#Cunt: A Declaration of Independence

[cuubism]

HURT/COMFORT PROMPTS YOU SAY *pulls out giant scroll* okay what about (probably human) trans chronically ill dream dealing with a health crisis and hob is trying to support him through it? bonus points: maybe dream's parents are being shitheads so dream and hob have to get _married_ to make sure dream's wishes in hospital or wherever are respected?

(from meadow. i am not having feelings about anything in particular, Why would you Ask.)

@meadowziplines this was supposed to be angsty but it just ended up kind of wholesome tbh. that's the opposite of what usually happens to me

you've seen married for tax purposes before, now see married for next of kin legal rights

--

Hob knew he wanted to marry Dream within two weeks of their first date, but he tried to be reasonable about it. Dream was shy and guarded his hard-won independence closely, and Hob felt that just declaring his eternal love too quickly was a sure way to scare him off. So he didn't.

Now he's regretting it, because hell, it would have made this so much easier. That's not how he wants to think about marrying Dream, about it making being in a hospital easier, but here they are. And he is.

And it's why he's hiding around a corner as Dream's parents are "visiting"--more like being complete assholes--his hospital room. God, Hob hates them. This whole situation is the only reason he's even met them--Dream doesn't talk to them anymore, and for good reason, but the moment they caught wind of vulnerability they pounced on the chance to regain control.

Dream is an adult and can make his own decisions, but Mr. and Mrs. Cunt have proven very slippery and manipulative and have played the 'Hob's not family, we're family' card at every possible turn to get him kicked out of the room. Hob's gotten a couple of the nurses on his side on account of not being a complete asshole but he still doesn't like his chances duking it out in front of hospital administration over who gets to make Dream's medical decisions if he's incapacitated.

Dream's fought so hard to have control over his own life. Hob won't let him lose it.

Which is why he's currently hiding behind the vending machines until they leave, rather than going in there and telling them where to shove it.

He waits with bated breath until they're gone, then scrambles out, rushing down the hall with his paperwork and slipping into Dream's room. He feels like a criminal. Which is exactly why he's doing all this.

"Hob," Dream breathes, as Hob closes the door behind him. He looks exhausted. Terrible parents who insist on disrespecting you are not good for fragile health. "I thought you left."

Hob flashes him a grin, but feels how it wobbles. "Never. Just had to go get something."

He's so nervous about how Dream will react to this. It feels so likely to go wrong.

He sits in the chair by the bed so he's on Dream's level, takes his hand. "Listen, baby. This-- this really isn't how I wanted to do this. But I just-- I really don't want things to go wrong, you know? And if they do go wrong, I want us to be able to do something about it. I want to be in your corner."

His anxious rambling makes Dream's face start to fall. "Hob..."

Hob thrusts the paperwork at him. "Will you marry me?"

He had something so much more romantic in his head for the moment he finally asked Dream to marry him. He would have swept him off his feet and made him feel special. If only it could have been different.

Dream picks up the papers, seemingly in shock. "This is..."

"I did all the paperwork already, it just needs signatures," Hob tells him. "And I bribed one of the nurses to let us out for an hour to go to the registrar's office. If. If you want."

Dream keeps staring at the papers in silence. Hob doesn't want him to think this was just some act of desperation, even if it kind of was, at least timing-wise. God, this isn't what he wanted at all.

"I wanted to marry you anyway," he says, shifting nervously in his chair. "But now it's just-- I don't want you to be scared that something will go wrong with the surgery but I want you to know that someone will have your back and do what you want. Not--"

"--my terrible, terrible parents?" Dream finishes, lips finally quirking up in a half-smile.

"...Yeah." He swallows hard to calm himself. It's a lot, what he's asking, in a sense. All the legal rights it creates. But. "If you can trust me with this, then I'll protect you. I promise."

"You have already," Dream says. "As you did with the hospital admin. I think they hate you now." He seems quietly delighted about it.

Hob's always known he can be a bit annoying at times but this experience has taught him how truly annoying it is possible to be. When they got there, none of Dream's chart info was under the right name or gender, and nobody seemed particularly inclined to update it. At least not until Hob pestered them, and pestered them, and pestered them.

