#and they have a brewery there now

[trivialbob]

The last few days I've been weary of social media and the Internet in general. It's not any sort of New Year's resolution, but I've used my phone less. I can't say that's had a negative impact on my life.

On my laptop I cut down to mostly reading the newspaper, but no more looking at the comments people leave on stories. What a waste of pixels. I still like viewing Manhattan townhouse floor plans on Zillow. Those townhomes are really interesting to me. Twenty feet wide, six levels, and only some have elevators. It's incredible that there are so many listed for eight figures.

We had light snow overnight. Outside is much less brown now. Unfortunately the clouds are sticking around like that last party guest who doesn't realize it's time to go home (been there, done that).

This morning at the dog park Sulley got mad at me. I wouldn't let him keep a dead, frozen mouse he found in some tall weeds. He forgave me at home, as I started to give Oliver and Ella a treat and he realized I wasn't going to chase him down to give him one.

Later I decided I needed provisions. Dreary days were made for Target and Costco runs. The Vikings weren't keeping my attention anyway. I donned my Target-red jacket and aimed my truck for the big red bulls eye. Good grief, everyone else in town had the same idea.

As I entered the store I saw a young mom pushing a cart with two small girls hanging on to it, both leaning precariously. "Someone is about to join the Target Crying Child Club," I thought. Moments later the girl leaning off the front of the cart lost her grip.

She attempted a front one-and-a-half somersault with a mid-flight twist and totally nailed the landing--on her face. The girl stood up, birdies circling her head, and looked at me silently. I read her expression as, "Whoa, did you see that?!"

Then mom, who hasn't learned a certain important child-rearing lesson yet, says with alarm, "Oh my gosh! Are you OK?"

That was the cue for the girl to enter wailing mode. If the mom had simply said, "Nice move, Olga Korbut" I'm sure the kid would have remained quiet, though she might have wondered, "Olga who?"

Not waiting around for the medal ceremony I made my way to the men's clothing section. Sometimes Target has some sweet deals on sweatshirts. I didn't see any I liked today so off to paper products and food.

An end-cap display of Goldfish crackers beckoned me with a sale price, then mocked me by once again lacking the pizza flavored variety.

Sulley didn't get to keep his frozen, dead mouse. I didn't get to bring home any pizza Goldfish crackers.

[starryjkoo]

Shouting into the void with a long rant, but I’m sort of confused by some of the takes I’ve been seeing about the Jikook NYC trip. Basically, I don’t understand why people think it��s weird that Jimin went radio silent or that neither of them have acknowledged the trip. I’m surprised because I’ve seen quite a few people saying this on multiple platforms.

Jimin never updates us on what he’s doing on a work trip? He barely uses social media or updates us on his life at all (can’t believe he actually forgot his password 😭) so honestly why were people expecting him to be actively posting things while in NY? He literally just went to London, completely disappeared, came back and then finally shared pictures of his HP tour on Instagram. And we still have no idea what he was actually in London for, he just ghosted us until he was back. So, there’s nothing odd about him going to NY and disappearing if he didn’t have a public appearance to attend.

At the end of Jungkook’s live he said he had schedules to go to that he couldn’t talk about, but that he thought ARMY would enjoy. Then he left and presumably met up with Jimin. So I think we can infer that the schedule he was referring to probably had something to do with whatever Jikook were doing in CT. And they had a camera crew with them, GoPros, and mics, so they were definitely filming content. Jungkook literally said in his live he couldn’t talk about what he was doing… so, why do people find it weird that they… didn’t talk about what they were doing? They’re especially not going to acknowledge something that is supposed to be a future project.

Anyways, there are a lot of interesting mysteries about their CT trip! And regardless of their motives, it seems like jkk had a lot of fun and Jimin was still physically present for JK during a monumental moment in his life. But I think there are some points that people are emphasizing as ‘weird’ or ‘significant’ or ‘suspect’ that have me scratching my head a bit because it contradicts what we know about them as individuals and the little bits of information we have about their trip.

And I’ll cap this rant post off with something else that’s been bothering me. It’s not weird or significant that Jimin didn’t appear in Jungkook’s post GMA live. That wasn’t a normal live, and it’s not really comparable to the one that JH did after Lolla or YG did after his concert. This was the first live that JK did after his debut as a soloist, and he used it to talk about the MV and his song. I’m assuming it was meant to be like the ones that the other members did where they talked about their albums a bit. That’s definitely not the sort of live Jimin would or should make an appearance on. It was basically part of an official schedule for JK.

