouldn't be...

First off, I'd like to point out that there IS an area completely evacuated (tbh, i've not kept up enough to know if they still are, my bad, but they were for quite a while). Homes and businesses that were in close proximity are/were EMPTY. Overlooking that is ignoring the biggest response to the disaster for the people put at most risk.

Second, even without the super smart explanation of the science behind, I can tell you from my own experience with the smell that this is happening exactly like they say. During the majority of the day you can't smell anything. When you first wake up though? Like the during the times I'm having to wait at a bus stop with my kids? Everything smells like chemical fire/chlorine/ass outside. And that is TWENTY miles from us. Once the day heats up, the smell dissipates. In the evening it takes a while, but you can start to notice the smell a couple hours after sunset.

And look y'all, I get it. I live in GA and i worked in downtown ATL during covid. I know exactly how bad the government can be in dealing with emergencies to public health and safety. Our governor (Kemp, you've probably heard of him because he and Trump have a love/hate relationship much like DeSantis in FL) fucked us all over so bad with doing as little as possible to help during the early days of covid, fought with Atlanta and it's mayor/legislature (including taking them to court!) To UNDO the measures they had put in place. And then he lifted the shelter in place early cause "the economy." So I understand the inherent distrust in the government from a very personal place. But before you fear monger, do a quick Google or something. The EPA and all of the local government is doing what they can in a situation that should never have happened. It also came literally like the day after Helene passed through here. Those of us living here would appreciate yelling at the right people (ie the company and whoever the he'll let them pass their inspections in the past) rather than the officials who are honestly a bit overwhelmed and doing their best.

[zendyval]

All three of them loved tennis. They are not playing the sport as a means of survival, but because they genuinely enjoy it (Art had fallen out of love of it after his injury). Tashi is attracted to them in part because they would understand her love for the sport.

Art and Tashi definitely had communication problems and were in dire need of a therapist. They just had not talked about how their relationship would change after Art inevitably retired. Probably she would be happier if she could continue coaching someone else (not necessarily Patrick), but that's probably something Art had not considered. He had not even brought up that he knew she cheated in Atlanta even before their got married. Like he told Patrick, he won the points that mattered which was to have Tashi as his wife, mother of his child and coach, and he didn't care that she cheated that night and probably would forgive her for New Rochelle too because in their weird loving way, she cheated in New Rochelle so she wouldn't have to dump Art if he lost the tournament

I'm not sure that becoming a throuple would solve their problems. We never know if Art had romantic feelings for Patrick. We do know that Tashi and Patrick are too fiery to ever be able to have a stable relationship with just the 2 of them and Art would bring the stability and patience to the overall relationship. But they have hurt each other a lot, so some work would have to be done to even rebuild a friendship

Yeah, I don't disagree with most of that. I don't think any of them are going to live happily ever after together and no matter what happens with Tashi and Art, they have a child together so they will forever be intertwined in that way. The short of it is everyone needs therapy and they all have communication issues. I feel like they all sort of need each other in a fucked up way but it's also never going to satisfy any of them long term without a lot of work, but I don't buy that these are the people willing to put in the work.

When it came out I saw so many people be Team Art or Team Patrick and I know that Art doesn't deserve getting cheated on obviously, but I do think he's definitely a bit manipulative when they were younger. Just in terms of getting in both of their ears playing on their both of their insecurities with each other until it of course blew up. Not that I don't think that Tashi and Patrick weren't volatile on their own. But he wasn't innocent in that regard. He wanted to win Tashi, he did in his own way. Not that I would go so far as to try to blame Tashi's injury on him (coughZ).I'd agree Patrick is the most straightforward of the bunch, but is it better to be a straightforward ass?

But yes, I just think the sort of "popular" view that I used to see a lot re: Patrick and Art's true loves are each other and Tashi's is tennis is kind of a load of BS. I get people can interpret the end of the film in many ways, but that part shouldn't be up for debate.

[frankieunscripted]

ATLiens by Outkast (1996)

Let's talk OutKast! The duo came to life in 1992 in Atlanta, Georgia, which explains the capitalization of ATL in the album title. I read somewhere that the reason OutKast called it ATLiens is because the duo felt out of place in the rap industry back in the 90s, because it was all about the West Side vs. the East Coast and no one was really paying attention to anything /-place else in regards to hiphop/rap culture. Almost as if you were an Extraterrestial if you weren't part of the biggest rap beef ever. (Source: trust me, I heard that, idk.)