So yeah, they kind of hate him, but he got to be Dream's hero so it was all worth it in the end.

It's another reason he needs to get this legal shield in place now. Between Dream's slick parents and their money, and Hob who's being a continual nuisance, he thinks he knows who'll come out on top with the administration.

"...So?" he says. "Will you marry me?"

Dream starts tearing up, and Hob thinks, oh god, oh god, I've ruined it-- then Dream pulls him close and throws his arms around him. "Yes," he breathes. "I will. I-- I wanted to for so long."

That makes idiots of the both of them, then.

But Hob doesn't dwell on it for long. He hugs Dream back, then kisses him, pressing his face between his hands. Now that the stress of asking is over, the real feeling bubbles up inside him. Joy. Elation. He's marrying Dream.

"I love you," he says, and Dream smiles. "Now let's get out of here."

--

Their makeshift ceremony at the registrar's office is very emotional despite being completely spontaneous. It's just them, plus Death who Hob got to come along as their witness, and they don't yet have rings to exchange--but at the end of it, Dream is his husband.

Truthfully, Dream deserves better, he deserves a lavish romantic ceremony with flowers and fine clothes and desserts and anything he could possibly want. But... Hob is his husband now. He can give him better, later. And what a joy is that.

Dream is exhausted by the time Hob gets him back to his room, but seems happy nevertheless. He takes a nap while Hob goes to show a copy of the marriage license to hospital admin and gets them to update their records. The next time someone tries to kick him out of Dream's room it's fucking on.

And he doesn't have to wait long. He gets one peaceful day of being able to sit in Dream's room unimpeded, reading to him and just generally being able to enjoy his company without hiding behind the vending machines, before Dream's parents come back.

Dream tenses at the knock on the door, and Hob's never felt more powerful than when he stands up and says, "Don't worry, I'll tell them to leave."

"You needn't--" Dream starts, but Hob shakes his head.

"Oh, no, I'm looking forward to this."

He opens the door with a grin to find Dream's mother on the other side, and stands conveniently in the doorway, blocking her view of Dream. "Hey."

Hob can practically see her blood pressure rise at the sight of him. "You. I thought we had dealt with you."

"I'm hard to deal with," Hob says. "Sorry." He's not sorry.

She tries to push forward. "Out of my way."

Hob blocks her, and can't help a rather vicious smile. "Dream wants you to leave."

"You have no right to even be in here, never mind to tell me to leave," snaps Dream's mother.

Hob hands her a copy of the marriage certificate. He's got several. "On the contrary."

She stares at it, and is, for a moment, completely speechless.

"As Dream's husband," he says, and oh the words are delicious, "I'm telling you to leave. And I think you should do it before I call security on you." An echo of what she and Dream's father had said to him in the past.

Her jaw clenches and she shoves the paper back at him. "That they even let people like you marry in this country is an abomination. You are perverting the sanctity of marriage."

"That's my absolute favorite thing to do," Hob says, and shuts the door in her face.

"I think you enjoyed that far too much, Hob," Dream says as Hob turns back to him. Then he starts giggling. "Did you notice?"

"What?"

"Mother finally agreed that I am a man so she could be homophobic about it," Dream says, and dissolves into giggles once again. "She always said I needed to find a husband; I can't imagine why she isn't happy that I have."

"'Apologies, Mother,'" Hob says, doing his best imitation of Dream's posh accent as he sits down beside him again, "'I know you would have preferred that I marry a respectable young heir from the polo club but I'm afraid I'm shacking up with the guy running the local tavern. In lieu of a gift please just don't attend the wedding.'"

Dream laughs again, then says, "Will there be a proper wedding?"

"You want there to be?"

Hesitantly, Dream nods.

"Then there will be."

Dream smiles, and Hob takes his hand, squeezes it. "And think on what sort of ring you want," Hob says. "By the time you get out of surgery next week, I'll have it for you."

"I do love you," Dream sighs.

"Not regretting not marrying Lord Whoever from polo club?"

