#And its not as if that's my experience with Bill's work in general. Its this one damn play.

[doyouknowhowtowaltz]

What exactly did Bill put in a Midsummer Night's Dream? I swear I've read that play like five times and I can never remember any of the specifics.

[infamousbondagemurder]

DUCK! THE CARBINE HIGH MASSACRE - EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW!

Hello!!!! i’m very autistic and I wanted to put my effort into something I could share with you all, so without any more unnecessary ranting here’s all you need to know about duck! the carbine high massacre. please comment anything I should add or any mistakes I may make, beware this is my first post like this so im a newby go easy on a gal!

Full film:

https://youtu.be/UScvX4bjExg?si=Cohq29YGoYCsOtBY

Trailer:

https://youtu.be/zNtUviDpyQg?si=23nQgFQo75OQ-RC_

Film soundtrack:

https://youtu.be/2ky9FrEj8Fk?si=DqRVcTdFQEtJ6owC

Website archived:

https://web.archive.org/web/20040815013848/http://www.duck2k.com/docs/carbine_comm.html

Other interviews unrelated to specifically this film:

https://youtu.be/gEbZVXdsX-U?si=cG5bTGb41ee-1fFh

https://youtu.be/WUjqIoDidr4?si=sDMMUzzKhIWImuL5

https://youtu.be/W04lj1BdK0o?si=DHRIixDEpn39KBne

Filming:

Duck! the Carbine High Massacre was a spoof about Columbine that was made soon after the massacre, infact only 6 months after. It was created by Joey Smack (Joseph Miller) and William Hellfire (William Apriceno) two (at the time) collage aged film makers. A lot of viewers received it as this as distasteful and terrible, but others find this to be one of the greatest movies of all time. Smack and Hellfire mainly made a living on creating fetish content for their small but loyal cult following, but unlike most of Smack and Hellfires other films this one was based on true events and NOT made for fetish content. (it only had a few titties here and there ;-D) A lot of people who had starred the movie had received a lot of back lash including piles of death threats.

Duck, along with most other Factory 2000 films was edited in Adobe premier and shot on VHS cameras including a broadcast Super VHS camcorder, a handheld RCA, and another unidentified camcorder.

The films first dvd release was in 2004, along with minor color corrections.

The whole budget was about 3,000$ along with inexperienced actors, most of them being Hellfire and Smacks friends taking some time off work.

On Columbines anniversary they had a showing of the film at CBGB’s where an interview with Court Tv was held and they had stated some of the reasons behind making the movie, what they would say to the parents at Columbine, and the reasoning behind making the movie.

It was here where they explained they were *not* making fun of the victims but instead the media in America’s portrayal of all the victims and the shooters on the news.

Interview:

https://youtu.be/QjPlPsGUuKI?si=gel6kBCbpzmUmiDE

The producers had gotten arrested for creating this film, not because of the crude nature but because they had brought fire arms onto school property .

Court Tv producers getting arrested:

https://youtu.be/i7LiNTkksJs?si=C8IbynDgwj9oP9YE

The film racked up $6,034 in the box office and the film was said to have helped pay Hellfires legal fees.

Experiences on set:

William hellfire stated that he did remember filming and creating most of duck because he was so drugged up on pain killers he was using to treat his cancer pains. He had no remorse or regret for making the film

Chris Perez hopped on reddit to describe his experience “Fun and loose. Everyone was really laid back and chill and we had a good time with the filming. There was a script, but we also improved a lot of stuff. Sometimes, Bill, Joe, and Todd would just give us a general idea of what they wanted us to do and say and we'd work off that.” He along with many others would receive blowback from the incident.

Misty Mundae said that the film was a "crappy little movie" which "has permanently staked its place in underground cult cinema"

Cast:

Derick- Joey Smack (Joseph Miller)

Derwin- William Hellfire (William Apriceno)

Retard- Henry Krinkle

Bible Girl- Misty Mundae (Erin Brown)

Play Girl- Lilly Tiger

Car Kid- Chris Perez

Spam Jock- Michael Ovum

Benchpress- Ryan Trimmer

Afro-American- Kendall "Shorty" Ward

Song Girl- Mazur

Goth Boy- Mike Roser

Goth Girl- Liz Bathory

No Info Boy- Michael Lema

The Principal- Larry Wellman

The Janitor- Rodney Sleurtols

Policeman- Karl Pitt

Plot:

With a running of 101 minutes Duck! the Carbine High Masscre was about spoof about the events that took place at Columbine on April 20th, 1999. The movie took place at Carbine high school where two bullied, neo-nazi, trenchcoat wearing high-school students, Derick and Derwin fail at a double suicide attempt. While walking home Derwin gets attacked by jocks and misses school the next day. After school it is then the two high schoolers plan a massacre against their school. The pair then bought several guns from a black market dealer. The next day the two boys bid farewell to their parents for the last time and head to school with the guns in arm. Once they get to school they head to the cafeteria trying to get the student’s attention, when yelling failed Derwin got onto a chair and yelled “What’s for lunch?” before the two began shooting. The two kill several people in gruesome manners before heading down to the basement and sharing a last cigarette before shooting each other.

Other films:

William Hellfire and Joey Smack typically made fetish films and soft-core porno flicks, some notable ones include (but are not limited tooooo!) Erotic Survivor, Silk Stocking Strangler, Vampire Strangler, TITanic 2000, and so many other underground gems. I, infamousbondagemurder sincerely urge you to watch these movies, buy the dvds, and support the living William Hellfire.

Here’s a link to watch more movies by William (unfortunately not ALL his movies are on this keep in mind. i also did not create this link so credits to the creator, which i’m not sure who the creator is)

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-2iH0WjcolYtbat61F2zLs8SSw5dbMy15mnCnuq4suE/edit

What most people don’t know is Joey Smack starred in the semi-popular film Where the Dead go to Die, where he voice acted as the characters Ralph Stanley, Tommy’s father, and The legless war veteran. He dropped iconic lines in this movie such as: “You fuckin’ dog! What the fuck are you some sort of faggot cannibal! Aggghhh! Your eatin’ my dick!”

Dvd:

Hello! so I am basing this off of the DVD that I personally own, these details may differ from DVD to DVD so if you own a different sort of DVD, please comment anything extra that you have on yours.

Dvd includes:

* Deleted scenes

* Behind COURT TV- cbgb’s screening

* PRODUCER/DIRECTOR interviews

* TODAY is the DAY LIVE in Hoboken NJ

* KING GHIDORAH! LIVE in Hoboken NJ

* Original trailers

* Shooting gallery

* Film soundtrack

* And of course, this wonderful shitty movie :-)

Rest in peace Joey Smack:

On Saturday June 29th, 2019 Joseph Robert Miller, better known by many fans as ‘Joey Smack’ passed away. The circumstances are unknown and a mystery to all fans. There are rumors of suicide but there are no confirmations. I advice you to read his obituary and donate to catholic charities, diocese of paterson, the charity which paid his brother joshua's medical bills after his passing in 1998.

Joseph was loved by many and passed at the age of 41. Fans, family and friends all mourn him to this day. He was described by friends as a kind hearted true and utter weirdo, who had lived in his own world. he didn’t talk to many people but if you had been let into his select group, he would go out of his way to make friends laugh and smile with his warped sense of humor.

His memorial services were held Tuesday, July 2nd, 2019 from 5:00 to 8:00 p.m. at Browning-Forshay funeral home on Lafayette Ave in Hawthorne.

Rest in peace Joey Smack, a truely great man who loved what he did and put so much love into all of his creations. Well wishes to his surviving family and friends:

Joey Smacks obituary:

https://emeto.neocities.org/joeysmack

CREDS:

Mainly wiki like a chud

Actors themselfs

The dvd

I’m dumb

[bigfatbimbo]

I know you asked for something with Ford and i’ll request something for him once i brainstorm it up i promise T-T

BUT with the Sub masochist Bill, i can totally see where it’d go. I feel like Bill would be the type of person to never even think about touching himself, because the whole ‘trying to end the world thing’, and he was too busy with all of that and experimenting with pain in the human body it never even occurred to him that pleasure would be as awesome as it was till the [insert reader] showed him

Like literally after he figures it out he prolly wouldn’t even wanna stop. Man could go hours overstimulated and sex crazy because after a while of getting overstimmed it hurts insanely bad, but that’s lowkey more of a reason for him to keep going.

And whenever you’d tell him no to fucking or you’d be busy or something, it’d drive him literally nuts because ‘how dare you reject HIM.’ And he’d think it would just be casual questions of ‘Sooo you wanna have sex now, toots?’ but it’d get the point where he’d just be BEGGING you to touch him.

Speaking of touching himself, like i’d said before, he never really had till his first time with you, and whenever you’d reject his advances he just couldn’t help but touch himself while throwing a little hissy fit about the whole thing. You’d once walked in on him in one of these moments, on the bed, dick in hand while ruthlessly beating himself off. Sometimes he’d even slap himself and things of the sort and imagine it was you doing it and that usually through him over the edge.

ALSO FLUFF 🤩 So i don’t imagine him to be the most open about cuddling or anything but when he’s in the mood he’d get upset when you wouldn’t. Sometimes he just forgets you can’t read his mind. But honestly he seems clingy in the type of way that when he’s not horny out of his demonic mind, that he’d learn to just enjoy your general presence. Even when you guys aren’t having playful banter, he would bask in the silence knowing you’re there with him by his side. Don’t get me wrong, this man is a pest and would never admit any of this outloud, but he also feels as thought you know it so he doesn’t HAVE to tell you.

ONE MORE THING: Star gazing. now i really need you to here me out of this one.

So his dimension (or whatever it was) was destroyed, right? And even when he eventually came to earth, he must’ve been traveling in the stars for a while just tryna find a new home. So sometimes when he’s really feeling it, you guy’ll be on the roof to your place and he’d point out the general direction of where is dimension once was, or even go into detail about constellations he knows you don’t know about. Like i said this man is not a gooshy-ass person and can be a real dickhead to you more or less all the time, but i feel like there would definitely be those insanely rare moments where you could look at him and see a bit of human in that demonic entity (BYW ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE BEEN IN THIS FANDOM SO I MIGHTVE FORGOTTEN IMPORTANT LORE SO LEAVE ME ALONE 😭😭) Anywayss lemme think of some Ford shit to keep you sane pooks 😌🫡

-👻👽 Anon

I love asks like this because you guys literally do all my work for me. Much love Alien anon, much love. Also oh my god??? Everyone took my Bill fic and ran with it and I am LOVING IT, you people are so creative!

The fluff is actually really cute, by the way!! I don’t know how into cuddling Bill would be.. his human form is probably the most likely that situation would ever be. lol, imagine Bill experiencing the foreign need for human touch for the first time. i also like the point about him touching himself anyways-

[ladamedusoif]

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story. 

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders. 

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being. 

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness. 

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now. 

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes. 

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did. 

Jackson stands before you. 

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey. 

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can. 

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes. 

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street. 

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.” 

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before. 

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation. 

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground. 

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him. 

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones. 

Raiders. 

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name. 

