#we have 54 questions so far

[octoberautumnbox]

Off*IZ: Like It Like I Love It

Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, doggy, semi-public, semi-mirror, semi-exhibitionist, office sex, clothed sex, sweat if it counts?, standing doggy, anal, anal creampie, little bit of thigh stuff I think

Word count: 4.2k

Part of Off*IZ Hours

a/n: i worked on so many other drafts on and off this month i really wasnt sure if I'd be able to pull something off this month but we back to our regular programming LMAO :DDDD

“Thank you, everyone. I know we took longer than we should have,” the project head places his glasses on his forehead before rubbing his eyes, “but we pulled through today. Good work.” All around the conference table, you and your coworkers stretch in various ways and groans emanate from random people in the room. As people start to get up and leave, you overhear muttering about plans after work and what each other’s weekends will be like. 

You do your own stretches and check your watch: 7:54 p.m., nearly three hours later than you should have left. A sigh escapes you, finding yourself already tired from dealing with the lowlife drunks on the bus you’ll be riding with in about half an hour. You grasp around in the dark for a bright side to all of this, but nothing’s coming up so far, except...

“Hey, heading out?” Miss Jo taps you on your shoulder a bit roughly: not enough to hurt, but enough to shove you a little. She stands behind you, her fingers delicately wrapped around the edge of her folder, and a smile painting her cute face. Over the course of your tenure in the company, as well as the fact that the Operational Support Department is only two people strong, you and your boss have gotten to know each other very well.

“Maybe you wanna have a drink with me? God knows we both need it,” she giggles. The petite woman abruptly shuts her eyes solemnly and sucks air in through her teeth, then releases it in a drawn-out yawn. She blinks out the sleep in her eyes before attempting to look at you again. 

“Are you sure? You seem a bit tired.” You spin her around to face away from you and place your hands on her shoulders. You push your thumbs firmly and massage the spot in the middle of her back, and tell her, “Breathe, Miss Jo.”

Her head lolls back, showing you a dimly glowing smile and fluffy cheeks underneath a pair of half-lidded eyes. She breathes out slowly through her mouth, her lips parted ever so slightly, and good thing everyone’s already left the conference room at this point, else they’d start asking questions. 

“Maybe I am tired…” she breathes out slowly, only loud enough for you and no one else to hear. As you listen, your hands travel down her slim arms and onto her waist, and as she tilts her head to the side, you plant a kiss right on her neck. “Maybe… maybe I do want to go home,” her moan comes carefully, as if fighting back a mountain of urges. “Maybe I want to, I don’t know, take a shower?” Your hands slide up her sides, cupping her petite boobs through her top. She giggles again, she brings her hands to yours. 

“And no more ‘Miss Jo,’ please. We're done for the day, remember?” She pulls your hands off her, winking, before hurriedly dragging you out of the conference room. Her steps are joyful and frantic towards the parking lot with you still in tow. She never looks back, one clear goal in mind: get you home, take her shower, get fucked out. A perfect Friday night, like God intended. 

She’s so focused that she fails to notice until it’s too late that you yank her into a secluded printing room, lock the door, and forget to turn on the light. She stumbles into your chest, and the dim reflections of nightlife from outside the window are the only things that let you see the fire in her eyes. 

Yuri wraps her arms around your neck, trapping you in a torrid kiss as your tongues dance around each other, swapping spit and breathy moans. Her lips are soft on yours, with hints of strawberry from her lip balm that only make you want her more. 

Hook her leg under your arm, grip her ass through her jeans, grind her crotch against yours. All she can do at this point is hold on to you for dear life as your kiss continues, never giving her the privilege of catching her breath. In spite of all this, her nerve to fight back surfaces: her tongue enters your mouth and licks everywhere she can reach, and she shamelessly lets her spit leak from her luscious lips and onto her chin. 

At this point the heat gets to both of you, not only from each other but also from the general lack of air-conditioning in the room this late into the night. Sweat collects into bigger and bigger drops on her neck, and your determination to steal every single one overtakes you. You kiss and lick over every spot of exposed and vulnerable skin you can find, and it messes with her head somehow even more than forcing kisses on her ever did.

A bright idea enters your head though, and not so gently, you shove and pin her to a nearby wall. A deep thud rings across the room, followed by a slight creak and groan from the wood holding up the wall inside it. The impact forces air out her lungs, but ultimately she regains her breath and stares at you, shellshocked, before releasing her grip on you. 

“Don’t forget, asshole,” she grunts, playing trying to get free, “I'm still your fucking boss.” Yuri almost slams her face into yours, sorely missing the feeling of your lips on hers. Her tongue travels all over inside your mouth, and what can you do but show her the same sort of fervor?

“I'm also still fucking my boss,” you choke out, still struggling against the onslaught of Yuri's tongue. All the while, her needy moans fill the room with every single hump on her crotch. She tries speeding it up, but with how you're holding her ass, you're fully in control. 

And she fucking loves it. 

With one hand keeping you in place, her other hand works on stripping herself of her jeans. Your position gradually gets more awkward, but the moment her pants leave her ass and you feel up her cheeks, now only covered with a pair of thin lace panties, your hunger for your boss's delicious body only grows.

Her pants drop to around her ankles and suddenly they're gone from her world. Yuri's next target is your slacks, and she makes even quicker work of them. It takes just the blink of an eye before they're gone too, and she’s alternating between palming your stiffening cock and massaging your balls through your underwear.

“I didn't know I was this tired,” she remarked, her breath unstable against your mouth. Her head rests against the wall, her arms on your shoulders, and you finally let her catch her breath. “Oh, by the way,” she wheezes between deep inhales, “we’re setting up the laptops for the new hires tomorrow– I need you to come in at 8.” 

“Come in here? Like ‘office’ here? Tomorrow’s Saturday,” you say, mixing into your voice a tone of sternness. You caress her cheek, and she nuzzles into your palm. She knows exactly what’s coming up next, but she waits for you to let her. It has to be you, you both know it, so as your hand meets her shoulder and pushes her down, she falls slowly, gracefully, to her knees.

Eye level with your bulge, she runs her tongue along her lips seductively while looking up at you. Her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear and she pulls down slowly, teasing you when she knows she shouldn’t. Your cock springs up and nearly misses her chin, but she makes a show of catching it with her face. She smiles up at you, your cock resting on her beautiful features, all the while she peppers light kisses along the underside of your shaft. 

“Yeah, 8 a.m. tomorrow. We’re setting up VPNs and loading all the shit onto them.” Her kisses soon turn into licks, as if she’s made it her mission in life to trace every single one of your cock’s veins using her tongue. Her eyes flutter closed as she relishes in the taste and scent of your manhood, hellbent on worshiping it like the slut she knows she is. 

“Fine, but I’m spending the night at yours. Make me come into work on a weekend, feed me breakfast.”

“Fine, but you’re driving tomorrow. Can’t do it if my legs don’t work.”

She retreats back for a bit, lining up your cock with her mouth as she eyes it with a lustful greed. She comes in close again, and her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock as she slowly takes more and more in. Her lips seal around your shaft, sucking it like it’s the feast of her lifetime. 

Take advantage of her position, guide her head to rest against the wall. She almost doesn’t notice, but the moment she does, her eyes meet yours to send a single, unmistakeable, desperate message: “Please.”

You plunge your cock deep into her mouth, using the wall behind her to force her to take as much of your length as she can. She chokes and gags, but ultimately her tongue never leaves the underside of your dick and chooses instead to use the copious amounts of spit to make her blowjob all the more pleasurable for you. Yuri’s cheeks hollow out as she tries sucking your soul out, and only then are you made aware of the lewd slurping sounds she’s making. Her adoration of your cock makes itself known like it always does, and you wonder for a split second how lucky you came to be to have such a nice boss. 

She pushes herself off of you with a loud pop, and you find her hair unkempt and sticking to her forehead in strands, licking her lips like she’s just had the best meal of her life. She flashes a smile at you before getting up, and what comes next feels like the most natural thing for the two of you. She gets up and pulls you by the necktie toward the window, you’ve always known she was this type of girl, and she places both palms on the glass. 

“You know what to do.” Her voice is deep and serious, and you're compelled to obey. Your fingers slip under the waistband of her panties, and you pull down to reveal her plump ass. The wet feeling running down Yuri's legs makes her moan quietly, and as the fabric leaves her body you see her thighs glisten with slick and perspiration, reflecting the clueless city's lights.

Your hands travel up her thighs, and you feel her goosebumps under your touch. Now standing behind her, you take in the situation: your boss is bent over, presenting her bare ass and dripping pussy to you, while her hands are splayed onto the cool, transparent glass of the printing room window. Place your hands on her hips, grip securely and show her how bad you want her. Pull her slowly towards you, and as you do, find her looking back at you with unbridled lust in her gaze.

The tip of your cock meets her sinful entrance, and her gaze remains steady and burning on you. “Come on already,” she taunts seductively. She bites her lip in anticipation and you decide not to make her wait any longer. 

You rub your hard cock on her pussy lips, coating your shaft with her juices, before finally plunging yourself into her. Her lips part for you, and as you push deeper into her wet cavern she lets out a low, guttural moan. Her reflection in the glass shows you her eyes are shut tight and tighter still as she feels you slowly filling up her pussy, and her fingers flex against the glass as she tries to find something, anything, to hold onto. 

“Fuck– God, the first one is always the best, huh?” A casual laugh follows her statement, and she looks back at you again. A tiny smile decorates the corners of her mouth, and the odd lighting around you gives her an aura of mysterious, forbidden beauty. 

“Will you behave for me, Yuri?” You rub and grope her ass as you say it, threatening a spank. It doesn't help though, you know your boss loves being put in her place. The thought you implant into her head causes her pussy to quiver, and in turn causes your cock to twitch against her walls. 

“Oh my go– Yes, daddy,” she surrenders, “I'll be your good baby girl.” She lets her head hang forward, having completely given up control to you, all primed and ready to receive your blessing. Her breaths are deep, slow, ragged, choosing instead to focus solely on the onslaught of pleasure you're about to inflict on her tight, delicious, fertile body.

Thrust into her again, as deep as her cunt lets you, and your tip kisses the entrance of her womb. She lurches slightly forward with a grunt, and you almost swear her pussy is made just for you. The way her walls clench around your cock as it twitches again and again inside her makes you think you’re the key to her lock, a match made in hell.

“Daddy, do I feel good? Do you like my pussy?” Yuri’s moans and pleas for your approval only spur you on. She melts under your touch, your hand returning to her ass and threatening her pleasure again. It’s about time you give her what she wants, and she has been a good girl so far, so why the fuck not?

You raise your palm and she watches, her eyes trailing higher and higher. All at once, you bring your hand down with the force and speed Yuri knows is perfect, what she knows she deserves. Your skin meets hers and a slap rings clear across the room, followed by an immoral moan escaping from her throat. 

“Fuck, daddy! It hurts so good–” she gasps, all the while you maintain a slow pace. Your thrusts in her are rhythmic and steady, but in no way soft or merciful. With every pump of pleasure you deliver into her body from behind, she lurches forward again and again, absolutely no time at all to recover with the cumulative brain fog clouding her thoughts, all the while her tight little pussy clenches and squeezes your cock like it’s the last time she’ll ever have you. 

Keep fucking her deep and rough, keep forcing your will onto her body. She submits wholeheartedly to you, pushing her ass back on you each time you shove your cock into her, trying to steal more mind-numbing goodness from you. As if having lost control of her voice, her moans are continuous if not for her need to breathe every once in a while. On one hand, you know her body well, and it’s telling you that she’s growing impatient – she signed up for a railing after all. On the other hand, so what? It’s your fucktoy to use however you want to.

Yank her hair back, pull her right up against your chest. One hand on her toned tummy, the other wrapped around her slender, sweaty neck. Her own hands stay respectfully splayed on the glass, and she’s damn near defenseless like this: she wouldn’t dare defy you in any way. Whisper right into her ear, teasingly and tauntingly, “Until what time do we stay tomorrow?”

She chokes back a sob, only half-successful, only half-focused. “N-not later than one th-thirty,” she struggles, on the verge of tears, “only eighte-teen unitssss…” She sucks as much air as she can through her teeth, your slow and methodical onslaught on her sex unrelenting. “We… we…” Her brain fog must be so thick right now, having finally lost the ability to form complete thoughts. It’s now you know there’s nothing left of her except the desire for more of her ecstasy, just the way you like her. 

All at once, thrust fast and thrust hard. It’s something she couldn’t have possibly predicted, and her surprise numbs her entire body save for her pussy that convulses violently around your cock. Her velvet walls squeeze and massage your entire length, and her love juices coat your shaft before the rest make its way down her creamy, jiggling thighs. She screams loud as her face is smushed against the glass, her arms pinned against the window pane for as much support as she can get. Each following thrust into her pushes her up and up against the glass even more, until there’s no more space between her and the window, nor between you and her. 

Completely victim to you, her eyes wander up and up until they point to the ceiling. Her mouth hangs open as her breath fogs up the glass, still punctuated with rhythmic grunts each time your tip kisses the entrance of her womb. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she repeats with every thrust, rubbing her face slightly more against the window. If only she could still fathom how easily someone could look up and see her taking your dick, but that's not important now. Her eyes are rolled to the back of her head, her breathing is unsteady, and the flex of her fingers tells you again that she's close. 

Deny her climax just a little more, you're sure she'll understand. Just as you push back into her, eliciting her next crass word, you forcefully pull out of her heat. She tightens impossibly hard again in an effort to keep you inside her, but the sheer amount of her slick fails her. A few seconds pass and she's able to look down, and the sight of your thick and hard cock between her thighs and right up against her pussy does something to her head. It's exactly when her tongue peeks from her mouth and runs all over her lips that you know she's desperate, reduced to nothing more than a simple-minded slut who wants you and you alone. 

“I'm gonna take your ass, baby girl, and you're gonna fucking like it.” Your words are gentle yet daunting against her eardrums, and her pussy lips quiver against your cock again as she jerks her hips forward exactly once and releases the perfect amount of her juices onto your dick. “Yes, daddy…” she replies, holding back her orgasm for a few more moments, knowing that you like it best when she cums while you’re inside her. 

Yuri waits in anticipation as you poke her asshole with your cock. Her eyes draw shut, head leaning solemnly on the glass, as if praying that she survives the rough anal fucking she's about to receive. 