And when I say duo, I'm of course referring to the rappers Big Boi and André 3000, aka André 3k or André 3 Stacks. They get a lot of credit for influencing the history of hiphop as a whole (abso-fucking-lutely) and if you don't know anything about OutKast, you'll most likely still be familiar with at least one of their songs, because as all good shit should be, they were inescapable if you had ears in the 2000s. Four of their most popular tracks (according to Spotify) are: Hey Ya!, Ms. Jackson, So Fresh So Clean and The Way You Move.

Now onto the album itself. Just four years after founding the rap duo, they released ATLiens, which was their second album after 1994's Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik (Yes, this is the actual debut album title and it's hilarious). It went Platinum and Gold, which is in my opinion very well deserved. If you're into today's hiphop and aren't familiar with old stuff like this, please indulge. It's not like you have to bend over for Tupac, but get some culture in your playlist and you might find a few cool songs and the samples, inspirations and references to a lot of songs you're into already.

You May Die (Intro): A soft, calming piano intro with soulful vocals that really makes you wanna sit down and listen to this project - and embrace the experience of doing so.

Two Dope Boyz (In A Cadillac): "Greetings earthling!" This is what I expect of Old School hiphop! Nice rhymes, catchy flows and the melody is really chill.

ATLiens: my favorite bassline of all time (because it's fairly easy to learn for someone who has no fucking experience like me). The hook is so fucking catchy, it makes you wanna bump your head to it. "Softly, as if I play piano in the dark" and then you realize they took the drums out for this short section - it's little stuff like this that makes this production so good!

Wheelz of Steel: full of 90s-vinyl-scratching and I love it. OutKast manages to put out chill music even though they're totally murdering the mic - I respect that.

Jazzy Belle: When that drum hits in the beginning - woah. The soft vocals are amazing, I always find myself singing or atleast humming along. I don't know if "somber" is the right word, but if you were to take "somber" and abstract all negative meaning from it, then yeah, I feel like that would be it. It's a lights-out song (not in the sexy way) but not dark, it's intimate, but in a different way. And the way it fades out is just great.

Elevators (Me & You): I just love the way the percussions are the first thing you hear on this song. "One for the money, yessir. Two for the show." Back at it again with a bassline I mastered after months of sore fingertips. "If you don't move your feet, then I don't eat, so we like neck to neck." I don't know why this line always stood out to me, but I find it a very interesting, simple and blunt way to talk about upcoming artistry.

Ova Da Wudz: I know that my way of describing music is stupid and doesn't make a lot of sense to anyone who doesn't live in my head, but from all of ATLiens, I'd call this song the greasiest-smoothest. The bassline, the main melody (is it a synth? I don't know, I've never been to an OutKast studio session), it's slick, oily, you know? The squeaky sound effects in the end solidify this for me, I don't know. "It's some hoooes in this house!" - was that WAP's inspiration?

Babylon: You hear this male choir and you know shit's about to get deep. Turn the lights out again. "Though we're here, someday we will be gone". 3k's second verse isn't as deep as you'd expect it when you hear the choir for the first time, but then he hits you with: "They call it horny because it's devilish" - he's got a point tho. The evilization of sex is a pretty deep topic, I wish they'd expand on that more. And then these soulful back vocals that start as the chorus progresses and grows throughout the song: *chefs kiss*

Wailin: Groovy ass shit! Then again, soulful Cee-Lo vocals in the interlude, this album knows when and where to use vocals.

Mainstream: The splash catches you off guard and is a harsh blend between the two songs. I also have to mention that I'm a huge sucker for when songs have little sound effects like these that fit the theme - mainstream, water, get it?! "Floatin face down in the mainstream." It's a nice metaphor that ties into the same theme as the "neck to neck" line from before.

Decatur Psalm: The chorus has a nice choir again, y'all already know the deal by now.

Millenium: This song's chorus is so catchy that without knowing the title or remembering what the major theme of it even was, I immediately know exactly what to hum along as soon as the beat hits in the beginning. I personally think the catchy production like this is one of the reasons people gain so much inspiration from OutKast.

