#trucker prince charming

[witchywithwhiskey]

first christmas with trucker jake jensen

pairing: trucker!jake jensen x former sex worker!female reader

summary: jake makes your first christmas together special by surprising you with some christmas decorations and asking for your help decorating his tree, which brings the two of you closer in new ways.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, painful childhood memories, some angst/crying, fluff, jake jensen is a christmas menace

word count: 1.7k

a/n: based on this ask from @veltana: Are trucker Ari's and trucker Jake's readers gonna decorate the rigs for the holidays? i wasn't going to write a lot, but, uh, well i did so i hope y'all enjoy some christmas fluff/smut/angst with trucker Jake!! i really enjoyed digging into his and reader's backstories!

dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

Ok so here’s the thing: trucker Jake Jensen LOVES Christmas. (Honestly, you’d be hard-pressed to convince me this isn’t true to canon Jake Jensen—he just seems like the kind of guy who’d love Christmas!) 

I imagine Jake didn’t have the best childhood. Maybe he had some really magical Christmases when he was very little, but then his parents became absent or they died when he was still pretty young, or a mixture of the two. His parents not being around is why he’s so close to his sister and niece, and why family is important to him.

But I digress. The point is, I think Jake had a lot of lackluster Christmases, and he realized that if he wanted Christmas cheer in his life, he was going to have to be the one to make it. And boy does he.

Now, I should also mention that I think Jake’s reader had a similar childhood experience. You grew up with cold, sparse Christmases—maybe your parent/parents would get a tree but it was fake and pre-lit and they’d only decorate it with generic decorations. 

All the homemade ornaments you brought home from school might’ve been hung up on the tree that year, but your parents would toss them when putting everything away and you’d have to dig them out of the trash. Eventually, you stopped giving them to your parents and kept them in a shoebox under your bed. You’ve kept the box, but never hung them up.

Unlike Jake, you stuck with what was comfortable because it was what you’d always known, so you weren’t very big on decorating for Christmas. Most years, you wouldn’t even get a tree. 

You’d always figure you’d get one when you got a day off from Diesel Dolls, but then you’d spend your days off relaxing and not wanting to go through the process of getting a tree, lugging it back to your apartment alone, and then decorating it. 

All this is to say, you’re not the type to even think about asking Jake if you can decorate the inside of his rig for the holidays. But that’s ok, because he’s way ahead of you.

Early in November—so early, you’re not even thinking about Christmas yet—Jake gets a motel room for the night. This isn’t out of the ordinary, he likes to get a room when the both of you are craving a shower and some sex in a real bed.

That night, Jake fucks you to sleep. Literally. He makes you come so much, you pass out and are snoring softly before he can even grab a warm washcloth from the bathroom to clean you up. 

Jake watches you sleep for a little while (it’s cute, not creepy, I swear), but when he tries to doze off himself, he can’t. He’s heard the stories about your austere childhood Christmases and he’s determined to bring you some Christmas magic.

So while you sleep, he pulls out the boxes and boxes and boxes of Christmas decorations he keeps in the storage of his rig. He spends all night stringing lights and hanging garlands and other decorations until the front seats and the bunk in the back are so stuffed, there’s barely room to sit, let alone move around.

It’s all worth it for the expression on your face when you see what he’s done, though. The way your eyes light up with surprise and delight and even a touch of wonder. It’s more Christmas than you’ve ever seen before crammed into the small space of his rig and you… love it. 

You love it more than you ever thought possible and you’re speechless as you climb up into the rig and flop into the driver’s seat, your eyes greedily looking around at all the decorations while your mouth hangs open in surprise. 

There’s even a little plastic Christmas tree fixed to the dashboard, tiny little lights twinkling. It’s all so perfect, so wonderful, that you don’t know what to say.

“Do you… like it?” Jake asks tentatively, his hands on either side of the open door, one foot on the step up into the rig, while he watches you taking it all in. He thought he’d read you right, that you’d enjoy some Christmas cheer, but he’s beginning to worry he’d been wrong.

Unable to find the words for how you feel, you turn back to Jake with tears in your eyes and you practically tackle him, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you kiss him hard. He stumbles back a step into the parking lot of the motel, his arms bracing you against his chest while he kisses you back.

Jake turns to walk you backward into the motel room, but you make a sound of protest. Kissing his stupidly handsome face—including the goatee you love so much—and knocking his glasses a little askew, you drag him back into the rig, impatiently waiting while he closes and locks the door behind you. Then you haul him into the bunk in the back until he covers your body with his own.

Quickly, the two of you tear your clothes off, and when Jake slides inside you, filling you up perfectly the way that only he can, you feel like your heart grows two sizes. You’re so happy, tears slip from your eyes and slide down your temples into your hair while Jake coos at you and kisses the tears from your skin. 

“Don’t cry, kitten, I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he murmurs in your ear, his hips working you open with his cock until you’re moaning more than you’re crying. You can’t even find the words to tell him they’re happy tears, you just cling to him and hold him tight in your arms.

Jake fucks you slow and sweet in his rig while you’re surrounded by a ridiculous amount of Christmas decorations—so much that when Jake hikes your thigh up around his hip, you accidentally kick some loose. But Jake doesn’t care enough to stop, filling you over and over again in a steady rhythm that drives you wild, pleasure coiling in your core.

He makes you come while a fallen garland tangles around your entwined legs, the snowflakes he’s hung from the ceiling swaying with the force of his thrusting. And then he tumbles over the edge after you, filling you up with his come and holding you close as you catch your breath together.

You laugh at the mess the two of you have made of his decorations and he chuckles right along with you, telling you he’ll fix them before you get back on the road. You snuggle into him and thank him for the early Christmas present.

But you have no idea what else Jake has in store for you because, like I said, he LOVES Christmas.

I imagine Jake has a house somewhere deep in the Rocky Mountains, high enough that there’s guaranteed to be snow at Christmas. It’s so remote, in fact, that there wouldn’t be any service or cable if not for the robust satellite setup he has. 

Your first Christmas together, he takes you to his house and pulls the same trick he did with the truck rig, where he decorates the house to the max while you’re asleep. (It isn’t uncommon for Jake to go a couple days without sleeping. He used to be in the military and it fucked with his ability to maintain a normal routine, which is why he enjoys the freedom that comes with being a trucker.) 

The only thing Jake leaves undecorated is the tree. It’s a fresh pine he had shipped to his house, and set up in the massive living room, the tall tree taking up an entire corner by itself.

Jake makes you some coffee while you look at the decorations he’s put up and then you sit on the couch sipping it while he strings the lights on the tree. He’s focused and methodical while he works, and you can’t help but get a little turned on by the cute, determined expression on his face and the way his biceps bulge and flex.

But when he’s done, the heat that had been simmering in your core is extinguished because Jake pulls out a shoebox that looks far too familiar, and it brings up far too many painful memories. 

Jake sits down beside you, his head hanging a little like a guilty puppy while he tells you he pilfered it from your apartment the last time he was there. He catches your eye and you see the earnestness in his gaze when he asks you to tell him about all the ornaments.

When you hesitate—because you’re not sure whether to be mad at Jake for going through your things or to love him even more for remembering that you’d kep the ornaments—he pulls you into his lap and kisses your forehead.

“I want to know all of you, kitten,” he says gently, tipping your face toward his so he can look into your eyes. “Even the bad parts—especially the bad parts. I want to hear about all your bad Christmas memories so I can replace them with good ones.”

By the time he’s done talking, your eyes are misty with tears and you nod, leaning in for a kiss before you take a deep, steadying breath. It helps that Jake’s arms are big and strong, his chest firm as you lean into him. Then, you open the box.

Jake listens patiently while you pull out each ornament and tell him what you remember about it, the Christmas memories you associate with it. It’s a long, difficult process, but when you’re done, you feel inexplicably lighter. 

When you look to Jake, to see his reaction, you find him with red-rimmed eyes, like he cried while you told him about your childhood Christmases. But before you can ask him about it, he captures your lips in the softest, sweetest kiss you’ve ever felt. Once he pulls away, he helps you up from the couch and, together, you hang the ornaments on the tree.

Then you spend the rest of the morning hanging up all of Jake’s tree ornaments—of which there are many—and he tells you stories about his sister and his niece. By the time you’re done, you feel filled up with Christmas cheer and you drag Jake back down onto the couch.

There, under the lights of the Christmas tree and all the decorations overflowing his mountain home, you kiss your trucker prince charming and show him how happy you are to be spending the holiday with him.

dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

[ywecanthavenicethingsanymore]

I realize that I have yelled my love for the trucker husbands verse often, but I never expected tumblr to call me out like this with a targeted ad.

[filmflowersbangtan]

Dead of Night (preview)

pairing: gang member!jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: swearing | drug mention | gangs | in the full story, there will be violence, blood, fighting, threatening 

preview word count: 4k

you meet jungkook in a diner in the early morning where it’s just the two of you in the entire place. An interesting relationship ensues, and you find out he’s not who you thought he was. He’s a prominent member of the city’s most powerful gang, surrounded by danger and trouble. But you still want him.

--

author’s note: I sincerely apologize for being gone for so long and for not updating any of my fics. To everyone waiting on IMSWY pt. ii: I am so sorry for taking so long with it. It’s still in my WIPs, and I haven’t given up on it yet, but it is on the back burner right now since I have many other ideas bubbling up that I absolutely have to write or else they will probably internally set me aflame (lol). 

I will be deleting many of my fics soon. I will be keeping “Unbound,” “I Must Still Want You,” “Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold,” and “Lonely Planets.” Everything else I will be deleting because I have no desire to finish working on them or I simply do not like them anymore and can’t see them going anywhere.

I also will probably not be writing anymore series. Everything will most likely be one shot because every time I start a series, I get too overwhelmed with the idea of updating parts and finishing them that I just end up postponing them for too long and leaving too many people who have been looking forward to them disappointed. I do want to say that I have been going through So Much since I last posted Lonely Planets pt. ii and IMSWY, but I am in a so so so much better place now. That’s why I’m even writing this story now.

This will be a oneshot. It will not be a series. It will be very long. I am almost finished with it, but I am posting this preview just to see if you all would like to continue reading it.

Thank you all. I appreciate all the feedback and the follows and the reblogs so, so much. The feedback and the reblogs of Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold is what really motivated me to write this one. I hope you all enjoy it. 😊

--

Being alone was like an addiction. It was fulfilling and appealing and…well, lonely. 

Two in the morning diner stops during the weekdays had become routine. The place was completely empty save for a waitress and a cook and maybe a tired trucker. You tucked yourself in a booth in the back. The vinyl seats were cracked and uncomfortable, the lighting was stark and washed everything raw. But it was comforting. Sleep was evasive and your apartment was barely unpacked, boxes stacked haphazardly in the dining area and the mattress on the living room floor. It was your idea to move to this vast city far away from home. This city swallowed everything in its incessant noise. Nocturnal and teeming with cars and neon lights. It never rested and the two of you had that in common. You took solace in that. 

The air was thick with bacon grease and bitter black coffee. Every morning you had waffles and orange juice. The refills were free and the waffles were the exact same circumference as the plate underneath it. Time was stagnant here. The city pressed against the plate glass windows, but the reflections from inside barred its entry. If you looked out, you simply stared directly at yourself. Maybe there was some kind of metaphor in that. 

The night shift waitress, Bethany, set your plate of steaming waffles on the table as well as a glass syrup dispenser. She knew you by name and you thanked her for the food. She smiled sweetly and left you be. 

The door chimed, denoting the entry of another patron. You didn’t look up. Bethany greeted the person in her cheerful customer service voice. You knew she didn’t actually sound like that. Once, you glimpsed her smoking a cigarette by the dumpster at the back of the diner arguing with her boyfriend on her cell phone. She had a tired voice. You wondered if she was lonely, too.

As you ate, Bethany took the patron’s order. From where you sat, his voice was a mumble. “You got it!” Bethany said before breezing away.

You glanced up from your food at the patron. Hair dyed blond, dark brown at the roots. He had a gentle face and a mouth made for smiling or furtively suppressing them. Tattoos were stippled on his arm all the way down to his knuckles. He was staring down at his phone, his fingers were slender and embellished with many silver rings. He was impossibly handsome. A paragon of beauty. 

And he looked up. Right at you. Why was it at that moment you happened to notice him, he decided to notice you, too?

Your scalp prickled with hot embarrassment. You immediately averted your eyes back to your waffles. There was only a bite remaining. Good. You could finish, get your check, pay, and leave.

Boldly, you chanced another glimpse. He did, too. This time, a smile, broad and lovely, stretched across his face. It was endearing and intimate and you had never felt so seen. It was exhilarating. A small smile crept onto your mouth. You couldn’t help it. His smile was contagious. 

This was how the following hour went. Weighted glances and secret smiles from across the room. He received his food, and he picked up his plate and mug of coffee and…was he coming this way?

You watched him, eyes wide, as he sauntered over to your booth and set his items on your table. “May I sit?” he said. His voice was the perfect match to his face. Smooth, sonorous, soft. Crushed velvet. 

Jerkily, like you had never done it before, you nodded. He sat. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied. 

“I’m Jungkook.”

You told him your name. He repeated it once, twice, thrice. Like he enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth, rolling it around like a piece of hard candy he didn’t want to dissolve on his tongue just yet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached his hand over the table. You smiled and shook it. 

His plate was piled with pancakes and sausages and scrambled eggs. He dug in. In between bites, he asked, “So what brings you here at this time of night?” “I have trouble sleeping. And you?” Your chest was tight with the awkwardness of it all, but he appeared to be perfectly at ease. 

“I’m just a night owl. Or I’m a vampire.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued eating.

Surprisingly, laughter bubbled from you until you couldn’t help the giggles that shook you. How long had it been since you had a conversation with anyone? Your store had been a drought for the past month, only a couple of people coming in a day. You didn’t call home because your parents would ask how you’ve been, and that topic lit a fire in your skull. Bethany was just a waitress doing her job. And Nora was always busy. It was refreshing to have someone sit with you. Talk with you. Want to be near you. 

His eyes danced at the sound of your laughter. It was an innocuous expression, boyish in how pure it was. 

You covered your mouth with your hands to mask the laughter. And he gently grabbed your wrist and removed them. “I like your laugh.”

Butterflies unfurled their wings in your stomach and fluttered in a frantic cluster. He resumed his meal as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

You cleared your throat. “I own a used book and record store downtown. It’s small and kind of hidden from the street, but it’s there.” You chuckled nervously. You were proud of that store, but you might have to close it down soon and return to your hometown with your tail tucked in between your legs if the revenue continued as it did. 

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s super cool. I like records. Books, not so much. Where is it located?”

You told him the address. “By that bodega on the corner.”

“The one that sells the really good blue raspberry shaved ice?”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s the one.”

“I’ll definitely have to stop by.” 

This was how the next few hours went. Talking about everything and nothing. He had lived in the city his entire life, worked as a freelance artist, had an apartment not too far away. Plates had been swept away by Bethany long ago. Refills poured, drained, and poured again.

And then, “Do you maybe want to get out of here? Kick it at my place?” Jungkook asked. His expression was open and genuine. 

You didn’t know if that was a good idea. But talking to him was stimulating and you didn’t want it to end. 

He noticed your hesitation. “Turn you location on your phone, I’ll even give you my address so you can send it to your friends. Anything to make you feel comfortable.”

He was right. He didn’t live that far. It was barely past five o’ clock in the morning, the city was still awake, billboards alight. The buildings towered, dark against the predawn blue of the sky. The apartment building was modest and typical of the city. Clean and affordable but just expensive enough to be appealing to a specific demographic of college students and those with decent enough jobs. His apartment was on the third floor and was charming with brick walls and high ceilings. There was a bookshelf packed with vinyl records, even more in milk crates. A record player in pristine condition sat on an end table beside an armchair. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jungkook said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the front door. 

“You said you liked records,” you replied, browsing his collection. 

“I did.”

“This isn’t liking records. This is a goddamn treasure trove.” You pushed your hair behind your ear, eager to move it from your face. “Bowie, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan, Prince. You even have a rare version of Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland. With the naked women! This is incredible.” 

He laughed. “I see you are a woman of taste.” 

“If only my dad could see this. I’m afraid to touch anything.” 

“I’m sure you don’t have clumsy hands with records. Since you have a record store and all.”

You laughed. “I appreciate the trust.”

“So what would you like to listen to?”

You mulled it over, taking your time examining the sleeves of the records. Then you found one.

He smiled when you showed him the cover art. “Perfect.” 

Frank Ocean’s Blond. A modern classic. Perfect for the liminal hour of five AM. 

Jungkook slipped it from its sleeve, fingers on the slim rounded edges of the record. He carefully settled it on the turntable, placed the needle on the disc, and played the album. There was the classic crackle of vinyl, and then the first track emanated. It was a phantasm of sound, rich and ethereal. Light but weighted. The song was the deep blue of the sky before the sun decided to pull itself above the horizon and emblazon the sky with its myriad of colors. It was the perfect song for this liquid moment that felt like a dream. This beautiful stranger standing before you with his incredible collection. 

And then you were in Jungkook’s arms, slowly swaying to the music. You smiled up at him and him down at you. 

The album continued on in the living room, serenading to no one. You and Jungkook had moved to the bedroom, lounging on the bed. The horizon blushed peach, casting the room in half-light. You both lay on your backs, him with an arm slung casually behind his head, you with your hands folded delicately on your stomach. 

“Thank you for paying for my meal today,” you said to him meekly. 

He smiled. “Thank you for the great conversation. And having an amazing taste in music.” 

You laughed. “What made you come sit with me anyway?”

That was when he looked at you, his mouth still slung in a smile, but his eyes sincere. “Because you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks went hot and you giggled nervously, covering it with your hands. He rolled over and carefully removed them, his eyes on yours. For a brief moment, time was still. Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close. His lips were so close. Your noses were just barely brushing. His voice was husky when he said, “I like your laugh.”

And then he kissed you. 

In the living room, Frank Ocean sang about nights and new beginnings. 

In the bedroom, you and Jungkook were breathless. Hands on thighs. Hands in hair. Teeth on collarbones. It was a innocent hunger, one that never got too peckish. He was careful with you, didn’t dare to remove your clothes. “I like you,” he breathed into your neck. You gasped at the sensation. 