Since when did you get so mean? Making a lady wait like this. And yet, the way she squirms in depraved pleasure under the constant threat of your cock is just so delicious, you really can't help but use her, play with her like this. 

Having had your fill of teasing her, you give her exactly what she wants. You enter her puckered hole slowly, and yet she takes you in like the good girl she always aims to be. The walls of her ass are just as pleasurable as her pussy, and her tightness in her back entrance is just as perfect as her cunt. The slick coating your cock is her only saving grace against having her asshole torn apart, but with the way she clenches around you so well and how she groans in ecstasy, you think maybe she wouldn’t mind either way. 

Your boss half-screams as you invade her repeatedly from behind, starting slow and steady while tears start to form in the corners of her eyes. Her sweaty cheek still on the window, you watch as a line of spit runs from her lip down the pane, just as a drunkard wobbling across the sidewalk in the street down below finally catches you two in the act. It seems he's still figuring out what he's seeing, so you have just a few more moments left in the printing room before the dots connect in his head.

“G–guh,” Yuri grunts as she taps against the glass. It seems she spotted him too, and is trying to warn you of the same. “It doesn't matter, baby, I'll take care of it.” Your reassurance works a bit too well, and her eyes shut again as she breathes out and relaxes. 

Stay true to your promise, make sure she gets a hell of a taste of the night she’s only about to have. Quickly, carelessly, ruthlessly, piston deep into her asshole. Her walls try their hardest to accommodate you, but ultimately lose the fight and are forced apart anyway. 

“Aaahhhh– AAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” Yuri’s heavenly voice is corrupted to sing a perverted symphony. She’s reduced again, from your boss to your personal slut to now just some instrument for your unholy pleasure. Each thrust into her ass sends her riding up the window again, smearing her spit and perspiration all over the glass and her slick all over her creamy thighs. You shoot a cursory look back to the drunk on the street, noticing his eyes widening as his fried brain starts its search for words. You’re running out of time. 

Pound her mercilessly, remind her of her place in your own shared little world. All it takes is just a few more thrusts into her hole until she finally lets it all loose. Your moans mix with hers in the secluded space, and her willingness to serve you brings you ever closer to the edge. 

Just as the drunkard figures out how to point up and mumble his most basic words, you explode right into your boss, filling her plump ass up with your thick and hot seed. A shameless scream rips across her throat, “FUCKKKKK!!!” and her ass tightens around your cock like she owes her life to you, hell-bent on repaying her debt in kind tenfold. Streams of her own cum squirt out of her in jets, splattering on the wall and all over her crotch and thighs. She bucks her hips again and again, having lost any semblance of control over her body and mind, each spurt of your baby batter pushing itself into her body simultaneously pushing another of the already very scarce thoughts out of her head. What’s worse is it keeps coming, the realization dawning on you just as her ass overflows and your cum starts running down her legs, that your desire and output were heightened severely by how pent-up the both of you were. 

You pull Yuri down and duck to the floor right as the drunk finally musters enough of his wits together to point and scream. You hear him from the ground, and as far as you can tell he’s there on the street pointing up at an empty window and gathering weird looks from the other passers-by. All the while, you’ve just finished pumping your boss full of cum while she’s still squirming and jerking weakly as her own climax dies down. 

The room once filled with moans and grunts is now silent save for your combined heavy breathing. The heat once again makes itself known to the both of you, best evidenced by her sweat pooling on the ground where her head lay. Pulling out of her, more of your cum flows out of her ass, deepening Yuri’s breathing as she tries wiping more sweat off her brow.

“You good?” Your question is far too innocent for what the two of you just did. All she can do in response is to nod slightly, and maybe offer a drained but satisfied smile. Confirming her condition, you lean over and kiss her on the cheek before lying back down next to her, giving yourself a moment as well to catch your own breath. 

Yuri turns and places her head on your chest, rising and falling with your breathing. She feels your heartbeat and synchronizes her breathing with it, grateful for some semblance of structure back into her life, but at the same time her dependence on you grows yet again, just like she loves it. 

“We can maybe do breakfast muffins tomorrow on the way, no time to cook and all.” You wrap your arm around her and secure her in a cozy embrace. The floor is much cooler than the air in the higher altitudes of the enclosed space you two occupy, and the situation threatens to steal you off to slumber. 

Yuri manages a nod and a mumble and a kiss on your neck. She pushes herself off the floor, yawns, and stretches. “Do you wanna just come in Sunday instead? Stay the weekend with me?” she asks earnestly, crawling to your discarded clothes to retrieve. She hands you yours, and as she does you plant a wet kiss on her lips. 

“As if being here on Sunday is better than Saturday.” 

“Literally nobody's here on Sunday. We can turn up the aircons.” Your boss nuzzles into your neck again, evidently still addicted to your essence. Her afterglow and the low lights only enhance her beauty to near-godlike levels, and it works perfectly to her advantage.

“Fine. But your ass is mine all weekend.”