"There was no polo club," Dream says. "There was croquet, however--"

"Oh my God--"

"--however, you are the one I want to be married to."

Hob smiles. "Good." He kisses Dream's hand. "And you know, right? You know I wanted to marry you anyway? This was just a-- a timing thing."

"I know. But, I admit, I've found this all far more entertaining than I'd have thought." He smiles up at Hob. There's nothing better in the world than that clever smile. "You are a gallant husband."

If Hob can get Dream to keep looking at him like that, he thinks he'll be happy for the rest of his life.

"Promised to protect you, didn't I?" he says. "And so I will."

[ashwhowrites]

Older! Eddie Munson x reader where Eddie and Y/N flirt with each other until one night, the two of them end up having sex (they were drinking), and Y/N is afraid that Eddie didn't like her and that he was just drunk and she starts ignoring him, and Eddie feels hurt bc he likes her, and when he gets to talk to her again, they end up having sex and confessing

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

⚠️ smut

Girl next door

Y/N has lived alone ever since she turned eighteen, she wanted independence from her parents and to be on her own. She rented out a tiny little house in a quiet neighborhood, and that's when she met the Munsons. Eddie and Claire Munson, a couple that Y/N found herself watching from her window.

They fought constantly, and their loud voices filled the neighborhood. She could hear Claire slam the front door every single time she ran out. She'd come back the next day, but just to fight and leave all over again. It was a marriage that never seemed to have a good day.

Eddie Munson caught her eye the most. His long hair, his mature face, the small amount of facial hair she craved to feel against her. His brown eyes, the eyes that she imagined looking up at her between her thighs. He was a wet dream and she had many.

She wondered what he did on the nights his wife left. Did he sleep in their bed alone? Did he miss her or thankful she was gone?

Y/N knew it was inappropriate to not only have a crush on her older neighbor but even worse to have a crush on a married one. But she couldn't help it.

He filled her mind all the time.

When she was in the shower, her hands between her thighs as she leaned against the wall. The image of him behind her, his chest against her back.

When she stood in her kitchen, the window gave her the perfect spot to watch him work in the yard. His white tank top clung to his wet skin, and his hair tied up. His tattoos glistened up and down his arms.

When she tried to sleep but the ache from her cunt kept her restless. When she pushed a pillow between her legs and moved her hips down on it. Her hand slipped under her shirt as she felt her chest. She'll never forget when she reached toward her window, just inches above her bed, peeled back the curtain, and saw right into their bedroom. Her hips froze on her pillow as she watched him jerk off. His shirt was pushed up on his chest, giving her the glory of seeing his stomach clenching as his hand worked on his cock. She barely noticed that she started moving on her pillow again. Her eyes glued on him as she rubbed her cunt against the soft fabric. His eyes clenched and his head thrown back, the white ropes of cum landing on his stomach. The way his eyes looked over, staring right back at her as she came in her underwear. She immediately moved the curtains back, embarrassment in her body when she realized what she had done.

But nothing ever happened and she never spoke to him. It was a cat-and-mouse game, almost. Sneaking looks at each other through the windows.

After a year, on her nineteenth birthday, Claire left for good. Y/N watched as she threw her bags in the car. Y/N kept an eye on their driveway for months, but Claire never came back. She assumed the couple got the divorce that was needed.

But with Claire gone, Eddie went outside more often. And a few times, Y/N found herself in conversation with him. She cursed herself for being attracted to him even more. He was even more beautiful up close.

Eddie invited her in for a beer on a random Friday night. And they got closer. She learned about his life, and he learned about her. He knew she was young, and apologized if it was weird to invite her in. But she didn't care and he honestly didn't either.

On her twenty-first birthday, he declared it was his duty as a friend to take her to the bar. A year passed of her hanging out with him almost every day, and she couldn't stop herself from falling in love with him. He was older, divorced, and at a different stage in life than her. But that made her want him more. She just feared maybe for him it didn't go past sexual tension.

"You look amazing!" He complimented, a smile on his face as she twirled in her dress. Neither knew her dress would be thrown to the floor in the backseat of his car.