You kissed until you both eventually succumbed to sleep, the morning sun pouring drowsy golden light across the room.

It was well into the afternoon when you woke to the sound of a shower running. The room was unfamiliar. Definitely not your barren apartment with the boxes strewn about the place. And you definitely weren’t on your living room mattress tangled amongst its waves of sheets. The bed you were in was the most comfortable you’ve ever experienced. Brick walls, plants, beautiful abstract canvas paintings leaning against the wall. Then you remembered. 

The diner. The vinyl collection. The sunrise. The kiss. 

Jungkook. 

He was in the shower and you were fully dressed and the night had to have been a dream. But it wasn’t. Reality settled back onto your shoulders in agonizing waves. You were hours late opening the store. But oh, you wanted to burrow into these soft, sweet-smelling sheets and dissolve into nothing. Eventually you got up. 

The door to the bathroom was open. You thought about telling him you were leaving, but instead, you drew your name and number into the mirror steam and went home to shower and change yourself.

An entire week went by and he never called. He didn’t return to the diner, either. It hurt. Every time you lay on your side, willing yourself to sleep, the phantom feeling of his hands and lips barreled you at such an unwelcome rush you would gasp. None of it was real. You had to keep telling yourself that. None of it was real. 

Life went back to normal. Jungkook was a fleeting daydream that sifted in and out of your thoughts. The store still barely got any customers, except for the same two or three crate diggers who visited like ghosts. And then Nora, your best friend, breezed through the door. She was a city girl through and through. Large sunglasses, the omnipresent iced coffee, the expensive wardrobe curated specifically for being in front of a camera. She was partly why you moved here. The two of you were from the same hometown, and she had escaped first to chase the tail of a fashion designer career. 

“Move here!” she had said during a phone call. “You’ll love it. You’re super hipster and this city eats that shit up! And you can open up that record and book store you always dreamed of.” 

She wasn’t wrong. You loved this city but this city seemed to not love you back. Now, she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and set her iced coffee on the counter top before you. You were sitting behind the register, feet up and reading a book when she had come in. You looked up from the paperback in your hands. “And what have I done to deserve your presence, Your Highness?”

“Good morning, dork! We’re going to a party.”

You kicked your feet down. Slipped a bookmark in the book and closed it. And you simply said, “No.”

She blinked, her smile stiff. “Why not?” 

“You know I have to open this place every single morning. I can’t go to a party and get drunk and miss another opening.”

“Stop making this store your entire life.”

“It is my entire life.”

“Well, live another one. Just for one night.” She clasped her hands together and actually pouted. “Please.”

You sighed. “You don’t have anyone else to go with?”

She perked up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I do. I just want you to go with me. I want you to have fun for once. All you’ve done since you been here was work.”

Every single dollar and penny from your savings went to this store. It was your lifelong dream. And Nora—lovely, naïve Nora—had never needed to work for anything a day in her life. She meant well. She was never intentionally ignorant. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

She also didn’t know of your time with Jungkook. It was embarrassing that he never called. It angered you that he called you beautiful and said he liked you only for it all to be false. Thank goodness you didn’t have sex with him. 

“I’ll have fun once I’m a millionaire or something,” you said to Nora.

She huffed. “I can find you someone to cover the shop for the night. You won’t even have to pay them. Please just come with me.”

“No. What if they steal something.”

She stared at you flatly. “Do you really think any of my friends—my friends—would steal? Let alone steal any of this stuff? No offense.” 

“Why do you want me to go so badly?”

“I already said. Fun. You know, music, drinks, guys.” She sang the last word and accompanied it with a little shimmy. 

“I have plenty of music and I can buy my own drinks.”

She slammed her hand against the counter top, startling you. “Stop being fucking difficult and come have some fun with me.”

So, grudgingly, you went. Albeit late because you didn’t trust anyone else to close the shop for you, but you went nonetheless. Nora did your makeup. Just glitter eyeshadow and a little eyeliner because you insisted you didn’t want much. And she picked out your outfit—a black lace bra, a crop top cardigan, and a pair of white shorts. 

“Because I can’t dress myself?” you grumbled, sliding on the clothes. 

“Exactly that. You dress too…hipster-y. You need to be hot for tonight.” 

You hadn’t worn that bra since you dated Namjoon. He was pretentious and arrogant and such a city boy it made you lightheaded. You met when he waltzed into the store shortly after you moved here. He smiled at you and you practically melted. The books were what he came for. He bought a Russian classic novel and at checkout, he discussed with you the allegory of sharing fruit in literature. He was eloquent and intelligent and so damn gorgeous you fell for him in that same moment. He scribbled his number on the receipt and told you to keep it. 

The relationship lasted for four months. He suggested you move into his high rise apartment downtown with him. It was a modern edifice, all glass and steel and money. He was the wealthiest person you had ever met in your life. And, stupidly, you were in love. 

And then you saw his text messages with some unfairly beautiful girl he followed on social media about how good she looked in his bed . He said he was lonely, that you worked too much, what else was he supposed to do? Needless to say, you left him. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

Now, Nora said to you, “And don’t think about wearing those fucking platform boots.”

“Why not?” you said, frowning. “They’re cute.”

“They look ridiculous. Like those boots that one goth girl from that cartoon you like wore.” 

You grinned, mischievous. “That’s exactly why I bought them.”

To Nora’s dismay, you wore the fucking platform boots. 

The party was in an underground venue. It wasn’t all red wine and an elaborate excuse to brag about money, like the gatherings Namjoon liked, it was edgy. A live band played pop punk on a stage, the lights in the place were dim save for the spotlights and the white Christmas lights behind the bar. Greasy pizza and liquor and neon lights. You brushed elbows with someone smoking a joint, and you were pretty sure someone was doing coke in the bathroom. 

Nora pulled you to the bar where she ordered herself a cocktail and you a craft beer. She knew you so well. 

There were so many people here. You mentally kicked yourself for not bringing flyers for your store. 

And then you saw him. Nora was talking your ear off about how hot the frontman for the band was and you almost choked on your beer. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you spat.

Nora blinked rapidly. “What? What happened?”

“This is why you brought me here. You cunt.” You didn’t mean to call her that. It wasn’t a word worn with frequent use in your vocabulary. In fact, you hated the word. But it was deserved in this situation. 

Namjoon. He was standing near the stage with a craft beer of his own in his hand, bobbing his head to the music. He didn’t like places like this. They were tacky to him. He didn’t even listen to this genre of music. What the hell was he doing here? 

The girl standing next to him turned to him and smiled. She was wearing lipstick as red as murder and her bob was so black it reflected the lights with an envious luster. She had a septum piercing, the two silver balls glittering in the low light like two tiny stars. That’s when it clicked. He was here because of her. She was that unfairly beautiful girl in his text messages. Your skin felt incandescent. 

“He had to see how hot you are. I thought you would enjoy shoving that in his face.” Lovely, naïve Nora. You wanted to slap her. 

You stood from the bar stool and set your craft beer on the bar. “I’m leaving now.”

Her face was slack with regret. Before she could form an apology, you turned and walked away. 

You were a few moments from the door when you heard your name. It wasn’t Nora. You stopped and your breath hitched. Your turned slowly, preparing to see Namjoon with that girl by his side but instead—

“Jungkook?”

His hair was black now and almost as shiny as that girl’s bob. It hung past his ears in gentle waves. He stood there in a baggy black shirt and jeans, his thumbs tucked into the front pockets. Silver bracelets draped from both wrists. In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Infernal. This couldn’t be the same man you shared a chimerical morning with. He looked like he had been created by the darkness of the city’s nights. 

Maybe it was just the hair. 

“Hi,” he said in the same way he did when he sat your table at the diner. It could’ve been mistaken as sheepishness, but his eyes were not meek. Besides the hair, you couldn’t figure out what was so different about him. 

Breathlessly, you said, “Hi.”

“You look nice.” 

Over his shoulder, you noticed Namjoon go to the bar. Nora scowled at him. He smiled amicably at her and his mouth moved, saying something. She froze, and her eyes immediately darted to you. Namjoon turned and saw you. And he started your way. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

You should’ve ran out of the venue. There were a million other things you should’ve done, but instead you grabbed Jungkook and kissed him. 

Initially, he went rigid with shock, but he melted into the kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth. “Miss me that much?”

You pulled away. “I did not.” A glance over his shoulder and Namjoon was gone. You audibly exhaled. 

“What happened?” 

You ran a hand over your face. “Ex.”

“Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were leaving?”

“Yes. And now I’m going. Goodbye.” You whirled around, shoulders tense with embarrassment and headed for the stairs. 

“Wait.” He caught up to you on the stairs. “Can I go with?” There were small white string lights strung in the stairwell and the glow reflected in his eyes. They were so brown. 

“Don’t you have friends to be with?” Your phone buzzed in your back pocket with an incoming text message. Most likely your own friend dying to know who the guy you just kissed was. You ignored it. 

“They’ll be fine.” He grinned. 

“Okay,” you said, feeling yourself smile as well.

There was no destination, but you ended up at a park, sitting beside each other on a swing set. Your feet dragged in the wood chips as you pushed yourself back and forth slowly. He looked up at the night sky and sighed. “Do you want to know why I hadn’t called?”

You just looked at him. 

“This may sound like a corny excuse, but… I was afraid of what you would think of me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated before saying, “If we continued seeing each other, you would eventually find out that I’m not a freelance artist. I do paint, but that’s not what I do.”

You could feel your heartbeat gradually speeding its pace. “What do you do?” His eyes fell down to his hands. He turned them over, studying the lines in his palms. His hair slipped over his eyes. He was a portrait of affliction. “I’m a Lost Boy.”

You didn’t understand. He noticed your silence and looked up at you. “The Lost Boys. This city is practically run by them.” He corrected himself, “Ran by us.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I’m in a gang.”

Your voice was a whisper. “What?”  

He quickly added, “If you no longer want to associate with me, I understand. They’re—we’re—dangerous. I mean, even if you haven’t heard of us, you know us. The leather jackets, the vandalism, the fights. That venue is owned by us. The drugs at that event were supplied by us. That band playing is in our pockets. My apartment is paid by dirty money.” He laughed quietly to himself then, almost pityingly. 

The night air around you was thick with your own dread. “Is being around you dangerous?” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so small.

“I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You could hear the unsaid “but” in his tone. 

“But what?” you prompted.

He chewed on his lip. A dimple in his left cheek appeared. “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise your safety. If you do decide to be around me.”

--

[thelangdoncooperative]

Looking Ahead (Halloween One-Shot)

She sat in front of her mirror with a steady hand and liquid eyeliner. She rarely got both eyes to be identical and it seemed like this was going to be another failure. She could see her boyfriend through the mirror fidgeting with his costume.

“Y/n,” he sighed, “I can't get it. Can you help?”

When she looked harder in the mirror to see what his struggle was, she smudged her eyeliner, “Fuck me,” she groaned.

He laughed as he came up behind her, “I'm busy,” she stuck her tongue at him through the mirror and continued to fix her face, “Just forget the eyeliner. You look pretty like that,”

She wiped the rest off before calling it quits. Turning to him, she could see that his buttons were all one off, “Perhaps your struggle is,” she began to unbutton his costume jacket, “that they're all off by one,”

He leaned down and kissed her nose as she adjusted his costume, “You're so smart. That's why I keep you around,”

She raised an eyebrow, “Is that the only reason?”

“Something about love too probably,” he grinned and she rolled her eyes.

He turned her in his arms so they were both facing the mirror, “How do we look? As good as they look on the package?”

She insisted on doing couples costumes when she found out her friends were throwing a Halloween party. They went through a few ideas (that Michael had shut down) before landing on this. She thought he looked beautiful in his prince costume. He had picked up a much darker version than the one she expected but it suited him. It was black with red stitching and his blonde curls made him look even more charming. In turn, her dress looked as if the fairies had turned Sleeping Beauty’s dress red instead. She didn't complain. She thought they could look cute but Michael wanted something a tad darker. He said it was called ‘compromise’.

“Listen, Princess,” he smiled, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist, “Are we ready to go?”

Thankfully, Michael’s mom had let him take the car. There was no way Y/N’s parents were going to be that cool. They were staying overnight and while her parents were chill about a lot, drinking and driving were not one of them. They all but made Michael take a blood oath not to drink and drive with Y/N in the car. Of course he was able to put them at ease and they did trust both of their judgements.

When they pulled up to the house, it was already 11pm and the party seemed in full swing. The music was flowing out the windows and they could see it was packed just from looking in. As they walked up the steps, they saw one of their classmates puking off the side of the porch. Michael gripped Y/N's waist a touch tighter as they walked past and through the crowd to get to the drinks.

He leaned into her ear to speak over the music, “If you ever wanna go, just let me know. Don't feel like you can't say when,”

Pushing his curls out of his face, she nodded, “I know. We just got here though. It'll be okay,” she smiled and handed him a drink.

Y/N was known around school primarily for being Michael’s girlfriend. She was essentially his only and best friend. Before her, no one dared approach him. He sat alone most of the time, his only company were his thoughts. When Y/N moved to town their senior year, that changed. While Michael would tell you she forced her friendship on him, he'd always say he was glad. She made him a new person and he couldn't imagine a time without her. That being said, her friends were still apprehensive even now.

When her best friend, Sara, came over to talk to her, Michael was polite. He smiled at her but he did not speak. He could sense her uneasiness. He simply stood by Y/N, holding her waist as they talked and giving space when she needed it. When Y/N asked him to dance, he happily obliged. He would never tell her not to talk to her friends but he liked having her to himself. These social settings were not made for him. When he seemed to zone out, she took it as that but when she could not get him to pay attention to her she knew something was up.

“What is it?” She wrapped her arms around him, “What do you feel?”

He kissed her before speaking, “You're going to think it's cause I want to leave but...something's off in here. We should go,”

“What do you mean ‘something's off’? You have to elaborate more,” she replied.

He shook his head, “I can't, really. That's all I have for you,” He looked to the front door, frowning, “Okay, I'm sorry but we have to go,” he grabbed her hand and quickly led her out the front door. She stumbled a few times trying to match the strides of his long legs. Unlocking the car door, he opened her side and quickly helped her in.

“Michael, what is it?” She said out of breath but he did not respond. He rushed over to the drivers side and turned over the engine in a rush. As he drove down the block, she could see police lights in the rear view mirror. They stopped in front of Sara’s house.

He glanced over at her while he drove, “That was it,”

She took his hand in her lap, “Sara’s gonna be so pissed.”

He laughed, “We can go eat. Would you be up for that? It’s only-” he looked down at the time on the radio, “twelve-thirty”

She agreed and he pulled into a local 24-hour spot. The sign outside boasted of a famous cheesecake and that had Y/N sold. She was a sucker for desserts. She slid into the booth and Michael followed behind.

“Ew, Michael,” she laughed, “Are we really gonna be the couple who sits on the same side of the booth?”

He grinned widely, taking her face in his hand and planting a sloppy kiss on her lips, “We absolutely are,”

The waitress came and went. Y/N hadn't realized how hungry she was until she was waiting and the wait truly did feel like forever.

“Oh my god,” she dropped her head dramatically on his shoulder, “I'm so hungry” she whined.

He reached his arm behind her and pulled her body close to his, “You're like a toddler,” he laughed, “It should be out soon. It hasn't even been that long,”

“Are you sure? It feels like forever and a day,” she looked up at him. Taking advantage of the angle, he dipped his head down to kiss her. She laughed, trying to push his face away but instead felt Michael lick her hand. “Disgusting. Why do you hate me?” She laughed so loud the old trucker at the counter turned to look at her.

Michael contained his laughter and put his hand over her mouth, “You're so loud. Holy shit. People are gonna think I’m doing something to you,”

She moved his hand from her mouth, holding it where it hung over her shoulder, “Okay, okay,” she took deep breaths to calm her laughter.

When the food finally arrived, Y/N was beaming. Michael was just glad he made it out alive. They were sharing a plate of fries and each had a milkshake. Michael had chocolate and she had strawberry.

“Here. Open up, big baby” he laughed as he fed her a fry. She sighed in contentment and laid her head back on his shoulder. They continued eating like this until Y/N looked up at him with a serious expression.

“Michael, can I ask you something?” Her eyes were wide but he saw no negativity in them.

He quickly washed down his fry with a drink, “Of course. What is it?”

“Do you love me?” She bit her lip.

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, “Is this where I get in trouble for not saying it enough?” He continued eating.

“No, I just mean-...Well, I’ll be leaving for college soon and I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Because I do love you and I want you. I want to be with you,” she spoke so plainly but her words rang true. He felt the same way and to hear her speak them out loud was a comfort to his mind.

“I love you, little one,” he kissed her nose once more, “I'll be here as long as you'll have me. Okay?” He tipped her chin up so he could get better access to her lips when they kissed.

She beamed up at him, relieved at his response, “Okay, no more heavy stuff I promise. You can eat now. I won't bother you.” He picked up a fry and moved to feed her. She opened her mouth in anticipation and at the last second he quickly popped it in his mouth. “Rude!” She laughed and swatted his arm.

“Excuse me, ma'am. You said you weren't going to bother me anymore!” He laughed, almost choking on a half-eaten fry.

“That's what you get,” she chuckled as she cuddled deeper into his side.

[dork-empress]

Dream Daddy

Part of my ‘another 100 Dragon Prince Aus’ oneshot collection

Read on Ao3

Single Dad Harrow has just moved to town with his two sons, and goes to a neighborhood barbecue to meet his neighbors.

“Are you guys ready to go?” Harrow asked his two children, Callum and Ezran.

“Mm, I don’t know,” Callum said playing on his phone, “Can’t we just stay home and watch ice road truckers?”

Harrow sighed. Callum was taking their latest move harder than Ezran. More than that he was still struggling with his mother’s death, and Harrow didn’t really know how to help, given he was Callum’s step-father, not biological, and wasn’t sure what to do. “Come on,” he said, “It’ll be fun! You guys will get the chance to meet all the kids that live in our cul-de-sac. And I’ll be able to meet the other parents.

Little did he know how well he’d get to know them.

“Ah, hello, Viren!” Harrow called over his old friend, who he’d randomly re-met up with, “We made it, thank you for inviting us.”

“Ah, of course,” Viren said, smiling warmly by the barbecue with his kids and some others Harrow didn’t recognize. “And this must be Callum and Ezran. My goodness, you’ve grown.”