She giggles, “Fine, as if it isn't already.”

~~~

a/n: for everyone who reads this far look forward to more off*iz from our other very lovely writers!

[ckret2]

Chapter 54 of everybody being really eager to kill their prisoner human Bill Cipher for good: the gang's trying a new way to create fuel for the one weapon guaranteed to destroy Bill.

It goes so great.

As Ford drove to Northwest Manor, Dipper skimmed through the introduction to Flatworld, where Edward Bishop Bishop was pretending that his book had been dictated to him by a sentient square; but he couldn't focus on it. He sighed, shut the book, and stared out the passenger window at the passing trees.

"Something on your mind?" Ford asked.

"I'm thinking about the Axolotl's poem again. The one about Bill."

"Ah. Still trying to remember the rest?"

"Kinda. Mabel and I are working on it together," Dipper said. "But it's not that. I've just been wondering... what if the poem is... you know, part of a prophecy about Bill or something? Mabel remembered another line of the poem—'A different form, a different time.' What if the Axolotl was telling us why Bill's back as a human? Maybe we need him here—to, to use his powers to fight off a bigger threat or something. Do you think that's possible?" He held back another question: what happens if we kill him before then?

Ford frowned thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about the Axolotl as well," he said. "About the worlds I visited that called it a god of criminals, tyrants, and luck. That sounds to me like the exact kind of being that would be Bill's ally. And it's odd how resistant Bill was to telling us anything about the Axolotl, when it simply passed over town for a few seconds and then moved on. Why the secrecy? How does Bill think it benefits him for us not to know about it?" Ford shook his head. "I think you're on to something, Dipper—I think whatever the Axolotl told you is important. The question is: important for whom?"

Dipper's stomach turned. The Axolotl had radiated such kindness; it was hard for Dipper to believe it could be up to anything evil with Bill. But then—Dipper clutched at Flatworld with the damning biography on the back—but then, how many people had Bill himself fooled with the benevolent teacher act?

Dipper understood now why "Don't Trust Bill" had so quickly turned into "Trust No One." Even when you knew that there was only one real enemy—even when you knew that most people out there were still reasonably honest and friendly—you could never tell just how far Bill's shadow stretched. "I guess that's true. We can't really know."

"We can't know yet. But it is worth trying to figure out," Ford said. "I wish I could tell you where to start looking for answers. For now... we'll just have to consider anything possible."

Ford was right. But all the same, every time Dipper paranoidly asked himself What if Grunkle Ford is right, what if the Axolotl really is on Bill's side, a second, even more paranoid, even more worried voice asked, But what if he isn't?

####

When they arrived, Fiddleford was already in his lab, hard at work on the miniature particle accelerator they'd come to see him about.

"The paradox what was powering it started yowling" Fiddleford said. "So obviously it ain't a paradox no more."

Ford grimaced. "That does lay to rest whether the cat is alive or dead."

"Sure does," Fiddleford said, sighing. "So I let the cat outside and I'm rebuilding the whole contraption to run on a more robust paradox. I hope you've got better news for me, Stanford."

"We hope so too. I think Dipper might have the solution to our fuel generation problem."

They briefly explained Dipper's unfortunate puppet incident last summer—Fiddleford had to take a break in the middle to grab a cup of coffee, "To steady my nerves,"—its ongoing effects on his sleep, and the new developments of the last few days, culminating in Dipper learning how to project his soul out of his body—

—which, Ford now realized, he probably should have expected Fiddleford to take poorly.

"Sweet sasparilla!" Fiddleford kicked over his chair while jumping onto the nearest table. "You're dead?!"

"What?" Dipper said. "No, I—"

"You're like a ghost possessing a zombie!"

Dipper thought that over. "Whoa..."

But, even though Fiddleford thought the whole affair went against the rightful order of the world, he agreed that it was a sound idea and worth trying. "It's lucky that my tater tot and I hunted out all the ghosts in this place during our spring cleaning," he said, opening a cabinet. He retrieved what looked like a pair of vacuums redesigned to be worn like backpacks with an assortment of random electronics dangling from wires. He held up a set of goggles and headphones hanging off one of the vacuums. "I invented these doohickeys that'll let you see and hear ghosts! They'll let us keep in contact with Dipper while he's out of his body." He set the vacuums on a table near the miniature particle accelerator and said, "First, though—Stanford, I need you to help me rebuild this machine."

"Of course." Ford turned away from the vacuum he'd been inspecting to look at the miniature particle accelerator.

Dipper said, "Wait, there are other ghosts in this mansion?"

"Yep!"

"I hunted one at the Northwests' big party last year," Dipper said. "How many more ghosts are in here?"

"We've caught, oh... thirty or forty so far."

"Seriously? That's amazing." Dipper was already thinking about the amazing Ghost Harassers episode this place could have been. Maybe even a miniseries.

"Aw, it weren't that hard. If you leave the TV on, they like to flock around it to watch. All you've gotta do is hide in the corner until a whole big bunch of 'em are gathered 'round—and then ya get them!"

"Oh," Dipper said. "Huh. I just tricked one into getting trapped in a silver mirror."

"Well, that's right impressive too. I never woulda thunk of that," Fiddleford said. "Me and Tate have been sucking them into cooling pouches in these here vacuums and then sticking the pouches in a chest freezer down in the dungeon! Maybe I oughta line the freezer with silver."

"This place has a dungeon?" Dipper asked.

Before Fiddleford could respond, Ford asked, "Which parts are we replacing?" He was inspecting the miniature particle accelerator.

"All of them!"

Ford gave Fiddleford a surprised look. "All of them?"

"Yep! Every last one!"

"Is the design changing that much?"

"Nope! It's staying exactly the same!"

"Then... why can't we just use the same machine we already have?"

"We will be using the same machine!" Fiddleford smiled mischievously. "Or will we?"

"Ah! I see! The particle accelerator of Theseus," Ford said. "Very clever."

"And kinder on the local stray cats, I reckon."

Dipper offered his assistance, but the work involved too much welding and buzzsawing for him to try untrained, so he was directed to sit a safe distance away with the first aid kit. At least it gave him a chance to read some more. He had to shove aside a couple flashlights and the glue grenade to reach where the slim book had slid to the bottom of his backpack during their walk from the car.

He skimmed over some of the worldbuilding looking for the story before he realized the story was the wordbuilding and looped back. It was a lot bleaker than he expected, even after Mabel's warning. Rigid class system, oppressive government, all kinds of horrifying shape prejudices... Frustrating dream visits to the ignorant line people in the first dimension who didn't believe in the second dimension, and to the self-absorbed King Zero in the point-sized zeroth dimension who thought a whole universe was contained inside him... A just as frustrating visit from a sphere who simply couldn't explain the third dimension in a way the square protagonist could understand, which was even more annoying since the square had just seen how the first dimension couldn't comprehend the second for the same reasons, so why couldn't he accept the possibility of a third dimension he couldn't imagine? Dipper got that it was supposed to be a metaphor to help three-dimensional readers understand that not being able to visualize a fourth dimension didn't mean it was impossible; but still. Come on, man. Don't be stupid.

On the other hand, at least now Dipper had a framework to understand the concept of higher dimensions and probably a leg up on next year's geometry. Would high school geometry cover four-dimensional space?

After a couple of hours of work and a break for lunch, the miniature particle accelerator was rebuilt and ready for another attempt to generate fuel. Fiddleford pulled on one of his ghost vacuums like a backpack, put on the set of connected headphones and goggles, and settled his glasses on over the goggles. "Y'all ready?"

"Ready," Ford said. He was seated at the accelerator's monitors, holding the jug that would contain any NowUSeeitNowUDontium they generated, and wearing the other vacuum—with the goggles over his glasses, and he was a bit worried about how Fiddleford had positioned his.

"Ready," Dipper said, a tad less certainly. What if he couldn't do it today? What if he'd never actually been able to do it last night and the whole thing really had been a dream?

But Fiddleford flipped the accelerator's power on, stepped back, and said, "All right! Do your thing!"

"Okay." Dipper stared straight at the machine, and—eugh—thought about degloving his body from his soul, peeling out of his skin fingers first.

This was only the second time he'd left his body deliberately. He'd observed in the past that the mindscape was strangely gray and still compared to the real world—but he'd never realized just how stark and swift the change was, like all the color and warmth had been abruptly sucked from reality. He shivered.

Ford inhaled sharply. Fiddleford stumbled back against the nearest table and yelped, "Flipping flapjacks!"

"You can both still see me?" Dipper said. "Can you hear me, too?"

"Loud and clear," Ford said.

"Like the voices of the dead." Fiddleford shuddered. "Welp, let's get this over with. I don't like all this ghost business. It ain't natural."

Ford gave him an amused look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about what's 'natural'? Didn't the engineering club vote you 'most likely to build a robot that flies in the face of God'?"

"You hush! There's nothing unnatural about iron, electromagnetism, and flamethrowers."

Dipper studied his body's face, its eyes pointed blankly toward the particle accelerator. "Well, I'm looking at the experiment, but I'm definitely not thinking about it. I think that's half of the paradox?"

"That's right," Fiddleford said. "Now, you just—float yerself on over to the other side of the accelerator, and think about it without looking at it."

"Right." Dipper positioned himself directly across the accelerator from his body, shut his eyes, and tried to think experimental thoughts. He didn't know much about Dontium besides what Ford had written about it in Journal 3—that it was inert when you were looking at it and radioactive when you weren't—so, if the miniature particle accelerator generated any, would he get blasted with radiation? Or was his body staring at the accelerator enough to keep it inert? But no—it was supposed to fill up the jug Ford was holding, right? Ford was observing it. Dipper tried to imagine what must be happening inside the accelerator; how did it work, would particles spontaneously generate in the tubes? Maybe they circled around until they fell into the hose to the jug...

He heard Ford gasp. "Fiddleford, look at this— Don't listen to me Dipper, just keep—keep thinking whatever you were thinking!"

"Is it working?"

"It was! Don't let us distract you."

Dipper tried to ignore the sound of Fiddleford running over to Ford, and started humming to drown out their hushed conversation. That was good, right? It meant the experiment was working. Keep thinking about that—experiment. Experiment. Expeeeriment. ... He wondered if trying to do the experiment by putting himself and Tyrone on either side of the accelerator would have worked, or if it had to be Dipper's soul and his body—

"Hot diggety!" Fiddleford shouted. "We've reached critical mass!"

"What does that mean, is it bad?" Dipper opened one eye a crack, trying to squint enough that he couldn't see the particle accelerator. "Is it gonna explode?"

Ford explained, "It means we've generated enough Dontium that it can sustain its own existence. Now, even if you get distracted, what we've already generated will remain. It can only go up from here."

"Wow," Dipper said. "That only took, what, a couple of minutes?"

"Less than that! During our last attempt, we tried for hours without reaching critical mass," Ford said. "Your idea was right on the money. Excellent work, Dipper."

Dipper grinned. After all that anxiety, it was almost a letdown how easy it was, but the coolness factor made up for it. He could just imagine the conversations the first week of high school: What did I do over summer break? Oh, nothing much. Just synthesized a new element. To fuel a weapon custom-designed to kill an immortal chaos god. And did I mention I was a ghost at the time? It didn't quite top last summer's adventures, but...

Then something went wrong.

There was a noise halfway between the electric buzz of a tesla coil and the rip of Velcro being torn apart. A stench like burning hair filled the air. A line of shifting colorful light began worming its way out of the center of the particle accelerator and up into the air.

"Oh no. Ohhh no!" Fiddleford grabbed his head. "The micro-rips! The threadbare fabric of reality! Our experiment put too much of a strain on it! We tore straight through!" One foot bounced agitatedly, "Ohhh, I knew I shoulda run some calculations before substituting in Dipper for you and Stanley."

Dipper gasped as the line of light began to agonizingly stretch open wider. Reality began seeping over its edges and dripping through into the kaleidoscopic miasma beyond. It developed a second horizontal rip across its middle as reality stretched beyond endurance in multiple directions. "What—is that?" He was afraid he knew.

"A dimensional rift," Fiddleford said.

"The Nightmare Realm," said Ford.

The last frayed thread holding reality together snapped apart, and the rift tore open wide, fully exposing the Earth to the roaring roiling chaos beyond. 

They screamed.

"Hello?" A giant set of dentures with stubby arms and legs leaned through the rift. "Oh hey! Aren't you the guys that killed Bill?"

They screamed again.

"Is screaming how humans say hi?" the monster asked. "I'm Teeth. Aaah!" He turned toward Ford. "Hey! Fingers! Lookin' less electrocuted than the last time I saw you—"

Ford socked Teeth in the incisor, knocking him back through the rift. "Back, you! You and your 'friends' are not welcome in this dimension!"

"Ow. What the heck, man."

Fiddleford shouted, "Don't stop observing the Dontium!" He bounded across the room on all four to scoop up the milk jug and stare at it. 

Ford nearly toppled through the rift, and had to grab onto the miniature particle accelerator as the heaviest nearby object to anchor himself. The rift sucked on reality like a vacuum, and the longer it was open the more powerful it grew.

Over the roar of the rift, Dipper yelled "What do we do?!"

"We have to seal it! Before it sucks all of Gravity Falls into the Nightmare Realm!"

"How?!"

Last summer, the instant Bill had no longer been around to maintain the dimensional rift, it had also sucked reality into it, starting with everything that properly belonged in the Nightmare Realm; but then it had also quickly sealed itself back shut. On the other hand, this rift was just opening wider and wider. Maybe it wasn't like the rift Bill had used to enter Gravity Falls, then? Maybe it was structured more like the wormholes that had been left behind after Weirdmageddon—

"I've got it!" Ford picked up Dipper's body—trying not to shudder at how lifeless it felt—and unzipped his backpack. "Is the alien adhesive grenade still in here?"

"It should be! Let me see." Dipper floated over to peer into his backpack.

The rift was already strong enough to drag at Ford's clothing. The lightest objects in the room lifted into the air and were sucked through. Papers. Pencils. Coffee mugs. Dipper's soul.

He screamed. "GRUNKLE FORD!"

"Dipper!" Ford grabbed for Dipper's ankle, but his hand passed right through. Ford's blood ran cold as Dipper tumbled head over heels into the Nightmare Realm.

"Look at that," Teeth said, watching Dipper soar by. "Dinner delivery."

There was no difference between the mindscape and reality in the Nightmare Realm, if Ford followed Dipper  through he'd be able to get a grip on Dipper there. But how would he carry Dipper back to Earth without him melting through Ford's grasp the moment they were through the rift? Didn't matter, grab Dipper first, then figure it out—

Fiddleford shoved the jug of Dontium in Ford's hands as he ran past. "Watch over this!"

"What—!"

Fiddleford jumped into the Nightmare Realm, the end of a long extension cord tied around his waist. He stretched out the hose of his ghost vacuum and flipped a switch, and with a yelp Dipper's soul was sucked inside. Ford gasped in relief.

Trying to keep as much of his attention on the potentially-radioactive jug as possible, Ford reeled Fiddleford back in, shoved the jug in his hands, and dug into Dipper's backpack again until he found the alien adhesive grenade. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the rift. "Duck!"

He shielded Dipper's body and Fiddleford shielded the Dontium jug as the grenade exploded. Even so, the force of it blew aside everything within ten feet of the rift and sent both of them sprawling. When Ford glanced back over his shoulder, the adhesive had gummed up the opening of the rift like a popped glowing magenta bubblegum bubble; and as he watched, it sucked the opening shut. In a few seconds the air was still and quiet, and the only sign the rift had ever existed was an immense, jagged vertical line in the air around which the light refracted wrong.

Fiddleford gingerly got back to his knees, then pulled off his glasses and pushed up his goggles. One of the lenses had been crushed, and the glasses' frame was bent beyond repair.

Ford heaved a long, heavy sigh. "A bit too familiar, wasn't it?"

Fiddleford blinked at him. "Wasn't what?"

"The—reeling you in from the Nightmare Realm?" Ford said. At Fiddleford's blank look, Ford said, "The portal test?"