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off. 

Joel takes aim. 

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening. 

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not. 

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle. 

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground. 

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick. 

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg. 

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle. 

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being. 

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you. 

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol. 

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe. 

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours. 

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance. 

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?” 

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood. 

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch. 

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…” 

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you. 

Fuck it. 

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now. 

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night. 

[nostalgebraist]

Pretty regularly, at work, I ask ChatGPT hundreds of slightly different questions over the course of a minute or two.

I don't type out these individual questions, of course. They're constructed mechanically, by taking documents one by one from a list, and slotting each one inside a sandwich of fixed text. Like this (not verbatim):

Here's a thing for you to read: //document goes here// Now answer question XYZ about it.

I never read through all of the responses, either. Maybe I'll read a few of them, later on, after doing some kind of statistics to the whole aggregate. But ChatGPT isn't really writing for human consumption, here. It's an industrial machine. It's generating "data," on the basis of other "data."

Often, I ask it to write out a step-by-step reasoning process before answering each question, because this has been shown to improve the quality of ChatGPT's answers. It writes me all this stuff, and I ignore all of it. It's a waste product. I only ask for it because it makes the answer after it better, on average; I have no other use for it.

The funny thing is -- despite being used in a very different, more impersonal manner -- it's still ChatGPT! It's still the same sanctimonious, eager-to-please little guy, answering all those questions.

Fifty questions at once, hundreds in a few minutes, all of it in that same, identical, somewhat annoying brand voice. Always itself, incapable of tiring.

This is all billed to my employer at a rate of roughly $0.01 per 5,000 words I send to ChatGPT, plus roughly $0.01 per 3,750 words that ChatGPT writes in response.

In other words, ChatGPT writing is so cheap, you can get 375,000 words of it for $1.

----

OpenAI decided to make this particular "little guy" very cheap and very fast, maybe in recognition of its popularity.

So now, if you want to use a language model like an industrial machine, it's the one you're most likely to use.

----

Why am I making this post?

Sometimes I read online discourse about ChatGPT, and it seems like people are overly focused on the experience of a single human talking to ChatGPT in the app.

Or, at most, the possibility of generating lots of "content" aimed at humans (SEO spam, generic emails) at the press of a button.

Many of the most promising applications of ChatGPT involve generating text that is not meant for human consumption.

They go in the other direction: they take things from the messy, human, textual world, and translate them into the simpler terms of ordinary computer programs.

Imagine you're interacting with a system -- a company, a website, a phone tree, whatever.

You say or type something.

Behind the scenes, unbeknownst to you, the system asks ChatGPT 13 different questions about the thing you just said/typed. This happens almost instantaneously and costs almost nothing.

No human being will ever see any of the words that ChatGPT wrote in response to this question. They get parsed by simple, old-fashioned computer code, and then they get discarded.

Each of ChatGPT's answers ends in a simple "yes" or "no," or a selection from a similar set of discrete options. The system uses all of this structured, "machine-readable" (in the old-fashioned sense) information to decide what to do next, in its interaction with you.

This is the kind of thing that will happen, more and more.

[crushedsweets]

Do you have any headcanons of Lyra and Toby’s relationship?

this has been in my inbox for like over a week by now because this is a big task in my head. i will focus more on the family itself, but obviously the siblings r there.

ROGERS FAMILY HCS UNDER THE CUT... tw for abuse and addiction, of course

ok. WE'RE GETTING PERSONAL HERE. im the eldest daughter of 3 so the way in which i project into older siblings is insane. ive also had an addict father(no where near like frank though let me clarify) so in general . . the story.. makes me feel very...... basically their relationship is very personal to me.

lyra is about 2-3 years older than toby.

frank's dad was in the vietnam war, his grandparents were in wwii, his grandparents in wwi, etc. so he went into military service right after marrying connie. for a long while, he was SUPER military strict. those kids were up, made their bed, and down for chores by 6am everyday. he made them do military time rather than civilian time. he was incredibly traditional, expected a perfectly clean household, a polite soft daughter, a strong bold son, perfect wife. he wanted the 1950s nuclear family model. so toby and lyra grew up in a very clean, strict, traditional household.

in my au, frank wasnt outright abusive until the kids were around 8-11. it was after he developed his addictions and lost his job. the kids really didnt understand what was changing at first, and legitimately were like 'omg dad isnt making us wake up at 5am everyday..... this is so cool'.

theyd start having sleepovers in eachothers room, slacking a bit on chores, going to sleep late, sleeping in. toby didnt develop his tourettes until he was around 7, so lyra and toby would walk home from their elementary school together. sometimes, theyd walk another friend home first, stop at convenience stores to get candy, pet a cat, etc. frank didnt say a thing for the first few months, just drunken grumbles along connies worried 'WHERE HAVE U BEEN'. if they weren't walking around the area, they were in the backyard playing soccer.

eventually the abuse began, and all of those little freedoms were quickly stripped from the kids.

toby developing tourrettes around this time was a painful coincidence, because not only did he experience abuse at home, but awful bullying at school. he was promptly pulled out after completing 3rd grade. he was only 8.

lyra would practically run home from school everyday, as fast as a 12 year old girl with a backpack could manage, just because she spent all 7 hours in school worrying about toby at home. connie had to start working to pay bills, so..

when toby was around 11 and lyra was around 13, toby started kinda just. being more distant. he was kind of a dick to lyra for a period of time, half because of everything he was going through, half because puberty is rough. his room started getting messy, lyra had to start picking up chores he was slacking on , etc. lyra isnt perfect and began to resent toby for this, and eventually, the two were kinda at eachothers throats for like 6 months. which isnt a lot, but for kids, its an eternity.

when franks abuse evolved from ''just'' verbal abuse, to shoves, to slaps, to full on beatings, toby started egging frank on. just to get him off of lyra and connie. obviously he couldnt feel it, and while it sure took a fucking mental toll, it was so much easier to just wait it out rather than listen to the girls cry.

lyra didnt even realize toby was doing this for a while, she just thought it was all part of him going through his little hormonal asshole phase, until one day frank made a fucked up comment about 'youre lucky that boy is always causing trouble. was supposed to be you'. then it kinda clicked and she very quickly tried to fix their relationship back to what it was.

frank eventually scared connie so badly that there'd be periods of time where she'd take the kids in the middle of the night, and run off to either her parents place, or even a random hotel in another city. she'd use cash, force the kids to keep their phones at home, leave literally everything behind and often make the kids pick out new toothbrushes at a random walmart. etc. it would only last a few days each time, and lyra fought so hard to stay strong while her mom cried and toby closed himself off.

she'd try to get toby to come to the hotel pools with her, try to get him to watch tv with her, try to get him to just fucking talk to her. he was often catatonic during these little runaways, once the confusion adrenaline and fear wore off

it wasnt until they went around a month without seeing their father, and frank had some weird fucking. 'those are MY kids too' thing and went to connie's parents house while all the adults were out, and forced the kids back home. this was the first time lyra was full on sobbing and begging and pleading in years. that was what shifted something in toby, too.

now tobys 13, lyras 15, and theyre on better footing. theyre starting to understand eachother. tobys back on keeping up with chores, knowing that either him lyra or connie was going to get beat if they were missed. sometimes he'd just silently come into lyras room and lay down and watch tv with her. they'd talk about books, about school, their trust was built right back up and toby ended up being the first to know about lyras school drama, gossip, boys, etc.

toby wasn't really socialized properly, since he's been homeschooled for 6 years by now. all the time, he'd hear lyras stories, and wish he could go to school. his mom would be horrified anytime toby asked, because all she could remember was her sweet boy coming home and crying into her arms after a day of being mocked and pushed around by peers.

so he began to live through lyra, in a sense ? he almost became a diary for lyra, and he kinda loved it. she was like a sitcom to him.

frank wasnt a good father by any means during this period, he was still awful, but he wasn't constantly looking for trouble. the kids kept to themselves, connie did everything she was expected to, he didnt give a shit about their grades or social lives. he couldn't even recgonize when lyra was coming home late.

lyra got her license the second she turned 16. the house had two cars, and its not like frank was ever going anywhere, so she was always going everywhere. she adored the freedom, and took toby wherever he'd let her. he only really left the house if he was going grocery shopping with his mom or something, so it was kinda weird now that he was just. going to malls. going to restaurants. going to parks. just Hanging Out. every now and again he'd stick around when Lyra was with her friends, but he didn't like them so it was rare.

sometimes theyd just drive together for a long time. at night, she was the one to take him to every hospital visit, she even got him to volunteer at a pet shelter she worked at for a bit. 3 years and they become so close again, and lyra is tobys best friend. she's his entire world because who else does he have ? he loves his mom, but she's married to the man he hates more than anything

toby was 16 and lyra was 18 when frank strangled toby till he passed out. thats finally when connie kicked frank out, forcing frank to go live on his moms couch. lyra was mortified and started spending an absurd amount of time with toby. she took online community college courses just so she could spend even more time with toby, and it didnt hurt to do so since frank wasnt there anymore. things were getting better for the family, frank was gone, lyra was in college, connie was working, toby was volunteering at shelters and even had a few acquaintances he'd talk to now and again.

lyra picked toby up from the shelter he volunteered at when the accident happened.

lyra and connie had matching silver necklaces with a circle pendant that had their initials. toby didnt cuz frank would get pissed if toby tried wearing jewelry, but when lyra died, toby immediately clung to it. he wears it religiously. the only time he takes it off is if he knows he's going to kill someone that day. otherwise, its always on him.

lyra died and was buried in colorado. toby lives in alabama now. so he really doesnt visit her grave often. only on her birthday, he'll scramble together some money and get brian, tim, and kate to agree to cover his uh. 'shifts' with slenderman, and take a few loooonnnggg train rides over to colorado.

he'll leave two bouquets of flowers. one for lyra, one for connie.

connie just feels in her heart that its toby. she has no reason to believe it, they've never bumped into eachother (toby's visiting at like 2am and falls asleep near the grave for a few hours), but she knows nobody else whos visiting lyras grave and leaving two sets of the same flowers.

toby and lyras childhood home was put on sale shortly after it was reconstructed from the fire, and connie moved in with her sister. lyras bedroom door was the only one that was shut and left unscathed after the fire (legitimately keep your doors shut if you ever have a housefire it can save entire bedrooms and even lives). the rest of the house was ruined, but not lyras room. connie kept every single one of her belongings, but she's put some photos out on the grave. tobys taken them, and connie believes it was him. again, she has no reason to believe it other than the flowers and 'why would someone take a photo of my dead daughter.'

anyway hi. in tears. i love them. sorry. i just retell their story over and over and get sad everytime

[nekropsii]

do you still do session analysis?

I've never really done that, so no.