Ezran trotted up warmly, while Callum was more hesitant. “Hi!” Ezran said, “I don’t really remember you, but I’m Ezran.”

“Ah yes, you were very young,” Viren said, “Do you remember Claudia and Soren? They used to babysit you when you were little.”

Ezran shook his head while Callum blushed. Clearly, he remembered at least one of the siblings. “Tell you what,” Harrow said, “Why don’t you let Claudia and Soren here show you kids around? Introduce you to the neighbors and all that.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun!” Claudia said, holding her hand out to Callum, who’s blush deepened, “Come on, Mr. Villads brought peanut butter cookies, they’re delicious!”

With the kids out of the way, Harrow turned his attention to the man standing beside Viren. He was smiling, but there wasn’t much warmth in it. It almost seemed like the tall man was staring into him. “Harrow, this is Aaravos,” Viren said, “He’s a...friend of mine.”

Aaravos held out a hand, like it was draped fabric. “Charmed,” he said, his voice lower than Harrow could possibly imagine. “Viren’s told me great things about you.”

“Has he, now?” Harrow said, feeling slightly intimidated, “I have to say, he hasn’t mentioned you. What do you do?”

Aaravos’ smile widened, “I’m a jack of all trades, really,” he said, “Right now I’ve been doing some piano work. I’m very good with the keys.”

Harrow hummed, nodding. Aaravos was making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. “Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll make the rounds. Meet some new folks.”

“Absolutely,” Viren said, “I’ll let everyone know when dinner is ready.”

Harrow slipped off to a group of four men, standing around and chatting. “Uh, hello,” He said, “I’m Harrow. I just moved into the neighborhood.”

“Oh yes,” A man in glasses said, smiling, “My daughter and I saw you move in, we’re just across the street. I saw you have a boy with you, about my Ellis’ age.”

“Oh, really?” Harrow said, looking at where the man pointed to Ezran and a little girl. “Well that’s wonderful! One down, now to get some friends for my elder son, Callum. He’s my step-son, technically, but been with me most of his life.”

“I think my niece is taking care of that,” A tall man said, “Runaan, pleasure to meet you.” Despite the words, he didn’t seem to have any pleasure in him at all. “Rayla’s adopted as well. She’s my sister’s, before she died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Harrow said, nodding, “But good to meet you.”

“And I’m Villads!” The clearly blind man said, not facing properly toward Harrow, “Excellent making your acquaintance!”

Harrow was more intrigued by the parrot sitting on his shoulder, “Your bird is incredible. I have one myself.”

“Ah, yes, Berto’s my pride and joy now that my kids have gone and grown up,” he said, “Berto doesn’t get as good grades, though.” The parrot squawked.

Harrow turned to the last man. “Corvus,” The man said, “I think I know of you, you’re Amaya’s brother in law, correct?”

“Why yes!” Harrow said, “You know her?”

“She’s my boss, yes.” Corvus said.

“Well,” Harrow said, “I’m so glad to know so many friendly people in town. I hope our living here will be a good experience.”

[sophiehunteroctopussyblog]

As Benedict Cumberbatch returns to screens big and small, he tells Craig McLean the secret to building a blockbuster body – and why his Sherlock co-star is wrong to fret about the fans

The last time I met Benedict Cumberbatch he was wearing only a pair of trunks, eating wine gums and worrying about the size of his abs. It was April 2017 and we were on the suburban set of The Child in Time, the first drama from his production company, SunnyMarch. In the lead role as a children’s author overwhelmed by grief following the disappearance of his daughter, Cumberbatch was preparing to shoot a scene in a bathtub – and was painfully aware that his toned torso looked out of place.

Shortly after the five-week shoot, the actor explained, he was due to fly to America to reprise his part as the disarmingly buff, dimension-bending Marvel superhero Doctor Strange. The year before, his stand-alone Doctor Strange movie had taken almost half a billion pounds at the international box office – and when it was announced that the character (also glimpsed briefly in Thor: Ragnarok last autumn) would be making a prominent return in this year’s Avengers: Infinity War there was no question of Cumberbatch returning to the role without first hitting the gym.

By the time we met, the actor’s pre-shoot fitness regime – which he described as “pretty full on… but a mental sorbet” – was well under way; hence those abs.

Fast forward to April 2018 and Cumberbatch – a 41-year-old father of two – is in front of me once again, in a London hotel room, midway through the global press tour for Infinity War. This time, thank God, he is fully clothed (in blue linen, denim and suede), but he’s still eating sweets.

Bulging with stars (Robert Downey Jr, Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Zoe Saldana and Josh Brolin for starters), the biggest Marvel film to date promises to be a superhero Greatest Hits, featuring all of the Avengers, Spider-Man, Black Panther and the Guardians of the Galaxy. Such is the secrecy surrounding it that I’ve only been shown 25 minutes, all superhero banter and ear-splitting battles against Brolin’s intergalactic villain, Thanos.

Doctor Strange appears to be the main goody, no less. Coiled in his chair, Cumberbatch admits that, after all those hours in the gym, he “bristled” earlier in the day when a journalist commented that his Doctor Strange “wasn’t very brawny”.

“How dare he?” he tuts now in mock-outrage, “Didn’t he see my shirt-off scene? Just hours before we shot it, I was told to do nothing but drink coffee and eat Skittles. ‘What,’ I said, ‘you want to turn me into a trucker?��� But they said it’s about dehydrating – if you have that much of a sugar- and caffeine-hit, the skin ‘shrink-wraps’ round your muscles”. He grins toothily. “And it worked!” He frowns. “I would never advise it, though.”

Still, however Doctor Strange’s physique looks on screen, one place the Oscar-nominated, Harrow-educated star can count on his character having rock-solid abs is on the associated merchandise, from T-shirts to figurines. “It’s the lunch box moment,” says Cumberbatch, wryly.

He tells me about a recent visit to the home of his friend and co-star, Tom Hiddleston (“Hiddlebum”) who has been a member of the Marvel family since 2011 when he appeared as Loki in the first Thor film. “I went into his kitchen and I just said: ‘Holy s---, you’ve been merch’d: you are on the lunch box.’ And he went: ‘I know, it’s great, right?’ And, yes, it is great. It’s also slightly terrifying. I thought: ‘Oh, is that one of the hurdles? Is that a Hiddlebum moment or a McAvoy moment?’” (another peer, James McAvoy, got his “lunch box moment” with the X-Men films). That is: does the actor have to make peace with being turned into a moulded plastic souvenir?

He does, and Cumberbatch evidently has. “It’s terrible but I actually look for kids wearing Marvel gear,” he admits. “And there are very few Doctor Strange lunch boxes or backpacks.” Ten years and 19 movies into the Marvel Cinematic Universe – and with this year’s Black Panther receiving unprecedented critical acclaim – does Cumberbatch think the time for snobbery about superhero movies is over?

If, say, Eddie Redmayne asked him if he should put on cape and tights, would he encourage his friend? “I’d say he’s got his plate quite full with wizardry right now,” he chuckles, referring to Redmayne’s role in J K Rowling’s Fantastic Beasts franchise. “But, yeah, if you really are bored of that, come and join the party!”

With great franchises come great responsibilities, however. Recently, Cumberbatch’s Sherlock co-star, Martin Freeman, grumbled to me about the oppressive level of expectation created by the series’ obsessive fans. “Being in that show, it is a mini-Beatles thing,” the actor who plays Doctor Watson said. “People’s expectations, some of it’s not fun any more. It’s not a thing to be enjoyed…”

Did the fans’ obsession with Sherlock kill the fun for Cumberbatch, too? “Mmm, not really ’cause I didn’t engage with it that much,” he says. “I’m very grateful for the support, but that’s about it.” His attitude is that fan fervour becomes a separate, uncontrollable force, that “it takes on its own thing. But that happens with every franchise or entity like this.”

He pauses, frowns, then continues with what sounds like a bracing criticism of his co-star. “It’s pretty pathetic if that’s all it takes to let you not want to take a grip of your reality. What, because of expectations? I don’t know. I don’t necessarily agree with that. There is a level of it [where] I understand what he means. There’s a level of obsession where [the franchise] becomes theirs even though we’re the ones making it. But I just don’t feel affected by that in the same way, I have to say.”

He is similarly forthright on the subject of Patrick Melrose. In David Nicholls’s forthcoming five-part television drama, adapted from Edward St Aubyn’s autobiographical novels, Cumberbatch plays the lead, a character who, on the page, can appear to be an unlikeable, heroin-taking posho. “Well, your words not mine,” he replies. “I don’t think he’s unlikeable at all. I think he’s fiercely funny, erotic, charming and dangerous. And incredibly, incredibly damaged. So you should feel for him.

"The posh bit? I mean, what, you think people who are sexually abused by their father from the age of five to 10 aren’t worthy of our attention because they’re posh? You need to go back to ethics school, surely. That’s a terribly shaky moral position to hold. So,” he concludes briskly, “I don’t bounce with that.”

Neverthelesss, I suggest, it’s hard to imagine that Melrose’s life – from childhood abuse to the drugs with which he self-medicates to escape his pain – will make easy viewing. “I think at heart it will be a really enjoyable watch,” says Cumberbatch. “But it’s not for the faint-hearted. It is a story of salvation. But it is blisteringly funny. That’s the real hook for me. Even among the depth-charge moments of abuse, you’re kind of mesmerised by Hugo Weaving’s David Melrose [Patrick’s father], as you are in the books. He’s a really magnetic character.”

While researching the part, Cumberbatch talked to counsellors and former addicts. Was he also able to draw on his own school days? Surely, at Harrow, he wasn’t short of classmates weighed down by their heritage. “Well there was a prince of Jordan, so that brought a level of weirdness. But the more English version? I didn’t get an intro much into that world. I was very privileged to be at Harrow, but there’s not some part of Wiltshire that belongs to the Cumberbatches.

“We have our past – you don’t have to look far to see the slave-owning past, we were part of the whole sugar industry, which is a shocker,” he says of the revelation four years ago that an 18th-century forebear was a Bristolian merchant who established plantations in Barbados. But, no, he didn’t know “Lord and Lady Such and Such”.

His only ennobled classmate was Simon Fraser, whose father and uncle died “tragically close to one another in our last year,” making him the 16th Lord Lovat. “He suddenly became titled, and we didn’t even know. “The point is,” he continues, “weird though it might be [given] the perception of me out there, I had to push some to get to the right level of class for this. And that was a very important part of the process. Because Patrick Melrose is very much a study of class, and the disintegration of the moneyed, landed gentry to cash-poor, still possibly land-rich idiocy. Their hypocritical, cynical, back-stabbing, malicious, ironic unsympathetic behaviour is really exposed with a scalpel in this.”

Speaking of men behaving badly, if things had gone according to plan, we would by now have seen Cumberbatch’s performance as Thomas Edison in the historical epic, The Current War. At one point mooted as an Oscar-contender, the film’s original release was scrapped after its producer Harvey Weinstein (with whom Cumberbatch had previously worked on The Imitation Game) fell spectacularly from grace. Cumberbatch sounds far from disappointed.

“If it takes us not releasing our film for a couple of years just to be rid of that toxicity, I’m fine with that,” he says, adding that he wants “to step back and be as far removed from that influence as possible, both as filmmaker and as human being.”

He recalls being on the Avengers set when the Weinstein story broke. “You could feel people going: ‘This is important and this will change things…’ And that’s terrific,” he says. “But having worked with the man twice…” he exhales heavily. “Lascivious… I wouldn’t want to be married to him… Gaudy in his tastes, for all his often-brilliant film-making ability ...

But did I know that was going on? A systematic abuse of women, happening through bribery, coercion, trying to gain empathy, to physical force and threats, physical and to career? No. No,” he says firmly. “That was the true shock. That this has just literally happened. And it’s  been covered up by an entire body of people through lawsuits and gagging and money – hundreds of thousands of dollars paid to silence victims and survivors.”

He shakes his head, aghast. “That truly was a revelation. I have a film company. Our head of development is a woman. There are two women running the television side of SunnyMarch. Adam [Ackland, his SunnyMarch co-founder] and me are the only men in the office. Countless times I’ve brought up issues of equal pay and billing. And so to realise that this attitude is so deeply culturally ingrained – that was my rude awakening. We have to fight a lot harder.”

That’s toxic masculinity dealt with; now bring on Thanos!

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/films/0/benedict-cumberbatch-privilege-marvel-muscles-martin-freemans/

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

Mr. Hypocrite in action. Seems lying is his second nature now. Everthing for the image. What Martin said about Sherlock days ago is pathetic? Riiiiiight!

Sure it was controversial but pathetic?!

For those of you who think there will be another season of Sherlock: Think again!

And BC didn't know about Weinstein's "methods".

Doing a "Meryl Streep" here BC?!

I'm going with Martin here:

[bastionkeeper]

What anime is that photoset you just rebooted from?

The one with the big guy and tiny girl? It’s from Ore Monogatari (My Love Story) it’s the best anime ever

okay need me to sell you on it?

so there’s this huge fucking dude with a heart of gold who’s best friends with this gorgeous looking dude who you’d think would be prince charming but is actually apathetic and maybe a bit of a douche but still nice. One day they’re on the train and they see this creep trying to put his hand up a girl’s skirt so big dude (Takeo) beats the shit outta him. Basically they become best friends with the girl and Takeo falls for her but because every girl he’s ever loved has fallen for his handsome best friend he decides to just support their relationship and be their friend only surprise! she LOOOOVES Takeo and thinks he’s the most handsome man ever.

The whole series is just this really pure borderline polyamorous trio and it’s full of creepy guys getting beat up and body positivity and good jokes and cute romancey shit like waiting months to ask a girl to hold her hand and getting blushy about it

everyone go watch it

If it was the one with the guy with the fishtank and the gun then it was Cowboy Bebop which is also a great show way in the other direction. Scifi bounty hunters, noir themes in space, femme fatales and butch space truckers, gritty but not overkill with a great soundtrack and a nonbinary kid who’s best friends with a dog also both of them can hack anything. Lots of found family and shenanigans 

[ddaddsprompts]

Before your ask box closes i FINALLY thought of a prompt: the dads with a ticklish s/o :D (btw your writing is amazing!)

I’m so sorry it’s taken so long to get to your prompt! Hopefully, now that we are four people instead of just me, things will go faster and you won’t have to wait as long! - Mod Mare

🥃 “Want another round?” At the sound of Robert’svoice you turn your head towards him. It’s strange how a few months can changea man so much, but Robert proves it’s possible. He got professional help,picked up a hobby other than drinking and cryptid hunting and actually startedtaking a shower every other day instead of once a week. His drinking gotbetter, too, decreased to a normal and acceptable level. He still can drink youunder the table though. The empty glass in front of you was only your third drink,however, so you slide it over to where he’s standing in front of thetable. He dips his head and disappears for a moment, returning with two filledglasses. You scoot to the side to let him slide into the booth again.Automatically, he throws his arm across your shoulders, pulling you close untilyour sides are pressed together. Like always whenever he touches you, youblush. Though he told you he wants to take things slow and wait until he’sready, you two still behave like a couple in public, only with less kissing andhand-holding. “Thanks, Bobert,” you say raising your glass in a toast. He rollshis eyes. “I told you not to call me that,” he grunts and drops his arm again. Indoing so, his fingers brush over your nape, right where the fine hair thickens followingyour spine up your skull. You can’t help the shudder that goes down your back andlean away from the touch. Robert frowns, then his expression turns downrightevil. “Oh, someone’s ticklish, huh?” You glare at him and move to the edge ofthe booth. He holds up his hands in a placating gesture which is destroyed byhis smirk. “Scout’s honour. I won’t tickle you… for now.”

🍸”Help!” You try to wrench Christie offof you, but Christian holds down your arm with surprising strength for a seven-year-oldchild. To be fair, you’re holding back, not wanting to accidentally hurt them,but the longer this goes on, the harder it is to control your body. “Help!”Joseph finally puts down his book and takes in the scene in front of him with agrin. When Christian asked you whether you’re ticklish, you should have knownthe twins had a plan. You wonder if telling the truth would have saved you, butfigure the outcome would have been the same, no matter what you said. Christiemanages to pull your shirt free and slips her hands under the fabric. A verymanly yelp escapes your lips as she begins tickling your sides. Now that theycan reach your skin, the torture is even worse, your end is near. Your vision isblurred because of the tears and you’re laughing so hard you can’t beg for helpany longer, but Joseph wouldn’t have saved you anyway. With a chuckle, yourboyfriend sits down on the ground next to you. “Looks like the valiant knighthas been slain by the Spider Prince and Princess! Surrender and your miseryshall end!” You try to squirm out of Christie’s reach, but Christian moves over,effectively trapping you. Gasping for breath, you look at Chris, but he’s too busyplaying on his Gameboy. Faced with inevitable defeat, you still put on yourmost determined expression. “Never, Spider King!” Joseph leans over you andgrins. “Then suffer!” At the feeling of his fingers expertly squishing your sides,you scream. It’s a wonder none of the neighbours call the police.

☕ The beeping of Mat’s phone alarm slowly wrests you from the realm ofdreams and thrusts you back into the waking world. You groan and pull thenearest object over your head, which probably is a pillow, not that you care. Nextto you, Mat chuckles and moves, the bed shifting along with him. His weightleaves the mattress and you hear him walk, the creak of the door telling you he’sgone to the bathroom. One of the major disadvantages of dating a barista: Healways gets up far too early. It’s probably only four or five am, far, far too early for any human being to beawake, and yet you enjoy cuddling with him far too much to sleep in your ownbed. The pillow on your head is suddenly pulled off, exposing you to the light.You groan and cover your face with your hands but Mat’s having none of it,gently prying them off again. Once your eyes adjust to the brightness, you seehim leaning over you, dreads hanging down. One lock brushes over your neck,making you squirm away, giggling. Mat raises an eyebrow. “Are you ticklish?”You vehemently shake your head. Mat copies the movement, but a lot slower – it causeshis dreadlocks to glide over your skin. A shudder runs down your spine. You tryto escape, but Mat’s weight on top of you keeps you trapped in place. Mat chucklesand does it again. “You are.” You can’tspeak, trying to catch your breath between giggles, but you manage a nod. Youkeep your chin pressed to your chest and pull your shoulders up as far as theygo so he can’t tickle you anymore. “Are you going to stay like this forevernow?” You grunt. Mat kisses your forehead and climbs off the bed again. “Seeyou later, turtle.”