[lesbegays]

sometimes i remember the time that a professor told me my essay was the most interesting and insightful in the class and then i started skipping that class and couldn’t bring myself to turn in any more essays to her and i’m like damn i should go back to therapy and deal with that

[voluptuarian]

cannot tell you how much I wish ancient roman ghost tourism had actually been a thing

[bookofjudith]

“Well you’re already long distance so your partner being on a camping trip without service for five days shouldn’t really be too much more difficult” What A Fool You Are. You Have Never Been More Wrong In Your Life.

[dufrau]

i am safely back in my hotel bed. we have been to 5 breweries in the last 30 hours i am tired and crampy and i have eaten an edible and i am only drinking water for the rest of my life*

*until tomorrow

[deklo]

my defunct work randomly posted on instagram with a changed profile picture about donating to charities and i am. confused

[ladamedemartel]

you know it's a bad party when you spend less time there than you did on your makeup

[twunkzilla]

I hate these fucking bank of America lameass rural pride events where are the attractive people

[sharkieboi]

I….might have a date today??????

[trash-nerd]

man this week is gonna be ???

giving S a birthday fuck after we have dinner at his place, and then the next day his dad is coming to take us for a day-trip and

Ive never done a 'meet the parent' thing idk what to do with it but tbf S has already met my dad sooooooo

[gingintigtig]

To give International peeps an idea of what the fuck is happening to the Conservatives in the UK right now, leading up to the July 4th election

In a grand total of only 14 days, the conservatives have done the following on the campaign trail.

Announced the election outside of number 10 in the pouring rain with no plans to use an umbrella or take it inside.

Went to a brewery in Wales and asked if they were looking forward to the summer football, only for staff to respond that Wales didn't make the qualification for the cup.

Person who questioned the PM on Television was actually a plant

Went for an interview at the Titanic Quarter in Belfast and the reporter said "are you captaining a sinking ship into this election?"

This picture.

Promised a return of National Service which OBLITERATED the young vote.

A top Tory minister instead of campaigning went to fucking Greece.

A Tory minister gave up her own seat and told everyone to vote for the Reform candidate instead.

Three Tories defected to a different party.

Did a PR thing involving the PM dribbling a football and someone commented on camera "he's as good at football as he is as being Prime Minister" (he was terrible).

Former Tory minister suggested on Twitter that once he loses the election he would bugger off to California to be a speaker at GOP conferences like other former Tory ministers have done, and he had to furiously deny the allegations.

He said he'll get rid of poor value for money University Courses and when asked which ones, couldn't name a single one.

Announced the election but were nearly 200 candidates short to compete and are scrambling to find some.

Hung the flag upside down in their campaign video, which means we're in distress.

Gave a speech with factory workers, and one woman was so aghast at his bullshit on camera that they sent someone out to stand in-front of her to block her reactions; it has already been satirised.

A high profile conservative MP called a pollster who was live on air, the pollster answered, telling him that he was going to lose his seat by a massive majority. The MP didn't say anything and just hung up. Again, this was LIVE ON AIR.

They went campaigning in Hanley, and in the river behind them, the Liberal Democrat party very slowly sailed by on a little boat. The camera man panned the camera away from the prime minister to focus on the Liberals in the boat slowly sailing down the river.

A new poll shows that for the first time in decades, if not over a century, the Conservatives could be in third place, with Labour (Social Democrat) and the Liberal Democrats becoming the top two parties.

I hope you've been keeping count here, because it's been fourteen days and that is 18 pieces of terrible publicity.

[ne-spivay-ranenko]

god i am fucking pathetic

[puppyboyprincess]

We are coming to realize that we are quite simply not cut out for life outside of a city. There is just nothing to DO here, and we have no friends. We miss playing board games with our friends, and live music existing and being accessible, and we miss improv shows existing too.

[hagravenholm]

.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again? 

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad. 

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good. 

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi? 

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous. 

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there. 

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know. 

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger. 

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage. 

— You’re too young to stop believing in it. 

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir. 

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him. 

— Could you two please stop fucking each other? 

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space. 

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement. 

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time. 

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge. 

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention. 

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention. 

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something. 

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son. 

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing. 

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends. 

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore. 

— I’m not in the mood right now. 

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul. 

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other. 

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did. 

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts. 

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife. 

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you. 

— I’m not dumb! 

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly. 

— You just call me a different type of dumb. 

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter. 

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this. 

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street. 

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week. 

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir? 

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him. 

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good. 

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer. 

— I wanted to study. 

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house. 

— You mean you and your ex’s house. 

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again. 

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again. 

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying. 

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions. 

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s. 

— Why you need a job? 

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money. 

— You have me. 

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir. 

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost. 

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone. 

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later. 

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him.