I appreciate the value placed in my opinion, truly, but I guarantee you it will be way more fun and satisfying to write things like that on your own than it is to get some stranger to do it for you. I don't feel good depriving someone the joy and learning experience of figuring out Character + Classpect Dynamics on your own. It's hard, for sure, but it's completely worth it. I'll give my thoughts on Individual Classes, Aspects, and Classpects now and then, if the mood strikes me, but the way that will affect a Group Dynamic is far more dependent on the individual characters involved and the narrative they're in than a lot of people seem to give credit for. Yes, the Classpect of a character says a lot about them, but it doesn't really express their Moral Alignment, the full breadth of their Personality, any specific Traumas or Neuroses that may afflict them and affect their relationship with their life, surroundings, and the people around them, et cetera, et cetera...

Basically, a Classpect says a lot, and a Group of Classpects can also say a lot, but I find it personally difficult to make very solid statements on the Viability of a Session or the Dynamics within it without having a deep understanding of not only the characters involved but also what kind of story is being aimed for. What a Classpect can mean or entail depends a lot on the Hero in question, and the specific Meta of the Session. You can keep the Meaning of all Classes and Aspects nigh completely Canon Compliant, but still have them imply and result in totally different things within a Session, purely because the Story and Character demands something that isn't, like... Just a straight up repeat of things already tread upon in source material. You could have a Seer of Light that's evil. You could have Bard of Rage that's a pretty good guy, all things considered.

For example, Sovereignstuck has a very particular Meta with its Classpects, and it's going for a very particular narrative. The characters in it are also very much so their own beasts - though their Classpects may say a lot about them, it doesn't really tell you anything about their morality, or how willing they are to hurt people or even just ascend to godhood in the first place, which is a really big deal in what is essentially a literal Deus Ex Machina Death Game Horror/Drama RPG setting especially. To use a particular example from Sovereignstuck - Bards of Mind tend to be billed as chaotic forces and, due to being a Bard, inherently bad people, with some even suggesting the best way to write a Bard of Mind is to write a straight up Bigot. We've got a Bard of Mind in the Player Session, Emeric Sargas, and while she is a complicated person - as is the truth for everyone ever - she is, generally speaking, a very child-like ball of sunshine that basically no one has beef with because she's just very sweet. Odd, yes, definitely, she does have a litany of very strange beliefs about how the world works, but overall a nice person. We have two Maids of Space, even, and they're extremely, extremely different people.

It's not as simple as saying "Princes of Void and Witches of Heart are guaranteed to not get along!", or "This Session will fail because it has an insufficient Player count!". Hell, it's difficult for me to even say a Session is doomed to fail if they have no Time and/or Space Players. Maybe the Meta of your Session simply doesn't abide by typical SBURB rules. I know my Fanventure sure doesn't, it's running on a fucking spinoff game with no Universe Building aspects to it - it's just a God-Making Machine. Maybe you don't need a Time or Space Player. Maybe you don't need a Knight, or an Heir. Maybe you can have five Pages. I literally don't know. Write whatever you want. Get creative. You truly do not have to abide by the rules set by SBURB if you don't want to write a Creation Myth. My only recommendation is that if you're breaking the mold, make that clear - explain what the purpose of your game is. Hell, explain the purpose even if it's just SBURB 2. The Characters are gonna have to learn what it is, even if the reader is aware of it already.

I could talk more, but this is already a long enough response to a pretty simple one sentence yes or no question.

TL;DR: No, I don't, sorry.

[goatpaste]

Hai, mutuals have my actin up getting obsessive brain over Pillar Fam Au again and their all over my brain like ANTS

So I wanted to redo the art on the pillar fam playlist and doodle some stuff for my fav songs on the playlist

just thinking about them thinking about them thinking about them and running around and biting

every few weeks I just remember this AU is everything to me good lurd

[Commission Prices][Etsy][Buy me a Kofi]

also wanted to talk about some thoughts on the songs of the playlist just whatever, under the cut

Where Evil Grows by The Poppy Family: this one I drew for, but I heavily think of it over Joseph and Wamuu's first meeting where despite the rough first meeting, theres that spark of interest in on another. Despite unexplainable need to get close to one another, especially Joseph to Wham.

Blood in the Wine by AURORA: mostly a song I put on there for Wham, its a Wham heavy song and makes me think generally of pillar fam but also of Wham and his relationship to his pillar men family and kars. His Loyalty and devotion to the man who is his father, but ultimately having these different goals and feelings.

Electric Love by BORNS: Honestly mostly just a fun feel good song I felt had some good vibes to Pillar fam, love a good lightning motif for Joseph.

Kiss her you fool by Kids that Fly: First kiss scene, 1000% Joseph with a million thoughts about how he's trying to get out of dying, or even killing but also quickly realizing he might just be in love with this powerful warrior and that Wham just might like him back, and to make a leap of fate with a kiss.

Talk to Much COIN: Another song that fit the bill for Pillar Fam especially of a Joseph angle for suuuure

High on Humans by Oh Wonder: I think this is pretty straight forward for the wham angle of this relationship, especially when Suzi starts being in the mix and he's realizing he's soft for two humans who he should be seeing as a threat to Kar's mission. but instead his brain if fuzzy and soft around them

The Sex has Made me Stupid by Robots in Disguise: also pretty straight forward, they were going at it like rabbits because i take Wham for a guy who fucks his enemies as an equal partner for him, fighting it like gay sex to him but so is gay sex lol. Also this song is such so extremely british its just a bit of a too fitting not to include

Dirty imbecile by The Happy Fits: Kinda vauge take on Joseph, i get big joseph vibes in this song and fitting to my minds touchings of his character and relationship to family and lack there of

Step With me by MIKA: its the vibes, the specific lyrics just feel so right, the slow set by set calculations of getting close to someone like Wham in their specific situation. Both in trying to work every angle to get everyone out alive, but also dealing with big feelings for a big man who may kill him. One step at a time, just a few steps away from you. I especially take this song overlay to the idea of the height of Pillar Fam when the month is almost up and joseph's one like asking of truce between him and wham, but wham choosing to stay to his word and to kars and leaving Joseph, but stubborn Joseph not giving up quite yet.

Necessary Evil by Unknown Mortal Orchestra: i think this in a way feels a lot like similar lyrical vibes to Where Evil Grows. But bit on the horny side lol, two crazy kids defying the odds, dealing with how they feel, messy messy feelings while they nearly kill each other in a gladiatorial fight on chariots around a roaring fire.

I wont hurt you by the West Coast Pop Art Experience: THIS SONG OUHGH this is one of the big ones on the playlist to me, its soo ouch. Song that 100% in my head links to the end of the Chariot fight. Joseph and Wham have dealt out all their cards, every trick in the book to live or win. All but their final trump card, all or nothing, put it all on the line and die winning. Wham lost of sight, arms and burning a hole into his own chest. Joseph with caesars headband and the lighter fluid... But he can't do it. instead opting to drop his weapons and his guards, i wont hurt you, Yelled over the intense slicing winds as they grow nearer. Joseph's pleading one more time for Wham to stop to not kill Joseph, but more importantly, himself. That Kars wouldnt want this, Suzi wouldnt want this and Joseph wouldnt want this. He would rather lay down and accept defeat and death than be the one to remove Wham from the world. its then, Wham in his biggest moment of vulnerability stops, words reaching him. Falling to his knees and embracing Joseph in a messy bloody puddle in all the heavy silence under the blazing fire. I wont hurt you.

m'Lover by Kishi Bashi: themes of unlikely lovers? well dont mind if i do for my pillar fam playlist. Picking up right after the last one, things are finally looking right, defying the destiny that they were meant to hurt and kill each other in that pit that night instead promising themselves to each other. two loves in the night finding each other in the most unlikely way

Affection Taku Iwasaki: Its a jojo song, and it makes me sad weepy, its soft its perfect for this vibe.

Bizzare Love Triangle by New Order: I think mostly on here for the general title and 'love triangle' idea. Suzi and her two boys, their Bizzare Love Triangle

From Me, the Moon by Lav and Dark Moon by Bonnie Guitar: putting these together as their both meant to be for the same idea, Wham watching his human partners grow old. His family even with his pillar man genetics, growing older. The idea they will one day leave him behind. This reality will obviously never come as they world ends in p6. But its a lingering idea, a soft sad, but approachable topic to think about for Wham. Couldn't not include it in a playlist meant to encapsulate them and their life start to finish. Wham will be sad, but happily live out his humans long lives. As long as they'll have him.

Affection Taku Iwasaki: it was the final track of P2, just like Affection, sweet and good, how could i not make it the final track on this playlist.

[billthedrake]

THE BOARDROOM (PART FOUR)

This chapter probably works better having read the previous ones.

ENGLISH AND ITALIAN TAILORING

I had been spending the winter taking some time away from The Boardroom gatherings. Some of it was giving Ethan his space and not trying to claim The Boardroom as my space, even if it kind of was. I knew my ex would flourish there, and at that point he needed it more than I did.

Besides, I was doing a lot of travel and work had been crazy busy. I had made sure to prioritize my gym and exercise time, as well as my diet. After that I didn't have a lot of energy for anything else.

I enjoyed a lot of masturbation time, for sure. I experimented with watching non-suit porn. I got off to a lot of it, but generally enjoyed going back to the tried and true suit scenes.

The Boardroom had a series of gatherings that didn't do it for me. Power Suit Night. Vests Night. Sheer Socks Night. Fashion Week. I declined at each RSVP and gave other guys a spot.

I even missed the semi-annual Executive Board Meeting, since I was out of town for work. But I was pleased to hear from Ethan that he'd been promoted to Junior Executive. His new suits and regular attendance in my absence had paid off.

Now I realized I was due to host. And maybe it was the increasingly spring weather, but my libido was bouncing back like crazy. A Boardroom party sounded like just the thing. And I had my English-tailored pinstripe suit waiting to make its debut.

I sent out the email:

"Hello Gentlemen of the Boardroom - Next meeting is devoted to English and Italian tailoring. Priority to the men with the real deal. Soft shoulder or English draping. Slim silhouette or waist suppression. RSVP English or Italian wear. Waitlist of others who appreciate European tailoring. Men not in English or Italian clothing can wear only accessories at the Boardroom this time."

"That's genius, Bill," Ken wrote, with his RSVP for Italian.

Marty had an Italian sport coat and trousers, which was good for me.

Kevin was the only other exec to RSVP, but didn't have an outfit.

But the Junior Execs and New Hires came through. Darren said he'd wear an English suit. I wasn't surprised to hear he was the only other regular with one but as it happened, an Interviewee was visiting from England and expressed interest.

John was a Junior Exec I'd not seen too much lately. After his promotion, he'd started dating someone exclusively. I guessed that was now a thing of the past, since he responded that he had an Italian suit he'd love to wear. One the Newer Hires, another Mike - Mike 2 - chimed in that he had just come back from a destination wedding in Italy and had something appropriate.

I didn't want Kevin to be the only one in just accessories, so I admitted another non-suit wearing guy, a New Hire, Rick.

Since it had been a while since I hosted, I splurged on a nice suite at the Four Seasons Downtown. I normally channeled my spare money into attire, not hotel rooms, but I figured I had saved money by not going on dates the last half a year.

I showed up early and got everything ready. Setting out lube, towels and spare tissues, along with some glasses of water to help with clean up.