🌹 Damien is intelligent, charming and a gentleman through and through. That’swhere the problem lies. Because as much as you love it when he wraps an armaround your waist or puts a hand on the small of your back, it’s also maddeningas hell. So far, you managed to not give away what you consider your greatestweakness, but only barely. Lucien, you’re sure, already knows what’s up; he keepson shooting you unamused looks whenever you have to bite your tongue so you don’tstart giggling when Damien does it again. It’s only a matter of time untilDamien finds out. You assumed it would be during sex or another activity withequal amounts of touching. You did not takeDamien’s interest in yoga into account. That’s a battle you cannot win. Seeinghim go from one painful-looking pose into the next with ease reminds you ofyour aching, ageing bones. You barelymanage to do the ‘low lunge’ without your back screaming in protest and Damienmakes it look so easy. “Here, let mehelp you.” Damien steps behind you and puts a hand on your shoulder. The otherslides down your spine, applying the faintest of pressure. You manage to hold in,until Damien’s hand settles at the curve where your spine meets your ass. Yousplutter, then laugh and, in your attempt to squirm out of reach, you fallforward on your face. “Oh my! Are you okay, Y/N? I didn’t mean to push so hard—“He tries to help you up again, but that just makes you laugh harder. Damien liesdown next to you and chuckles. “You’re ticklish?”“I’m neither going to confirm nor deny that.” He reaches forward and brusheshis finger over your side. With a yelp you scoot backwards and glare.

🎣 Right after Amanda, the invention of chocolateburgers and Long Haul Paranormal Ice Road Ghost Truckers, cuddling with Brianis the best thing in the world. You love putting your head on his chest andwrapping your arms around his torso; you love giving him belly rubs, making himlaugh so much it vibrates through his whole body. It’s even better when youboth are tired from a long day at work and flop down on the couch right afterdinner. You’re not always ‘on top’, so to speak. Sometimes, like it is rightnow, Brian’s head lies comfortably on your chest as you hold him close to you.You move your hands to his hips, starting to draw silly patterns into his skinwith your thumb. Brian giggles against your shirt and squirms away from yourtouch. You pause. “You can’t be serious. You’re ticklish?” It’s like Christmasand Thanksgiving in one. Brian pouts. “Am not.” You wiggle your fingers againsthis waist, drawing a snort from Brian as he tries not to laugh. “Are too.”“I bet you are ticklish. Maybe here?”He pokes your side; you raise your eyebrow. He tries under your arms, but youdon’t even twitch. “I think you’re trying to deflect from yourself, dear.”Brian smirks and scoots upwards. “I’m going to find your weakness, Y/N, mark my—“He blinks in surprise at your sudden, startled laugh and leans back. You coveryour mouth with your hand and duck your head, but not fast enough. Realisationdawns in his face. Brian grins and dives back in, rubbing his beard all overyour neck. “N-no!” You whine. You try to escape but he’s stronger and pins youdown, mercilessly assaulting your neck until you’re a laughing, sobbing mess.

👟 It rarely happens, but sometimes, you and Craigend up arguing. Most often, it’s about silly things, like what you should havefor dinner or who was supposed to do the laundry but didn’t. You never gotloud, there was no throwing dishes involved because Craig had a master’s degreein communication, but there always was reconciliation sex afterwards. That’s theonly thing stopping you from storming out of the room right now because you’vebeen at it for an hour and stillhaven’t made any progress. Well, not the only thing, but the most convincing. “Craig,their bodies won’t decay just because they had ice cream once.” It feels likeyou’re stuck in a continuous loop; you must have said that sentence 300 timesby now. “Once? Bro, you take them out to ice cream after every major gamewhich, to you, is basically every game!”“It’s ice cream! They’re kids! Let them live a little! It’s only frozen milk,how bad can that be? No, I don’t want to hear the recipe again. I heard it fivetimes already.” Craig furrows his brows. You can tell he’s going through yourconversation so far, counting each time to prove you wrong. His shouldersdeflate as he counts to five. With silence descending on you like a heavy quillblanket, Craig unexpectedly reaches out and pokes your side. You flinch away. “Bro,what—“ He does it again. Your back hits the wall, trapping you in a corner.Craig wiggles his fingers. “You can’t just end the argument by tick— NO!” Craigwraps an arm around your waist; his free hand mercilessly tickles you in allyour sensitive spots. You gasp for air and try to free yourself, limbs flailinghelplessly. Somehow, you manage to kick Craig in the knee, sending you bothtoppling to the floor. Your eyes meet his and then you’re both breaking intolaughter.

📖 “Now, in theory, were this a match I would throw you right over my head.”From where you are slung across Hugo’s shoulder, all you can do is hum. Youdefinitely do not want him to throw you down, but you don’t think he’s goingto. That would definitely put a hamper on later activities. After your first physicalbrush with wrestling which led to Hugo and you making out, him suggesting to showyou more moves became a pick-up line which never fails to work. With how close andpersonal you always got, it’s a downright miracle he never noticed how ticklishyou are. Maybe he’s just never touched you in the right spots before or if hedid, you were already breathless so it didn’t matter much why you gasped forair to begin with. “Careful now, I’m going to let you down again.” Slowly, Hugoshifts his hands from your knee-pits upwards while bringing you back into anupwards position. When his hands brush over your lower back, where your shirthad ridden up due to the athletics you’ve been doing, a startled laugh escapesyour mouth. Hugo pauses; you can’t see his expression but you imagine himfrowning. He brushes over your back again. Again, you laugh. “Well, well, well.I didn’t know you were ticklish.” Without any obvious effort whatsoever, Hugolies you down on the bed. You do notlike the smirk on his face. “I’m not?” Hugo raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I am. Alittle.” His other eyebrow joins the conversation. “Fine, a lot.” Hugo folds hisglasses and puts them aside. “You know, I’m a fan of show, don’t tell.” Youonly get what he means when his hands are suddenly all over you. You try toscramble away but there’s no escaping JDSlamminger.

[dccomicsnews]

DC Comics News has compiled a list of DC Comics titles and collectibles shipping to comic shops for October 10, 2017.

Check back every Friday with the DC Comics News Pull Box to see all the cool new DC Comics titles and collectibles that will be available at your favorite local comic shop! So, what titles or collectibles will you be picking up this Wednesday? You can sound off in the comments section below! Click on Comic shop Locator to find the comic shop nearest to you!

COMICS

ALL STAR BATMAN #14 $4.99 BANE CONQUEST #6 (OF 12) $3.99 BATMAN #32 $2.99 BATMAN THE DAWNBREAKER #1 (METAL) $3.99 BATMAN THE DAWNBREAKER PROMO PINS (BAG OF 25) $PI BATMAN WHITE KNIGHT #1 (OF 7) $3.99 CYBORG #17 $3.99 DASTARDLY AND MUTTLEY #2 (OF 6) $3.99 DEATHSTROKE #24 $3.99 GREEN ARROW #32 (METAL) $2.99 GREEN LANTERNS #32 $2.99 HARLEY & IVY MEET BETTY & VERONICA #1 (OF 6) $3.99 HARLEY QUINN #29 $2.99 INJUSTICE 2 #11 $2.99 JUSTICE LEAGUE #30 $2.99 NIGHTWING #30 $2.99 SAVAGE THINGS #8 (OF 8) $3.99 SUPERMAN #32 $2.99

DCN Pull Box Triple Spotlight

BATMAN THE DAWNBREAKER #1 (METAL) $3.99

Sam Humphries (A) Ethan Van Sciver (CA) Jason Fabok

As the events of DARK NIGHTS: METAL rock the DC Universe, the creatures of the Dark Multiverse stand ready to invade our world! How can even the World’s Greatest Heroes stop a horde of deadly beings that appear to be powerful, nightmare versions of familiar figures? Find out in these special tie-in issues!

HARLEY & IVY MEET BETTY & VERONICA #1 (OF 6) $3.99

Paul Dini, Marc Andreyko (A) Laura Braga (CA) Amanda Conner

Free college tuition for all Riverdale residents?! That’s the plan-after the town drains the wetlands that lie between it and Gotham City and then builds a new campus. The only snag? A certain botany-obsessed super-villain. When Poison Ivy enlists her bestie, Harley, to kidnap both Veronica Lodge, daughter of Riverdale’s most important citizen, and her friend Betty, she’s counting on some assistance-and the mayhem that ensues will probably work as well! DC Comics and Archie are proud to present the adventure of a lifetime for all these best pals. Their hijinks are brought to you by the real-life team-up of Paul Dini (HARLEY QUINN) and Marc Andreyko (WONDER WOMAN ’77), with art by Laura Braga (DC BOMBSHELLS)!

BATMAN WHITE KNIGHT #1 (OF 7) $3.99

Sean Murphy (A/CA) Sean Murphy

In a world where Batman has gone too far, The Joker must save Gotham City. He’s been called a maniac, a killer and the “Clown Prince of Crime” but “white knight”? Never. Until now… Set in a world where the Joker is cured of his insanity and homicidal tendencies, The Joker, now known as “Jack,” sets about trying to right his wrongs. First he plans to reconcile with Harley Quinn, and then he’ll try to save the city from the one person who he thinks is truly Gotham City’s greatest villain: Batman! Superstar writer and artist Sean Murphy (PUNK ROCK JESUS, THE WAKE) presents a seven-issue miniseries of a twisted Gotham City with a massive cast of heroes and villains that, at its heart, is a tragic story of a hero and a villain: Batman and The Joker. But which is the hero-and which the villain?

Variant Covers

Note: Variant Prices To Be Determined By Retailer

ALL STAR BATMAN #14 (Rafael Albuquerque variant) $4.99 ALL STAR BATMAN #14 (Sebastian Fiumara variant) $4.99 BATMAN #32 (Olivier Coipel variant) $2.99 BATMAN WHITE KNIGHT #1 (OF 7)(Sean Murphy variant) $3.99 CYBORG #17 (Carlos D’Anda variant) $3.99 DASTARDLY AND MUTTLEY #2 (OF 6)(Emanuela Luppachino variant)$3.99 DEATHSTROKE #24 (Shane Davis variant) $3.99 GREEN ARROW #32 (Mike Grell variant) $2.99 GREEN LANTERNS #32 (Brandon Peterson variant) $2.99 HARLEY & IVY MEET BETTY & VERONICA #1 (OF 6)(blank variant) $3.99 HARLEY & IVY MEET BETTY & VERONICA #1 (OF 6)(Adam Hughes variant) $3.99 HARLEY QUINN #29 (Frank Cho variant) $2.99 JUSTICE LEAGUE #30 (Guillem March variant) $2.99 NIGHTWING #30 (Casey Jones variant) $2.99 SUPERMAN #32 (Jonboy Myers variant) $2.99

GRAPHIC NOVEL

BATMAN DETECTIVE TP VOL 03 LEAGUE (REBIRTH) $19.99 FLINTSTONES TP VOL 02 $16.99 GREEN LANTERN KYLE RAYNER TP VOL 01 $29.99 JUSTICE LEAGUE BY GEOFF JOHNS BOX SET VOL 01 $49.99 JUSTICE LEAGUE THEIR GREATEST TRIUMPHS TP $9.99 NEW SUPER MAN TP VOL 02 COMING TO AMERICA (REBIRTH) $16.99 RED HOOD & THE OUTLAWS TP VOL 02 WHO IS ARTEMIS (REBIRTH) $14.99 SUPERGIRL BY PETER DAVID TP BOOK 03 $29.99 SWAMP THING THE BRONZE AGE OMNIBUS HC $99.99 WONDER WOMAN & THE JUSTICE LEAGUE AMERICA TP VOL 02 $24.99 WONDER WOMAN REBIRTH DLX COLL HC BOOK 01 $34.99

MERCHANDISE/COLLECTIBLES

DC COMICS BATMAN 3PK REUSABLE SNACK BAG SET $16.99 DC COMICS EMOJI 144PC BUTTON ASST $PI DC COMICS SUPERMAN 3PK REUSABLE SNACK BAG SET $16.99 DC COMICS WONDER WOMAN 3PK REUSABLE SNACK BAG SET $16.99 HARRY POTTER MARAUDERS MAP JOURNAL $14.95 HCF 2017 DC SUPER HERO GIRLS SPEC ED $PI JUSTICE LEAGUE MOVIE 12IN AF 2PK BATTLE BOX CS $22. WONDER WOMAN CERAMIC LARGE CAN MUG $7.99 WONDER WOMAN CLASSIC 16 OZ GLASS TUMBLER 2PC WINDOW BOX $11.99 WONDER WOMAN MOVIE 25 OZ TRITAN BOTTLE WITH STRAW $10.99

ACTION FIGURES/STATUES

ARROW TV SERIES GREEN ARROW ARTFX+ STATUE $74.99 BATMAN 66 BATGIRL 5.5IN BENDABLE FIGURE $8.99 BATMAN 66 BATMAN 5.5IN BENDABLE FIGURE $8.99 BATMAN 66 CATWOMAN 5.5IN BENDABLE FIGURE $8.99 BATMAN 66 JOKER 5.5IN BENDABLE FIGURE $8.99 BATMAN 66 PENGUIN 5.5IN BENDABLE FIGURE $8.99 BATMAN 66 ROBIN 5.5IN BENDABLE FIGURE $8.99 DC BATMAN RETRO 8IN AF ASST SERIES 5 $29.99 DC BATMAN TV SERIES BEST OF HERO 8IN AF ASST $29.99 DC BATMAN TV SERIES BEST OF VILLAINS 8IN AF ASST (Net) $29.99 DC COVER GIRLS DEATH STATUE BY STANLEY LAU $100.00 DC FLASH 8IN AF ASST SERIES 1 $29.99 DC ICONS BATMAN REBIRTH AF $28.00 DC ICONS SUPERMAN REBIRTH AF $28.00 DC SHAZAM 8IN AF ASST SERIES 2 $29.99 DC SUPERFRIENDS 8IN AF ASST SERIES 6 $29.99 DC TEEN TITANS 8IN AF ASST SERIES 2 $29.99 DC UNIVERSE BATMAN FAMILY 8PC BMB RUBBER CHARM DIS $6.99 HANNA BARBERA JOHNNY QUEST 8IN AF ASST SERIES 1 $29.99 HANNA BARBERA SCOOBY DOO 8IN AF ASST SERIES 1 $29.99 HANNA BARBERA SPACE GHOST FIGURE 8IN AF CS (Net) $29.99 JUSTICE LEAGUE MOVIE 12IN AF 2PK BATTLE BOX CS $22.99 JUSTICE LEAGUE MOVIE 12IN BASIC AF ASST $12.99 JUSTICE LEAGUE MOVIE MULTIVERSE 6IN AF ASST $22.99 JUSTICE LEAGUE MOVIE THE FLASH STATUE $150.00

CLOTHING

AQUAMAN SYMBOL WASHED TRUCKER SNAP BACK CAP $23.99 BATMAN SYMBOL WASHED TRUCKER SNAP BACK CAP $23.99 DC COMICS THE FLASH CAPED SUPERBIB $9.99 DK III WONDER WOMAN T/S LG $19.95 DK III WONDER WOMAN T/S MED $19.95 DK III WONDER WOMAN T/S SM $19.95 DK III WONDER WOMAN T/S XL $19.95 DK III WONDER WOMAN T/S XXL $22.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II T/S LG $19.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II T/S MED $19.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II T/S SM $19.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II T/S XL $19.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II T/S XXL $22.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II WOMENS T/S LG $19.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II WOMENS T/S MED $19.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II WOMENS T/S SM $19.95 HARLEY QUINN POWER GIRL II WOMENS T/S XL $19.95 JUSTICE LEAGUE JL UNITE T/S LG $19.95 JUSTICE LEAGUE JL UNITE T/S MED $19.95 JUSTICE LEAGUE JL UNITE T/S SM $19.95 JUSTICE LEAGUE JL UNITE T/S XL $19.95 JUSTICE LEAGUE JL UNITE T/S XXL $22.95 KAMANDI T/S LG $19.95 KAMANDI T/S MED $19.95 KAMANDI T/S SM $19.95 KAMANDI T/S XL $19.95 KAMANDI T/S XXL $22.95 SUPERMAN SYMBOL WASHED TRUCKER SNAP BACK CAP $23.99 SWAMP THING HOS #92 T/S LG $19.95 SWAMP THING HOS #92 T/S MED $19.95 SWAMP THING HOS #92 T/S SM $19.95 SWAMP THING HOS #92 T/S XL $19.95 SWAMP THING HOS #92 T/S XXL $22.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL T/S LG $19.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL T/S MED $19.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL T/S SM $19.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL T/S XL $19.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL T/S XXL $22.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL WOMENS T/S LG $19.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL WOMENS T/S MED $19.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL WOMENS T/S SM $19.95 WONDER WOMAN FADE SYMBOL WOMENS T/S XL $19.95

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DC Comics Pull Box For 10-4-17 (New Comics and Merchandise) DC Comics News has compiled a list of DC Comics titles and collectibles shipping to comic shops for October 10, 2017.