E.T. (Extraterrestial): This is Old School hiphop at its finest - but you'll know it sounds entirely different compared to DMX or Pac, who're typical for old school shit. Genres, themes, vibes and stuff. I will admit, the song gets somewhat repetitive after a while, but it's only about three minutes long, so they definitely knew better than to drag the song to six minutes like other artists do.

13th Floor/Growing Old: I'm often a sucker for the "speech in the beginning"-trope in music (just wait till I start rambling about how underrated I think BLOOD. from Kendrick Lamar's DAMN. is as an opener) and I'm pretty sure this song is partially at fault for this. A soft piano to let the album fade out. What a great closer. It also loops very well back into the intro, not necessarily because it blends in perfectly, but because the vibes and musical themes/tropes (gospel-esque in particular) are similar.

Bonus! Elevators (Me & You) ONP 86 Mix: Cue Busta Rhymes' "Remix!"-chant. It's a nice one, it's more chill than the actual song but it's not so far from it. Some may say it's not worth listening to it because of the changes are only minimal, but honestly, I'd rather have a smooth, similar remix than an abomination that makes my ears bleed because someone butchered a great song I like.

With a runtime of almost an hour, I'd consider this album a healthy meal. It's definitely something you want to sit down and listen to consciously. The album itself runs like a river - every song fits the overarching musical themes and motives (funky basslines, smooth melodies, chill vibes overall, but great bars and memorable flows). I'm all for songs blending into each other smoothly, which this album doesn't do a lot. Here, songs will rather fade out softly and the next one will catch your gaze with some new sound, be it drums or a water splash. The album feels very spiritual without being particularly about religion or beliefs - might be all the gospel elements. Why am I choosing to talk about this album? I don't know, I just really like it.

[zumpietoo]

Ummm.....perfectly valid points, there, Silly/janASS.....and Nik doesn't even interact with PP....(seriously, are they remotely still friends anymoar???)

Look who deactivated!!! Byyyeeeeee sheepbrain!!! Now I'm guessing that's moar confirmation no moar CabanaPee (given how all her bitchy stans always fuck off when shit ends).

To say nothing of now there's sheepbrain hating on CB, too! Double moar confirmed....

And you hated Cole for being a couple of years older and much moar established, as well.....plussss.....again, what happened to SweatBoi is the "love of her life", sheepbrain????

And oh, Silly, that's precisely how you see things.....even tho no, PP cannot (as she routinely demonstrates....)

Silly maaadddd.....

Wait, I thought nearing 30 and NOT being with your "final" SO meant you'd be alone and trolling peeps young enough to be your grandchildren at 50, Silly??? I mean that WAS what you insisted just a couple of years ago about Cole, nooooo????

OFC, he seems to be with HIS "final" GF, so, you know....

Actually? PP does kinda act that way....

"High maintenance", especially as related to being a basket case who's constantly high, expects others to "fix her", in a cult, etc....is hardly a good thing. Tho, again, I think she needs to find a way to get a handle on this shit entirely on her own....

Live/look like somebody with lots of clothes and owns a house? Yes, I'm sure you don't. Because I'm sure you can't remotely fathom of it from mommeee's basement....

OML.....we come to the first of the posts about the Hamptons as proof CB is "rich" (oh and, Silly, there's a huge gulf between being "rich" and "poor"----it's called "middle class" and what most people are).....

Actually, as a New Yorker (which you aren't), I'm fully aware of "the significance"....there isn't one:

LOTS of people "vacation" in the Hamptons, it's, frankly, supremely unimpressive (it's called renting a house for a week). Even moar peeps (in NYC) take "shares" in houses in the Hamptons....you can do as little as, I think, an eighth share (i.e. you get a room/to share a room, every eighth weekend).....and, honestly? Depends on which "Hamptons" you're in....

Plus why TF would a DC family's beach/country/weekend house be a seven hour drive from their principal residence? If they're gonna do that, they'd pick something even better, like Newport, RI or Maine....where it's cooler in the summer.

Rich peeps who own houses in the Hamptons live in NYC, because that's a hour or two drive....NOT DC.....or is Silly really this shitty at geography? Cuz I'd think she'd be able to figure that out a bit better from (supposedly) Atlanta....

(her insistence and my counterpoints shall continue....)