"Oh." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I... still don't remember it too clearly."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Ford's stomach churned with guilt as he looked away from Fiddleford. Over thirty years late was too late to apologize, wasn't it? (Over the past year he'd wondered, again and again; and again and again he'd decided that it was.) "Thank you for saving—" He gasped, "Dipper!"

"Oh, right!" Fiddleford took off his vacuum, dropped it on the floor, and unzipped its bag. The ghosts of a Northwest in a buckskin coat and a confused-looking hippie escaped into the air. "Hey," Fiddleford barked. "You get back here!" He raised the vacuum's hose and flipped its switch. He caught the hippie, but as soon as she was sucked in she flew out the unzipped bag and off to freedom again. Fiddleford lowered the hose and shook a fist at the retreating spirits. "I'll get you ectoplasmic varmints, just you wait!"

Ford knelt on the floor and held the bag open wider. Dipper floated out, arms crossed tight and shivering. "So... so cold... and dark... and really, really dusty."

"Let's get you back where you belong."

Ford held up Dipper's body as he lay back down in it. He could see the moment color flooded back into Dipper's cheeks and his eyes focused again. Dipper groaned.

Ford said, "You're never doing that again."

"I am never doing that again," Dipper said.

"We can't do that again," Fiddleford said. "The fabric of reality in this town is too unstable to handle another paradoxical physics experiment that powerful! We'd rip open another rift to the Nightmare Realm!"

"And we just tossed away all of our remaining alien adhesive," Ford sighed. It left Gravity Falls vulnerable if any more rips formed. Sometime soon he'd have to go back to the alien crash site and see if there was any more adhesive he could scrounge up; but even if he did, they couldn't risk wasting more of it like this.

"But did we get what we needed?" Dipper asked.

Fiddleford held up the milk jug of Dontium and shook it. It had a strange shifting color, wavering between cyan and orange depending on the lighting. "Looks like we got about three-fourths of a gallon," Fiddleford said.

"It's only enough to fully power one shot," Ford said. "But... one shot is all it'll take to destroy Bill." His stomach flipped nervously as he said it. He'd been anxious every other time he'd prepared to kill Bill, but that had always been because he'd been preparing to battle for the fate of the universe with a godlike monster who could easily kill him or worse. For the first time, he was preparing to execute a defenseless prisoner, and he didn't know whether it would make the universe any safer.

For half the summer he'd hoped Bill was harmless. Now he wished he had proof that Bill wasn't, so that he could lay his conscience to rest.

Dipper looked as uncomfortable as Ford felt; but when he caught Ford's gaze, he hardened his expression and nodded. Ford nodded back.

"WOOHOO!" Fiddleford leaped his full height straight up, making Ford and Dipper start. "We done it! YAHOO!" He waved his hat around ecstatically, doing a little jig in place. "YIPPEE! HIP HIP HURRrr—hey, how come you fellers ain't celebrating?"

Ford didn't know how to explain without making Fiddleford worry he was at risk of falling under Bill's spell again. "We'll celebrate when he's dead."

####

"Who was at the door?" 8 Ball shouted. When he didn't get a response, he paused his game. "Teeth?"

Teeth waddled into the game room. His face was completely plastered shut with some kind of glowing purple glue.

Pyronica cracked up and Paci-Fire chuckled darkly. 8 Ball sighed, "What'd you get into, you idiot?"

Teeth waved his hands emphatically.

"All right, okay." 8 Ball stood and stretched. "Does anyone have the number of that lamp guy Bill used to hook up with?"

Half an hour later, having lured over Lava Lamp Guy with the false promise of ping pong pool and illicit liquids, they cornered him in a bathroom, with Zanthar sitting in the tub restraining him while Paci-Fire struggled to hold his face still.

"Please!" Lava Lamp Guy screamed. "Let me go! I'll do anything you want! My neurologist said I can't take much more of this!"

"Cease your complaints," Paci-Fire said, as 8 Ball took off Lava Lamp Guy's bowler. "You shall not dissuade us. We do this because we have no choice in the matter."

"Why not?!"

"Because none of us feel like making the trip to a dimension with a drugstore."

8 Ball stuck a soup ladle into the open top of Lava Lamp Guy's head and fished around until he got a scoop of the red goo floating around in the thinner orange liquid. Lava Lamp Guy howled in agony. Zanthar heaved a weary sigh.

8 Ball carried the ladle over to where Teeth was sitting on the toilet lid kicking his feet. "Here you go, bud."

Teeth clapped his hands, grabbed an oversized toothbrush, and held it out for 8 Ball to pour the goop on. He scrubbed his teeth until the goop dissolved the adhesive. "Whew!" He stretched his jaw a few times, then jumped to his feet. "Thanks! I was worried I was gonna miss karaoke night." He looked in the sink mirror to scrub off the remaining scraps of adhesive.

8 Ball put Lava Lamp Guy's hat back on. Lava Lamp Guy groaned, "I think I forgot my third husband."

"You've only been married twice," Hectorgon lied.

"Oh." Confused, Lava Lamp Guy said, "Alright."

Teeth muttered, "Blech, divorce memories." He grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to clear out the taste.

"So what happened?" Kryptos asked. He was hovering in the doorway beside Pyronica.

"I'unno. I think the Dimension 46ers were messing around with their portal or something? They opened up a portal here."

"What? Uh-uh," Pyronica said. "It had to be some other dimension. We just invaded them, why would they open the portal again?"

"No no, that sounds like humans to me," Kryptos said. "If one of them pushes a button and immediately dies, the guy standing next to him will go, 'I wonder if it does that every time.' I've seen them do it."

"It was definitely them, I saw that local contractor Bill recruited for the portal who went nuts. Fingers or whoever."

8 Ball groaned. "You mean the guy that invaded the Quadrangle and tried to kill everybody?"

"Yeah. That guy. He told me I wasn't welcome on Earth and chucked a glue bomb in my face. I was like, well alright, buddy, I'm not the one who opened up a portal in your house, you could have just stayed home instead of ruining my day," Teeth said. "I didn't really say that to him. I thought it."

"So now the humans are invading us." Pyronica threw her hands in the air. "Great! This is just terrific! Bill teaches them how to make their own portals, they follow us home, and now we're about to have a pest problem that knows how to use tools! How long is it until this whole place is crawling with humans?! I'm going househunting, how many rooms should I look for? 8 Ball?"

"I'm in."

"Teeth?"

Teeth sighed, but said, "Yeah. The neighborhood's going downhill. Especially if we're gonna have a pest problem."

"Big Z?"

Zanthar gave a thumbs up.

Pyronica looked at Paci-Fire. He averted his gaze. Pyronica said, "Paci?"

Sullenly, he said, "We should ask Keyhole's opinion as well."

She laughed in disbelief. Nobody cared about Keyhole's opinion, he went with whatever everyone else went with. Appealing to Keyhole was just a delaying tactic. "Fine, sure. We'll get Keyhole's opinion."

"I'm not going," Hectorgon said, crossing his arms.

Relieved, Kryptos said, "Yeah. Me neither."

"You don't have to," Pyronica snapped. "You two and Morph can wait for Bill to come back from the dead as long as you want. But the rest of us are leaving."

Kryptos tilted toward the hall, gesturing for Hectorgon to follow him away from the others. "How long do you think we can hold this place without the outerplanars?" The Quadrangle was all that remained of Bill's turf. Without Bill's energy boosting them, none of the shapes were particularly powerful. They'd always depended upon the other Henchmaniacs to guard Bill's stronghold, the heavy-hitters like Zanthar and Pyronica. Even Bill preferred to let them fight his battles when he could; Bill's energy was much vaster, but less renewable.

Hectorgon grimaced uncertainly. "We've gotta think of something fast."

####

Dipper stared at the jug in his lap, ensuring it didn't turn radioactive before they got home. Bill practically seemed to have a radar for Ford—and on top of that, could see through walls—but as far as he cared Dipper may as well have not even existed; so they'd decided that Ford would go in the main door to ensure Bill's attention was turned away while Dipper went through the gift shop and took the elevator down to Ford's study. Ford had told Dipper where to find a lead locker that would keep the Dontium contained until Ford could use it to refuel the Quantum Destabilizer; all he had to do was put it in and stare through the crack until he'd slammed the door shut.

And once they'd decided on that, the drive home had fallen deathly silent.

As the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees, Dipper asked, "We're doing the right thing, right?" His voice was quiet. "I hate him, but—we owe him our lives. And there's that prophecy..."

"Lives can't be owed," Ford said. "Yesterday he may have saved us, but tomorrow he would still destroy our world in a heartbeat. We can be grateful to be alive—but we can't let that stop us."

"So, we're doing the right thing?"

Ford was silent for much longer than Dipper would have liked. "I hope so."

####

(We're moving toward some important stuff!! Hope y'all enjoyed and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this week's chapter!)

[eyeheartboobiez]

-> 𝗃𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝖽𝖽 𝗑 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

-> 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺 𝖺𝗎!

-> 𝖺/𝗇: 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 5 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾!! 𝗂 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝖼. 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒🫶🏿

liked by cass.cain, rred_hood, and 4,105,018 others

@y/nforeal: GUESS WHO JUST WON A GRAMMY!!! fr tho i couldn't be more thankful for how far i've come as not only an artist, but an individual. now that award szn is over, imma take some time off from making music, because these next few months are gonna be busyyy.

again, thank you to all my friends and everyone who's stuck by my side through everything. i love yall🥹🫶 #grammys2023

View all 15,675 comments

user1: WE LOVE U TOO QUEEN

user2: what does she mean by busy tho??

⤷ user3: fr like is there a baby on the way or sumn💀

cass.cain: SO HAPPY FOR U BABES !!

⤷ y/nforeal: THX GIRLIE😘

⤷ user4: idc how delusional i look i still ship it🤷‍♀️

user5: been a fan since day one, couldn't be more proud🥹

user6: not jason liking her post...

⤷ y/nforeal: right like im confused too

⤷ user7: LMAOO she so real😭

Grammy winner Y/N Y/LN going to court?! From ruined careers to ruined relationships, here's the rundown that led to all this. (1/10/2023 11:54 AM PT)

Since August of last year, fans have been talking nonstop about the leaked track that's been trending all over the internet. With its romantic lyrics and suggestive imagery, the song — Fantasize — made its debut surprising not only the listeners, but the artist as well.

Renowned singer Y/N Y/LN was more shocked than anyone to find that one of her unreleased songs had been spread around online. Even moreso, when the culprit behind the act was none other than rival singer, Artemis Grace.

Which begs the question: Why would Artemis care to leak Y/N'S music?

Well last summer, her ex boyfriend Jason Todd was alleged to have been in an intimate relationship with the grammy winner. Ever since paparazzi caught the two kissing outside of Y/N's Malibu home, they’ve been rumored to have been seeing each other in private.

Supporters of the singer were more than ecstatic to see the two together, and were happy to see that both stars were getting their well deserved happy ending.

Especially Jason, who had spoken up in past interviews about his ex’s abusive behavior. Stating that the redhead was “more than controlling” throughout their relationship.

Unfortunately the so-called Fantasy was short lived, when the gothamite was seen outside of a nightclub with the toxic ex. Once the news broke headlines, while fans were more than devastated, they were just as quick to come to Y/N's defence.

Regardless of the heartache, many speculate that Y/N may have used Cassandra, Jason's sister, as a bit of a rebound! In fact, the tension between the two was more than noticeable in the interview they did together with Glamour.

As usual, fans jumped to the conclusion that their collaboration is what drove Jason to like Y/N's most recent post on instagram (an action that even she was skeptical about).

Back to the present, it seems that the redhead was also caught red handed. After TMZ investigators revealed Artemis as the culprit of the crime, Y/N made the smart decision to press charges.

On account of copyright infringement, as well as causing emotional distress, the offender had been served an official notice of the legal proceedings being taken against her.

However, because she failed to appear before the judge last week, Artemis was forcibly taken in by the authorities just this morning. The embarrassing encounter with law enforcement was seen by many in the area, and spectators did not hesitate to record the interaction and post it online.

Despite all the drama, fans are overjoyed to see the ex finally being held accountable for her behavior. And who knows, maybe the tragic story between star crossed lovers will get its happy ending after all!

end notes: so what do we think, yay or nay?

taglist: @din0o0o @cipheress-to-k-pop @bonnie-tz @phatnyash420

[dnpbeats]

Dan and Phil 2024 Upload Stats: Half a Year in Review

hi everyone! as we are officially halfway through 2024, i thought it would be fun to make a little post about some intersting stats from d&p's uploads this year! especially as things will likely start slowing down (or rather stay slowed down) during the latter part of this year due to the tour! as a reminder, spreadsheet can be found here :)

general stats

there have been 42 uploads so far this year. 13 of those are AP and the other 29 are DAPG, meaning they've uploaded over twice as much on the gaming channel

the average time between uploads across all channels is 3.9 days. looking at the channels individually, the average upload time between AP videos is 11.9 days and for DAPG it's 5.4 days

across both channels, dan and phil have helped edit 81% of the videos. they have only edited one out of the 42 videos on their own, which was on DAPG

100% of AP videos have had spons (capita£ester strikes again) and 79.3% of gaming videos have had spons (looking at both channels together, 85.7% have had spons)

their average upload time is 8:26pm

dan has been in (in some capacity) 46.2% of the AP videos this year

24.1% of the gaming videos have been non-gaming content

phil has been the one to tweet about the gaming videos 86.2% of the time

date/time stats

wednesday is their most popular day to upload, with 11 uploads (the majority of which have been DAPG uploads). sunday and friday are tied for second with 10 uploads each

saturday is the only day that they haven't uploaded on this year (this includes irregular uploads too, like ads and livestreams!)

average upload time for each day of the week:

sponsor stats

nordvpn is their most common sponsor, having sponsored 7 of their videos this year (4 on DAPG, 3 on AP). their second most-common sponsor is dragon city, having sponsored 6 videos (all DAPG)

6 videos have had no sponsors (again, all DAPG)

data for all spons:

editor stats

our queen superseizer had edited/helped edit 12 videos (11 DAPG vids, 1 AP)

seizer has edited 3 vids on her own (3x as many as d&p 🤩)

runtime stats

stats exclude poppy playtime chp. 3 bc it's so long lol

thursday uploads have the longest average runtime at 24:18. friday uploads have the shortest average runtime of 16:56

afk journey is the sponsor with the longest average runtime (29:56). the second-longest average runtime is videos with no sponsors (28:42). the sponsor with the shortest average runtime is headspace (14:54)

seizer on average edits longer videos! the average length of a video she has edited/helped edit is 25:11. for d&p the average length is 20:01

series stats

the sims series has had the most uploads this year, with 7. DvP has had 3 uploads and golf with friends has had 1 upload

on average there are 22 days between sims uploads and 65 days between DvP uploads

seizer is the only one trusted with editing sims vids 🙏🏻

so yeah! there are even more stats in the spreadsheet but i just wanted to include the more intersting stuff here. there's also a calendar if you want to visually see the distribution of days that videos have been uploaded (including irregular uploads!). also there's still the interactive bit where you can calculte the length between two uploads :3

lmk if you have any questions or want to see any other comparisons/charts i don't have!!

[lushlovers]

Ignored, J Burrow

summary; he's quite the hypocrite

warnings; joe still is an asshole what'd y'all expect, swearing, this is the stupidest argument but i would act like this too fr, the pettiest duo ever ong

word count; 900-ish

notes; ughhh i missed frat!lsu!joey so much omg. one of the few fics being posted as a thank-you for 400 followers! pls someone notice how they react similarly to each other with their actions when frustrated

This year, like the few before, Joe had convinced you to come to both of his frat's formals, for you it was a win-win, getting to dress up all pretty and seeing him all cleaned up in his fancy suit. He kept his arm secured on your hip, and both of you stepped out catching the eyes of everyone in the room, per usual.

Boredom has slowly settled in over the span of the few hours you've been here, staring at your nails and chatting with the extremely energetic girlfriends and dates of his fraternity brothers could only hold your interest for so long. "Can we go up to the room yet?" You mumble, trying not to make your growing impatience too obvious, and leaning into him with a pout present on your pretty face.

"Soon, babe," his response is short, obviously just trying to shut you up. You sigh, clicking your tongue, murmuring under your breath about going to get a drink. He barely has paid any attention to you at all tonight, nor did he say anything about the dress he ditched you to go shopping for alone. He swore up and down that he would take you to the mall, and you'd choose something together, but he opted out at the very last minute, simply venmoing you the cash for it.