[witchywithwhiskey]

lol i've been trying to decide whose story in my trucker au i'll start next after ari and jake—would it be trucker andy, or trucker lee, or trucker bucky, or trucker walter, or club owner ransom—and instead my brain can't stop thinking about slick-suited august walker with a ditzy stoner dancer from diesel dolls 🙊

i just like the idea of this polished man having an intox kink, and the sweet, air-headed reader who'd take any drug he gave her 👀 and let him do anything he wants to her while she's high 👀

i just can't decide what i want august's profession to be in this au (i know i said he might show up in ransom's story as an investor/businessman but i might change that) and i can't decide what i want reader's nickname to be

[hyggetwt-blog]

Labels Masterlist

This is a list of character titles that might help you develop your character and pinpoint what they’re all about. It’s been alphabetised and categorised based on lifestyle, careers, mannerisms, hobbies, etc. Credits to nph of rph

Based on lifestyle:

the Academic

the Adventurer

the All-American Boy

the Ambitious

the Anarchist

the Anchorite

the Artful Dodger

the Avant-Garde

the Backpacker

the Badass Bookworm

the Basement-Dweller

the Beach Bum

the Beatnik

the Bedridden

the Blue Blood

the Bohemian

the Bourgeois Bohemian

the Charity Case

the City Mouse

the Conspiracy Theorist

the Country Mouse

the Cultured Badass

the Daredevil

the Deadbeat

the Devout

the Drifter

the Earth Mother

the English Rose

the Farm Boy

the Fish out of Water

the Flower Child

the Fratbro

the Glory Seeker

the Gold Digger

the Granola Girl

the Greaser Delinquent

the Halcyon

the Health Nut

the Hermit

the High Queen

the Highbrow

the Hippie

the Hipster

the Homeschool Kid

the Idle Rich

the Indigent

the It Girl

the Knight Errant

the Lady of Adventure

the Lady of War

the Lifelong Learner

the Lonely Rich Kid

the Lost

the Mafia Princess

the Miscreant

the Mock Millionaire

the Mooch

the Mountain Man

the Munchausen

the New-Age Retro Hippie

the Night Owl

the Nomad

the Opportunist

the Outdoorsy Gal

the Pariah

the Party Fanatic

the Prima Donna

the Princess Classic

the Profligate

the Prom Queen

the Quincy Punk

the Rebellious

the Rebel Prince

the Recluse

the Rich Bitch

the Risk Taker

the Royal Brat

the Satisfied Street Rat

the Sea Dog

the Seeker

the Sheltered Aristocrat

the Socialite

the Southern Belle

the Spiritualist

the Spoiled Brat

the Spoiled Sweet

the Straight-A Student

the Thrill Seeker

the Trailblazer

the Traveler

the Upper-Class Twit

the Uptown Girl

the Vagrant

the Wanderer

the Workaholic

the Young Gun

Based on careers/occupations:

the Absent-Minded Professor

the Alchemist

the Amateur Sleuth

the Author

the Back Alley Doctor

the Barnum

the Bungling Inventor

the By-the-Book Cop

the Chef

the Conservationist

the Cowboy

the Deep Cover Agent

the Farmer

the Filmmaker

the Firefighter

the Good Doctor

the Grease Monkey

the High School Hustler

the Inventor

the Intrepid Reporter

the Journalist

the Librarian

the Park Ranger

the Phony Psychic

the Photographer

the Politician

the Private Investigator

the Scholar

the Shopkeeper

the Soldier

the Starving Artist

the Street Performer

the Stoner

the Trucker

the Veteran

the White-Collar Criminal

Based on hobbies/interests:

the Aesthete

the Artist

the Astrophile

the Avid Reader

the Badass Biker

the Band Geek

the Bibliophile

the Biker Babe

the Blogger

the Bookworm

the Botanist

the Camera Fiend

the Camper

the Collector of the Strange

the Dancer

the Epistemophile

the Fashionista

the Gambler

the Gamer Chick

the Gardener

the Gearhead

the Gym Rat

the Gymnast

the History Buff

the Hunter

the Jock

the Logophile

the Mad Artist

the Metalhead

the Music Lover

the Nature Lover

the Passionate Sports Girl

the Pianist

the Poet

the Rock-n-Roller

the Sci-Fi Geek

the Sculptor

the Skater

the Surfer Dude

the Thespian

the Woodworker

the Writer

Based on skills:

the Animal Whisperer

the Athlete

the Beautiful Mind

the Bibliognost

the Card Sharp

the Comedian

the Con Artist

the Diplomat

the Empathic Healer

the Engineer

the Friend in the Black Market

the Gentleman Thief

the Green Thumb

the Gunslinger

the Handy Man

the Little Miss Con Artist

the Mathemetician

the Mechanic

the Playful Hacker

the Prankster

the Puppetmaster

the Renaissance Man

the Schemer

the Stuntman

the Techno Wizard

the Tinkerer

the True Craftsman

the Virtuoso

the Wordsmith

Based on history:

the Action Survivor

the Asshole Victim

the Bluebeard

the Broken Bird

the Circus Brat

the Clean Slate

the College Widow

the Defector from Decadence

the Fallen Princess

the Former Child Star

the Former Teen Rebel

the Foster Kid

the Good Girl Gone Bad

the Jaded Washout

the Lawman Gone Bad

the Military Brat

the Nouveau Riche

the Old Money

the Pollyanna

the Recovered Addict

the Reformed Criminal

the Retired Badass

the Runaway

the Schoolyard Bully All Grown Up

the Screw-Up

the Self-Made Man

the Sellout

the Shell-Shocked Veteran

the Tenderfoot

the White-Dwarf Starlet

Based on mannerisms:

the Agent Mulder

the Agent Scully

the Alpha Bitch

the Barbaric Bully

the Baroness

the Bitch in Sheep’s Clothing

the Boisterous Bruiser

the Boisterous Weakling

the Bully

the Casanova

the Charmer

the Choleric

the Class Clown

the Cloudcuckoolander

the Coquette

the Cunning

the Curmudgeon

the Dandy

the Dark Horse

the Delinquent

the Dilettante

the Diva

the Docile

the Don Juan

the Donnish

the Drama Queen

the Dreamer

the Eeyore

the Emo

the Erudite Stoner

the Exuberant

the Fair Weather Friend

the Fickle

the Firecracker

the Fragile Flower

the Free Spirit

the Gadabout

the Galvanizer

the Gentle Giant

the Gentleman

the Girly Girl

the Golden Boy

the Golden Girl

the Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy

the Handsome Devil

the Handsome Lech

the Headstrong

the Heartbreaker

the Hopeless Romantic

the Hot Mess

the Hoyden

the Ice Queen

the Individualist

the Ingenue

the Insufferable Genius

the Jerk With a Heart of Gold

the Kid at Heart

the Lady in Red

the Larrikin

the Leader Wannabe

the Life of the Party

the Lonely Doll Girl

the Loose Cannon

the Lovable Nerd

the Lovable Rogue

the Lover of Love

the Man Child

the Melancholic

the Minx

the Modest

the Morose

the Naive Everygirl

the Neat Freak

the Observer

the Oddball

the One Behind a Wall

the Ophelia

the Overachiever

the Pedant

the People Pleaser

the Performer

the Perky Goth

the Phlegmatic

the Plucky Girl

the Poser

the Pragmatic

the Prince Charming Wannabe

the Princely Young Man

the Proper Lady

the Prudent

the Quiet One

the Rebellious Spirit

the Ridiculously Average Guy

the Saccharine

the Sanguine

the Selfless

the Showboater

the Shrinking Violet

the Small Name, Big Ego

the Snarker

the Snoop

the So-Called Special Snowflake

the Sophisticate

the Spirited Young Lady

the Spitfire

the Stable One

the Still Waters Running Deep

the Subdued

the Sweetheart

the Tall, Dark, and Snarky

the Tomboy

the Troublemaker

the Underdog

the Uninhibited

the Unreadable

the Vain Sorceress

the Valley Girl

the Vixen

the Wallflower

the Wild Card

the Wise Guy

the Wise Prince

Based on morals/philosophy:

the Activist

the All-Loving Hero

the Altruist

the Always Neutral

the Backstabber

the Bruiser with a Soft Center

the Conscientious

the Cynic

the Defeatist

the Desperado

the Dogmatic

the Double-Crosser

the Fatalist

the Femme Fatale

the Fettered

the Gadfly

the Hedonist

the Heroic Wannabe

the Idealist

the Incorruptible

the Loyalist

the Ne'er-Do-Well

the Nihilist

the Optimist

the Pessimist

the Philosopher

the Power Hungry

the Quixotic

the Renegade

the Reluctant Monster

the Smug Snake

the Solipsist

the Technical Pacifist

the Vamp

the Vigilante

the Wide-Eyed Idealist

the Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

Based on flaws:

the Agonist

the Airhead

the Attention Craver

the Blabbermouth

the Bureaucrat

the Brilliant But Lazy

the Casanova Wannabe

the Center of Their Own Universe

the Consummate Liar

the Control Freak

the Cowardly Lion

the Destroyer

the Dirty Coward

the Ditherer

the Ditz

the Egomaniac

the Extreme Doormat

the Fighting Narcissist

the Flake

the Fool

the Glutton

the Gossiper

the Grumpy Bear

the Hair-Trigger Temper

the Heartless

the Hero Complex

the Hothead

the Instigator

the Lost Cause

the Master of Delusion

the Materialist

the Miles Gloriosus

the Miser

the Narcissist

the Paranoid

the Perfectionist

the Person of Mass Destruction

the Petty One

the Prince Charmless

the Pushover

the Reckless

the Self-Destructive

the Self-Righteous

the Slacker

the Sloth

the Snob

the Tempest

the Unlucky Everydude

the Wastrel

Based on strengths:

the Action Girl

the Artisan

the Badass Adorable

the Beauty

the Charmer

the Child Prodigy

the Cool Old Guy

the Cool Old Lady

the Courageous

the Creative

the Dauntless

the Determinator

the Doyenne

the Fearless

the Giver

the Helping Hand

the Industrious

the Intellectual

the Iron Lady

the Leader

the Little Miss Badass

the Loyal One

the Muscle

the Nurturer

the Passionate

the Peacemaker

the Perceiver

the Philanthropist

the Pioneer

the Polymath

the Quick Learner

the Ray of Sunshine

the Sage

the Savant

the Smart Guy

the Steadfast

the Strategist

the Visionary

Based on relationships:

the Allocentric

the Aloner

the Aloof Ally

the Apprentice

the Big Man on Campus

the Black Sheep

the Companion

the Daddy’s Girl

the Dogged Nice Guy

the Dutiful Son

the Fangirl

the Farmer’s Daughter

the Father Figure

the Follower

the Girl Next Door

the Lone Wolf

the Lonely

the Mama Bear

the Mentor

the Momma’s Boy

the Mysterious Stranger

the Networker

the Nosy Neighbor

the Papa Wolf

the Patriarch

the People Pleaser

the Player

the Protector

the Serial Juliet

the Serial Romeo

the Sidekick

the Smitten

the Social Butterfly

the Stage Mom

the Stool Pigeon

the Sycophant

the Tagalong Kid

the Team Mom

the Teacher’s Pet

the Teen Parent

[harryandmeghan0-blog]

Asian Mail Purchase Bride - Find woman that is beautiful Wedding

New Post has been published on https://harryandmeghan.xyz/asian-mail-purchase-bride-find-woman-that-is-2/

Asian Mail Purchase Bride - Find woman that is beautiful Wedding

Asian Mail Purchase Bride – Find woman that is beautiful Wedding

Asia is very populated with numerous appealing girls. The good thing about Asian females is undeniable. Their smooth epidermis, long hair that is silky and slim figures will blow you away. The Asian woman has an exotic feeling of purity that produces every man crave for her, to see her real self whenever alone along with her. We are yes do you know what our company is referring to.

Exotic ladies that are asian obviously gorgeous. Their physique that is amazing is of the numerous items that set them apart from Western ladies. Aside from being smokin’ hot, they truly are household oriented, supportive, and dedicated to your guy whom wins their heart. You’ll find real love and convenience into the bosom of a well-groomed Asian woman, plus the great news is getting back in touch together with them never been as simple as it really is in this modern day.

Reasons why Asian women can be best for wedding

There are numerous reasoned explanations why Asian females could possibly be the perfect wedding partner for you personally.

Stunning and Faithful

Asian women are a real concept of beauty, but this normal present does maybe maybe maybe perhaps not enter into their mind. They recognize that they need to stay submissive with their husbands and can do their utmost in this respect.

Asian females that become mail purchase brides stay really faithful with their enthusiasts and won’t keep them when things become hard. No other guy catches the attention of one’s bride that is asian except. In reality, divorce or separation involving brides that are asian maybe perhaps perhaps not heard each and every day because marriage is just one for a lifetime relating to their tradition.

Respect For Privacy

A superb Asian girl who has little formal training knows the part of a girl inside her relationship and won’t bring by herself to humiliate the spouse. While discharging their duties as being a spouse, Asian brides do not intervene inside their spouse’s relationship with buddies, family members and even ex-girlfriends.

She takes excellent care of her beauty

In the event the concerned with just how quickly your pretty Asian bride will totally lose her beauty, then you definitely have actually small to be concerned about. Asian women have actually this mystical power to look young and stunning for the time that is long. They understand how to keep and look after their beauty that is natural in to remain appealing.

Main reasons why women that are asian mail purchase brides

You are able to see pretty women which are asian males for wedding on numerous Mail purchase bride web web internet sites. This is simply not since they like to relocate up to a new nation or since they like to hightail it together with your cash. Asian ladies become mail order brides simply because they want real love and wedding. They would like to find their perfect match then carry on to construct their loved ones.

Asian females think that wedding is a vital facet of their life, and are constantly interested in international guys who are able to create a relationship that is long-term will ultimately result in wedding. The place that is best of these ladies to satisfy a potential foreign ‘prince charming’ is through a mail-order bride web web site; ergo, most of them set up their pages on such web site.

Are Asian Mail Order Brides Legit?

While looking for where to satisfy Asian mail purchase bride, some guys are significantly afraid since they believe they might satisfy some unknown risk.

This will maybe maybe perhaps not place you down since there has been numerous situations of effective worldwide marriages that began on mail purchase bride web web web web sites. These internet dating sites make it feasible for individuals to find and date one another whilst also provide enjoyable along the way.

We are able to guarantee you there are plenty of Asian mail order bride web internet internet internet sites which are legit out there, and also to make things even easier for you personally, we’ve set up a listing of reputable web sites and you’ll discover huge number of pretty Asian ladies who will be ready to begin a long-lasting relationship by having a foreigner.

Honest reviews from Customers

Redditorr Snaiperskaya

“My buddy Richard includes a bride that is mail-order the Philippines. He is a redneck that is scruffy trucker from western Virginia, she actually is tiny, slender, and 10 years their junior. In the beginning, she prepared, washed, and kept their bed hot, but following a years that are few told him she desired an training.

He devote a ton of overtime and conserved up adequate to put her through college. She is your physician’s associate now and makes additional money she still makes him dinner and makes a point of always being waiting at the door when he gets back from a long haul than he ever has, but. They are together for two decades now and it’s really a joy to together see them.”

Redditor Sblent

“My uncle did get yourself a mail purchase bride as he had been 65. Their bride had been 37. To begin with it absolutely was strange in which he informs exactly just just how she’d prepare meals and stay she couldn’t be seen but could attend to anything he wanted behind him so. she’d insist he complete before a therapeutic therapeutic massage being tucked into sleep. She seemed underneath the impression that a person was to be held just like a master and she had been here for meals and sex. She’d just consume he was asleep for herself after. He informs us he needed to metaphorically beat the submissiveness away from her.

Now 14 years later on they will have three young ones, this woman is fucking insane for the reason that fun-insane style of means, and much more a section of your family than the majority of the extensive family members we was raised with. Cultures well and undoubtedly blended beautifully. As soon as she visits, we have considerably fatter.”

Redditor WheresMyDragons

“My dad did ( get yourself a bride that is mail-order a couple of years after my moms and dads divorced. I love to cause people to uncomfortable by telling them he picked her from a catalog. Which he just about did, he sat me down once I had been about seven, place the written book back at my lap and asked me what type we liked. These were like Twitter pages. A lady was picked by me from Beijing that has a tiger on her behalf lap inside her picture, but he went with a female through the Philippines.

Anyways, she is amazing. The first-time she landed into the victoriabrides.org review UK, my father and I also picked her up through the airport in London (he would been out to your Philippines a number of times to consult with her) plus it had been snowing, the 1st time she had seen snowfall! She started doing work in an area factory soon after she arrived as well as the ladies she caused taught her a number of swear terms. A month or more later on at xmas, my grandmother ended up being horrified that dad’s brand brand new spouse casually swore as a sailor that is old. We needed to tell her exactly exactly what the terms implied and she had been therefore embarrassed.

They have been joyfully hitched for approximately fifteen years now and possess two boys. All my loved ones really loves her. They purchased a property call at the Philippines a couple of years back and usually venture out almost every other summer time to check out her household.”

[thesnhuup]

Pop Picks – April 27, 2018

April 27, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I mentioned John Prine in a recent post and then on the heels of that mention, he has released a new album, The Tree of Forgiveness, his first new album in ten years. Prine is beloved by other singer songwriters and often praised by the inscrutable God that is Bob Dylan.  Indeed, Prine was frequently said to be the “next Bob Dylan” in the early part of his career, though he instead carved out his own respectable career and voice, if never with the dizzying success of Dylan. The new album reflects a man in his 70s, a cancer survivor, who reflects on life and its end, but with the good humor and empathy that are hallmarks of Prine’s music. “When I Get To Heaven” is a rollicking, fun vision of what comes next and a pure delight. A charming, warm, and often terrific album.

What I’m reading:

I recently read Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, on many people’s Top Ten lists for last year and for good reason. It is sprawling, multi-generational, and based in the world of Japanese occupied Korea and then in the Korean immigrant’s world of Oaska, so our key characters become “tweeners,” accepted in neither world. It’s often unspeakably sad, and yet there is resiliency and love. There is also intimacy, despite the time and geographic span of the novel. It’s breathtakingly good and like all good novels, transporting.

What I’m watching:

I adore Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 film, Pan’s Labyrinth, and while I’m not sure his Shape of Water is better, it is a worthy follow up to the earlier masterpiece (and more of a commercial success). Lots of critics dislike the film, but I’m okay with a simple retelling of a Beauty and the Beast love story, as predictable as it might be. The acting is terrific, it is visually stunning, and there are layers of pain as well as social and political commentary (the setting is the US during the Cold War) and, no real spoiler here, the real monsters are humans, the military officer who sees over the captured aquatic creature. It is hauntingly beautiful and its depiction of hatred to those who are different or “other” is painfully resonant with the time in which we live. Put this on your “must see” list.

Archive

March 18, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Sitting on a plane for hours (and many more to go; geez, Australia is far away) is a great opportunity to listen to new music and to revisit old favorites. This time, it is Lucy Dacus and her album Historians, the new sophomore release from a 22-year old indie artist that writes with relatable, real-life lyrics. Just on a second listen and while she insists this isn’t a break up record (as we know, 50% of all great songs are break up songs), it is full of loss and pain. Worth the listen so far. For the way back machine, it’s John Prine and In Spite of Ourselves (that title track is one of the great love songs of all time), a collection of duets with some of his “favorite girl singers” as he once described them. I have a crush on Iris Dement (for a really righteously angry song try her Wasteland of the Free), but there is also EmmyLou Harris, the incomparable Dolores Keane, and Lucinda Williams. Very different albums, both wonderful.