Mike - Mike 2 as we called him since he's joined since Doctor Mike - was the first to show up. I didn't really know him, but he was good looking, kind of a regular 30yo gay guy, fit in that New York way. But his suit made him look killer. Nice rounded shoulders, tan color that showed off his brown hair and blue eyes.

"God, fuck, that's a nice suit, Bill," he said as he walked into the suite. I stepped back and let him get a look. Yeah, I was proud of this one. It was British tailoring, definitely, but I'd chosen a fabric and silhouette that wouldn't look too out of place in New York. I'd paired it with a pink shirt with a spread collar, a windsor knot on my repp tie, and for shoes I went with my Edward Greens.

"Thanks," I said. "You're looking amazing... nice introduction, I'd say."

"Agreed," he smiled. I could tell he was throwing hard in his suit, which I loved. I mean, all of us guys in the Boardroom had the kink, but some men just really embraced the horniness of a good suit. Mike cocked a grin. "We should probably wait for the others to fool around?"

"We don't gotta," I said. And like that, I stepped up and ran my hand along his shoulder, the light-weight wool perfectly molded to his strong delts. His hand went right for my crotch, working up my boner in my trousers.

We kissed. It was a hungry, horny kiss as our hands took in each other's suit.

Just then a knock came. I laughed as I broke up the impetuous make out session with Mike. Marty was there, with beefy Mark. Marty's sport coat was great, but maybe paled in comparison to Mike's full-on suit. Mark was in casual clothes, but as he came in, he began removing everything but a pair of socks and sock suspenders. On his meaty build, the look was pretty damn hot, especially because his cock filled out to full staff showing off for us.

Darren arrived next. He had more that English country gentleman look, the brown-green plaid looking incredible with his tall lean frame and chocolate-brown skin. Marty was already pawing at the coat and trousers. He and Darren always had some chemistry, and the English attire was drawing the man like a moth to a flame.

Over in one corner of the suite, nearly-naked, beefy Mark was on his knees, sucking Mike in full suited attire.

I enjoyed watching, squeezing my crotch, then I decided to join the action, stepping up to Mike and smiling at the cute guy. "He's good, huh?" I asked.

Mike nodded. "Why don't you pull your dick out and see for yourself." OK, Mike 2 had a domish edge that surprised me.

I grinned, reaching down to do just that. "Oh I've had his mouth," I said. I wagged my hard cock in Mark's direction and nudged it against his cheek. The guy got the picture.

"It's been a while, Bill," he said, looking up from my dick and up to my face.

"Yep," I replied. "Why don't you show me what I've been missing."

"Fuck yeah," he hissed. Mark loved sucking dick. The more the better, in his book. I grunted as I felt that talented mouth descend on my pole. It had been way too long since I'd come to Boardroom night.

Mike laughed as he watched my reaction. I looked at him and I felt that magnetic charge again. We kissed and I felt his hand run along my lapel. I was getting way too into this, but thankfully Mark pulled off and started blowing Mike. I pulled back from the kiss and looked over at the other guys.

Kevin was here now, and was on all fours on one of the beds next to Marty. Both men had their trousers pulled down and were making out while Darren went back and forth, slowly fucking in full country-estate wear.

And I noticed that Rick had arrived. I gathered he was a finance guy, from his demeanor and previous attire. But he didn't have on any clothing now, not really, given my accessories-only stipulation. And damn, the dude had a body that wouldn't quit. Ripped and toned, not huge but densely muscular build for his 5'10" body. It was an Ethan-caliber body, and the realization made me shiver a bit. Before Ethan, my taste had run fit-normal. My ex Kevin.... my Boardroom crush Pete. Regular NYC guys, my age.

Maybe it was silly to go for perfect, but it was fun to watch as Rick strutted over in just his over-the-calf socks, English-made tan oxfords, a tie tied around his neck and an expensive Swiss watch on his wrist. The only thing keeping him from being porn-star material was a smaller than average dick, which was still pretty damn appealing in its rock-hard spike as he walked over.

"Hey," he greeted, giving me a nod, but his attention more on Mike 2.

"Hey Rick," Mike grinned. They'd clearly met before. And maybe more.

They kissed.

"Nice suit, bro," Rick hissed, now running his hand along Mike's front. It was fun to watch the spark of sexual chemistry between these two late-20s guys, but yeah, I was gonna get left out.

Mark had even started sucking Rick's bone, taking advantage of the smaller size to really go to town on it. Meanwhile, Mike and Rick made out taking some breaks so Mike could watch his Boardroom buddy admire his new suit.

I should have just left them but it was hot to watch. So I stroked and stood near. Mark had gone back to Mike's bigger cock. It was hot to see him kneeling in his socks and sock suspenders, the hairness of his legs a contrast to the sheer sock fabric. Rick arched his back and I could then see that Mike had his hand wedged back into his ass, fingering and playing around with Rick's hole.

"I wanna use that ass, man," Mike grunted.

Rick nodded and like that, Mike was pushing Mark off his dick. The two didn't even acknowledge me and Mark as they made their way over to the spare bed.

"Sorry, Bill, looks like you're stuck with me," Mark said as he stood up. His dick was hard and leaking. Even if I wasn't a huge socks fetishist, I had to admit the sock garters looked great on his beefier build. Kind of that feminine/masculine contrast.

I flashed him a smile. "A-OK with me," I replied politely. "It's been a while since we connected here."

He nodded, stepping up. We didn't kiss. Partly because that wasn't Mark's MO - he was all about cock - but partly because we didn't have that natural chemistry. Still, his hands were on my suit coat.

"You have a really incredible suit," he said. "It really should be getting more attention."

He was right. About the suit, maybe, but in particular about what I was feeling wistful about. Maybe I was becoming one of the respected founding executives. A man with a great suit but not so imminently fuckable, you know?

"Wanna give it some attention?" I smirked.

I let Mark feel me up, and I got off on his near naked body in contrast to my suited one. It was fun, seeing him sensually touch the fabric and massage my body beneath it. But eventually his goal was clearly.

"OK if I suck you?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, that'd be hot."

This was more transactional. I had a big dick and Mark loved to suck. This is what a sex party often was, if you stripped away the suit fetish. Two men just getting their rocks off.

And Mark was a good cocksucker. Not too fast but he knew how to work me up to a good cum before long. I held onto his head, not roughly but as a sign I was about to blast. The man moaned around my cock, telling me to let it rip. I did, blasting several hot rounds down his throat.

He milked me and worked the dribbles slowly before giving my dick a parting kiss. "I love sucking off a man in a suit," he said, taking one last look before getting up. "OK if I go find another?" he asked.

"Have at it," I grinned, taking a seat to have a break. I knew I wouldn't have another in me, but I'd enjoy seeing the guys pair up in suits. Besides, since I was hosting, I couldn't really leave.

It didn't take Mark long to find another dick to suck. Darren had gone, and Marty was getting slowly fucked by newcomer John, in a navy Italian suit. But Kevin was alone, like me watching the action while he stood in an Italian sport coat and tie, naked from the waist down. Mark got right into to place and started sucking while Kevin watched the other guys.

I looked over at the other bed. Mike 2 had clearly gotten off inside Rick and the two were on the bed, making out as a third guy in a full navy suit was now on top of Rick, working his way inside the hunk. I take it was the English guy, the Interviewee.

I watched them fuck. It was an amazing sight. The English lad had his trousers pulled down mid-thigh so I could see some of his dimpled ass flex as he thrust into the hot finance bro beneath him.

Mike 2 lay beside them, his dick now retreated back into his crotch but his eyes still showing excitement as he ran his hands up and down the English guy's coat. I don't know that his suit was overly high-quality but the English tailoring was novel, and the wool fit his form like a glove.

I turned over to see Kevin's eyes on the live sex show. These Boardroom meeting were 50 percent clothing fetish and 50 percent old fashioned sex party. Well, maybe it started out as 80/20, but increasingly it felt there was a moment like this, where some pairing would become the center of attention.

Kevin's brown eyes met mine in recognition. He was my ex from my early 30s, and to this day we had a kind of telepathy. He was thinking the same thing as me, and he was getting turned on. I watched the guy as he humped into Beefy Mark's mouth and started cumming.

It was a great spectacle to watch. I didn't really have the hots for Kevin these days, but his love of suited sex still could get me going.

The only bad thing was I missed the English guy's orgasm. He was sliding off the bed and hiking up his trousers while he fetched a spare cloth to clean off his hard uncut prick still jutting up from a creamy white midsection.

"Heya," he greeted as he walked over to me, tucking in and buckling back up.

"Hi," I said. "You must be Gavin."

"Indeed I am," he said. He reminded me of English Ben who I met at a Boardroom party and whom I reconnected with on my last trip to London. "Great party."

"Thanks," I said. "Great to have newcomers. You visiting New York?"

Maybe because we'd both gotten off, it felt fine to be chatty. The guy picked up a water bottle for a swig. "Yah, here on work, but added a couple days for holiday."

"Glad you could come," I said. "You were fun to watch." OK, maybe I was being flirty, and maybe I had a weakness for the accent.

"Thanks." He grinned and took another sip. I could tell he was flattered but that I wasn't his type. "I'm going to get going. But OK if I reach out again, next time I'm in town?"

"Absolutely," I said. And I watched Gavin leave the suite.

In fact, the guys pretty much were filing out pretty quickly. I didn't expect anyone to stay over, but as Rick and Mike 2 left together, with a clear chemistry between them, I kind of wished I wasn't going to spend the night in this hotel suite alone.

SUSPENDERS NIGHT

"Sorry I didn't make the party, Bill," Ethan said in our Monday workout. I was up to two sessions with him a week. No more comped ones - I paid him the full fee, though I gathered he socked some of that away in a special savings account dedicated to his clothing habit. It was wild to see a guy like him, young and athletic, embrace the suit fetish lifestyle. I sometimes wonder if that was New York, the way it nurtured a subculture like ours. Elsewhere Ethan certainly would have gotten off on suited men but maybe it wouldn't have developed for him like it did.

I set down the dumbbells he had me lifting. I gave him a friendly but direct look. "It's working out best that we keep to separate parties I suppose."

He nodded in agreement, then added. "I know. It's just, I guess that's the first Boardroom meeting you've hosted since I've joined. I feel bad for not going."

I felt a twinge of something. Regret, guilt, sadness, all rolled into one. But I tried to keep a poker face. "Like I say, Ethan, it's OK. For real."

He seemed to be trying on his poker face too. "I didn't have any English or Italian suit to wear anyway."

I grinned and Ethan knew why. That meant he'd have been mostly naked. That was kind of our thing when we were an item, and fortunately he laughed.

"Yeah you wouldn't have minded that," he said. I don't know, somehow the flirting helped break the tensions some. He set me up on the cable machine for the next set and said quietly, "I have been saving up for some proper English shoes."

"Yeah?" I asked. Ethan was a big foot/shoe guy, so it wasn't a surprise.

He nodded. "I know you'd advise against it, Bill, you know focus my money elsewhere, but it's what's gonna make me happy."