It takes a lot out of you just to not scream at him to acknowledge your existence for two damn seconds, but no. Everyone, but you seemed to keep his attention this entire time. Your jaw is set tight as you fish your phone from your purse, finding yourself sitting alone and scrolling on your feed aimlessly as Joe continues to socialize.

Time passes slowly, but midnight's creeping up, you remember you both have a keycard on you which prompts you to slip out of the dining hall completely. As you make your way up to your floor you decide a text will suffice, maybe he'll see it, maybe he won't, and it's not your problem anymore.

angel🌟: i went back up.

Before you thought it couldn't get any worse, he somehow managed to piss you off even further. Read 11:54. May the Lord be on his side, that's one thing he never did to you, he knows exactly how you feel about that, you even went as far as to turn his read receipts off to avoid this feeling.

In the time it takes him to finish doing whatever the hell he's been doing all evening, you'd changed, gotten out of your makeup, and were tucked under the cover tightly. Assuring your back was turned to him as he made his way in and kicked his shoes off, "D'you have fun?" His question is followed by a long beat of silence, but he just assumes you're asleep and says nothing else.

After just a few short minutes of him entering the in-suite, he returns in an old t-shirt and basketball shorts. When he climbs into bed behind you and pulls you in close, you stiffen, making his grasp loosen significantly, "Were you like, intentionally ignoring me all night?" His brows crease and for a minute he just opens his mouth like a fish out of the water as he searches for an actual reason for the lack of interaction between the two of you.

"Not intentionally," he responds quickly to get you to be quiet for what seems to be the hundredth time today. The last thing you want is to be treated like the various girls whose feelings he plays with for his own amusement. Still, after tonight, you're severely lacking the cognitive ability to go back and forth with him tonight.

Your silence catches his attention, making the scrolling he was going on his phone come to a halt, "Are you gonna say anything?" In your head, you're screaming at him about how you're feeling, to say more than two words a sentence to you, but to possibly tick him off you bite your tongue and settle for a smartass reply.

A stifled laugh breaks the tension in the hotel room, followed by a snarky response, "Nothing to say." That does him in. Ironically being treated in the same way he treats others, receiving a taste of his own medicine. He slams his phone down on the bedside table, "I'm talking to you now and you're being short with me," another laugh escapes you at his hypocrisy and simply how childish he's acting right now.

The tone of voice you chose doesn't even change an octave when you decide to speak once more, "Now you know how I feel," you hum, turning over to face the sliding-glass balcony door. His jaw is set tight as he stares daggers into your back and you can feel them burning through your oversized t-shirt. Without saying anything else, he mimics your movements and turns over with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting.

[agustdiv1ne]

˗ˏˋ꒰𖦹｡🧪⋆°｡2:54 p.m. — kang taehyun

genre: kinda meet cute? idk they're lab partners (as a stem major i am projecting heavily), college au

wc: 998

kang taehyun has terrible luck with lab partners.

he figures it comes with the territory — labs can be stressful, and sometimes the procedures written by the chemistry department are, at best, redundant, and, at worst, practically unintelligible. past partners have royally screwed him over by messing up the experiment halfway through, then banking on him to fix everything with the little time that is remaining. despite his annoyance, taehyun is well aware that he is not perfect; he has messed up experiments before, too, and he can easily admit that. however, unlike some of his peers (see: choi beomgyu, forensic science major), he will always clean up his own mess without anyone else’s help.

after last week’s class that only covered lab safety procedures, the first actual experiment day in his organic chemistry lab brings with it a looming sense of dread. he’s sitting outside the lab and waiting for class to begin, praying that he is not paired up with beomgyu again, not after the fiasco last semester in which he was seconds away from blowing up the science building.

within a few minutes, the lab instructor props open the door, announcing that partner pairings could be found near the fume hoods. once he walks up to the paper, he sighs, crosses his fingers, and searches for his name. directly next to his, he finds a name that he doesn’t recognize. despite this, he mentally fist pumps; anyone is better than beomgyu at this point.

“looks like we’re partners,” he hears from next to him. the finger he was using to search for his name lifts from the paper, and he swivels his head over to find you, donned in similar attire of a white coat and safety goggles, a small smile spread across your lips. you extend your arm, introducing yourself more formally. “i’m looking forward to working with you.”

“same here.” he moves to shake your outstretched hand, though he’s not sure if he means it yet, unsure of how you operate in a lab. really, it all depends on how well you work together.

“what’s your major?” you ask in an attempt to strike up conversation while you grab all of the necessary flasks and beakers and other tools required for this experiment. synthesis of aspirin — should be simple enough.

“biochem, and i’m also pre-med,” he says, before he’s asking for your own. your answer colors him shocked: you’re the same major, and on the same pre-med track? then…

“how come i’ve never seen you before?” he questions as he sets up some of the apparatus. you simply shrug in response while you finish setting up the other half. it’s impressive how quickly, how accurately, you complete it. is his bad luck finally gone? are you the lab partner that he’s been wishing for?

“i tend to keep to myself. ‘m not a fan of most people.” you’re already starting the experiment, scanning over the procedures to ensure that you’re doing everything correctly. “is the steam bath ready? the salicylic acid is all dissolved.”

“yeah, give it here.” you carefully slide it over the benchtop and he places the flask in the bath. as you wait the proper amount of time, he can’t help but ask, “am i most people?”

“i’m not sure yet. we’ll just have to see, won’t we?” and you’re almost smirking, a teasing lilt in your voice. it should be annoying after getting a total of three hours of sleep, and yet it only serves to intrigue him. you say that you don’t like people, and yet you’re basically a master at conversation; you can tease and crack jokes but still keep track of everything that is going on in front of you. it’s impressive. so far, he really likes you — in the most platonic, professional way possible, of course. you just met, and you're only lab partners. nothing more, nothing less.

the two of you work in almost perfect tandem until the experiment is finally complete, all data collected and post-lab questions already answered for the report that’s due next week. relief floods his veins the moment the two of you exit the stuffy, humid lab, stripping yourselves of your coats and groaning at the sensation of the post-experiment grime that clings to the skin of your faces. you haphazardly shove the article of clothing into your backpack, unbothered by potential wrinkles. you give him a playful salute before you’re moving to leave.

“good work, kang,” you comment, grinning tiredly as you walk backwards. you spin to face away from him and call over your shoulder, “see you in lecture!”

“actually,” he starts. you spin on your heel, a curious quirk in your brow as you stare at him. “you wanna grab some food? i’m sure you’re starving, too.”

and you’re smiling wider, and his heart is beating faster and no, he’s absolutely, positively not forming a little crush on you. he just admires your competence, the rational part of his brain supplies. you’re lab partners, completely professional, newly acquainted lab partners that barely even know each other, though he finds himself strongly hoping that you’ll say yes.

your fingers loosely grip the straps of your backpack, eyes lighting up, as you respond. “yeah, i'd like that. wanna get chick-fil-a?”

“it’s like you read my mind,” he quips, celebrating internally. “i’ve been craving that all day.”

as he falls into step next to you — the two of you complaining about the professors that you share and promising to sit next to each other and study together from now on — taehyun begins to think that luck is finally on his side.

“soooo,” he draws out, one eyebrow raised in an inquisitive expression. you glance over at him through the corner of your eye, urging him to continue with an impatient wave of your hand. “am i most people now?”

chuckling, you jostle his arm with your elbow. “nah, i think i might be able to tolerate you.”

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 15

We are set to arrive on Fendaar in two cycles. As we are currently stuck on the SIIR Noxos, I have concluded that the passages of time that I am free of duties would be best spent continuing to observe the human. The human, on the other hand, seemed to have different plans in that matter, as it took me an unusually long amount of time to locate her.

As I eventually found her, she seemed to be working on one of the control panels in the main control room, so I may excuse her absence with duties she had to attend to. As she saw me, although, she seemed rather…excited (this is obviously mere speculation, as the study of the Terran so far has provided far too little evidence to prove such theories)?

As she rolled out from under the control board and sighted me, her face once again split into a wide opening revealing her horrifying amount of teeth.

"Hey! Dude!", she said, raising to her full height and stepping towards me, still baring her teeth, although I did not recoil, as I did not want to seem impolite. She raised her arms, each pointing into a different direction, away from their connection to the human's body.

"Human Quinn. How are you?"

"Me? I‘m fine, the whole 'wandering around in space' thing just made me throw up, I honestly don‘t know why they insisted on keeping me there for two whole days."

The ends of her fingers, studded with claw-like (rather short and rounded instead of sharp, perhaps they were not meant to function as claws at all, or perhaps the beings on Terra were far different from what I knew, and therefore a shape like this was far more useful to hunt) protuberances, scraped over the back of the connection between her head and her upper body. If I interpreted her facial expression correctly, she seemed to be thinking.

"Maybe I got a light concussion too, I’m not entirely sure. But it's improbable, because I’m fine now."

I decided to focus on one piece of information at a time. "Well, this "throwing up" can certainly not be a healthy nor normal process, otherwise, it would not seem so violently painful and involuntary, would it?"

"Well it‘s not…unnatural, it‘s just something that can happen. And about health, it‘s not unhealthy, it usually helps us to get rid of stuff that is bad for our bodies!", she eludicated, moving one of her arms in a rather random manner.

"The scientists have concluded that this fluid is highly acidic. If this 'stuff' is so harmful to you, wouldn‘t it just dissolve in this fluid before being able to cause any further harm?"

Quinn seemed to think about that. 

"Well, just because it gets dissolved, doesn‘t mean it‘s gone, you know? It's still in our bodies, and we have to get rid of it somehow. And if it needs to be fast, we throw up. Honestly, I‘d definitely explain this further to you, but Biology‘s never really been my strongest subject, ya know what I mean?"

I did not, in fact, know what she meant, but I decided against questioning her further.

After a pause the Terran spoke up again: "So, this planet we're landing on..." "Fendaar.", I clarified. "Right. So, this planet that we‘re going to, it‘s a desert, right?" "That is correct." "So, is it a sand, an ice or, I guess you could also count rock desert? 'Cuz on my planet, we‘ve got all of those types."

"Fendaar‘s ecosystem is mostly made up out of sandlike landscapes with rather scarce vegetation and biodiversity. Most of the planets in system 36-54 have rather extreme temperature ranges, and Fendaar is no exception.", I eludicated.

"Alright, cool.", she spoke, rolling back under the underside of the control panel she had been working on previously. She seemed to be sitting, or rather lying, on a piece of metal with four small wheels attached to it, allowing her to move it around.

"Your planet.", I initiated. 

"Yeah?", she responded, while continuing her work on the wiring.

"Am I assuming correctly that your planet has a far bigger biodiversity?"

"Oh, yeah.", there was a small spring in her voice, as if she had let out air in the middle of speaking. "Big biodiversity. We‘ve got deserts and rainforests, coral reefs and permafrost - although perhaps not for that long anymore - mountain ranges and all that stuff."

"Interesting.", I supplied, for lack of a better response. If Terra had such differences in temperature and landscapes, it was a logical conclusion that the humans had evolved to survive under such circumstances.

"Yeah."

It was unusually quiet for some time. That was, until Quinn rolled out from the underside of the control panels.

"Alright, I‘m done." She took a deep breath before opening her mouth once again. Then, all of a sudden, the muscles of her face started contracting as if she was plagued by an invisible pain. Her eyes squeezed shut and she let out horrifying noise, holding an arm angled in front of her nose and mouth. The noise itself was not particularly loud or long, but I recoiled either way, as a measure of safety. I could not be certain if this gesture was meant to harm me, after all.

Quinn‘s arm sank down again as her other hand rubbed at her nose. She huffed, a sound far less threatening than the one she had produced a moment ago. One of the hair patches above her visual organs raised itself, prompting the question to arise if human hair was controlled by muscles or if it had a mind of its own, although this was a question that could be further investigated later. One of the corners of her mouth raised, revealing the seemingly sharpest teeth in her mouth.

"I guess dust is an inter-galactic thing, huh?"

I did not respond. Her face muscles contracted, causing the skin above her visual organs to crease.

"Hey, you okay? You‘re looking a little spooked over there."

"Human, I do not wish to cause you discomfort, but, if I may ask, what was the purpose of the noise you just uttered?"

She did not respond for a moment, blinking with both of her eyes as she stared at me. It was quite unsettling, considering her previous explanation, that most humans preferred not being stared at. 

"I…sneezed?" The creases in the skin above her eyes deepened.

My front pliers uttered another rattling sound. "What is this 'sneezing'? What purpose does it serve?" I admit, I was quite curious. Terrans seemed much more complex than I had previously assumed.

She paused, seemingly to think of an answer. "Well, it‘s like…if something is bothering us at or in out nose, like dust, for example, it‘s kind of the natural response to that. To keep things out of our bodies that don‘t belong there."

"Human bodies seem to require a lot of defense mechanisms.", I commented.

She raised and lowered the connection of her arms to her upper body, baring her teeth once again while raising herself to her full height, using one of her arms as support.

"Y’know, it’s surprisingly hard to explain something you’re so used to to someone who’s never heard of it. I guess I still have to work on the whole 'awareness that I‘m around aliens' thing. S‘ kind of surreal."

She patted off her clothing, as if to remove non-existent filth once again. I had noticed the past few cycles that most of her clothing seemed to consist of several, usually differently-coloured, pieces of fabric. 

Her clothes usually covered her body from the connection between her arms and torso to the connection between her legs and, presumably, her feet. Her feet were usually also covered, although I could not determine the purpose it was supposed to serve in the environment we are currently in, although the theory that the conditions on Earth are vastly different compared to the ones on the SIIR Noxos is gaining more probability, based on the Terran's narrations.

The human seemed to evaluate a question she wanted to ask (this is, of course, a mere speculation based on previous observations: her face muscles were contracted to form a crease over her visual organs, which could so far most likely be interpreted as confusion, thoughtfulness or discomfort; her head was both slightly raised and tilted to one side at the same time, a gesture that was most likely supposed to convey an ongoing thought process).

Although, before she could utter a noise, V-7 informed us of a request from the Vitrichl to gather for a matter of importance.

The purpose of his summoning was to divide the crew into several smaller groups that were to be assigned with different tasks to fulfill once we sucessfully landed on Fendaar.

I was grouped with the Terran, which was unsurprising, as well as Tkzt, a member of the species that is widely known across the galaxies as Ctzas (it is to note that the Ctzas have not evolved any form of written language and communicate exclusively through clicking and chittering sounds. The written forms of, for example, names of this species, are written by other species to produce approximately the same sound as the Ctzas make when recited verbally).

Tkzt, as a member of the unit controlling supply chains and keeping a list of the stock of the SIIR Noxos, would make a helpful addition in our task of seeking out the nearest settlement in order to stock up on supplies.

After all matters of importance were settled, the crew dissipated, continuing their respective tasks. The Terran was ordered to stay and to assist the Vitrichl in another matter, which is the reason I did not cross paths with the human again for the rest of this cycle.