She was drunk and he was drunk, both stumbling in his car. Then before she knew it, their lips met in a heated kiss. They were rushed as they tore each other's clothes off. Their tongues tangled together as Y/N took off Eddie's belt and unzipped his jeans. Her body lay against his seat as he settled on top of her, his cock buried in her as he fucked her. She loved the way he stretched her open, his nails dug into her sides, and his mouth attacking her neck. Her brain melted, all she could do was lay back and let him have his way with her.

"How long have you been thinking about this, huh? Don't think I don't see you watching me all the time." He teased, his voice mocking. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good clenching around my cock. Sweet tight cunt."

She whimpered from his words, her hand moving down to her clit. She gasped as she rubbed her clit, moaning into Eddie's face as she felt herself getting close.

She came as the car shook and the windows fogged.

~~~

That was a week ago.

She barely remembers how she got home, but she remembered the feeling of his cock inside of her.

But she's been too scared to see him since. When she woke up alone in her head, the feeling of his skin ghosted her.

She was afraid it meant nothing to him. That he was drunk and didn't mean it. He wasn't interested and she was too young. She couldn't handle the rejection.

She avoided him as much as she could. When she went out to grab her mail the next morning, he was walking over with a smile on his face. She panicked and raced inside.

Or when she was tanning in her backyard and he walked out to grill. Before he could say a word she raced back inside.

Every day she was close to him but she ran away every time.

~~~

Eddie was puzzled by Y/N's behavior. He thought they had a good night together and to him, the sex was the best he's ever had. He could still feel her lips and the way she clenched around him. But anytime he got close to her, she ran away.

He hated to admit he was upset. He didn't plan to date after his divorce, but Y/N was different. She made him feel things he'd never felt. She felt amazing underneath his body and how she came all over him. The lust in her eyes and smeared lipstick.

He liked this girl and now she won't even look at him. Was it just a little fling for her? Like getting the older guy for fun but nothing serious?

Eddie refused to let another weak pass without clearing the air. He wasn't going to let her ignore him.

He grabbed a case of beer and walked over. He hated that he was a man in his 40s, and scared to talk to a fucking girl.

He knocked on the door, impatiently waiting.

Y/N was shocked to see Eddie on the other side of her door. She didn't know what to say.

"Can we talk? I brought beer." Eddie suggested, holding up his case of beer. Y/N stepped aside, she hid from him long enough and now she needs to be an adult.

They went to her living room. Eddie cracked open the beer and handed her one, then cracked his own. He sat next to her and took a deep breath.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Eddie asked, he tried to sound soft but he couldn't help but sound annoyed.

"I'm not." She shrugged, avoiding his eyes as she looked around the room.

"Knock it off, you ran away every time I got near you. And I thought you were mature and I thought you weren't a teenage girl. But I see I'm wrong." Eddie scoffed. She shrunk in her seat, hating the scolding tone in his voice.

"I don't know if it's because we have different generations or shit, but the way I was raised was when you fuck someone, you don't ghost them. I don't know if that's a younger group type of thing. Where you mess around with no feelings involved. So I can sit here and assume these things about you, or you could speak up and tell me what the hell is going on." Eddie snapped.

Y/N couldn't help but feel turned on by the way he was scolding her. His voice was rough and sharp. She almost wanted him to ruin her and tell her everything she did wrong. She placed her beer on the floor, moving over to his lap.

Eddie watched her confused as she sat in his lap. She grabbed the beer from his hand and moved it to the floor. She took his empty hands and placed them on her back, right above her ass.

"Did I make you mad?" She mocked, her lips moving down his jaw. Her hands moved up and down his chest.

"Yes." He spat, his right hand moving off her body, to slam down on her ass. Y/N moaned and jolted forward. Her cunt brushed over his hard cock.

"I'm sorry for being such a brat about it. Maybe I need to be taught a lesson in manners?" Her bottom lip pouted as her hands moved into his hair, yanking on his curls. He clenched his jaw as his head yanked back. His eyes were on her.

"You want me to teach you?" He played along, his hands gripping her ass.