"You should go for it, Ethan. Splurge on those bad boys." I did my set, which was harder than I expected. In his own laid back way, Ethan was really pushing me today. I stepped back after and continued my thought. "You know I don't have to approve of your purchases... I mean, I hope you don't think I'm controlling."

He shrugged. "Not controlling. More, I just... well, you were kind of a mentor to me, and you still are... I don't want to think I don't respect your advice."

"My advice is to enjoy the hell out of your new shoes."

Ethan laughed. "I don't have 'em yet, Bill."

"Is this a way of saying your going to raise your rate on me?" I teased.

His eyes twinkled. God he was a cute fucker. "Nah.... but if you ever feel like squeezing an extra session in...."

"Let's do it," I said.

That surprised Ethan. "I was just kidding, Bill. I didn't mean..."

"I know. But it'll be good. Ethan's shoe fund. And an extra installment on my beach bod plan."

"If you're sure," he said.

"As long as you can work around my schedule," I said. Work had been pretty hectic lately.

"I will," he said. His whole posture was more confident now. I think it was the excitement of getting his shoes, but something else.

He put me through the paces for a few more sets and as we were wrapping up, he pulled out his phone to schedule my third session for the week.

"You sure, Bill?" he asked.

"Sure I'm sure."

He smiled and we figured out a good time. Then, as I was about to head to the locker room to change, Ethan asked in a low voice. "You going to suspenders night?"

This was George's turn at hosting and he'd put out a call for suspenders/braces. The great thing about the idea was how open it was to different clothing styles.

"I was thinking about it," I said. "But if you're going..." I hadn't explicitly made an agreement with Ethan to avoid the meetups he went to, but it was clear that I did.

"I want to," he said. "But you don't have to say no on my account. I think we've been pretty mature about stuff."

We had. Ethan especially. I was the one who'd called things off, and he seemed to get back on his game just fine. I gathered that he might not be dating anyone serious but he was getting back into the dating scene. Good for him.

"I guess, so," I said.

***

It had been too long since I fucked Pete. But when he showed up at the Boardroom Meeting and we made eye contact, we just knew the chemistry was still there. We played with some of the other guys - Mike 1, the young doctor, who was in his trad element, and Rob, who was in a really fucking nice suit - subtle pinstripe, bengal stripe shirt, and solid gaberdine tie. Unlike me the guys had showier suspenders - Rob's beneath his suit coat, Mike and Pete showing off their suspenders in shirt sleeves. Pete had white cuffs on an oxford stripe shirt, which was a nice vintage touch. His body was pretty fantastic in it too.

He had some group kissing and stroking and BJ swapping before Pete and I took the arrival of George to pull away from the guys to take to the bed.

Ethan was on the other bed, in just his dress shirt and tie, as Tom Stephenson lie on top of him, fully clothed and kissing and thrusting into my ex. That somehow ignited my jealousy, but I pushed that thought right back down. I was going to be the grown up.

Besides Pete was way hot. He was pulling off his suspenders and undoing his trousers. Turning around he shucked his pants and got into doggy position. I was very grateful at that moment that Pete's husband let him come into the city to play on occasion. And a little mad at myself for the idea I'd love to steal the guy away.

I got in place and started munching Pete's hole. Nice and clean, it seemed to suck my tongue in. It had been too long for him, too, I knew. I took my time, taking a pause now and then to admire his ass and to lube my dick up. But pretty soon, my cock ached to fuck. I crawled up onto Pete's body, feeling the heat between his shirt and mine as I pushed my dick into place.

"Please Bill," he hissed, at a volume only I could hear.

His hole was perfectly tight as I entered him. But the excitement was all of Pete. His perfectly meaty bod, his handsomeness, his clothes. How much he wanted me. Maybe I was going too hard and too fast but Pete bucked against me a couple of times to give me the green light. I took it. My humping got harder and faster as I kissed along his neck, smelling his cologne and feeling his shirt color against my cheek.

I was getting hot, too hot in my suit, but that also fed my lust. I shot, hard.

"Yes," Pete sighed, now pulling at his dick while I did my best to keep pushing in and other. Not as fast or urgent, but the slow stroke was probably better for his pleasure.

I felt the man get his orgasm beneath me, and I gave him another, final kiss of appreciation to the neck.

We uncoupled and enjoyed embracing and making out in our clothing. I was aware other guys were having fun around us, and a part of me wanted to show Ethan I could have some fun too.

Finally, Pete pulled back and gave a wistful smile. "I gotta get going." By now, some were leaving the party, and I'd lost track of time.

"Yeah," I said. I was hard again now, and my cock was sticking out. I wasn't usually good for getting off twice at one of these gatherings, but it had been a few days since I'd cum, and being with Pete had me amped up.

Pete reached down and grabbed my hardon, stroking it and admiring how it jutted out of my suit trousers. "Want me to take care of this before I go?"

I did, but I also wanted some more time to recharge. "Nah," I said. I leaned in and placed my mouth at his ear. "But fucking you was perfect," I whispered. "I missed being in you."

I felt his body shiver, and I felt bad. I was pushing the envelope and maybe enjoying doing that too much.

He pulled away. His own dick was firm and he did the work of tucking it in as he sat up in bed. He gave me a once over as he shook his head. "Great seeing you, Bill," he said.

I tried to apologize non verbally, patting his shirt-clad back. "I'll let you go," I said softly.

"Another kiss?" he asked.

I met him for just that.

When he finally left I was rock hard. George and one of the New Hires, Matt, were making out on the bed, caught up in their own connection. I thought of joining them, but didn't want to impose or be the third wheel.

Just then, I saw Ethan walk out of the bathroom, face flushed. He'd put his suit back on, suspenders and all, and retied his tie. He had a sheepish, shy look on his face, until he saw my boner jutting out and then he broke into a grin.

I couldn't help but laugh in response. We'd been trying to compartmentalize things, but here we were now, face to face, the sexual activity of the evening apparent.

Ethan's brown eyes met mine, searching for permission. I'm not sure if I gave it to him, or he was going to wait for it. He took a couple of steps forward and then crouched in front of me. My dick twitched as he did and Ethan took in the sight with a smile. I thought he was going to suck me right then and there but instead he scooted back and leaned down further. Kissing one shoe, then the other. I'd warn some brogued cordovan Aldens and Ethen sucked in the smell of the leather before licking.

"Fuck," he hissed, as he used his tie to wipe off the spit. I could sense how turned on he was to be able to indulge his shoe fetish. To my knowledge none of the Board members, at least the regulars, were into that. Ethan knew I wouldn't mind him having some shoe play, and would even get off on his horniness.

"Jesus, guys, you're getting kinky," I heard George say.

He and Matt were now lying back in bed, their clothes dishelved and their bodies clearly ih post-coital relaxation.

I saw Ethan flinch and blush. I gave him a soft pat on the shoulder and looked back up at the other guys. "It's something I've wanted to try," I lied.

George nodded. "Well, Matt here's big into wristwatches. Can't keep his eyes off this baby," he said, holding up his arm, sporting an expensive watch.

Matt blushed some, and I felt bad, like this should be the place where guys could just enjoy their kinks. I gave a reassuring smile. "I bet you'd like a wristwatch theme night, huh?" I asked Matt.

"Fuck yeah," he grinned. The guy was younger, maybe a few years older than Ethan, and cute. Professional gay guy who get to let loose some at these events.

My hardon had flagged by that point and Ethan had stood up. The spell was broken. "I'll probably get going," I announced as I tucked in and zipped up. I did my best to make myself presentable. I turned to Ethan. "You staying?"

It was a question laden with a lot of possibilities and I could Ethan trying to read me with his eyes. I reached behind him and tapped his suited ass. A quick gesture, but he knew I was up for fooling around.

Without missing a beat he turned to the other guys. "I think I'll head out too. It was a great Meeting, George," he said. "One of the best."

George grinned. He placed his arm around Matt. George was always after new meat and had a preference for younger guys. I had the feeling the two were going to enjoy the night together.

"Seriously, Matt," I said as I picked up my phone and slid it into my suit pocket. "We'll think about the watch idea. We haven't done that before." The guy gave a smile.

We bid good night, and Ethan and I walked silently to the elevators, smiles on our faces as we fed off our lust.

"What are we doing, Boss?" he asked. I could tell he was afraid to pose the question, but someone had to think with his head and not his dick.

The door opened and we got in. There were other people in, so Ethan and I rode down in baited breath, silent.

We were out on the street before I spoke. "If it's just fun, I'll deal with that," I said. "But I want to be your boyfriend, Ethan. For real."

That caught him off guard. "What about just now? With Pete?" he asked softly. I could tell he was as jealous to see me with Pete as I was with Tom. Maybe more.

"I don't know what to say," I said. "I mean, it was the Boardroom."

He shrugged. "You guys have a thing. Everyone knows it, Bill."

I thought about it. Thought about why I felt a connection to Ethan so soon after having sex with Pete. "It's only because Pete and I never actually dated. But say the word I won't so much as lay a hand on him."

I saw a smile form on Ethan's lips as he looked over at me. "You're serious, aren't you?"

I nodded, feeling vulnerable because I was overcome by how suddenly my revelation had hit me. I knew I'd suppressed a lot of my feelings for Ethan. "I was an asshole before. But I miss you Ethan."

His face got a real emotional seriousness. "Can I kiss you, Boss?"

I nodded. And right there in the middle of the sidewalk we kiss. Softly, just a little tongue.

"Damn," I said.

"Yeah," Ethan sighed. He ran his fingers along my lapel. I knew we'd go home and have some amazing suit sex, and that made the emotional part of this even more powerful. "You know, when you stood up for me earlier... for the shoe thing... that was kind of great."

I winked. "I like how you show me new things, stud." I patted his shoulder. "You wanna head to my place and have some shoe play?"

He shook his head. "How bout my place, Bill? You never come over there."

There was a reason for that. Ethan lived in a tiny walk up apartment. But it was time for me to give as well as take. "All right," I said.

***

Ethan's place was tidy but pretty fucking small. But there was no place I'd rather be at that moment. He lay on the floor on a yoga-workout mat, in his Brooks Brothers charcoal suit and striped shirt, paisley pocket square and wool tie, his hard dick sticking out of his crotch. I slowly, teasingly ran my shoe along his boner as he looked up at me hungrily.

"God, Bill," he hissed.

My own dick was out of my suit pants again, sticking out straight, but I wasn't doing anything with it. I was enjoying giving Ethan his jollies.

"You like that leather," I said. Half question, half comment.

"God yes," he said. "You think I'm messed up?" he half asked in return.

I shook my head. "Stud, if my shoes are what keeps you interested in me, that works for me."

He grunted as he watched me bend down to unlace my Aldens. "It's not like that," he objected.

I grinned and winked as I slid my shoe off. "If it is, that's OK, Ethan," I said. Then I knelt down, still fully in my suit and slid that cordovan Alden oxford over Ethan's erection.

"Shit," he gasped as his dick made contact with the interior leather.

I leaned in and kissed him, briefly. "This comfortable?" I asked as I slid it up and down.

He nodded. This was turning him on, a lot. "I'm gonna cum if you keep doing this," he said in a clipped voice.

"Do it," I instructed him.