What I’m reading:

Jane Mayer’s New Yorker piece on Christopher Steele presents little that is new, but she pulls it together in a terrific and coherent whole that is illuminating and troubling at the same time. Not only for what is happening, but for the complicity of the far right in trying to discredit that which should be setting off alarm bells everywhere. Bob Mueller may be the most important defender of the democracy at this time. A must read.

What I’m watching:

Homeland is killing it this season and is prescient, hauntingly so. Russian election interference, a Bannon-style hate radio demagogue, alienated and gun toting militia types, and a president out of control. It’s fabulous, even if it feels awfully close to the evening news. 

March 8, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We have a family challenge to compile our Top 100 songs. It is painful. Only 100? No more than three songs by one artist? Wait, why is M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” on my list? Should it just be The Clash from whom she samples? Can I admit to guilty pleasure songs? Hey, it’s my list and I can put anything I want on it. So I’m listening to the list while I work and the song playing right now is Tom Petty’s “The Wild One, Forever,” a B-side single that was never a hit and that remains my favorite Petty song. Also, “Evangeline” by Los Lobos. It evokes a night many years ago, with friends at Pearl Street in Northampton, MA, when everyone danced well past 1AM in a hot, sweaty, packed club and the band was a revelation. Maybe the best music night of our lives and a reminder that one’s 100 Favorite Songs list is as much about what you were doing and where you were in your life when those songs were playing as it is about the music. It’s not a list. It’s a soundtrack for this journey.

What I’m reading:

Patricia Lockwood’s Priestdaddy was in the NY Times top ten books of 2017 list and it is easy to see why. Lockwood brings remarkable and often surprising imagery, metaphor, and language to her prose memoir and it actually threw me off at first. It then all became clear when someone told me she is a poet. The book is laugh aloud funny, which masks (or makes safer anyway) some pretty dark territory. Anyone who grew up Catholic, whether lapsed or not, will resonate with her story. She can’t resist a bawdy anecdote and her family provides some of the most memorable characters possible, especially her father, her sister, and her mother, who I came to adore. Best thing I’ve read in ages.

What I’m watching:

The Florida Project, a profoundly good movie on so many levels. Start with the central character, six-year old (at the time of the filming) Brooklynn Prince, who owns – I mean really owns – the screen. This is pure acting genius and at that age? Astounding. Almost as astounding is Bria Vinaite, who plays her mother. She was discovered on Instagram and had never acted before this role, which she did with just three weeks of acting lessons. She is utterly convincing and the tension between the child’s absolute wonder and joy in the world with her mother’s struggle to provide, to be a mother, is heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once. Willem Dafoe rightly received an Oscar nomination for his supporting role. This is a terrific movie.

February 12, 2018

What I’m listening to:

So, I have a lot of friends of age (I know you’re thinking 40s, but I just turned 60) who are frozen in whatever era of music they enjoyed in college or maybe even in their thirties. There are lots of times when I reach back into the catalog, since music is one of those really powerful and transporting senses that can take you through time (smell is the other one, though often underappreciated for that power). Hell, I just bought a turntable and now spending time in vintage vinyl shops. But I’m trying to take a lesson from Pat, who revels in new music and can as easily talk about North African rap music and the latest National album as Meet the Beatles, her first ever album. So, I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s Grammy winning Damn. While it may not be the first thing I’ll reach for on a winter night in Maine, by the fire, I was taken with it. It’s layered, political, and weirdly sensitive and misogynist at the same time, and it feels fresh and authentic and smart at the same time, with music that often pulled me from what I was doing. In short, everything music should do. I’m not a bit cooler for listening to Damn, but when I followed it with Steely Dan, I felt like I was listening to Lawrence Welk. A good sign, I think.

What I’m reading:

I am reading Walter Isaacson’s new biography of Leonardo da Vinci. I’m not usually a reader of biographies, but I’ve always been taken with Leonardo. Isaacson does not disappoint (does he ever?), and his subject is at once more human and accessible and more awe-inspiring in Isaacson’s capable hands. Gay, left-handed, vegetarian, incapable of finishing things, a wonderful conversationalist, kind, and perhaps the most relentlessly curious human being who has ever lived. Like his biographies of Steve Jobs and Albert Einstein, Isaacson’s project here is to show that genius lives at the intersection of science and art, of rationality and creativity. Highly recommend it.

What I’m watching:

We watched the This Is Us post-Super Bowl episode, the one where Jack finally buys the farm. I really want to hate this show. It is melodramatic and manipulative, with characters that mostly never change or grow, and it hooks me every damn time we watch it. The episode last Sunday was a tear jerker, a double whammy intended to render into a blubbering, tissue-crumbling pathetic mess anyone who has lost a parent or who is a parent. Sterling K. Brown, Ron Cephas Jones, the surprising Mandy Moore, and Milo Ventimiglia are hard not to love and last season’s episode that had only Brown and Cephas going to Memphis was the show at its best (they are by far the two best actors). Last week was the show at its best worst. In other words, I want to hate it, but I love it. If you haven’t seen it, don’t binge watch it. You’ll need therapy and insulin.

January 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Drive-By Truckers. Chris Stapleton has me on an unusual (for me) country theme and I discovered these guys to my great delight. They’ve been around, with some 11 albums, but the newest one is fascinating. It’s a deep dive into Southern alienation and the white working-class world often associated with our current president. I admire the willingness to lay bare, in kick ass rock songs, the complexities and pain at work among people we too quickly place into overly simple categories. These guys are brave, bold, and thoughtful as hell, while producing songs I didn’t expect to like, but that I keep playing. And they are coming to NH.

What I’m reading:

A textual analog to Drive-By Truckers by Chris Stapleton in many ways is Tony Horowitz’s 1998 Pulitzer Prize winning Confederates in the Attic. Ostensibly about the Civil War and the South’s ongoing attachment to it, it is prescient and speaks eloquently to the times in which we live (where every southern state but Virginia voted for President Trump). Often hilarious, it too surfaces complexities and nuance that escape a more recent, and widely acclaimed, book like Hillbilly Elegy. As a Civil War fan, it was also astonishing in many instances, especially when it blows apart long-held “truths” about the war, such as the degree to which Sherman burned down the south (he did not). Like D-B Truckers, Horowitz loves the South and the people he encounters, even as he grapples with its myths of victimhood and exceptionalism (and racism, which may be no more than the racism in the north, but of a different kind). Everyone should read this book and I’m embarrassed I’m so late to it.

What I’m watching:

David Letterman has a new Netflix show called “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction” and we watched the first episode, in which Letterman interviewed Barack Obama. It was extraordinary (if you don’t have Netflix, get it just to watch this show); not only because we were reminded of Obama’s smarts, grace, and humanity (and humor), but because we saw a side of Letterman we didn’t know existed. His personal reflections on Selma were raw and powerful, almost painful. He will do five more episodes with “extraordinary individuals” and if they are anything like the first, this might be the very best work of his career and one of the best things on television.

December 22, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished Sunjeev Sahota’s Year of the Runaways, a painful inside look at the plight of illegal Indian immigrant workers in Britain. It was shortlisted for 2015 Man Booker Prize and its transporting, often to a dark and painful universe, and it is impossible not to think about the American version of this story and the terrible way we treat the undocumented in our own country, especially now.

What I’m watching:

Season II of The Crown is even better than Season I. Elizabeth’s character is becoming more three-dimensional, the modern world is catching up with tradition-bound Britain, and Cold War politics offer more context and tension than we saw in Season I. Claire Foy, in her last season, is just terrific – one arched eye brow can send a message.

What I’m listening to:

A lot of Christmas music, but needing a break from the schmaltz, I’ve discovered Over the Rhine and their Christmas album, Snow Angels. God, these guys are good.

  November 14, 2017

What I’m watching:

Guiltily, I watch the Patriots play every weekend, often building my schedule and plans around seeing the game. Why the guilt? I don’t know how morally defensible is football anymore, as we now know the severe damage it does to the players. We can’t pretend it’s all okay anymore. Is this our version of late decadent Rome, watching mostly young Black men take a terrible toll on each other for our mere entertainment?

What I’m reading:

Recently finished J.G. Ballard’s 2000 novel Super-Cannes, a powerful depiction of a corporate-tech ex-pat community taken over by a kind of psychopathology, in which all social norms and responsibilities are surrendered to residents of the new world community. Kept thinking about Silicon Valley when reading it. Pretty dark, dystopian view of the modern world and centered around a mass killing, troublingly prescient.

What I’m listening to:

Was never really a Lorde fan, only knowing her catchy (and smarter than you might first guess) pop hit “Royals” from her debut album. But her new album, Melodrama, is terrific and it doesn’t feel quite right to call this “pop.” There is something way more substantial going on with Lorde and I can see why many critics put this album at the top of their Best in 2017 list. Count me in as a huge fan.

  November 3, 2017

What I’m reading: Just finished Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, her breathtakingly good second novel. How is someone so young so wise? Her writing is near perfection and I read the book in two days, setting my alarm for 4:30AM so I could finish it before work.

What I’m watching: We just binge watched season two of Stranger Things and it was worth it just to watch Millie Bobbie Brown, the transcendent young actor who plays Eleven. The series is a delightful mash up of every great eighties horror genre you can imagine and while pretty dark, an absolute joy to watch.

What I’m listening to: I’m not a lover of country music (to say the least), but I love Chris Stapleton. His “The Last Thing I Needed, First Thing This Morning” is heartbreakingly good and reminds me of the old school country that played in my house as a kid. He has a new album and I can’t wait, but his From A Room: Volume 1 is on repeat for now.

  September 26, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished George Saunder’s Lincoln in the Bardo. It took me a while to accept its cadence and sheer weirdness, but loved it in the end. A painful meditation on loss and grief, and a genuinely beautiful exploration of the intersection of life and death, the difficulty of letting go of what was, good and bad, and what never came to be.

What I’m watching:

HBO’s The Deuce. Times Square and the beginning of the porn industry in the 1970s, the setting made me wonder if this was really something I’d want to see. But David Simon is the writer and I’d read a menu if he wrote it. It does not disappoint so far and there is nothing prurient about it.

What I’m listening to:

The National’s new album Sleep Well Beast. I love this band. The opening piano notes of the first song, “Nobody Else Will Be There,” seize me & I’m reminded that no one else in music today matches their arrangement & musicianship. I’m adding “Born to Beg,” “Slow Show,” “I Need My Girl,” and “Runaway” to my list of favorite love songs.

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J from President's Corner https://ift.tt/2vOKsZb via IFTTT

[witchywithwhiskey]

trucker prince charming (part 2)

pairing: trucker!jake jensen x sex worker!female reader

summary: you take your favorite trucker up on his offer to meet him at his rig after you finish your shift at the strip club where you work—and it's better than you imagined, which means you're in trouble.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, condom discussion, dry humping, marking/hickeys, finger sucking, begging, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names (kitten), sex worker insecurities, referenced glory hole sex, referenced abuse of power, love confession, a lot of emotions—let me know if i missed something!

word count: 9.5k

a/n: god i hope this chapter works 🫣 i struggled with it a bit, to make reader's reluctance consistent and believable. but i also wanted to to be like super romantic, so yeah, i hope it is!!! ahhh ok please enjoy more trucker jake—i hope y'all love him as much as i do!!!

trucker king masterlist

Excitement and fear roiled in the pit of your stomach, making you feel slightly queasy as you shoved your cash tips from the night into your purse in the back room of Diesel Dolls. In fact, you were trembling so hard, if you’d been wearing a pair of the sky high heels you wore when you worked the stage, you’d be worried about breaking an ankle. But your thoughts were elsewhere, on the trucker who was absolutely not your prince charming. 

As you gathered your things, all you could think about was your favorite trucker who visited you often in the glory holes at the back of the club. Jake Jensen was everything you shouldn’t want. He was one of Diesel Dolls’ most reliable regulars, always stopping by the glory holes when he passed by on the interstate—though, ever since he’d started coming to you, you were the only one he’d let take care of him.

Still, his status as a regular made any kind of outside relationship with him strictly off-limits according to the owner of the club, Mr. Ransom Drysdale. 

Mr. Drysdale didn’t take kindly to girls who formed relationships with his trucker clientele outside the club, he said it was too much of a risk of the girl stealing his business. And if Mr. Drysdale suspected anything, he was known for his harsh, humiliating punishments. He wouldn’t fire you if he found out you were planning to meet up with Jake after your shift, but he’d find a creative way for you to regret it.

Even with that thought in your mind, you couldn’t get Jake’s parting words out of your head. You kept hearing his friendly, sweet and deliciously deep voice saying to you, “I’m sleeping in my rig tonight…in case you wanna stop by.” 

Those had been the final words he’d spoken to you when he’d come to your spot at the glory holes earlier that evening, but he’d left before you could respond to the obvious offer. A part of you was grateful he hadn’t demanded an answer from you in the moment, since it meant you could think it over without any pressure from him. But it also meant that, hours later, you were still uncertain about what you were going to do. 

You were still debating it with yourself when you threw on a long jacket to cover the skimpy tank top and shorts you wore when working the glory holes, and walked out the back door of Diesel Dolls. There, you stopped short. 

In your preoccupation with Jake, you’d forgotten what to expect when leaving the club. A few of the other girls lingered outside smoking cigarettes and chatting with the security guards tasked with walking you and your coworkers to your cars. There was a bite of chill in the air that had you wrapping your coat tighter around your body while you wavered in indecision, the audience making you more anxious about what to do.

“Need a cig, girl?” asked Crystal, one of the girls that had been working at Diesel Dolls even longer than you. She held out her pack to you, her own cigarette pinched between two fingers, the smoke trailing up toward the late night sky. Her eyes were sharp as they watched you, even if her open expression seemed to be nice.

You gave Crystal a tight smile and shook your head, muttering, “No thanks.” You could feel Crystal’s eyes on you as you took two steps into the parking lot, which made the fear in your chest burn brighter than the excitement Jake’s offer had inspired.

Crystal liked to make herself out to be the motherly one of the bunch who worked at the club, the kind who would give advice to the new girls and commiserate with those who’d been working at Diesel Dolls too long. But you’d noticed the way things that seemed to only be said to Crystal had a way of getting back to Mr. Drysdale. That was enough to have your shoulders bunching up around your ears.

Crystal was the last person you wanted to see you walking to Jake’s truck. But you didn’t want to give up on him yet. You’d known Jake for a couple months while he’d been frequenting your glory hole, and you were so desperately curious about him, that you didn’t want to pass up on the opportunity. So you pulled out your phone and pretended to be texting someone while you hoped the group outside the back door dispersed.

Thankfully, they all seemed to finish up soon enough and Crystal went back inside while the security guards split up to walk the other girls to their cars. You waved them off when they offered to walk you as well, claiming you had a ride coming and waited until they rounded the side of the building to where most of the girls parked their cars.

For a brief moment, you were alone with nothing but the clear night air and your thoughts. You knew it was a bad idea to go to Jake, but the pull you felt to him was too strong. It was bound to get you into some kind of trouble, whether with Mr. Drysdale or something you couldn’t even anticipate. You typically prided yourself in having a great deal of sense, but everything about your favorite trucker made you want to act like you didn’t have any. 

Before you’d even fully made up your mind, your feet began to carry you in the direction you knew you’d be able to find him. For once, your heart seemed to be making the decisions and though your brain was still listing all the ways in which things could go wrong—Jake could be horrid in person, or he could fuck you and go around the club bragging about it—they didn’t seem as important as finally finding out what it would feel like to fall into your favorite trucker’s arms. 

Diesel Dolls had a small parking lot in front and to one side of the building, but on the other side, there was a much bigger parking lot that the strip club shared with Everett’s Roadhouse. It was big enough to accommodate all the truckers and their rigs who frequented both the club and the bar. It also had special permissions that allowed the truckers to sleep there over night. 

It was to this parking lot that your feet carried you. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you were swallowed up by the shadows of the massive trucks in the parking lot, your soft exhale masking the sound of the back door of Diesel Dolls closing. You didn’t hear it, though, because you were too focused on looking for the truck Jake had described to you.

Turning a corner around a big white rig, you spotted the truck that could only belong to your favorite trucker. And standing in front of it, leaning against the grill at the front, was a man. Your heart leapt in your chest as you realized it could only be him. Your favorite trucker. Your Jakey. 

Your breath caught in your throat and your feet stumbled to a stop. He hadn’t noticed you yet, and you took the moment to look him over, greedily raking your eyes down his body while he stared at something on his phone. 

Jake looked tall, even from the little bit of distance between you, with broad shoulders that filled out the bright green t-shirt he wore, which had some kind of graphic printed on the front. His jeans were a basic blue denim that fit him a little snugly, and he wore work boots that were kicking idly at the pavement of the parking lot, like he was struggling to be patient.

But what caught your attention the most about Jake was his face. You were a little surprised to discover that Jake wore glasses, but that was maybe because you’d never seen another trucker who wore them. You stared at his side profile for a long time, appreciating his strong jaw accented by the goatee framing his soft mouth. His dark hair lightened at the spiky tips, and for some reason, you found yourself craving to touch it, to run your hands through it.

All at once, you realized you’d been right about Jake—he was cute. And not just cute, he was fucking hot. You’d never seen a man who could pull off both, but your favorite trucker managed it. 

Your heart thudded in your chest and if you’d been thinking with anything but your heart, you’d have been worried about your reaction to the man who you knew you couldn’t be with. But you were only admiring your favorite trucker and thinking about how cute he looked waiting for you.

You didn’t realize you’d been slowly drifting closer to Jake until he straightened suddenly, and looked straight at you. Your breath froze in your lungs when you met his gaze, startling at the bright blue of his eyes, even shadowed as they were in the dim light of the parking lot. Your feet came to an abrupt stop and you waited anxiously while Jake took his own inspection of you, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t find you lacking.

But there was no long perusal of your body, only brief moment when eh let his gaze drop to your lips before he caught your eye again. A charmingly friendly grin spread across his handsome face, excitement rolling off him in waves that made you feel giddy.

“Kitten?” he asked, a little hesitantly. Almost like he was a little shy. 