He quickly switched positions, throwing her on the couch, her knees on the cushions and her body bent over it. He stood behind her, wasting no time to yank down her shorts. He slapped her ass once more. Bending down to bite her unmarked ass cheek.

"Now baby, when I fucked you in my car like the slut you are, did you like it?" He asked, his hand moving her underwear to the side. His finger slowly rubbed her clit.

"Yes, sir." She moaned, her mind already melting as his fingers slipped inside of her. She was soaked and embarrassed.

"And don't you think it would have been polite to tell me that?" His fingers fucked inside of her nice and slow. Her wetness dripped down his palm and her thighs.

"Yes, sir." She gripped the couch as he sped up. The sounds of her wet cunt echoed around them.

"But you decided to be a little bitch and hide from me," Eddie growled, his free hand moving to her chest, and squeezing her breast.

"Now what should you say about that?"

"I'm sorry!" She gasped out, he was fucking her hard, his fingers scissoring inside of her.

"Good girl" he praised, kissing down her spine.

"Want your cock." She begged, reaching behind her. But Eddie grabbed her hand and held it against her back. Leaning down towards her ear.

"Oh no, brats don't get my cock. Especially brats who act like I don't exist." Eddie said

"I'm sorry! I am!" She begged but he refused. Sliding his fingers in and out of her as fast as he could. His other hand reached down to rub her clit.

"Why did you do it?" Eddie pushed, he could feel her cunt clenching around him. He knew she was getting close.

"I...I" all she could do was stutter and moan. Her head spun as she felt her orgasm building. His fingers circled her clit perfectly.

"Tell me or you don't get to cum."

"Please, I need to cum!" She begged but he didn't slow down. Forcing her body to get close.

"Say it!"

"I WAS SCARED! I didn't want you to reject me and I like you and fuck, I've liked you for so long." Her orgasm was right there, two more circles on her clit and she'd be cumming. "I was scared it was only because you were drunk and I'd be too young to have a relationship with you. Scared it was sex and that's it." She panted. "Didn't want to be a young fuck FOR YOU!" she screamed as she came, he fingered her through it. He touched her clit with the perfect amount of pressure and attention. She clawed at the couch as she soaked his fingers.

"That's a good girl. Keep cumming, baby. Give it all to me." He praised, fingering her slowly as he helped her ride it out. Her hips pushed back on his fingers as she rode his fingers.

She fell onto the couch, her body weak. Eddie slipped his fingers out of her, moving her underwear over to soak up her wetness. He gave her covered cunt a harsh slap. He turned her around, his hand on her neck as she faced him. Her face was red as she panted.

"My pretty girl, so much more than a young fuck." He said, his knees on either side of her as he placed himself above her lap.

"Really?" She whimpered out, her voice insecure and weak.

"Mhhm, I like you too. And I've liked you for years. Sure, a young pretty girl catches the eye of the neighbor in a troubled marriage. Teases me through the windows, thinks of me when you masturbate, and even watches me jerk off. Practically a porno in the making. " He teased, a smile on his face. "But what if the older neighbor admitted to his wife there was another woman stuck in his head? So she left. And I finally went after you, I made all the moves and we became friends. We got drunk and had the best sex of our lives. And it was great because there were feelings from both of us." He continued.

"I like you, and it killed me to watch you run away from me." He admitted, his fingers tracing her face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." She apologized, her hand covering his on her face.

"It's okay, I was scared too."

"Does this mean I get to date my extremely sexy older neighbor?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows. A warm feeling in her stomach as Eddie laughed.

"Mhhm definitely." He whispered, leaning down to smash his lips on hers.

For the first time, they spent the night together. Her head was on his chest, his fingers playing with her hair. Eddie felt loved and wanted, two things he didn't have in his marriage but he found it in the girl next door.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

[pub-lius]

Hello, recently you answered an ask about how Hamilton reacted to the Hamilton-Madison fallout, and one of the things you said was "These men were very crucial figures in American law, which shows that, unlike men like Jefferson, he [Hamilton] was very selective in who he chose to associate with when it came to his work."