Ethan's eyes grew wider as he met mine in silent sexual communication and his face grew redder. He was a cute and very hunky young man, and I was lucky I even had a chance with him. I was lucky that he was crushed out on me. And he only grew more handsome when he had his orgasm.

"UUUNNNMMMHFF!" he growled in release. Then falling back into a relaxed position, he broke into a smile. "Damn, that was incredible," he finally said.

I pulled off my shoe, trying not to overstimulate his prick. Normally, the first thing I'd be doing is cleaning it, but I not held it up and looked inside. Ethan had cum a lot and I could see his pearly seed drip down from the toe to the padded heel area. I shocked Ethan and shocked myself by bringing it closer, up to my face, and sticking my tongue in to taste his fresh seed.

"Fuck, Boss," he gasped. "No way am I going soft now," he said with a laugh.

I handed him my shoe. "Think this puppy will keep you turned on enough to let me fuck you?"

Ethan was younger than me and had more of a sexual stamina. But this was purely Ethan in overheated mode. He'd never had a man indulge his foot fetish like I was doing now. I watched as he excitedly reached down to undo his suspenders. I helped him take off his Allen Edmonds, plainer brown cap toes, then pull off his dark gray trousers. His dick was angry red and overstimulated but still hard.

"On the bed?" I asked. There was something fun and naughty about having sex on his bedroom floor, but I knew a mattress would be more comfortable than that thin mat.

We got up on the bed, and I met him for a kiss, deeper this time. I wasn't going to rush this, but I knew I had to be back inside Ethan, that evening. I'd be fucking on Tom Stephenson's sperm and god knows if anyone else's, but we could deal with that.

As Ethan wrapped his legs around my waist and I ran my cock around his hole, feeling the still slick traces of lube in his crack, I looked into his eyes.

"We'll figure out the Boardroom stuff, if you still wanna go," I said, a quiver in my voice. "But let me know what you need from me, Ethan."

He nodded, excited. "You, too, Bill." I could see in his face and hear in his voice the man's desire to be wanted. I hadn't given Ethan that before.

I pushed into him. His hole was relaxed and wet. And even if I was jealous of Tom Stephenson, I was glad for the extra lubrication. Ethan's hole felt nice and wet and snug against my thrusting prick, and the man was primed to take the urgency of my fuck.

I humped away, and Ethan looked up into my eyes and felt up my suit coat and tie. From the evening, I was sweating into my clothes and it would all need a good dry clean. It would be worth it.

"Faster, Boss," he urged. This wasn't about him, but rather his desire to see me get off.

I nodded to him, wordlessly communicating that I was close.

I had both hands on the bed, but I pulled one up to start feeling up Ethan's tie. He looked really fucking perfect in a repp tie. Clean-cut, masculine, like an athlete at an awards banquet or a small-town businessman.

I choked back my grunts but Ethan knew I was cumming hard. I powered my hips in and locked in place as I seeded him up. His words of encouragement as strong as the hands feeling up my suit.

I finally pulled out and let his legs to the side as I eased down on his suited body. We were maybe messed up that we needed to play dress up to have sex, but we were messed up together. This felt right.

I could even feel the guy's heart beat between our layers of clothing as his strong grip held me close.

"You're staying over the night, Bill," he said.

It was a bossy tone I'd only heard from him in the gym before.

"Yeah," I said. I pulled up and looked at him. His face was flush and his hair was a little mussed. "You ever slept in your suit?"

He seemed amused by the idea. "No. Have you?"

I shook my head no. "Might be fun, though... But maybe we can start with just shirt and tie."

Ethan was still hard, but after getting off a couple of times that evening he didn't seem eager to get off again. I watched him take off his coat and drop the undone suspenders. I slowly removed my suit, suspenders and trousers.

"Is this gonna mess up our ties?" he asked.

"Maybe," I said. "But at the worst we'll each have a play tie to add to the collection."

I let Ethan wash up first. "There's a spare toothbrush in the medicine cabinet," he offered when I stepped in. And once I was done in the bathroom, he had a glass of water to offer me.

"You sleepy?" he asked as we slid under the covers together, in our dress shirts and ties. I could feel his naked legs slip against mine and his genitals press against my crotch. This felt nice.

"Not really," I said. "Wanna stay up and talk?"

So that's what we did. We talked about dating and how it could work this time. What would need to be different, but what we missed about before.

"I don't want that easygoing part to go away, Bill," Ethan said. "Maybe things were too easygoing, but I like how you were my friend first."

"I still am," I assured him. "And you client," I winked. "You do good work."

He laughed. "Thanks. You needed to be whipped into shape," he quipped. It was bossy Ethan, and I knew it was a joke, but I still had to speak to the elephant in the room.

"Listen, I know you could find a guy with a much better body than mine."

He didn't miss a beat. "I want a body that looks great in a suit, Boss."

He didn't give me a chance to reply, he just leaned in for a kiss. I returned it and like that we were making out. It was about 1AM and I knew I didn't want this night to end. I felt Ethan's cock grow firm again against me and I loved the contrast between his hard nakeness and his clothed torso. Our shirts were now damp and our bodies warm.

Unbelievably, my own cock responded by firming up again.

"You wanting to get off?" I asked, running my hands over the bulging biceps in his shirt sleeves.

He thought for a second and shook his head. "Let's save it till morning, Bill."

"Sounds good," I said.

We kissed a little more and then got truly sleepy. As Ethan turned out the light, I realized I hadn't felt this giddy and excited in a long while.

[batboyblog]

Hello! I just wanted to let you know that I recently discovered your weekly updates on stuff President Biden has done and they are so amazing! Your posts have definitely given me back some hope and it’s wonderful to see everything laid out like that! I just wanted to say thank you for posting them. Also, while I followed you for the politics, I have to say that you have really great taste in the superhero posts! I’m loving all the art and fan art! Anyway, I hope you have a great day and a wonderful week!

well thank you for saying so!

uh yeah in real life I'm a very political person and Tumblr was my space to indulge other interests, but sadly it seems like its really important to spread information to count a real sea of misinformation about President Biden thats been going on for most of his Presidency at this point.

I feel like just pointing out what he does every week for Americans is a good way to do spread positivity.

one narrative that is really dragging him down is the idea that he "doesn't do anything" Biden and the Dems passed 3 of the biggest laws I've seen, the American Rescue Plan Act, the Bipartisan Infrastructure Law, and the Inflation Reduction Act.

and like part of the way Biden gets the biggest climate bill in American (and world) history through Congress is he doesn't call it "The Green New Deal" he calls it something boring like "Inflation Reduction Act" but we got a Green New Deal, it happened, we're on track to carbon neutral by the end of the decade, and I find learning about the pieces of that the Investments that are gonna add up so cool and so hopeful, like getting a Alaska native tribe a new dam so they can have clear hydropower rather than use diesel generators, SO! cool.

and another thing about Biden is he's been around so long he understands how the government works really better than any one. Student Debt is such a great example, most Presidents they get shut down by the Supreme Court they go "well I tried" and give up. Biden hasn't given up since the conservative court shut down his first effort at student loan forgiveness. He's take programs and authorities that got passed years ago and taken them as far as they can go, got debt forgiveness to 4 million people, so far and he's not stopping, it might take more time but he's gonna get there and only he really knows all the places to look to get the authority to do something like this because he has so much experience.

any ways I'm just trying to live by Harvey Milk's words "I know you can not live on hope alone, but without it life is not worth living, so you gotta give 'em hope."

[lesbiansandco]

My opinions on The Great Gatsby characters compared to Bill and especially young Ford

Gatsby and Bill are copies of each other, no doubt about it. A lot of people, myself included, have put Ford into the role of Daisy. However, Daisy and Ford are only alike in the sense that they are the object of Gatsby's/Bill's devotion. I think Ford is really a lot more like Nick.

Bill and Gatsby both build magnificent lives for themselves out of dirt and pine after lovers they will never get back (The comparison between Gatsby and Bill deserves its own long post, but this is mainly about Ford). Gatsby pines after Daisy, and Bill pines after Ford, but that's the only thing Daisy and Ford have in common, is their role in the story. And even then, Ford plays parts of Nick's role as well.

Perhaps most obviously, Nick and Ford are both writers. Nick narrates the fateful summer he knew Gatsby, and Ford writes the Journals, narrating his life and experiences in both Gravity Falls and the multiverse.

Nick claims to be one of the few honest person he's ever known, but his writing is littered with bias towards people he admires, namely Gatsby. He admires Gatsby in a way that causes Nick to write long and poetically about him, leaving less room for other characters that are arguably just as important (notably, leaving out many details about his supposed relationship with Jordan). There is also reasonable evidence that Nick's writing about Gatsby has queer undertones.

Who mirrors this? Ford. Pre-betrayal, he writes about Bill much more favorably than his good friend Fiddleford or his brother Stanley. Ford clearly admires Bill, calling him his "Muse," and Ford even takes it a step further from admiration and worships Bill like a god. Fiddleford and Stanley are definitely important characters to the story - Fiddleford leaves his wife and son to help Ford with the portal, and Ford hasn't seen Stanley in years while Stanley wishes to reconnect - yet Ford chooses to focus on Bill's impact in his life in his writing. Very similarly to Nick, there is reasonable evidence of queer undertones in Ford's writing about Bill.

Nick (and the rest of New York) sees Gatsby as a mysterious entity, with a surely fascinating past that has to be guessed at and puzzled together. Ford also sees Bill as a mysterious entity, an anomaly that has come to inspire him in his work. Ford can't help but be curious about his muse and the divine insight Bill gives him.

Nick is drawn in by the mystery that is Gatsby himself, and Gatsby feeds him fantastic lies on their car ride up to New York for lunch with Wolfshiem. Bill lies to Ford about being a "Muse" and makes extravagant claims to earn Ford's trust and build up his ego.

Nick only learned the truth about Gatsby after everything came crashing down the day they all decided to go into the city. Ford only started to learn the truth about Bill when Bill's true plans for the portal were revealed.

I think there's more than sufficient evidence that Ford is the character that represents Nick in every aspect except for his one parallel to Daisy. And there really is only one parallel between them; they both have a crazy, devoted, blinded-by-desire ex-lover who can't seem to let it go. In every other way, they are different.

Daisy is careless and overly emotional; she romanticizes the past and can't help but worry about the future. She only wants what she thinks is the best for those she cares about (one good example being her daughter. She wants her daughter to be foolish and happy in a world where Daisy is a pessimist after everything she's seen and done). Meanwhile, Ford takes time to plan things out and is generally very stoic. He doesn't like to think about the past and would rather manifest a glorious future for himself. And while he cares about who he loves deep down, on the surface he can come across as cold and uncaring - towards his assistant who suffered a lot of trauma during the time it took to build the portal, to his brother who he only reached out to for a favor and not to reconnect after many years - which makes him seem very selfish (which he can be).

Daisy is trapped in a romantic relationship with a her husband, and while she still has some feelings for Gatsby, she doesn't wish to be in a relationship or run away with him. On the other hand, Ford isn't tried down to any romantic relationship, and he doesn't seem to have any feelings for Bill post-betrayal.