If you hadn’t already been certain the man was Jake, his voice would’ve convinced you. It was warm and pleasantly deep, sending a delicious shiver of recognition down your spine, heat blooming in the depth of your core. A small, tentative smile curved the edges of your mouth as you walked closer to your favorite trucker, noticing that he stayed near his truck and let you come to him. 

“Jake,” you said, his name gusting past your lips in an awed exhale. He looked even more handsome up close, and your eyes couldn’t stop taking in the lines and curves of his face. You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of simply looking at him.

“You came.” He stated the obvious, his voice low and gruff with an emotion that tugged at something deep inside your chest. You were drawn in closer to your favorite trucker by some invisible tether that seemed to connect the two of you. So wrapped up in the moment, you didn’t even question why you felt so deeply for a man you were only truly meeting for the first time.

You came to a stop right in front of Jake, close enough you had to tilt your head back to hold his gaze—close enough you could feel the heat of him in the chilly night air. You wanted to press even closer and wrap yourself around the big, broad man, but you held yourself back, suddenly unsure how to act without a wall of plywood between you. 

“You’re cuter than I imagined,” you said, the words falling from your lips before you could stop them, amazement making your voice breathy.

But as soon as the words registered in your mind, you winced and pressed a hand over your mouth. You were about to apologize for the backhanded compliment when Jake laughed huskily, a little bit of pink tinging his cheeks, which only made him look even cuter.

“Ya think I’m cute, kitten?” he asked, his fingers reaching out and brushing against yours, electricity zinging through your body at just that brief touch. 

Your breath hitched as your body went haywire, desire flooding through your veins and making you sway into your favorite trucker. Jake seemed to notice your reaction because a grin spread across his face and he tangled his fingers with yours while he kept talking.

“Not hot, or sexy—or studly?” His voice went much deeper on that last word to emphasize it, and you couldn’t help the startled giggle that fled from your lips. You’d suspected Jake was funny, and you were delighted to discover you were right about that too.

Jake used the moment when your guard was down to pull you into his arms, where you landed against his chest with a small huff of surprise. Immediately, your laughter died in your throat and you stared up into Jake’s eyes while he watched you with a pleased smile curling the edges of his mouth.

The thought came to you suddenly: You could fall in love with Jake Jensen. In fact, you knew, somehow, that it would be as easy as breathing to fall in love with Jake. A small part of you even thought you already were falling in love with your favorite trucker. 

But as soon as you had those thoughts, you pushed them away, the fear you’d felt earlier rearing its ugly head. You couldn’t fall in love with Jake, not when you knew you’d never be able to be with him in the way you wanted. Developing feelings for him would only lead to getting hurt and you didn’t think you’d survive the kind of hurt falling love with Jake would lead to. So you forced yourself not to think about it.

Instead, you let yourself act on instinct. You reached up and traced your fingertips gently down the side of Jake’s face, your touch so light you weren’t sure if he could even feel it. But when you got to the plump curve of his lower lip, he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes darkening as he stared down at you so intensely, your hand fell away to fist in the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I don’t meet a lot of cute guys in my line of work,” you whispered, the words part explanation, part distraction from the way Jake was looking at you like he planned to grab you and kiss you and never let you go. “It’s…” you trailed off, not knowing where you were going with that thought.

No, that was a lie, you knew exactly where you were going, you just got scared to continue it. But Jake was patient, and he waited, his gaze expectant, and you discovered you didn’t want to let him down—either with an attempt to change the subject or with a lie.

“It’s amazing,” you said, so softly, you weren’t sure he’d be able to hear. “You’re amazing, Jakey.” Your eyes fell to his lips, looking so soft and inviting. Your favorite trucker’s mouth was so tempting, and you knew you’d never be the same once he kissed you, which scared you more than a little, your heart thudding almost painfully in your chest.

Thankfully, Jake was brave enough for the both of you. 

His arms wound around your waist, knees bending to wrap you up in his hold and haul you up close to his chest, so you were left standing on tiptoes and staring up into his beautiful blue eyes. He lowered his face until your mouths were so close, you could taste the sharp mint of his breath on your tongue, but he didn’t close the distance. 

Your heart was racing with excitement and a little bit of fear, and you could feel Jake’s arousal through your clothes, but the tension of the moment was delicious and you didn’t mind if Jake wanted to take things a little slow. At least, for the moment.

“Fuck, kitten,” he rumbled, collapsing back against the grill of his truck while he stared at you with amazement in his blue eyes. “I’ll take cute as a compliment if you’re the one saying it,” he said, his voice pitched low and earnest. Your fingers twisted in his shirt, clinging to him as you watched the edges of his mouth curve into a grin. “Hell, you can call me a cute little pup and I’ll roll over so you can pet my belly.”

Jake’s arms squeezed you tightly, holding you pinned to his chest, and a distant part of you was surprised by the fact that you didn’t feel trapped by him. You felt impossibly giddy with happiness and excitement, warmth curling pleasantly through your body as you pressed tighter against him, feeling his hard cock digging into your stomach. He was so eager for you, and it was so hot because you wanted him just as badly, but you couldn’t help teasing him a little.

“I think puppy wants something more than belly rubs,” you murmured, a smirk curling your lips. You lifted one of your feet to rest on the grill of Jake’s truck, opening your legs to grind your core against his bulge, wringing a groan out of him, his hands fisting in the jacket at your back. 

“Mm, you feel so fucking good,” he rumbled in a husky voice, then paused, pulling back enough to catch your eye. He wore an adorably confused expression. “Hang on, are you calling me or my dick ‘puppy’?”

Jake’s question startled you so much, laughter burst free from your mouth unbidden; you had to tip your head back and close your eyes to let it loose. It was the hardest you’d laughed in a very long time, your body shaking in Jake’s arms and tears springing to the corners of your eyes. 

You could feel Jake chuckling right along with you, but when you finally sobered, he’d quieted and was simply looking at you, an emotion in his eyes that was so deep and terrifying it nearly stole all the breath from your lungs.

“You have the best laugh,” Jake muttered seconds before his mouth descended on yours, capturing your lips in a kiss. 

Your first kiss with Jake was everything you’d dreamed it would be, your body lighting up and your mind going blank in a combination of delight and arousal. His mouth was warm and soft on yours, the bristles of his goatee tickling your cheeks as your mouths slid together. A giggle rose in your throat and your mouth curved in a smile as giddiness flooded through you. 

Then Jake shifted his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your head while the other remained banded around your lower back, holding you exactly where he wanted you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips and coaxing a moan from you as he explored the depths of your mouth. Jake’s kiss was heady and all-consuming and you never wanted it to end—you wanted to kiss him forever and ever and ever.

By the time Jake pulled away, your lungs were burning for air and you were left panting, dragging in as much oxygen as you could. He seemed to be in much the same predicament, his chest expanding where you were draped against it, his heart beating wildly beneath where your fingers were clinging to his t-shirt.

“So, you got a bed in that big rig of yours,” you managed to ask, in between panting breaths. “Or are you planning to fuck me right here against your truck?” A cheeky grin curved your lips and you ground your core against Jake again for good measure, making his eyes go dazed and dark. His hands grabbed your ass and held you tight against his bulge while he seemed to freeze. 

For a long moment, Jake just stared at you like his brain had short-circuited, and your grin widened at the realization that you’d somehow managed to render your favorite trucker speechless. Then, all of a sudden, he seemed to come back online and he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. 

Tangling his fingers with yours, Jake led you around to the driver’s side of his rig and opened the door, helping you up into the cab. You took a quick, cursory look around the inside of Jake’s truck as you moved directly into the backseat, where there was a soft cot covered in a haphazard pile of blankets. The bed was messy and unkempt in a way that made you smile because it just seemed so much like Jake.

Looking around, you noted that the truck cab was warm, and a little cluttered, but cozy in its own way. You’d never actually seen the inside of a long-haul truck despite servicing countless drivers at Diesel Dolls, but everything looked so high tech, you would’ve thought you were in the cockpit of a spaceship. All the dials and controls on the dashboard gave off a soft blue light, including some of the panels in the backseat around Jake’s bed. 

When you looked closer, there appeared to be a gaming system and TV rigged up in the back, and you smiled again, imagining your favorite trucker spending his spare time gaming by himself. You couldn’t help the way your mind wandered, wondering if Jake might be interested in letting you keep his cock warm while he played his games…

You were distracted from that thought by Jake hauling himself into the driver’s seat and shutting the door behind him. He had a determined look on his face while he locked the truck’s doors, checking to make sure the space was secure before he turned to you in the backseat. The corner of your mouth kicked up in a sultry grin and you leaned back on your hands, pushing your tits out as your jacket parted, revealing the tiny crop top and shorts you wore beneath it.

In the privacy of his truck, Jake let his eyes wander down your body, lingering on the way your nipples pushed through the thin cotton of your shirt. They tightened further under the intensity of his gaze, and your lips parted in a gasping breath as heat blazed between your thighs. 

But Jake’s eyes were already moving on, his gaze roving over the curves of your waist and hips and down to the plush softness of your thighs. You could almost feel his gaze like a lingering touch as he looked at your body properly for the first time. If you’d had a chance to feel at all insecure about whether he’d like your curves, the way Jake’s pupils blew wide with lust would’ve quelled it. 

Jake spent long moments simply looking at you and, after you’d taken your own moment to get your fill of him before he’d noticed you in the parking lot, you tried to be patient. But the way your body was responding to just Jake’s eyes on you made you squirm on the bed, your thighs falling open of their own accord in a wordless offering for your favorite trucker. Finally, your impatience won out.

“Now that you’ve got me in your truck,” you murmured in a husky purr, smiling seductively when Jake’s eyes met yours again. “What do you plan on doing with me?” You shifted your shoulders, letting your jacket slip down your arms in a way that you hoped was enticing enough to make him want to rip it off you entirely.

Jake’s eyes darted to your bare shoulders then back to your face before he moved from his seat, prowling toward you in a way that looked more predatory than you would’ve expected from your sweet and friendly trucker. The intensity of his gaze on you sent a thrill through your body that only heightened as he eased closer, his hands sliding beneath your jacket to grab your hips roughly. 

Holding your gaze captive with his own, Jake eased you down onto your back until you were laying in his bed, his big body covering yours. Your lungs were struggling for air, little panting breaths slipping past your lips as you followed Jake’s lead, a part of you surprised by how easy it was to give in to your favorite trucker’s whims. But you trusted him—you trusted him in a way that was probably unwise, and it occurred to you yet again that being with your trucker could lead to serious trouble for you.

But then you were laying down in Jake’s soft bed, his broad shoulders and beautiful blue eyes blocking out the rest of the world, and your worries miraculously faded—helped by the fact that Jake decided to finally answer your question.

“I’ve thought about this so many times, kitten,” Jake rasped, his tone raw with emotion that had your heart racing in your chest.

There was a vulnerability in Jake’s words, and you couldn’t help but reach for him, cupping his handsome face in your hands. A soft smile played at the edges of your mouth, but it deepened when Jake leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed while he nuzzled into your palms. It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts enough to continue. 

“I’ve thought about getting you in my bed so many times, I can barely believe this is real,” Jake mumbled, the words sounding like they were wrenched straight from his heart. You could feel your own heart thump in response, a little bit of fear trickling through your body that you decided to ignore. “I plan to do everything with you kitten,” Jake murmured, opening his eyes and pinning you with his fervent gaze. “But most of all, I plan to keep you.”

Your breath froze in your lungs at Jake’s pronouncement, and fear flooded your heart. It was on the tip of your tongue to tell Jake it was impossible—he couldn’t keep you, not while you still worked at Diesel Dolls. Not while Mr. Drysdale still owned you.

Your entire livelihood was dependent on Mr. Drysdale and Diesel Dolls. He was the only one who’d hired you when you’d come to town. And, despite all his faults, Mr. Drysdale paid well—well enough that you could support yourself. If Jake jeopardized your job at Diesel Dolls, you’d have to become dependent on him to take care of you, and you didn’t know yet if he was the kind of man who’d do that, though the part of you that was falling love with him told you that he would.

It surprised you—and scared you—how much you wanted to give your heart and soul and everything to Jake. You yearned for him in a way you never had for any other man. You felt almost desperate for your favorite trucker to be true to his word, to keep you and take care of you and make you his in every possible way. 

But you had too much sense to let yourself fall into Jake’s arms completely just yet. So you reminded yourself that your life was not a fairytale, and Jake wasn’t your prince charming. No matter how much you might want him to be. Jake was a trucker, and if you knew one thing about truckers, it was that eventually, they always leave. It wasn’t worth risking your entire life for the chance of a happily ever after with him, even if your heart yearned for it.

So, while you wanted to believe Jake meant what he said—that he was going to keep you—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the time you had with him, no matter how brief it would have to be. Pulling him down for a soft kiss, you murmured against his lips.

“Do anything you want with me,” you whispered, eagerly giving your body to your favorite trucker, even as you held back from giving him your heart. “Wanna feel your cock inside me so bad, please, Jake,” you begged, muffling a whimper as you kissed his jaw.  

If Jake knew you were holding part of yourself back, he didn’t show it. Instead, he captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands roaming all over your body, ripping off your jacket and tossing it into the front seat. As his tongue plunged into your mouth, he tugged off the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare beneath him before he pulled away to yank his shirt off over his head.

The movement knocked Jake’s glasses askew and you giggled at the sight of him, leaning up to nip at his jaw to stop yourself from calling him cute again. He huffed an impatient laugh and took his glasses off, tucking them into a compartment above your head. 

Even in the dim light of the backseat, Jake was still so attractive it took your breath away just looking at him. You couldn’t help yourself from pulling his face close to yours so you could kiss him sweetly. 

“So handsome, Jakey,” you murmured against his mouth, wanting so badly to tell him how much you liked him. You settled for wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your bare core against the bulge in his jeans. “Look so fucking hot with glasses,” you said, pausing only to kiss him again before continuing, “and just as hot without them.”

Jake chuckled huskily, his hips pressing into yours to grind his bulge against your cunt, making you gasp while he kissed along your jaw. “What happened to calling me cute?” he murmured teasingly, nipping at the lobe of your ear and laughing again when you squirmed beneath him.

“You’re still cute,” you admitted on a gasp, humping against Jake from under his large body, trying desperately to get the friction you needed against your sopping wet pussy. “And handsome and hot and—god you’re everything, Jakey,” you cried, your desire driving you to grind harder against him, your body writhing like a cat in heat. “I need you, please!”

“Alright, alright,” Jake rumbled placatingly, easing your hips back down against the bed and untangling your legs from around his hips so he could undo his jeans. 

The loss of contact made you whine impatiently, and if need wasn’t blazing through you so hotly you would’ve wondered about what Jake had reduced you to—a needy creature so desperate for him that you were whining—but you didn’t care, you just wanted him. Jake kissed your cheek to mollify you while he fumbled with his jeans.

“Fuck, kitten,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours and taking a deep breath to settle his shaking hands. “I’ve never met a woman who wanted me so bad.”

An anger you didn’t want to analyze too closely surged through your body at Jake’s statement. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you buried your hands in his hair and pressed hot kisses to his cheeks, his temple, his forehead, anywhere you could reach.

“All the women you’ve met are fucking idiots then,” you snarled, tugging Jake’s head to the side so you could kiss down the strong column of his neck. It wasn’t like you to say such things about other women, but you couldn’t even fathom not wanting Jake with a desperation that clawed through your body. Before you could stop yourself, your lips latched onto Jake’s neck and you began sucking on his skin, intent on leaving your mark on your favorite trucker.

“Fuck, jesus fuck,” Jake groaned, shuddering at the feeling of you sucking on his neck. His hands were shaking again, but he managed to push his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off as fast as he could manage in the tight confines of the backseat. 

Then, finally, his cock was free, and you reached for it eagerly with a familiarity that came from sucking him off so many times in the glory holes at Diesel Dolls. You stroked him with an eagerness like greeting an old friend, reacquainting yourself with the part of Jake’s body you knew best. His cock was just as perfect as always and all the desires you’d felt earlier that night came rushing back.

“Wanna worship your cock with my mouth, Jakey,” you murmured in his ear, your fingers stroking his stiff length slowly, teasingly, pausing briefly to smack your pussy with the tip and making both of your groan in pleasure. “You have the most perfect cock I’ve ever seen,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, your lips pressing kisses to Jake’s neck just beneath his ear. “I wanna kiss you and lick you and suck you and make out with your balls, Jakey, god, I could spend hours just playing with your cock.”

Jake’s full body shuddered again, and you smirked against his neck, breathing in the fresh, clean scent of your favorite trucker and feeling yourself get wetter for him. But then Jake was pushing up and tilting his face to yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath and stilled your hand.

“You have the hottest mouth, kitten,” Jake murmured when he pulled away, his hand cupping your cheek and dragging his thumb over your lower lip. 

You sucked his finger into your mouth and bobbed your head a little while staring up at him, hoping he’d see how eager you were and let you move down his body and worship him the way he deserved.

Instead, Jake’s other hand knocked yours away from his cock, fisting himself while you whined and pouted around his thumb. He chuckled, removing his thumb from your mouth so he could kiss you again.

“You can suck me off another time,” he promised, rubbing the tip of his dick between your soaked folds and making you shiver beneath him. “I gotta feel your cunt or I’m gonna go fucking crazy.” His voice lowered to a deep rumble, his words only turning you on more, as impossible as that seemed. “Gotta know if your pussy feels as good as I’ve always imagined.”

“Jakey, please,” you cried breathlessly, digging your knees into his sides and tilting your hips up to try to take his cock into your weeping hole. “Need you, need you,” you mumbled, humping against the tip of Jake’s dick, until a thought crashed into your mind. 

You’d never fucked anyone—at Diesel Dolls or in your personal life—without a condom. And you’d never forgotten to ask your partner to put one on. But you’d been about to take Jake’s bare cock into your unprotected cunt without even a second thought. 

It was chilling to realize just how much Jake affected you. You froze, your body tensing and pulling away as much as you could when you were laying beneath Jake in the small cot in the backseat of his truck.

Immediately, Jake took notice of your retreat, and he paused above you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, pushing up on his arms so he could see your face fully. There was so much concern in his expression that you had to look away, reflexively shying away from the emotion in his gaze. You stared at his shoulder as you asked a question of your own.