Despite this, I am positive that accompanying the human on an foreign planet will give me a further insight into the species' mannerisms and interaction manners with foreign species, which will prove to be helpful further on in studying the human.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55

Weapons and tools are dispersed. Walkie-talkie batteries are double- and triple-checked, as are Walkman batteries. Everyone has a mixtape of everyone’s favorite songs, just in case. In the case of Joyce, hugs and kisses are given to her sons, and hugs are given to everyone else. Wayne and Hopper accept theirs with a certain sort of hilarious dignity.

It’s decided the Harrington house will be home base for the above-ground team. El sits herself in front of the TV, turned to static, and meets everyone’s eyes before throwing herself at Steve in one last hug. “See you on the other side,” he whispers into her ear, and she just nods before slipping the bandana on.

A few nail-biting seconds later, she speaks. “There’s a gate in the pool. It’s open. Go now.”

The teams disperse, and the two teams going into the Upside-Down find fhemselves staring into the Harrington pool.

“Well,” Steve says, hefting the nail bat up. “Guess this is it.” He looks around at everyone. “No heroics. No one’s dying this time. We’re all getting out. If it means retreating, so be it. The second you’re getting swamped, you call for backup, got it?” He asks.

He looks at everyone, but he’s speaking mostly to the Distraction Team. “Got it,” the boys parrot. Eddie nods seriously, and Wayne inclines his head toward Steve.

He breathes out a harsh breath. “Good,” he says, then dives into the pool.

No sooner is he through than a demobat has him by the throat. “Dammit,” he rasps, doing his best to whack it with his bat, but the angle’s wrong and his vision is just going fuzzy on the edges when a giant crack sounds and it drops dead.

Behind him stands Wayne with a shotgun. “Ugly little bastards,” he comments, and Steve coughs out a laugh as he accepts the hand up.

“That they are,” he agrees. “Think you can take ‘em?”

Wayne cocks his gun in response. “Not even a question, son. You go on ahead with your group. We’ll keep your house safe, don’t you worry.”

Steve looks around and notices everyone standing around them. The boys have their flamethrowers, which he’s still a little nervous about. Eddie’s got the amp and guitar, and his own team is armed to the teeth.

“Okay,” he nods. “See you on the other side.”

He walks away, leading his group to the Creel house, before he can look at Eddie, before Eddie can say anything.

Robin catches up to him within a couple of strides, and Alli’s not too far behind. “You okay?” Robin asks.

Steve gives her a fake laugh. “Ask me again when this is all over and we’re all still alive.”

“We will be,” Alli says with an unshakeable faith that Steve wishes he had. She wraps her arm around his shoulders and pulls him towards her, and he goes gladly, wrapping his free arm around her torso. “Love you, Bubba.”

He hums. “Love you, Al. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, bud. I’m gonna tear the ugly fucker apart, just you wait.” She shifts, brings her hand up to rub through his hair. “Y’know there’s a certain kind of adrenaline women get when their loved ones are threatened. They’ve lifted cars off of people before. Just regular old women, doing extraordinary things for love.” She sighs, brushes a kiss over his temple. “And this guy threatened you, Bubba. All of you. He took away your peace, part of your childhood, part of your identity. And I’m mad enough to tear him limb from limb without breaking a sweat.”

Steve believes her. Her voice is even in a way it really only gets when she’s mad and trying to keep control of her temper. It honestly scares him a little, even if it’s in his defense this time. “I know,” he whispers, voice rough with tears. He wipes his sleeve over his face, chuckles a little. “And I’m closer to El now than I was before, and I’ve got Eddie in a way I never did before, and I’m not going to lose them. Either of them.” He sets his jaw, then relaxes a little when Alli squeezes him again.

“I know you’re not, Bubba,” she says. “Just remember that you’re saving them for them, right? To keep the relationships you have. So you’ve gotta save yourself too.”

They walk silently for a few seconds before Steve says, “Does anyone ever tell you you’re too smart for your own good?”

Allison laughs, long and loud, and something about it makes the dissipating light shine a little bit brighter for a minute. “Only all the time,” she teases back, ruffling his hair. “C’mon, kiddo. We’ve got our people to save.”

“‘M not a kid,” he grumps, throwing her a face.

“You’re always gonna be a kid to me, Steve, you’re my little brother. That doesn’t mean I think you’re immature, even if I do totally think that sometimes.”

“Hey!” He says, affronted, and pokes her side.

She laughs and dances out of reach, but before Steve can go after her, Joyce puts a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here,” she says quietly.

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[magicalbuttertarts]

Could I request college professor Kenny Omega and college female student reader are broken up and he’s jealous of the rumors about her dating someone else on campus and it leads to make-up sex?

AEW Masterlist

Yes Professor (18+)

Kenny Omega x f/Reader

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: age gap, Kenny Omega is 40, f/Reader is in their early 20s. P in v. Unprotected sex. Oral (m receiving) cum swallowing.

Requested by anonymous. Hope you like it.

WC: 1288

©️ magicalbuttertarts 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

It has only been two week since I called our secret relationship off.

Two weeks and she has already found someone else.

I mean, I shouldn't be surprised, she is gorgeous, and young. She is almost done College and has her whole life ahead of her.

She doesn't need her much older Professor keeping her from following her dreams.

So as the final few months of her final year started to close in, I knew it was time to break it off.

I still remember the tears that threatened to fall as I tried to explain to her that she had her whole life ahead of her, and I didn't need to hold her back.

"I am sure you just want to make sure you have your next student lined up for next year to take my place." She angrily said.

I tried to explain to her that wasn't it, but she wouldn't listen.

I tried to tell her that she has and will be the only college student I would ever hook up/be with, but she walked out of my office, slamming the door behind her.

I collapsed in my chair, knowing that these last few months are going to be the hardest months of my life.

Then I could hear the whispers saying that she has been out partying and been seeing some guy.

Usually this wouldn't have been news here, but she as far as anyone else knew, she just wasn't interested in dating or hooking up with other people.

But as I watched her every day in my class, I tried to keep my feelings down.

I tried not to show how jealous I am of these stupid rumors, but when I saw her talking to one of the football players, and he was touching her arm, I kind of snapped.

I called out her name, and she looked up at me, with no emotion on her face.

"Yes Professor?" My cock twitched in my pants at her calling me that. It brought back memories of the first couple of times we hooked up and she would beg me to fuck her.

"Meet me in my office after class."

I could tell she was furious but she had no say in the matter.

So as the minutes ticked by, I didn't make eye contact with her as I came one of my final lectures before their final projects are due.

"You are dismissed. I will see you all Monday afternoon. Remember Tyler." The same football player who was touching her looked up at me. "You will be going first on Monday, so be prepared."

He already knew that. This was decided long before I saw their interaction.

I was sitting at my desk, when I heard her knock on my door.

"Please close the door behind you, and have a seat."

I heard her sigh but do as I ask.

She sat across from me, waiting for me to speak, but I didn't have any logical explanation on why she was here.

She was always the best in my class, even before we started seeing each other.

"Why am I here, Professor?"

I finally looked at her and could see the sadness in her eyes as she looked at me.

"I made a mistake." Was all I said.

"On my last quiz? Yes I believe so, I knew I got question 54 correct."

I shook my head no to that.

"You know what I mean."

"You're the only who broke up with me."

"I know, and I wanted you to move on, but..."

She cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

"So you heard those dumb rumors. Of course that is why I am here." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I thought I could live without holding you or kissing you, ans the thought of you doing that with someone else is driving me insane."

"I am not doing that with anyone. Tyler asked me to help him study. He knows he needs a good grade to pass."

"Oh." Was all I said.

"We were together for a long time Kenny. I couldn't move on that fast even if I wanted too."

"I want you back. I'll go wherever you go. I know you can get a job anywhere." I could get a job at any college as well.

"I don't want to get back with you, just because you believe that I was with someone else." She said to me.

"No, the moment you closed the door when we broke up, I instantly regretted it."

"Kenny, I want to be with you, but you have to be certain you want to be with me."

I stood up, and walked around the table and stood next to her, getting on my knees and looking up at her, holding her hands in mine.

"I want to be with you, and only you."

She wrapped her arms around my neck and we kissed.

I wrapped my arms around her as I stood, never once stopping our kiss.

I picked her up and placed her on my desk, just like I did the first time we did this.

I started to kiss down her neck, as she was trying to undo the buttons of my shirt.

I pushed what little I had on my desk, not bothering to to care at this moment.

She reached down between our two bodies, unzipping my pants and pulling out my cock, jerking it a few times as she placed it against her pussy.

I moved her panties aside, as I slowly slid into her until I finally bottomed out.

"Fuck." I swore under my breath, resting my forehead against hers. I didn't move, savouring finally being inside her after so long.

My thrusts was methodical and deliberate. I knew how she liked it as I watched her fall apart in my arms.

Her juices soaking my cock and my desk below her.

"Kenny." She would gasp here and there, as she looked down at where our bodies were joined.

"You belong to me." I groaned as I sped up.

"Only you Kenny, only you." She whined as she kissed me.

I knew I wasn't going to last long. Not after only using my hand for the past few weeks.

She clung to me, moaning my name into the kiss as she came around my cock. Her pussy clenching around my cock so damn tight, it made me see stars.

I fucked her through her orgasm, knowing how she would would want this to end.

When I was almost at my peak, I pulled back for her to drop to her knees.

Her quickly wrapping her lips around my cock as the first rope of cum came.

She swallowed everything I had to give her as she looked up at me, and I down at her.

My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest as I helped her to feet and get her situated.

We fixed ourselves up and then I kissed her once more, moaning at the taste of me on her lips.

"Come to my place tonight. I'll make you dinner." I told her.

"I'll be there at 6, Kenny." She kissed me one last time, muttering that she loves me.

"I love you too, baby."

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @madhatterbri @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @faerieofthenightcourt @tahiri-veyla @crowleysqueenofhell

[sergeifyodorov]

Predicting the Playoffs Results

Right before the playoffs started, I asked many of you to make a bunch of predictions as to the result, and assigned points based on the questions. Here is the final writeup on that, but first, congratulations to the winners:

@jonassiegenthaler with 21 points

@elizaiwillbe with 19 points, 9 correct answers, and 7:12 off from the longest game

@seedlessmuffins with 19 points, 9 correct answers, and 18:54 off from the longest game

More info on how the whole thing went down under the cut:

Here are the individual question results:

Hopefully the way I phrased each question in the chart makes sense. Let’s discuss some interesting trivia from the chart.

After seeing the results of last years’ game, one thing I wanted to do was to make it easier: have more opportunities to gain points, so we would have a wider distribution of results and higher scores. I would say I was fairly successful in the attempt, with the exception of one question, near the end of the quiz. It was phrased “by the end of the playoffs, which goalie will have the best win%? They do not need to have played in the Cup Final.” Adhering to the rules of the question, the correct answer is Joseph Woll, who played 2 games in the first round and won them both. However, no one guessed this; I assume it is not because people are unaware of Joseph Woll, who is widely beloved as A Sweetie, but rather because a large win percentage generally assumes a team that goes far in the playoffs and, well, Woll is a Leaf. I think when writing this question I also had this in mind, probably being distantly aware of the off-chance something like this might occur but not believing it likely enough to include. That being said, while it’s technically the correct answer to the question, it feels wrong, so in future quizzes that question’s going to be changed.

The answer the most people picked correctly was the winner of the CAR-NYI series, which 114 people -- 87% -- picked correctly. The second-most correctly-answered q was the newbie who would make it the furthest, with a clean 100 (76%) picking Vancouver. 

I think the most impressive answer was the Conn Smythe pick: 35 people picked McDavid, which is not in and of itself a large percent (only 27%) but has a much larger pool of candidates: the first two above-mentioned questions were multiple choice, with 2 or 3 answers, while people picked 3 out of literally hundreds of possible choices, and still fully a quarter of people managed to choose correctly. Additionally, eight people picked both McDavid as a Conn Smythe candidate and Florida to win the Cup.

Here’s the top ten (well, eleven) Conn Smythe picks. While in theory, there were 393 total votes available (131 responses and each responder was encouraged to pick 3 players) not everyone did -- a few people only put in one name, and one person just wrote in “No idea,” who as far as I’m aware was not eligible as a Conn Smythe candidate.

Quinn Hughes mania really swept the nation. Last year, the most-voted-for Conn Smythe winner was Connor McDavid, who got 43 votes. This year, Quinn Hughes got 52! (Caveat: there were about 25 more voters this year than last year, which means that the proportion is actually pretty similar -- about 40% both years.)

Thank you so much for participating! Hope to see you all again next year.

[drdemonprince]

If we are true abolitionists, and do not believe that the declarations of the state are somehow innately moral and right, then we have to confront the fact that 18 is not in fact a magic age at which a person suddenly becomes both deserving of freedom and no longer worthy of social protection. 

No age absolves us of our shared responsibility to look after a person’s life and honor their autonomy -- whether they’re 13, or 8, or 54, or 25. Control over one’s body, authority over one’s destiny, the ability to have a say in how one’s community is run and to actually be listened to some of the time, the ability to access  food and shelter and the freedom to choose and follow one’s own religious practices -- these are all things that ought to belong to all people of all ages. And these are things that unjust systems of power (including the state, the education system, or a controlling and isolating family) currently have the ability to take away from people of all ages. 

when we acknowledge this, conversations about how power can be leveraged against the young, and the old, and the disabled, and the otherwise vulnerable all get a lot more complex. conversations about consent, religious freedom, political representation, access to education, body autonomy, and the like all get way more complicated and dynamic too. There are just so many ways that we as a society trample all over others because they are too old or too young or too disabled or too poor and all kinds of ways that we coerce people into behaving the way society wants them to behave, often causing them great psychological suffering, and not only when they are a minor. 

But it’s non considered socially appropriate to even have these conversations, or to even openly acknowledge that 18 is not in fact some objective standard of when conscious competent personhood begins -- even if you bring this up in the context of needing to extend more and greater protections to people of all ages, folks will call you a groomer. It’s annoying to me how many left-leaning people I see, people who oppose the authority of the state in nearly every other conceivable respect, talking about age and freedom using the frameworks the state laid out as if they represent some objective moral and psychological reality. 

getting into the weeds on this topic is really really uncomfortable because people want to believe that children are both sacred and incompetent. they’re made into objects who both have no right to weigh in on how their bodies are treated, and are so precious that they need to be hidden away from the wider world and controlled by their families completely. and neither of those approaches actually make children safe -- that point of view endangers and dehumanizes them -- and it also does when we apply that kind of thinking to anybody else! (say, institutionalized people with intellectual disabilities, or persons with mental illness forced under a conservatorship). 

IDK man I used to find conversations about the abolition of the family and the need to rethink the use of children as political tools to be very unsettling and creepy. it’s a conversation that upends everything we were raised to believe will keep us safe. and i think nearly all of us have been preyed upon as kids, were exposed to violence and adult sexuality and inappropriate adult emotional needs far too young. 