That's all. I know this got long, but with all of this comparison, it makes sense to me to view Ford as a very Nick-like character rather than Daisy. And of course, Bill is the magnificent Gatsby.

[waugh-bao]

Not sure if you would know, but thought it worth a try. What type of accent did Charlie have? I know in England accents seem to have more meaning than in America, in terms of class and not just being a signal of where you’re from. I’ve read that Mick changes his to seem like he’s not as posh and I’ve also read that people respect Charlie never changed his. But what is it? Just cockney? I don’t know, but I like it. Especially on words like water and daughter, like when he was talking about the IORR video and said he doesn’t like “me head under water”.

Accents in the UK, and especially England, are a huge cultural and class marker in a way they just really aren’t in the US. Like there is a general bias you’ll see in America of, for example, perceiving people with southern accents as less educated or intelligent vis a vis a more standard northeastern ones, but they don’t have as much regional and class variance and significance. There’s a really good NYT’s article on the subject from the early ‘90s that does a deep dive on it. One of the important things to keep in mind is that even the English accents which outsiders might be familiar with, like RP (Received Pronunciation) come in variations, between the very standard and crisp BBC newsreader of the ‘40s-90s type and the aristocratic variant that has a bunch of peculiarities in pronunciation and vocabulary (think King Charles and the tendency to pronounce a word like “power” as “pāh”). I lived in London for almost 4 years to do my undergrad degree and go back frequently, and of all the places I’ve been in the world it’s still far and away the one where people are the most likely to openly comment on your accent. I was lucky in that the comments were mostly positive, but it’s still a jarring experience when you first start living there.

Mick’s accent is 100% a put on. I hate to cite Bill as a credible source, but he has a point when he says that Mick’s accent is a fake, which is something people who have worked for him have also said. It’s a really exaggerated Cockney accent, which doesn’t match being from a pretty far London suburb (Dartford) or having grown up middle class. Considering his age and background he probably had elocution lessons as a kid to learn to speak RP, especially because people who are around him in private have said he speaks “The Queen’s English.” It’s an act to look like an ‘authentic’ rock star, which there is often associated with coming from a lower class, tough background. When in reality he went to university and is the child of a homemaker and a PE teacher. I think Keith’s accent is authentic, it’s just a very non-standard jumble of Cockney, RP, and American mid-Atlantic, because he’s lived in the US longer than he has in the UK at this point.

My (tentative) classification for Charlie would be Estuary English. It’s a cross between RP and Cockney that’s associated with the Thames and its estuary/the wide London region and surrounding suburbs and towns. Charlie definitely leaned heavier to the Cockney side, especially earlier in his life, but there’s a really interesting combination of the two dialects in his way of speaking. Like that quote you pointed out, he was never consistent in making the “my - me” switchover, where the “me” as possessive article is hugely characteristic of Cockney English. It’s the same thing with his “h”s, sometimes he dropped them and sometimes he didn’t (although RP can do that sometimes too, but not as often). He also tended to use more outmoded vocabulary from Cockney slang, with words like “bloke”, which was probably a reflection of the fact that he never really lived in London (other than keeping a flat in Kensington, which is a bastion of RP) after the mid-1960s and was holding onto the variety from his childhood and young adult years.

[harostar]

So uh...

Apparently going away for the weekend equals things absolutely fucking exploding.

I’m sure everyone has, by this point, heard SOMETHING regarding Rooster Teeth and its latest controversies. 

Namely, multiple former employees speaking up about their horrendous experiences with the company. Wage Theft, Underpaying, just flat out NOT PAYING PEOPLE, extreme Crunches, toxic bro culture, homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, ect ect ect.

I’m trying to gather some of the main points, so excuse my brain still going ??????????

Long-time employee Matt is given the boot, with his position “dissolved” in the latest rounds of corporate layoffs.

Kdin issues a statement regarding Hostile Environment, Abusive working conditions, and considerable amount of unpaid work/medical bills.

The floodgates open.

Others speak up either confirming Kdin’s experiences and/or adding their own experiences. 

HR being more than useless. Higher Management being abusive and out-right not paying employees in every way possible. 

Barbara (Yang) removes all mention of RT from her twitter profile.

Arryn (Blake) and Sam (Nora) reveal that someone at the top that isn’t at the company anymore had threatened to recast their roles, when they raised concerns re: payment. 

Jen (Pyrrha) talks about issues with being paid and further confirms the other ugliness going on.

Michael Jones (AH, Sun) confirms his part in Kdin’s mistreatment, issues a public apology that was accepted by Kdin. I’m not diving into that, since I don’t feel comfortable speaking over the actual parties re: where they are now versus where they were then.

Others issue apologies to Kdin, which are....uh.....not graciously accepted. 

RT issues a very by-the-numbers statement, which is worthless. 

More former employees talk about having horrible experiences with over-work, issues with being paid, and general abusive environment. 

CRWBY showrunners have for the most point not issued statements, likely because they are in a tricky position re: the corporate overlords. Some people have been noting the statements they are Liking or otherwise supporting. 

Several people reveal that RT employees that do voice work have been getting cheated out of being PAID for this extra work. Because “you’re already an employee” kind of nonsense.

Everyone speaking out has basically stated the problem is Corporate and the Top Brass of the company. Asking people to please remember that the showrunners, writers, animators, voice actors, and other creative talent are all potentially victims of the same horrible stuff. 

Basically, a huge fucking dumpster fire.

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #17 – Terra Incognita by Connie Willis

Connie Willis is a name I have heard come up a lot with regard to late 20th century American Science Fiction, but in a slightly odd way. The only thing she’s actually written that I’ve ever heard of is To Say Nothing of the Dog (a delightful-sounding book that tragically has a multimonth hold list at my library). Instead, I mostly know her from other books’ acknowledgement sections, or semi-mythologized folklore and anecdotes about the culture and community of the era. So I really picked this up as a matter of curiosity, to get a sense of what Willis’ whole deal is.

The book is a collection of three novellas, each basically totally unrelated with only the faintest attempt at a unifying theme to justify bundling the three of them together. Each work is pretty different from the others in everything from length (the longest is something like 3x the length of the shortest), tone, setting and subject matter, the works really. The first is a sort of romcom farce about surveyors charting an alien world that has, well, aged. The second and longest a love letter to classic classic hollywood and movie musicals as told from the POV of a self-hating drunk who pays the bills going through and retroactively editing the studio’s back catalogue to meet the whims of the executive of the day. The third and by far shortest is a lighthearted and very fannish comedy about a teenager getting conscripted to be a space cadet against her own ferocious objections.

The stories are all perfectly modern in, like, structure and pacing, but they still absolutely feel like they were written last century. Part of that is just word choice (the only thing that ages worse than old euphemisms for sex is old attempts to create futuristic slang), but it’s also just a general sensibility. Which is most cringe-inducing in the first story, both for its portrayal of the native species of the planet being surveyed (directly compared to native americans a few different times, characterized as relentlessly opportunistic penny-wise but pound-foolish hucksters leaping at the chance to sell their land for cheap imported consumer goods), and also just for a handling of gender and sexuality it’d take more time than I’ve got to really dig into. (I have a sense of where all those tomboy versus girly girl memes ultimately descend from now, though.) The other two more just felt out of time than actually wince-inducing, with the third story especially feeling like an affectionate nod to the fan culture of a different era. That said, the second one’s whole horrified preoccupation with a Hollywood that refuses to make anything new instead of just remaking the same sure things from its back catalog forevermore either never stopped or has looped back around to feeling real topical.

Insofar as I’m already reading romances, I admit I do have a real soft spot for the whole ‘idiots compensate for total refusal to communicate feelings with grand romantic gestures and hoping the object of their desires will get the idea. It doesn’t work.’ thing that’s a bit of a recurring beat in two of the novellas though.

Prose and characterization wise, all three were pretty well done – though riffing off tropes and archetypes that I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve seen played sincerely and unironically, which did always leave me feeling I was missing context on how to read them. Which is pretty much what I was hoping for going in, to be clear – what’s the point of reading older stories, otherwise? Which is nice, because the actual reading experience of going through it was a bit of a slog. The first one was the real trial, but just overall I’d say the book’s more interesting as a cultural artifact than an artistic work. Oh well, c’est la vie.

[gffa]

The jedi often insist that they are only shown possibilities in their visions of the future, not certainties; while I'm inclined to trust them on that, I don't remember ever having read or seen a work where the visions did not come true, even if not as expected.

Ah sorry. The question was meant to be whether you know about an instance of force visions that don't come true.

Hi! This is an interesting question because it's not always clear what counts as a Force vision, what is weird Force fuckery (like Ahsoka's future vision of herself from Mortis--that vision never came true, but does that count as a vision?), and what's something else. But of the ones that we know are Force visions, in top level canon (movies + TCW), they generally all come true because there only a handful of times they happen and most of them happen in ways that are not accurate to the events of the vision. (The thing is, it's a franchise that has to keep its audience's attention, wasting time on a vision that has no point to the plot is not a good way to spend your limited amount of movie time or your 22 minutes per episode!) So, it's not that the Jedi are saying, "Yah, just go ahead and ignore a Force Vision." (unless it's billed as a dream, not a vision, that's a key difference) but "Be careful, because it's only a possibility and often times acting on it can be what brings it about or makes it worse than in the first place." But ultimately if you're writing a story that's exciting to a reader, what writer is going to include a Force vision that never happens? That would feel very unsatisfying! XD So, because the Jedi are shown to be reliable narrators on the Force in the major ways (like the Force 100% works like they say it does, via Lucas' commentary about it), this is one of those things you just gotta trust what the material tells you, in my experience.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Troublemaker ~ Chapter Nine ~ Fox in the Den

He is one of the best goaltenders in the league. He's also hated by his teammates. He didn't mean to be a troublemaker but why not lean into it? There wasn't anyone to stop him.

Until he met her...

A Jeremy Swayman AU x OFC Stella Williams

Story Warnings: excessive drinking, SMUT!, an asshole Jeremy, angst

A/N: Hello and welcome to a spin-off "Cross-Checked" so plenty of characters from that story are crossing over here! If you want a more detailed story of how we ended up here, read the first store HERE Also! The taglist is open. If you want to be added or removed, please let me know!

Previous: Rude Awakening

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. Reblogs are most welcome though!

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Jeremy 

This has to be a fucking nightmare.  

Not twenty-four hours ago, I was ready to profess my love for Stella Williams.  

And twenty-four hours later, I’m alone at Red Line. No girl, no love, just broken.  

I sat at the corner of the bar, sipping my drink. I really have no idea how to move forward. I’m lucky Mark, the manager, knows how to keep everyone away from me. He also knows how much I don’t want to be drunk right now. I keep looking at my phone, swiping through the photos of Stella and me. I stared at her smiling, beautiful face. I could still see the future I had been dreaming about. Could see her accepting my proposal, walking down the aisle to me, telling me she’s pregnant, buying our house.  

The lost dreams weighed on my heart, and I can feel my eyes fill with hot tears. I wipe my eyes on my shirt. I don’t want to show weakness where someone can see.  