“Do you want to use a condom?” you asked, forcing out the words in a rush, hoping Jake didn’t hear the insecurity in your voice. You knew some men thought you were ‘dirty’ because of your profession—you’d had more than enough of them say as much to your face—so you wanted to give Jake the option in case he later regretted not using protection with you. 

The part of you that liked Jake (which was growing by the minute), wanted to believe he didn’t think that way about you. After all, he’d met you in the glory holes at the back of Diesel Dolls, and had made you feel safe and respected even when there was a plywood wall between you. But you knew too well from experience that even if a man knew what you did for work, even if he’d visited you at Diesel Dolls, he might still secretly think of you in a certain way.

So you held your breath, cautious hope in your heart as you waited for Jake’s response to your question. 

He blinked once, then twice, his lips parted and his expression adorably confused while he processed your words. He even glanced down your bodies to see his bare cock resting against your pussy, and you weren’t certain what was going through his head, but you desperately wanted to know. When his gaze met yours again, he still looked concerned.

“Do you want to use a condom, kitten?” Jake asked, an anxious note in his tone. “Because I’ll find one if you do.” His eyes searched yours, but you were too stunned to respond because you’d realized something. Something life-altering.

Jake was the only man who ever asked you what you wanted. 

Maybe there had been others, long ago, before Diesel Dolls, but if there were, you couldn’t remember them. Jake was the first man in a long time to ask you what you wanted to do, if you wanted to use a condom. An overwhelming and terrifying emotion surged through your body, tying your tongue and rendering you speechless. 

Thankfully, Jake’s anxiousness at your silence prompted him to keep talking. He dropped his voice low, his expression going serious as he stared into your eyes. 

“If you want to know what I want, I thought I made myself clear earlier,” he rumbled, working his hips in tiny little circles that had his hard length slipping between your drenched folds and grinding lightly against your clit. “I don’t want anything between us—I want all of you, including your hot cunt wrapped around my bare cock.” 

A gasp fell from your lips as you tossed your head back, your eyes squeezing shut to quell the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Jakey, yes, I want it—please,” you moaned in a broken, hoarse voice. Heat rose to your cheeks and, despite how turned on you were, you managed to feel a little embarrassed by how much emotion was in your voice when you said his name. Still, you couldn’t help the need you felt, and you pulled him close, feeling like nothing would be close enough. 

Jake dug his arms into the bed beneath your back, crushing you to his chest as he shifted his hips, lining up his cock with your hole and beginning to sink in while he shushed you. “I’m right here, kitten, ‘m not going anywhere,” he murmured soothingly in your ear. 

Your heart thudded in your chest and you were filled with an uneasy trepidation even as your legs spread wider around Jake’s broad body to take his cock deep into your cunt. You believed Jake. You believed he wasn’t going anywhere, and that scared you. But you didn’t have room in your mind to deal with that fear, not when he was sliding inside you, stretching your pussy to accomodate his thick length and pushing all your worries to the wayside. 

“Feel so good, kitten,” Jake rumbled in your ear when he bottomed out inside you. His lips found your neck and kissed your delicate skin, making you whimper for him. “Feels like you were made for me, like you were made to be mine, all mine.” He rocked his hips gently, fucking you in firm, short thrusts that you felt in the depths of your soul.

Jake’s words and the way he was fucking you—like he was making love to you—was too much. You wanted so badly to be his, to let yourself fall in love with him, but you knew it couldn’t be and that knowledge made you so despondent, you felt like you could cry. But you didn’t want to ruin the moment, so instead you pushed on Jake’s shoulder, urging him to roll onto his back. 

He did as you asked, rolling your bodies until he was laying flat on his back and you were straddling his hips, his cock still lodged deep inside you. The ceiling of the truck was high enough that you could sit up, so you did, pushing on Jake’s pecs to put some distance between you and your favorite trucker. You began to ride him with practiced movements, taking the opportunity to watch Jake. 

Your favorite trucker looked deliciously devastated beneath you, his blue eyes glazing over as you rose up and sank down on his fat dick. His soft lips were parted, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as you worked your hips in tiny circles, clenching down on his length and fucking him like the pro that you were. 

Jake stared at you like you were a goddess come to life and he’d be more than happy to bow at your feet, a dazed look of pleasure in his eyes as they roamed over your body. His gaze drifted down from your face, watching your tits bounce for him, then fixating on where your bodies joined. You could feel his gaze everywhere he looked, your body lighting up at his attention, which only made you ride him harder.

“Look so beautiful riding my cock, kitten,” Jake rumbled, seemingly having found his tongue. His hands fumbled over your body, gripping your hips and then your ass like he couldn’t decide which he wanted to touch more, squeezing you anywhere he could. “And you feel so fucking good—fuck, kitten, I want to keep you on my cock forever, just sitting pretty and keeping my cock warm while I’m driving, fuck, even when I’m sleeping.”

“Mm, Jake, don’t threaten me with a good time,” you murmured huskily, planting your hands on his chest and using the leverage to bounce your ass on his cock. You knew from past experience it made men lose their minds, and Jake was no different. 

His jaw clenched and his hands pawed at your plush curves, his eyes rolling back in his head as he let out a groan that sounded like he was being tortured. “Fuck, fuck, kitten, you feel so fucking good,” Jake rambled, his tongue loosening the closer he got to coming. “Your cunt feels better than I ever could’ve imagined, ‘m gonna come so hard in your pretty little kitty.”

“Do it, Jake,” you urged, even though a part of you didn’t want your first time with Jake to be over so soon. But you knew it was better this way. You’d get him off and make some excuse to leave and you could go home and get yourself off while Jake’s come was still leaking from your pussy. “Fill me up, wanna feel you flood my little hole with your come.”

“Oh fuck,” Jake groaned, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he held you and fucked up into you so furiously, you would’ve lost your balance if he hadn’t been holding on to you. “You’re perfect, you’re perfect, I—god, I love you, kitten.”

Every muscle in your body froze and you sucked in a sharp gasp at Jake’s confession, your mouth falling open in shock as you stared down at your favorite trucker. 

Men had said those words to you before. They’d whispered them into plywood walls while you sucked their cocks and moaned other girls’ names. They’d murmured them into your ear while you gave them a lap dance, promising you jewelry and bigger tips if you broke the rules and let them fuck you. They’d confessed them to you in a bid to keep you in relationships that were toxic. 

But you’d never heard them from a man who treated you with as much respect as Jake did. You’d never heard them from a man you wanted to hear them from. And god, you’d wanted Jake to say those words—maybe not so soon, but eventually—because you knew you were falling in love with him. And the fact that he’d said it meant he’d made it real.

And you were fucking terrified. 

Even with how close Jake was to coming, he felt the change in you immediately. For a moment, he just looked at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his cock still hard inside you. As he watched you, you got the distinct impression he could see how scared you were of those three little words he’d said. 

Trying to conceal your fear with anger, you contorted your face into a scowl and hissed, “Don’t say that to me.” 

Jake sat up at once, one of his arms banding around your back to hold you in place while the other cupped your face, his thumb tilting your chin up so he could pin you in place with the intensity of his gaze. 

“Do you think I didn’t mean it?” he asked, his voice gentle and gruff.

With his blue eyes piercing yours, it was difficult to lie, but you managed. “I’m sure you only meant it because I was riding your dick better than any other woman you’ve ever been with,” you spit out with far more bravado than you felt. 

Jake’s expression shifted and he almost—almost—looked angry. His grip on your chin tightened, though not anywhere near enough to hurt. His hand was firm, unyielding in a way you’d never seen from Jake before. 

“I’ve been in love with you since the first time you called me Jakey and told me I have a perfect dick,” he said, his tone daring you to challenge him. “I’ve loved you since before I saw this pretty face for the first time, kitten, and I know you feel something for me, too.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, everything in your body telling you to flee, but Jake was holding you too tight so you huffed an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes at your favorite trucker, pretending to be annoyed with him. 

“How d’you know I don’t tell everyone they have a perfect cock?” you asked in a nonchalant tone, your eyes cutting away from Jake’s as you shrugged. “Maybe I tell all my johns that so they’ll tip me better.

Jake’s expression softened, a grin spreading across his face, like he was amused by your antics. “And do you tell all your johns that you fantasize about their cocks while you touch yourself?” Jake asked, his tone almost teasing. “Do you finger yourself while you think about your other johns—or is it just me, kitten?”

Your mind flashed back to earlier that evening when Jake had visited you at the glory holes in Diesel Dolls and you’d been so turned on by him, you’d gotten yourself off while you sucked his cock. You’d never done that before, and you knew it was entirely because you were so attracted to Jake, even when you’d only known his cock. The fact that he was real and handsome and inside you made it impossible to ignore how much you desired him, your body squirming as need crashed through you.

Though you’d barely moved, Jake could feel the way you squirmed in his arms and he chuckled. “Mm, I thought so,” he rumbled, responding like you’d answered his question, which you supposed you had, in a way. He pressed his face close to yours and held you so you were forced to look at him, because he was all you could see. “You don’t need to say the words back to me, kitten,” he murmured, his tone so sweet and gentle, it inexplicably made you want to cry. “But I know you feel it.”

God help you, but Jake was right. You were falling in love with the ridiculous trucker, and it seemed there was nothing you could do about it. Tears filled your eyes and threatened to spill down your cheeks. It was so tremendously frightening to open your heart to Jake, even when you weren’t thinking about everything in your life that would endeavor to keep you apart. Your throat felt tight with emotion, like you were choking on all the feelings you didn’t want to feel. 

“Jakey,” was all you could manage to get past your lips. Thankfully, you didn’t need to say more because Jake covered your mouth with his own, kissing you so hard it stole the breath from your lungs. Your hips squirmed as heat flooded through you, the aching need of having Jake’s cock buried inside you becoming too difficult to ignore. 

Instead of letting you ride him more, Jake flipped your bodies until you were pinned beneath his larger one, swallowing your gasp as he began fucking you like he had when you’d first begun, in slow, firm thrusts. When you wrenched your lips from his, gulping down much-needed air, he didn’t let you pull too far away.

“Love it when you call me Jakey, kitten,” he rumbled, in between peppering your face with kisses, his goatee tickling your skin, “’cause I know it means you love me.” 

It felt like he was everywhere—his arms holding you tight to his chest, his lips pressing against every inch of your skin he could reach, his thick cock stretching your tight little cunt. He was overwhelming in the best way possible, and you let yourself give in to the moment, crying out, “Jakey, Jakey,” as he fucked you even after what he’d said about it meaning you loved him. 

The tip of Jake’s cock hit a spot deep inside you that had you moaning and clenching around him, and he groaned at the feel of your body squeezing his dick. He shifted his position slightly and made sure he hit that spot over and over again, until you felt like you were the one unraveling beneath your favorite trucker. 

“That’s it, good girl, take your Jakey’s cock,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your ear and your neck as he fucked you harder, feeling the way you twitched with pleasure in his arms. “Look so fucking gorgeous creaming on my cock—the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, and you’re all fucking mine, isn’t that right, kitten?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, willing your lips to say yes, but all you could manage was a litany of your favorite trucker’s name, crying “Jakey, Jakey, Jakey.” You could feel the pleasure in your body coiling tight, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before Jake made you come. It felt better than you ever imagined, being with him, and you wanted it to last forever.

You could feel Jake’s smirk against your cheek and then his face was hovering above yours, his blue eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils had blown with arousal. It made him look nothing like the friendly trucker you’d met in the parking lot, but you wouldn’t trade in this unleashed side of Jake for anything. He wasn’t cute anymore, but he was so scorching hot, you thought you might come just from the way he was looking at you like you were his whole world.

“You gonna come, kitten?” he asked, his lightly teasing words at odds with the brutal way he was fucking you, his cock pounding into that delicious spot deep inside your cunt, his pelvic bone grinding against your clit every time he bottomed out inside you. “Gonna come all over the cock of the man who loves you? Gonna let the man who loves you come deep in your perfect cunt?” 

Jake’s words were your undoing. The tension in your body snapped as your release crashed over you, pleasure consuming every part of your being as you screamed your trucker’s name, “Jakey!” Your body trembled, your hands fumbling against Jake’s shoulders as you tried to cling to him, but he wasn’t done with you yet.

“That’s it, that’s a good girl,” Jake muttered, his hips rutting into you as he chased his own release while drawing yours out. “Ya look so fucking pretty coming on my cock, kitten—the prettiest girl in the world, gonna make me come, gonna make me come so hard your tight, perfect pussy.” He captured your lips in a kiss, breaking away a moment later to grunt, “Fuck, fuck, you’re mine, kitten, all fucking mine.” 

You felt Jake’s hips stutter against yours and then he pressed deep. His cock twitched inside you, and you knew he was flooding your pussy with his come, that thought making you moan deliriously. You pulled Jake down for a messy, sloppy kiss as you rode out your releases together, your cunt clenching around his cock to milk every drop of his seed into your pussy. 

You writhed together for so long that Jake began to shudder from the overstimulation, and he collapsed on top of you, forcing you to stop while he moaned in your ear. Even still, you kept your legs hooked around his waist, refusing to let him go. His heavy weight was crushing you a little, but you didn’t mind as you stroked your fingertips up and down hi spine.

Eventually, both of you settled, and Jake rolled onto his side, dragging you with him. He hitched your leg over his hip to keep your bodies connected, seemingly just as reluctant as you were to pull away from where you were joined together. 

But the realities of the world burrowed back into your mind, reminding you that no matter how much Jake loved you—and no matter how much you were falling in love with him—any relationship between the two of you was an impossibility. 

If Mr. Drysdale found out you’d fucked one of the truckers that comprised Diesel Dolls’ clientele, there would be consequences. Even if you weren’t fired, you didn’t want to learn what punishment Mr. Drysdale would come up with to make sure you never saw Jake again. There’d be no way for you to have a relationship with your favorite trucker, even a secret one, since secrets had a way of coming out at Diesel Dolls.

Once you’d caught your breath and thoroughly freaked yourself out with your thoughts about the consequences of your actions, you sighed softly and began to extricate yourself from Jake. “I should go,” you murmured, but the moment you tried to pull away, Jake pulled you in tighter against his chest. There was a light dusting of hair coving his pecs and you couldn’t help but nuzzle deeper into the warmth and fuzziness of him.

Jake chuckled. “Do you really think I’m done with you already, kitten?” he asked teasingly, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ve wanted to get you in my arms and on my cock for months,” he said, his dick twitching inside you as he began to harden again. “I’m not letting you go just yet.” He nudged your face up to look at him, a little bit of vulnerability swirling in his blue eyes as he whispered, “Stay the night. Please.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way Jake said ‘please’, like he would be heartbroken if you didn’t stay. At that moment, you realized just how much trouble you were in. It would break your heart to hurt Jake, but there was no way things didn’t end with one of you hurting the other. Either you’d hurt Jake by choosing your job over him or he’d hurt you by leaving. It was an impossible situation.

Jake seemed to sense your reluctance, and he kissed you softly, putting his heart into the slide of his lips against yours. “Let me take care of you, kitten,” he murmured. 

You knew he was referring to sex, but a part of you suspected he meant more than that, too. You sucked in a soft gasp, wanting to believe he really wanted to take care of you, all of you, all of the time. But it was so difficult to believe. If you gave yourself to Jake fully, he’d have to really take care of you, forever. And you didn’t know if he was willing or capable of that. 

It wasn’t like Jake was some sort of prince charming who’d whisk you off your feet and carry you off into the sunset. This was real life, and he was a trucker. One day he’d leave, and, odds were, he wouldn’t be taking you with him. It wasn’t like he was asking you to let him take care of you for the rest of your life.

But if all he was asking for was one night, you could give him that. It was only one night, after all.

“Ok,” you murmured, kissing Jake sweetly, twining your fingers in his blond hair and rocking your body against his, fucking yourself on his cock. “I’m yours for tonight, Jakey.” 

You could feel Jake’s grin against your lips, and feel his happiness in the way he squeezed you tight. His elation was heady and you almost got lost in it, imagining yourself leaving with Jake when he went back out on the road. 

You pictured Jake rescuing you from Mr. Drysdale, fighting for you when your boss from Diesel Dolls inevitably protested you leaving. You imagined fitting perfectly into Jake’s life as a trucker, and eventually becoming his sweet little wife. You imagined being his princess while he was your prince charming.

But it was all a fantasy, and you knew that. You weren’t some princess locked in a tower by a wicked witch, and Jake wasn’t your prince charming. But for one night, you could pretend. What harm could it do.

trucker king masterlist

[witchywithwhiskey]

dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

breaker, breaker 🎙️ and welcome to a universe of dirty filthy truckers

in this masterlist you'll find all my fics, series, drabbles, thoughts and headcannons about the dirty filthy men who inhabit this trucker universe, and links to individual series masterlists. everything in this universe is tagged #trucker au on my blog.

trucker Ari Levinson series: trucker king (series masterlist)

summary: after you're stranded on the side of the road, you're picked up by a truck driver who expects to be repaid for his kindness.

part 1

part 2 + (epilogue)

part 3

first christmas

truckers Jake Jensen, Andy Barber and Lee Bodecker are introduced in trucker friends

summary: you overhear Ari talking to his friends on the CB radio and he's determined to make sure they know who you belong to.

read here

trucker Jake Jensen series: trucker prince charming (series masterlist to come)

summary: your favorite trucker visits the glory holes at the strip club where you work, and he's determined to finally make you his.

part 1

part 2

first christmas

trucker Andy Barber series: untitled

introduction thoughts

how Andy likes to be greeted when he gets home thoughts

trucker Walter Marshall series: untitled

introduction thoughts

club owner Ransom Drysdale series: untitled

introduction thoughts

other characters in this universe

trucker au August Walker

trucker Bucky is gonna be scary

trucker Freezy

trucker Bucky Barnes (these thoughts are going to become Lee's story)

trucker Lee Bodecker

other Henry Cavill characters

[witchywithwhiskey]

thank you for the tags @biteofcherry, @perdidosbucky-yyo and @mercurial-chuckles!! ♡♡

Rules: Make a 24hr poll listing the titles of every WIP you want to work on. (It’s fine if you only have one, still make a poll for the vote count). Whichever WIP title gets the most votes, write 1 sentence for every vote received.

i know a lot of folks have been tagged so if you've already done it/been tagged, sorry!! @buckets-and-trees, @nickfowlerrr, @veltana, @jobean12-blog, @vonalyn