and if you have that kind of traumatic upbringing in your history, a person questioning society’s entire framework and theory for keeping children ‘safe’ can feel absolutely terrifying. it destabilizes everything. 

but i’ve been thinking about it and knocking my skull against these ideas for years and at some point i could not help but face how much merit these ideas have. the oppression of children is of a piece with the oppression of disabled people, women, Black people, undocumented people, everybody that the state has previously held (or currently still holds) to not be a full person and to only deserve a coercive, controlling kind of protection. that point of view has never helped any marginalized group and it doesn’t help minors either and instead of questioning it we see people arguing for the age of majority to keep getting pushed back later, claiming that no one should be able to determine the course of their future life (or start hormones, or make big financial decisions) until they’re 25 years old or later. 

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons: Chapter 54

Masterlist

Chapter 53

"I'm so happy to have you here again, Aemma," you say, more tears spilling out as you continue to embrace your daughter. Geralt and Jaskier had run off to check to see how things were back in Loc Muinne, now that things had become utter chaos with the arrival of Nilfgaard's armies.

"I'm so happy to see you as well, mother," Aemma says, moving closer to you. You nuzzle her head, feeling her soft hair, but taking notice of its length, "your hair is a lot shorter than last I saw this," you joke, placing a loose strand behind her ears. "It has been 16 years," Aemma jokes, making you chuckle in response. "Yes it has," you nod, placing a kiss on her brow, "We have so much to talk about. So much to catch up on. I don't even know where to start."

Aemma thought about it. There was so much to talk about. Now that her mother was here, Aemma could now finally ask about the truth of her parents' relationship. Though, Aemma already had a good idea at this point that it was not as good or romanticized as her father had made it out to be. What if her mother wasn't ready to talk about those things yet, especially now the two of you were reunited, it might sour such a tremendous moment.

Aemma decided in her mind to save those questions for a little later. She's waited this long, she can wait a little longer. There were other things she wanted to ask and get to know her mother a little better.

"Maybe...we could talk about your adventures on the Continent," Aemma suggests. "We could," you nod in agreement, "Or we could talk about what your life has been like back in Westeros while I was gone."

Aemma felt her mouth fall agape at the suggestion for a brief moment, "Well uh..."

Sounds of commotion in Loc Muinne got your attention, interrupting the conversation. You pull Aemma instinctively as if to protect her. "Maybe this may not be the best place to talk about these things," you say. "We should get out of here," Aemma suggests, "We can regroup back to Vergen." "Vergen?" "I'll explain on the way there," Aemma assures, "but we should go find Geralt and Jaskier first." 

"What have you been up to this whole time, little love?" you inquire in a joking matter as you start the trek. You didn't too far as the moment you and Aemma started walking, a burly looking man stepped in the way of your path. Eyes wide, Aemma got in front of you, acted like she was fixing to draw a sword, but realized she didn't have one. "Run mother!" she insists.

"Hold!" the witcher Letho reaches out, "be at ease, princess. I have no wish to harm you. Not this time anyway." "This time?" you give Letho a hard look, which soften a bit, when you got a good look at him, "wait a minute, have...have we met each other somewhere before?" "Mother?" "It's a long story," Letho says, "go ask Geralt, he'll know more. I have more pressing things to say to the princess. And to show I mean no ill-will, I come bearing gifts."

Letho pulled out a sheathed sword along with a silver dagger and a silver medallion of a three-headed dragon. "Those are my things," Aemma realized, "Radovid confiscated them." "I managed to swipe them before he and his soldiers fled Loc Muinne," Letho explains, "it's a dangerous thing, after all, for a woman to travel this world alone." Aemma gave Letho an incredulous look but accepted his peace offering all the same. She took the dagger and gave it to you, "It's my dagger," you recognize, "I...I left this back in the Red Keep that night I..." you stop yourself, looking at your daughter. "We can explain this later," Aemma assures, giving one look at the witcher, "I'll hear what you have to say." "Aemma, are you sure?" "I am," Aemma nods, "I'll be alright, mother, I can handle myself. Go find Geralt and Jaskier."

You nod, trusting your daughter and go to find the two men.

Now it was just Aemma and Letho, "Alright," Aemma crosses her arms, giving the witcher a stern look, "talk. Don't take too long. After everything you've put me through, you have given me no other reason to even let you speak to me." "It was never my intention to harm you, or even to put you in harm's way," Letho begins his explanation, "but before I go any further, a drink is first warranted," he pulls out a flask, "Care for some vodka?" Aemma looked at the flask and gave Letho an incredulous look, "it's not poisoned," the witcher assures taking a swig as proof. "I know witchers are immune to poisons," Aemma deadpans, "you taking the first drink means shit to me." "Do you really believe I would resort to such cowardly measures if I wanted to kill you?" "I don't really know. I don't know you all that well, not as well as Geralt knows you apparently." "Fair enough. More for me then," Letho shrugs, taking another swig.

"Our first encounter, at La Valette castle," Aemma says, "before I passed out and you abducted me, I remember you saying it had become personal." "You were never my primary target," Letho nods, "before your arrival, the original plan I made with the Scoia'tel was to assassinate Foltest and for me to escape unscathed. Scouts spotted you in the mote, climbing into the castle. When word reached Iorveth, there was a slight change in plans. To kill the king...and to capture you afterwards so as to turn you hostage."

"I remember the Scoia'tel wanted justice for my father's wrongdoings against them," Aemma nods, "but you told me back in Flotsam that they weren't the only ones seeking justice. What had my father done to you that made you want to seek justice against him?" "It wasn't anything he'd done directly," Letho says in a neutral tone. The witcher then proceeded to pull something out of his pocket. Aemma flinched a bit, expecting it to be a trap. 

It was a piece of parchment. Letho hands to Aemma, who unrolls it.

It was a wanted sign for Geralt. Below the picture, the description reads as follows: Wanted. The White Wolf. Also known as Geralt of Rivia. For the crime of kidnapping an important member of the royal family of Westeros, and attempted regicide.  10,000 dragons for the witcher's head as well as his silver wolf medallion.   

                                                -by order of Prince Daemon Targaryen

Aemma looked to Letho, "so is this what this is about? Justice for Geralt? Strange way of protecting your fellow witcher after you went out of your way to frame him for YOUR kingslaying?"

"Hardly," Letho answers, "this was before I ever came across Geralt during my time on the Path. No...the justice I was seeking for someone close to me who became a victim of your father's crusade against the White Wolf." "...who was this person?" Aemma asks.

"A witcher, who went by the name of Bern, from the School of the Cat. We ran into each other multiple times on the Path. Annoying prick at times, but I came to see him as something of a brother. When the Rogue Prince put out a hit on Geralt, sent out these flyers to the Continent, bounty hunters, mercenaries and any two-bit assassin for hire came out from every corner to search for the White Wolf." "And Bern was caught in the crossfires," Aemma realized. "It was 14 years ago," Letho nods, "I came across Bern one final time. We were planning to travel together for a little while as we had done each time we crossed paths. Bern went behind some bushes, wanting to relieve himself before starting our journey. It took longer then I was expecting. I went to check up on him...only to find his body laying on the ground in the bushes. His head was missing...as was his medallion."

Aemma's eyes widen a bit, realizing what had happened. "I tracked the men that did this to him," Letho continues, "there were three of them. Mercenaries- brothers they were- I managed to kill one of them in my grief filled raged, but the other two escaped, Bern's head in their sack. I noticed one of them had white dye stained on their hands. The one I killed had that wanted flyer in his pocket, and that was how I knew why they went after Bern. My guess is they sought to kill Bern, thinking he was the witcher your father wanted, but didn't realize their mistake until afterwards, to which they must've brought Bern's head to your father, as evidence that they killed the witcher he was looking for, dying his hair white so as trick the Rogue Prince out of the reward. I went back to burn Bern's body. I never mourned anyone as much as I mourned him."

There was an eerie silence the moment Letho finished his story. Aemma never knew her father had posted wanted flyers for Geralt, never knew he sought to it that the witcher would never take another breath again. All because he and her mother were the ones who got away.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Aemma says with sincerity, "I'm sorry your friend became a victim of my father's wrath. But did you really think this plan would've worked? What if my father came with his dragon? That was a certainty, would you've been able to deal with that if it came to it?" "....to be honest, I knew this plan was doomed from the start," Letho admits, "it was Iorveth's idea, he was certain the Scoia'tel and myself could take certain precautions, factoring in the possibility of fighting a dragon. But there were still flaws in this plans from the moment of its inception. Besides...even if it did work somehow, killing Daemon Targaryen would not have brought back Bern, nor would it have brought back the Scoia'tel his dragon murdered. It would not have brought me anything other than the satisfaction of revenge, but who knows how long that would have lasted."

"So what now?" Aemma slightly sneers, "do you expect me to forgive you and forget everything you've done to me?" "Not at all," Letho assures, "I have no illusions of forgiveness. I'm a hard-shelled bastard who refused to pass up on an opportunity, regardless of how ill-fated it was. I won't apologize for it; however, princess, if you wish to take me on in a fair fight, have your own course of vengeance for the wrongs I've done you, I won't begrudge you this. Should you get to the point where you deliver the final blow, I won't stop you."

Aemma stared at Letho, actually contemplating his offer to let her take vengeance on him. Despite the shit he put her through, she didn't really consider Letho her enemy. Additionally, even if she did want to fight him, there was a small chance he could defeat her...okay maybe more than a small chance given he was a witcher and had a lot more fighting experience. Not to mention Aemma had only just reunited with her mother; if she were to die right here, it would have been all for naught.

So, Aemma gives Letho her answer, "I won't fight you," she says, "not today anyway...maybe not anytime in the future either. It won't do any good, it won't erase the past. I don't begrudge you the feelings you hold for my father. I'll let you go, but this doesn't change anything between us." "I wouldn't hope so," Letho shrugs, looking ahead as if he sensed something, "you should go. Be with your mother. And if you ever return to the rest of your family, do be sure to give your father my regards."

Right on cue, you, Geralt, and Jaskier show up. Letho turns his gaze to Geralt, who gives an understanding nod in response. "Farewell, princess" Letho says to Aemma, before turning to walk away, "may our paths never cross again."

"Aemma!" you call out, rushing over to your daughter's side, you joined by Jaskier and Geralt. "What did he want?" Geralt asks her. "He...we had come to an understanding," Was all Aemma could say.

"Gwynbleidd!" the group hear Iorveth's voice. Accompanying the elf was Triss, whom had blood dripping from one corner of her mouth and a few bruises here and there. "Triss! You're alright!" Aemma exclaims, running over to Tris, "did they hurt you?" "Not too much," Triss assures, "Letho saved me from the Nilfgaardians. I'll be alright aside from a few scratches..." Tris turned to see you standing there, "Wha...(y/n)!"  "Triss!" you say back, ready for impact as the sorceress ran up and pulled you in for a tight embrace. "How is this even possible?" Triss asks with joy and disbelief. "I had help from a mutual acquaintance of ours," you explain.

You look over to see Iorveth was still present, "I know you," you say, frown on your face as you remembered that last encounter all too well, "one eye less then last I saw you, but I recognize that scowl on your face." "I have no regrets of that particular encounter, Lady Lark," Iorveth says, crossing his arms, "only thing I do regret was not being able to sever the head of your daughter's father." "Hmmm...don't blame you for that," you mutter in a tone no one else could hear.

"What will you do now?" Geralt questions the elf. "...I must regroup with the rest of the Scoia'tel," was Iorveth's answer, "this is where we part ways. Va fail, Gwynbleidd, Marigold, Silverlark...Lady Lark."

Iorveth walked away. And it was right at this moment two men showed up. One you didn't know, but the other you recognized right away. "Princess Aemma!" Criston calls out, only to stop in his tracks, along with Ivan, when he saw what he was possibly up against. His own eyes widen the moment he saw you, recognizing you instantly. "Hello Ser Criston," you greet, "it's been a good while." "You...Lady Lark," Criston says, "How is this possible?" "I've been getting that a lot recently," you joke, "how fares the rest of the Kingsguard? How fares Princess Rhaenyra?" 

Before Criston could even form an acceptable answer to that question, a dragon's roar was heard. You flinch instinctively, trying not to let that particular trigger get to you, but Aemma could see how much it upset you. Aemma and the others look up to see Vhagar flying overhead. "Don't worry, mother," your daughter tries to assure you, "it's just Vhagar." "I find it a tad bit disturbing you can actually say that, given the size of that particular beast," Jaskier deadpans.

Cirillia then flew overhead, calling out to her rider and making a landing. Geralt was about to draw his sword, but Aemma stopped him, "no, don't. She won't harm us," she assures. Aemma approaches the dragon, who lowered her head as Aemma ran over to hug the dragon's snout. "Oh, Cirillia, how I have missed you so," Aemma says, "I bet you missed me too." Cirillia made a low rumble in response. "That's Cirillia?" you ask with wide eyes, "my goodness she has grown quite a lot." "You don't...remember riding her before? When you escaped the Wild Hunt with Ciri?" Aemma asks with a frown. "I don't really remember much of my time with the Hunt," you admit, "just what I remembered before. I certainly remember Cirillia being the size of a small dog when last I saw her. She wasn't even big enough to be saddled yet at that time." 

Cirillia extended her neck towards you, making almost purring sounds as you place a hand on her snout. "I'm glad you remember me, old girl," you say with a smile, "even the circumstances are less than ideal." "She seems to like you," Jaskier states. "I would hope so, her rider is my daughter after all," you joke. Cirillia then nudged her nose against your brother. "Whoa now," Jaskier says in response, "let's not get too carried away with the affection. At least not before I buy you a dinner first."

Aemma looked over and noticed a rucksack hanging over the side of Cirillia's saddle, something she didn't see last time she saw the she-dragon in her vision. Aemma wondered over to the saddle and checked the sack. "What is it?" you inquire of your daughter. Aemma reached into the sack, and pulled out a large pink egg. "Is...is that what I think it is?" Jaskier asks, "It's...it's a-" "A dragon's egg," Aemma says with a wide smile, peeking into the sack once more, "there's two more eggs in here. It's Cirillia's first clutch." 

Cirillia made a low rumble in response. "So Cirillia is a mummy now. Good to know," Jaskier says, just going with it. Geralt said nothing, making a small smile. Ivan and Criston stood at the side, feeling like intrusive spectators at this interaction.

For Ivan, the awkwardness was somewhat mitigated from the half-elf reeling over the conversation he had with Iorveth prior to the elf's departure from Loc Muinne. When Geralt went to confront Letho.

-----------flashback---------------

Ivan stood where he was, keeping an eye left and right for any signs of knights from the Order of the Flaming Rose. He kept his headband on at all times, knowing their ilk was not fond of non-humans, especially those who were mixed with human blood.

Iorveth, who had made certain that Triss was able to stand on her own then turned and walked over to Ivan, feeling like he needed to say some things to the boy that he sired. There was no telling, after all, if they would ever cross paths again after this, especially if Ivan was dead set on remaining loyal to his post as a knight of the Kingsguard.

"You came back," the older elf states matter-of-factually. "I didn't come back for you, if that's what you're getting at," Ivan sneers, refusing to even look at the elf.

"I know you are angry at me," Iorveth says, "I understand. You blame me for the troubles that befell you...and your mother. Perhaps I should've made more of an effort to find the both of you when you escaped Flotsam. I...I was more focused on my own crusade for vengeance. I can't make up for the struggles you faced as a child. But...there is something you should know." "Whatever it is, I DON'T want to hear it," Ivan insists.