“You know, drinking won’t help. I speak from experience.” I looked up to see Andy standing behind me.  He moved to take the seat next to me and waved at Mark for a beer.  

“Not drinking,” I mumble. I give him my glass. “It's just juice.”  

He sniffs and smiles. “Good, I need you to keep a clear head.”  

“Why?” I turned back to my phone. “Why when my entire life went up in flames?” 

“Jeremy,” Andy placed his hand on my shoulder, “it's not in flames.”  

“Cap, sorry but I lost my spot, I lost my girl, I lost everything.” I put my head on bar. “What the fuck do I have now?” 

“Jer, I have a meeting with management before the game. I asked that they not make a public statement until we talked.  I need you to be there.” 

“Why? They obviously don’t trust me. They didn’t give me a chance to explain.” 

“I know. I know.” Andy took a long drink. “I have your back. Please just work with me.   I know that we have a rough history but if the last four months you have shown me that you are reliable and faithful, not only to your girl but the team.” 

I sat and just thought about everything. “Do you think someone on the team did this?” 

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”  

I nodded. “Andy, the girl? Its Stella.” I looked away.  

“Yeah, I know.” I turned back to him. “She’s been at my house for the last couple of days. Leia is worried about her.  All she does is hold Avery. Says it stops her from crying.”  

“Fuck.” I can’t stop the tear that falls. “I’m sorry.”  

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“Because I’m messing up your life.”  

Andy frowns. “Stop that. You didn’t do anything, and we both know it.”  

It's quiet again. “Andy, I need her. I love her.”  

“I know man.” He finishes his drink. “C’mon. Lets grab a burger and talk about the meeting.” I nod, drain my drink and pay our bill. If there is anyone I trust besides Linus, it would be Andy. 

I’m sitting outside of the management offices two days later, knees bouncing. Andy is in with the general manager and coach. I’m looking at my phone, still staring at the photos I have of Stella and go through our messages.  

Stella: Would you still like me if I were a squirrel?  Jeremy: Stella... what?  Stella: I asked, would you still like me if I were a squirrel?  Jeremy: I feel like this is trick question.   Stella: just answer it  Jeremy: Am I a squirrel with you?  Stella: No  Jeremy: then yes I would  Stella: really?  Jeremy: yeah. I would make you a nice squirrel house and bring you nuts and stuff so you would be happy in your squirrel home.   Stella: that is probably the most romantic thing you have ever said to me.   Jeremy: (wink)  Jeremy: wanna come over? (smirk)  Stella: (rolling eyes) moments over  Stella: I’ll be there in 10 (smile) 

I smile at the texts, wishing she was here to hold my hand.  A commotion comes from the hallway, and I look up to see Stella and one of the other athletic trainers coming down the hall.  I think her name is Kiley. She’s always given me the creeps, a sort of puck bunny vibe that is semi-stalker-ish. I stand up. “Stella?” 

“Jeremy.” She looks beautiful, even in her angry, frustrated state.  

I’m not sure what to say. I want to say everything, but I don’t want to say it in front of anyone else. I want to tell her I love her, but I don’t want an audience.  I move to ask her if we can talk in private when the door opens, and Andy comes out to look between us. “Stel?” 

“I need to talk to you and management.” She takes a breath. “And Jeremy.”  

Two Days Before 

Stella 

I finally went back home. I knew I couldn’t stay with Leia forever, as much as I wanted to. Since I was home, I stayed with Leia when I could to help with the baby.  Holding my niece was my only comfort. I had been alone since I came home from the road trip. I should have been getting the team ready for playoffs but no, I’ve been in my apartment, crying my eyes out.  

I decided that I had enough and went back to the arena. I needed to be distracted, even when a certain someone was there. I head straight to my office, shut the door and started with the mass of emails that had piled up.  My phone rings and my heart jumps. I grab at it, hoping I’ll see his name on my phone but it's just Leia. “Hi.”  

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic Stella. Where are you?” 

“At work, tackling all of the stuff I’m behind on. Are you ok? Is my sweet angel ok?” 

I can practically hear her eyes roll. “We’re ok. Excited to see Andy.”  

I looked at calendar and sure enough, the team is due to arrive in about an hour, do a quick meeting and then head home for the night. I sigh because I know Jeremy will be here.  It's been a week since he was on my doorstep, and I told him I couldn’t be with him anymore.  The betrayal cuts deep.” Oh yeah, ok.” I sigh, because I don’t want to do this confrontation. I just want the pain to stop.  

“Jeremy was sent home the day after the pictures came out.” My head snaps towards the locker room. “What?” 

“Yeah, management benched him. They were done with his philandering.” That explained how he was on my doorstep that first night. But it also means that he won’t be here today. “It's disappointing,” she continues. “I really thought he had changed.  Andy won’t talk about it. He just said that he’s handling it.”  

“I don’t care,” I tell her. Except I do care. Andy wouldn’t say something like that unless he knew the truth. But I can’t do this. My heart is on the floor, and I just want to be in bed.  

“Stel, I know its fresh but...” 

“No, I’m not doing this. He had his hands on someone else. He promised that it was just me and then this happened.” I choke back the tears. “Leia, I just...” 

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. Umm, Avery misses her auntie. Come by after for dinner?” 

“Sure,” I reply, desperately trying to will the tears away.  “I gotta go.”  

“Ok. Love you Stel.”  

“Love you too, Lee.” I hang up and turn my back on the door. I need air, I decide and head out to the patio area behind the arena. I watch as the bus pulls up and the team starts to disembark. I’m looking for him, even though I know he’s not going to be there. I give myself five more minutes before I head back inside.  

“I can’t believe they sent him home.” A familiar voice that grates my nerves is speaking around the corner.  I stop, knowing that I probably shouldn’t eavesdrop but decide to do it anyways. Kiley continues to speak. “I was hoping that I would get a chance to, you know, talk or maybe something more.”  

Another one of my trainers, Amanda, sighs. “I would love a chance with him. But rumor has it, that he has a girlfriend. They were just keeping it on the low since Jeremy wanted to protect her.”  

“If he had a girlfriend, he wouldn’t have been caught with his hands on the cookie jar, if you know what I mean.” Kiley snaps her gum. “Shame that the guys couldn’t have privacy at the bar that night.”  

Something about that sentence makes my danger alarm go off.  She’s right, it was odd that the guys didn’t get privacy in the bar. Usually, the bartenders and security are really good about making sure the guys are alone. It had to have been someone on the team or staff that took this photo.  I go back to the news article from a week ago and start researching.  

Two hours later and I think I have it.  The photo was sent to the newspaper via Instagram. But the photo taker was not given credit.  Just when I think I’m at the end of the road, something else catches my eye.  

BruinsBabiegurl: no credit for the photo? Booo! 

What the fuck? 

I click on her profile and see that it’s blocked.  Not wanting to get caught, I create a fake account and send an approval request. I decide to head home, and I shut down everything. As I’m exiting, I run into a wall.  Not a literal one. Just a goalie shaped on. “Oh Linus! I’m so sorry.”  

“Its ok, Stella.” He offers me a sad smile. “How are you?” 

I frown at his look. “I’m ok.”  

He slides his hands into the pocket of his jacket. “No, I mean, how are you after...” he trails off and understanding hit me. He means after the photo. Jeremy told him.  

“He told you, didn’t he?” 

“Yes. He’s a wreck, Stella.”  

“He did this to himself Linus.”  

“I don’t think he did. I was there and he was professing his love for his girl, no name given, before the incident with the woman.  He bumped into her, caught her, apologized and moved on. He took one more drink before Andy and I took him back to his room.  Alone.” I hug myself because I’ve known Linus a few years and he’s always been a good honest man. And with everything I found online, I think I might be wrong about Jeremy. Linus studies me and I think he can see the battle within me. “Stella, he loves you.”  

I shake my head. “No, he doesn’t. He... he just wanted a hook up.”  

“Stella, you love him.” He looks at me seriously. “Take your time. But give him a chance.” He leaves it there and walks away. I can feel a tear threatening to fall. I take a deep breath and head out.  

The next morning, as I am getting ready for morning skate, my phone dings. I look to see that my follow request was approved. I need coffee before I can take this on.  Maybe going to The Addicted, would be best. Public place so I don’t lose it. Logical.  

The coffee shop is busy, and I tuck myself into a corner. I’m sipping my coffee when I see him.  

Jeremy.  

His hat is low on his head and sunglasses on.  He stares at his phone or the menu but doesn’t look around. But his defeated posture tells me everything I need to know.  He’s sad, upset, frustrated all at once.  He takes his order, not looking anywhere but down and leaves. A couple of girls had giggled when they saw him, but he didn’t make a motion towards them.  It looked like he was just swiping though his phone.  

When he’s out of my sight line, I sigh and open Instagram. Navigating to the new “friend” I have made, I gasp, loudly, at the profile.  

It’s Kilye.  

Kiley had snapped the photo and wanted credit.  She wanted to make sure trouble came to Jeremy. I clench my fist. Even if it doesn’t fix my relationship with him, he didn’t deserve to get his privacy violated and lies told. I screen shot the original comment and the profile and send it to the GM with a message.  

Stella: I need to meet with you about this.   GM: tomorrow 10AM 

I don’t know how Jeremy can forgive me for all the things I said and did.  

But I get him some justice.  

The next day I call a meeting of all my athletic trainers at 930. Once the group is assembled, I call their attention. “It’s been brought to my attention that someone in the organization is taking photos of the team, without permission, and posting them. As many of you should remember, there was a privacy clause stating that photos must have the consent of the players in order to post. I am here to remind you that, even you think the photo is innocent or that you might not be caught because your profile is private, any photos taken and posted without consent is subject to evaluation and/or termination.”  

I look around and see all of the faces of confusion. Except Kiley. She looks nervous. “If you need a refresher on your contract, please let me know.”  

I finish the meeting with things we need to know about injuries and equipment for the start of the series before ending it five minutes to ten.  “Kiley, stay back please.”  

She rolls her eyes as she stands still, hip jutted out. She at least waited until everyone else left. “What do you want?” She popped her gum.  

“We have a meeting with the GM.  I need to make a decision on changes to the team. I wanted your input.” 

The surprise on her face was something that I will burn into my brain forever. She won’t see this coming and frankly, I don’t give a fuck about her.  “Oh, well, I didn’t think you appreciate my opinions. I mean since...” she trails off.  

“Well as much I hate you for meddling in my personal life, you are a good trainer.” As we make it through the management office doors, security appears behind us. “Too bad you were too stupid not to comment on the photo of Jeremy.” She pales, realizing that my speech was about her this morning. She turned to leave but security is behind us. I grab her arm and pull her towards the GM’s office. 

And I see him seated outside, swiping on his phone again. When he hears us, he looks up and is startled. He stands up. “Stella?” 

“Jeremy.” 

Before he can ask, the door opens, and Andy and the GM open the door. Andy looks at me curiously. “Stel?” 

“I need to talk to you and the GM.” I take a deep breath. “And Jeremy.”

NEXT

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