[pureshoney]

"oh my god, don't even get me started on the bad job! i fucking hate when some old dude tries to talk to me, and his car is older than me, and it's not one of those sexy classic ones. literally, a shit car that only starts with a screwdriver, like do they really think they can fucking afford me?" sometimes she wonders what people thought of them when they heard the conversations they had, how out of touch with reality they could be. but was she wrong? was she wrong to think that some broke fuck couldn't afford her? no, that was a fact. she wasn't about to be some sugar mommy; even alix knows better than to get in a situation like that. "oh god no, the first day with the cramps and day two is like shark week. i think it's called an ablation? i don't know … i know most doctors don't like doing it unless you've already had kids because they're like, 'oh, what if your future husband wants kids?' like, who gives a fuck what any man wants?" maybe that could be her subsequent charity work, women's healthcare. for a change, it'd actually be something she gave a fuck about instead of just doing it for the reputation it gave her family as giving back to the community instead of being greedy rich fuckers. "oh i'm sure you love the sound of that," can recall to about an hour ago just how she'd reacted when she found out how alix had behaved while other femme was away. however, it should go straight to her head, considering the other woman she'd busied her time with was basically a carbon copy of her; it would undoubtedly go to alix's head had the situations been reversed. "yeah, i guess that's true. but also, aren't there like really frugal rich people? like those people who like brag about giving all their money away? couldn't be me, i like to spend my money on myself …" and it's said as if she's actually earning that money, and it wasn't her parents. it's still her money, though; they put it in her trust and her bank account. that counts, right? it's not her fault some people are unlucky and had to work to make their money instead of having loaded parents to live off of; that was a parent's job anyways, to give their kids whatever they need. "ugh, she's right. my moms pieces from back then are so much prettier than the stuff they make now. sometimes even the best stuff looks fucking cheap. my mom has my great grandmas pearls from the twenties, and i can't wait until she passes them down to me," she's worn them a few times, but nothing would compare to the feeling of when she finally got to own them. "whatever … you sound like a needy slut too," shrugs it off mainly because it's true, tiff was able to make her feel like nobody else was capable of. "i don't think i'd be humble. i'd make really good tips, i'd probably be richer than i am now," but she's never worked a day in her life, and she certainly isn't planning to now, laying in her bed watching the real housewives of atlanta was so much more enticing. "how much are you going to tip me? i pierced my tits while you were gone they're even prettier now."

"they're literally delusional, they show up at the gym with steroids in their bags and a bad job and expect us to what? suck them off in the sauna?" she has to laugh at that, the absurd thought that any of those gym rats would have even a sliver of a chance with either girl. men were the main reason tiffany decided to do her workouts in her gym at home, avoiding those lingering stares and being able to wear whatever the fuck she wanted to was so freeing. "oh babe it's day three that's a killer! or at least for me, i swear you don't even want to know the amount of tampons and pads i go through — you find a good doctor who can do that surgery and sign me up too yeah?" it was always so easy to fall into things with alix again, to be away for months and simply slide back into her life. granted, she'd needed to put in a tad more effort than she would have liked, but the outcome was inevitable. "always? hm, i kinda like the sound of that." shrugging she allows her purse to slide down her arm, grasping the chanel by the chain and letting it swing idly. "not too much drool, like . . . just the right amount to show you got a good sleep, i dunno how to explain it okay? plus when your tit hangs out it distracts me from the drool." hues dart around the house, passively admiring the change in decor. "maybe a little, but the way i see it is that if everyone lived like we do they'd all be shallow — it's just they're not lucky or hard working enough." people said vanity was a sin, but they were just jealous and ugly. "gotta say it's a super pretty piece, she said it's from like the eighties or something when jewellery was made properly", tiff didn't know exactly what that meant, only that her daddy had needed an extra finger of redbreast whisky that evening. "the light's great in your room", femme agrees with a light nod, dropping her purse carelessly on the nearest flat surface. "nah babe, you sound like a needy little slut when you put those thighs on either side of my face", laughs as she watches alix, approaching the bar and leaning herself against it. "look at you, working that bar like a minimum wage pro — if you ever want to humble yourself you should get a job pouring drinks." she grins at the thought, wonders how many customers would come in just to stare at alix. "blue is like . . . 2010? people loved all that kind of thing back then." tongue glides across her upper teeth as she taps her nails against the bar, "will you show me your tits if i tip you?"