"Your mother...was not as human as you may have thought her to be," Iorveth blurts out, causing Ivan to turn to face his father. "I...I don't follow." "Your mother was in'heide, as you are,' Iorveth explains, "half-elf." "But...she didn't have the pointed ears as I do." "Her own mother had her ears rounded when she was a babe in the cradle," Iorveth tells him, "the points clipped off so as she could pass as a dh'oine. I saw the faint scars on her ears when I first met her. I knew the moment I saw them. She admitted that life was a little easier because of that, but she long hated her own mother for making such decisions for her when she had no say in the matter." Ivan found himself reaching for his ears, feeling his headband for the points. He recalled times in his childhood when his mother told him to be proud of his ears, of his elven heritage,  no matter what anyone else says. Although, that tune had changed somewhat when they first moved to King's Landing.

"Do you honestly believe this will change anything between us?" Ivan asks in a scoffing manner to his father. "I don't expect anything," Iorveth says matter-of-factually, "I only wanted you to know the truth. I also want you to know of your true heritage, that you are more elf than human, that you are more likely to live longer than most half-elves. It is only a matter of time before the rest of your supposed comrades in the Kingsguard begin to notice as the decades pass." "Ser Criston knows," Ivan tries to persuade, "nothing has changed. He accepts me as I am." "As he?" Iorveth points back, "or has he merely decided to keep that information to himself until it will benefit him in some way? You cannot trust these people, boy. Sooner or later they will turn against you. It will only be a matter of time."

----------end of flashback----------

In the present, Cirillia turned her gaze to the opposite, almost like she sensed someone was approaching.

"Aemma?" she hears her name called out by a familiar voice.

You saw the way Geralt tensed at the voice. You hoped to the gods it wasn't going to be a repeat of that night in the Red Keep.

Walking around Cirillia, you spot a young man with long blonde hair with sharp cheekbones and an eye patch. You could see he was a Targaryen as Aemma is. You started to wonder...was this... "Prince Aegon? Is that you?" you approach the young prince with intrigue, him giving you a confused look. "You've really grown since I last I saw you. You're...a lot taller than I would've expected. A little slimmer too."

Aemond took a look at you and towards Aemma before turning his gaze back to you. "Are you the Lady of Larks? Aemma's mother?" "Aemond!" Aemma calls out, coming to your side. You were now confused, which Aemond took notice of. "You must have me confused for my older brother," he provides for an explanation. "Mother, this...this is Aemond. He's the king's second born son. You never met him, he was born after you left. Aemond...this is my mother, the Lady of Larks. The one I was searching the Continent for. I told you she was alive." 

Aemond looked between the two of you, "it appears so." The prince wasn't sure what to do in this situation, but you were a lady, and he figured you should be addressed as such, "it is...a pleasure to meet you, my Lady. My cousin has spoken much of you since we were children," he takes your hand and places a chaste kiss to it as a gentleman would. "Oh, well aren't you the sensible gentleman," you respond flattered, "it is nice to meet you as well, Prince Aemond."

"Aemond look," Aemma shows her cousin the egg, "it's Cirillia's. It's her first clutch. She laid three eggs." Cirillia made a low rumble in response, almost as if she were proud of this accomplishment. "Where...where's the ashen haired woman? Ciri?"

"Ciri?" Geralt's ears perked up at that name, "you saw Ciri? Where is she?" "She...she was here," Aemma turns around looking for the woman in question. "I saw her walk through a portal right before we were reunited," you admit, "Ciri must've left before the Wild Hunt could catch up with her."

"Ciri...she was here," Geralt says as the realization sank in that he had come so close to being with Ciri again. So close and yet so far.

"OH! I almost forgot," Triss says as she pulls out a small silk wrapped package and handed it to Aemma, "looks like I was able to give this to you just in time." "What is it?" Aemma asks, unwrapping the package to reveal a necklace. "I was making that for you when we arrived in Flotsam," the sorceress explains, "happy birthday, Aemma."

"It's...it's my nameday!" Aemma realized, "mother, today it's my nameday. I mean...Aemond, it's our nameday. Today is our nameday." "I'm sorry, 'our'?" Jaskier raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I need to explain," Aemma realizes, "Aemond was born on my fourth nameday. So, we share a nameday."

"Oh," Triss says, "I uh, I'm sorry, Aemond, but I didn't make anything for you. I can though if you want, it's not trouble, really-" "There is...no need for that," Aemond assures. "But Aemond, we should still do something," Aemma insists, "it's your day too. We need...we need to do something. We need...we need a cake! A honey cake, like the one Aunt Alicent had the cooks make for us on our nameday. We need, like a party, along with the cake. We should celebrate!" 

"Then by all means, let's celebrate!" Jaskier says back, as excited for this as his niece is.  "With all due respect, princess, this may not exactly be the best time," Criston points out, gesturing towards the soldiers in black armor making their into Loc Muinne. "That's Nilfgaard's army," you realize, "I thought His Imperial Majesty would've grown tired of warring with the Northern realms after all this time."

"I may have an idea of what we can do," Geralt suggests.

--------------Vergen: Main Hall--------------

"One, two, three, four!" Jaskier directs the band as he tunes his lute and begins the jig to celebrate Aemma and Aemond's birthday.

The moment the party made it back to Vergen, the dwarf Zoltan had made it back in time to greet them. Zoltan was quite ecstatic to see you again, insisting he give you a hug after all this time, to which you happily oblige.

The moment you mentioned it was Aemma's birthday, Zoltan didn't hesitate to have the alderman as well as his brethren start organizing the hall to celebrate this momentous occasion (he was a little less than ecstatic hearing it was also Aemond's birthday, but obliged nonetheless from seeing how excited Aemma was to celebrate with her cousin).

There was food and dancing and music, with you and Jaskier singing a duet, and you singing a solo that everyone fell in love with at the sound of your angelic voice.

Imagine the Lady of Larks singing this:

Geralt had a small smile on his face as he watched you sing, remembering the vow you once made on the road to Nilfgaard, how you would not sing a single note until you were reunited with your daughter once again, no matter how long it would take. By the reaction of your brother and everyone around you, it appears you had made good on that promise.

Aemma danced with the part guests as her uncle sang another jig. Aemond stood at the table, not really wanting to participate. He would've kept it that way but a dwarf woman came up to him and asked for a dance. Aemond was a little taken aback by the she-dwarf's facial hair, but he was a prince, and every woman is an image of the Mother to be spoken of with reverence. He reluctantly accepted and allowed the dwarf woman to guide him to the dance floor so as to fulfill her request.

Aemma looked over, smiling from seeing her cousin was finally properly participating in the festivities. Aemond looked towards Aemma, finding himself wishing he was dancing with her instead.

The young prince got his wish during the next song. "I'm glad you're here, Aemond," Aemma admits, "I...I know we left things at a shaky place, but I'm glad you came back. I am also grateful that you haven't tried to drag me back to King's Landing this time." Aemond said nothing, as all he could think about when he ran into Ciri, how she was adamant about finding Aemma, rescuing her from people who only wished to exploit his cousin for personal gain. "I'm glad we could do this again," he admits, "we used to have wonderful times such as this on our nameday." "Remember when the lords used to think we were the ones betrothed to each other?" Aemma asks, "from the way we sat next to each other on our nameday? The parties had to be smaller after that to lessen the confusion. At least we still had cake." Aemond made an amused smile, knowing how much Aemma loved her nameday cake on those special days.

"Have you a chance to speak to your mother?" Aemond asks, "About the things you wanted?"

Aemma made wide eyes, realizing she hadn't had the chance yet. "Oh, Aemond, you're right!" She looks around frantically, "where is my mother?"

"Uncle!" Aemma calls out to Jaskier, who was chatting with several of the dwarves. "Aemma?" "Where is my mother?" "Well, she must've stepped out for a bit," Jaskier provides for an answer, though the way he said it suggested he was hiding something, "I'm sure, she'll be back, Aemma, you may want to wait a bit." "Where is she?" Aemma asks again. "I saw her go up those stairs," Jaskier answers, "Aemma, wait, you really should reconsider, I wouldn't go up there-"

Aemma foolishly ignores her uncle and runs up the stairs, presumably to where her mother was.

She runs into a closed door, "Mother?" "Aemma, you really shouldn't-" Before Jaskier could stop her, Aemma opens the door wide, "mother, I need- Ahh! oh my gods!"

Aemma had walked in on you...and Geralt. The two of you barely having any of your clothes on, Geralt laying on the bed, and you riding the witcher like a stallion.

Cue the Witcher medieval porn music:

"Aemma!"

"Sorry!" Aemma slams the door shut, face hot as an oven.

"...I tried to warn you," Jaskier deadpans. "What happened? I heard screaming!" Aemond runs up the stairs, seeing the look on his cousin's face. "Aemma, what happened?" "Nothing happened!" Aemma insists, running back down the stairs as humanly possible.

Aemond gives Jaskier a confused frown, "the Lady of Larks...had some catching up to do," was all Jaskier had for an explanation.

Chapter 54.5

[lovesick-level-up]

Editblr Community Survey ~ Results (Part 1)

hello, everyone! we made this little survey for fun a couple weeks ago and oh boy, we were not expecting 102 results! thank you all for participating. we're going to split these posts into parts based on the sections of the survey, so keep an eye for the rest of them. we'll link them all here:

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

we've got a bunch of data to share, so we'll put it all under the cut.

the first question we asked (after name/url lol) was what age everyone is! we were pretty curious what the distribution of age was in the community. we originally didn't include a "prefer not to say" option, so sorry about that, but we did redo the percentages to include the custom answers of that. the most common age for the community is 15, at 13.9% of the participants. the least common is 20, at 4%! funnily enough, we're 20 lmao. shout out to the other 20 year old editors. the distribution of minors:adults in the community is about 2:1, with 60.5% of editors being under 18 and 30.7% over 18.

distribution:

13 (3%), 14 (10.9%), 15 (13.9%), 16 (12.9%)

17 (10.9%), 18 (9.9%), 19 (6.9%), 20 (4%)

21+ (5.9%), prefer not to say (6%)

prefer not to say, but an adult (4%)

prefer not to say, but a minor (11.9%)

the next one we asked, was when everyone start editing! personally, we started editing in 2021, though we had previous experience making moodboards and sims edits. the most common year people started editing, is 2024 (at 24.8%)! there's been a major influx of people recently, which has been super fun to see. the least common year people started editing is 2019 (at 5.9%).

in hindsight, we should have just put the continents rather than specific countries, but hey, it was fun learning where everyone is from! we're from the boring uk. to the surprise of no one, the most common place editors are from is the united states (at 54%). the least common of the ones we listed are india and germany (both at 1%). other custom countries that only make up 1% are poland, new zealand, panama, and france! the most common custom result were the philippines (at 3%), and mexico and new zealand (both at 2%). shout out to everyone from countries we didn't include! fun fact, we completely forgot oceania existed lmao. we are far from perfect.

country distribution:

united states (54%), united kingdom (5%), germany (1%)

canada (4%), australia (4%), india (1%)

the philippines (3%), mexico (2%), new zealand (2%)

switzerland, poland, the caribbean, indonesia, panama, france (1%)

continent distribution:

europe (14%)

north america (61%)

south america (5%)

asia (12%)

oceania (7%)

→ part 2

[angeart]

upcoming hmtb chapters:

52. Bruised Souls and Shattered Hearts (How Do We Mend?) - 7631 words [recently posted]

53. Shifting Sand - 5837 words

54. Maroon Smoke (The Prelude To Fire) - 3139 words

55. A Boatem We - 7281 words [chapter title might change]

56. House Of Matches (Burning Down) I - 3816 words

57. House Of Matches (Burning Down) II - 4252 words so far [guys this one will be a long one once i'm done with it]

that's all still, uh. the sleepover arc. but chapter 57 should kind of wrap up the sleepover. although that doesn't mean the night will be over <3

there will be, er, things to deal with still, after all that. (a bit of an aftermath, you might say) (maybe even some more characters will show up!!) (which doesn't bode well given i don't have experience writing them and i don't do well with group scenes— bUT if i can pull it off, it'll be so yummy, i promise!)

come tell me your hopes, thoughts, or expectations! :3 (seriously. i'll be so happy.) of course questions are welcome too~

list requested by @swagpsishaja <3 thank you <3

[the-nobody-tournament]

round 3, match 8!

at last, it's time for the final match of the third round! i'm sure you're all on the edge of your seats, so i won't take any more of your time with this intro! let's get started!

entering on the left side of the stage, we have contestant 6! they may have switched to the heroes' side, but that doesn't mean they're actually good! in fact, their attempts at hiding being evil are rather laughable! and while they've tried to dramatically reveal they're still villainous, that's always failed for one reason or another! they're even transgender, so what more could you want? thus far, they've won in their matches against contestant 59 and contestant 38, and with your help they may be able to secure another victory!

and finally, contestant 11 is coming in on the right! they've been something strange from the very beginning of the tournament, with their many eyes and shifting limbs! their bloody wedding dress definitely raises some questions, but we do at least know that the dress belonged to someone who was made into them, and the blood is from the one responsible! they've defeated contestant 54 and contestant 43 in the previous elimination rounds, and now it's time to test them against their next opponent!

[gravesung]

*  ANSWER  TWENTY - ONE  QUESTIONS  ! some questions may be ‘ ??? ‘ instead of answered.

01.    NICKNAME  :  raine 02.    REAL  NAME  : emma 03.    ZODIAC  : gemini 04.    HEIGHT  : 5′9′’ 05.    WHAT  TIME  IS  IT  ?  : 10:54 am. 06.    FAVOURITE  MUSICIANS  /  GROUPS  :  lately it's been hoz.ier, air traffic controller, hal.sey (thanks hol), brick + mortar, the neighbourhood, zack hemsey (underrated, listen to him), and then just 100000 other artists that i only know 1-2 songs by because of character playlists 07.    FAVOURITE  SPORTS  TEAM  : uhh hh h (sweats) the sportsball sportsballers (nodding. i'm so cool and know a single thing about sp 08.    OTHER  BLOGS  :  @/huntershowl, my main blog! beloved oc, writing whom has changed my life in so many ways! also elizabeth bioshock at @/cewyll but the activity there is super low rn. she sleebin. once dragon age comes out she'll wake back up 09.    DO  I  GET  ASKS  ?  : HAHA. (TAKES A LOGN DRAG OF A CIGARETTE) bOY DO I MISS GETTING NICE ONES 10.    HOW  MANY  BLOGS  DO  I  FOLLOW  ?  : 133 (wow? goddamn) 11.    ANY  TUMBLR  CRUSHES  :  oo. i haven't been here super long (since The Resurgence at least) & pre-anime boy takeover this blog was more just a friends-only sandbox zone, so i don't do a lot of outreach still. —but also, who are we kidding, yes 100%: @vzmky's geto portrayal & art has me in shambles. same goes for @brazenlystrong, ur art and portrayal is so [chef kiss]??? (& lbr you two are a package deal SDHSKJDH) —@sasouken we've only written together a little bit so far, but i'm already like !!! EEE whenever i see a message or reply from u. such an honor honestly. —also silly but needs to be said, despite literally being mains @chaoslulled is STILL fuckin awe inspiring in every way. i still get a little thrill when i see ur replies AND I DO STILL READ EVERY ONE THREE TIMES 12.    LUCKY  NUMBER  : 4 (thanks artemis fowl) 13.    WHAT  AM  I  WEARING  RIGHT  NOW  : pjs... though im about to change into some kinda cuteass fall outfit for a walk outside & the gym 14.    DREAM  VACATION  : prollyyyyyy italy to visit mine papá... although tokyo & amsterdam sound very fun too i just love cities 15.    DREAM  CAR  : a solid public transport system 16.    FAVOURITE  FOOD  :  curry. any kind of curry 17.    DRINK  OF  CHOICE  : coffee (flat cappuccino or just drip w/ cream), spicy black teas (dont get me started ill talk forever), or if we're talking alcohol, i always gravitate toward floral gin drinks 18.    LANGUAGES  :  english but i am learning welsh for fun. at some point i GOTTA start learning italian but i'm putting it off because i'm lazy 19.    INSTRUMENTS  :  cello & piano, a ttteeeeeeeny bit of guitar, took vocal lessons for a while, but honestly cello is my main bitch forever and ever 20.    CELEBRITY  CRUSHES  :  c.ate blanchett, d.aniel henney, k.eanu reeves, j.anelle monae, k.ing princess, uhhh kaoru kobayashi has real hot scarred dad vibes in midnight diner (this answer has not changed since 2019 when i last did it) 21.    RANDOM  FACT  : i just started an art mentorship!! gonna be commissioned a custom mural (themed on isolation, there will be hellhound & lighthouse themes involved most likely lbr) & later this fall, doing some inking for a mecha comic under guidance of a local artist i admire so much. it's gonna take an entire year but i'm so excited about it, especially because i want to eventually make my own webcomic/GN about mx houndcreature eventually (soonish) 

TAGGED   BY  :  thiefed it.

TAGGING  :  y'all know by now that i barely have enough confidence to tag the earlier ppl. THIEF IT. TAG ME SO I CAN SEE. but also @tewwor because you tagged me in this 5 yrs ago