Was Jefferson particularly indiscriminate when it came to finding collaborators, or was Hamilton particularly selective (or a little bit of both)? Could you provide some examples for this contrast?

hello first of all, the structure of your ask had me literally salivating screaming crying on the floor because this is such a wonderfully structured ask and it is the perfect formula to get an in depth response bc there’s so much i could talk about here. i love you. anyway-

Let's break this down to each dude. First, the worst dude, Thomas "freak" Jefferson. Jefferson's political career began when he joined the House of Burgesses, which, as the name implies, is a house of Burges (its a legislature). His first major publication was A Summary View of the Rights of British America, a Revolutionary work of literature that called King George III a cunt in formal language, was done entirely by himself, and it was rejected by his contemporaries for being too radical. This gained him a reputation for being a blue haired liberal.

Source: The American Heritage Book of the Presidents and Famous Americans (book 2)

Jefferson would go on to write The Causes and Necessity of Taking up Arms with John Dickinson in July, 1775 to, yk, explain the causes and necessity of taking up arms against the British. John Dickinson was a very well known politician, being a member of the Continental Congress and one of the elite group of Americans who had the chance to be educated in England. Both Jefferson and Dickinson were known revolutionary voices, despite the differences of opinion that would arise between them in the following debate on independence. They were also both members of the Second Continental Congress.

Source: American Battlefield Trust, Delaware Historical and Cultural Affairs

The question of why Jefferson worked with Dickinson is most relevant to this ask. And the answer, in my opinion, is just because it was convenient. The Continental Congress was the best- "best"- men of each state coming together to represent their respective homelands. Dickinson and Jefferson most likely had conversations about the subject they would go on to write about, and decided to write it down and publish it for public benefit. We'll come back to this later.

Okay, now the elephant in the room: the Declaration of Independence. I find this subject so boring so bear with me. Jefferson was chosen by the Declaration committee (consisting of John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, Robert Livingston, and Roger Sherman) as he was already known as a Revolutionary writer and one of the best educated of them. He wrote the original draft on his own- well, technically- and then it was edited by the rest of the committee, and then by the rest of Congress.

Oh, but Henry! You said technically! Why? Well, dear reader, I'll tell you, be patient, jesus fucking christ. Jefferson highly based the Declaration off of Richard Henry Lee's resolution calling for independence in the Continental Congress, but mainly off of the philosophies of John Locke. That famous phrase we all know was almost word-for-word the writings of John Locke. I even once wrote an essay on how Jefferson essentially plagiarized John Locke in my sophomore government class.

"We hold these Truths to be self-evident, that all Men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness..." -Thomas Jefferson, Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776

Source: my pocket Declaration/Constitution LMAO i really busted that out like an absolute nerd

"All mankind... being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty or possessions." -John Locke, Second Treatise on Government, 1690

Source: brainyquote.com and a suspicious PDF of excerpts that I narrowly avoided a virus while accidentally downloading

I think that the Declaration is a pretty good example of how Jefferson, and 18th century American government, usually performed. This famous document was created by committee, and through education on 17th century philosophy. There were not multiple men working on the original draft of this, and the men who did work on it were not selected by Jefferson, and his major works are almost entirely attributed to him alone. He'd go onto write other historical documents such as Notes on Virginia and Anas (which are a more interesting and complex document) in this same form.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, Founders Online

He did consult with other men when it came to information and intelligence on political enemies later in his political career. These men were mostly hyper-relevant Democratic Republicans, who tended to be rich, southern landowners (aka slaveholders), at least those who associated with Jefferson. The most iconic of these were, of course, James Madison and James Monroe. Jefferson frequently consulted them, and Monroe (allegedly) gave Jefferson copies of the documents Hamilton showed to him to prove he had not been speculating with James Reynolds, but had actually been sleeping with his wife.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, The Three Lives of James Madison by Noah Feldman

To summarize, Jefferson was not necessarily indiscriminate with who he associated with, and he didn't even really work that much with other men on his major writings. However, we can see a definitive pattern of Jefferson only really associating with other members of his class, neither below or above him. And this just very simply makes sense. Jefferson, as did the rest of the 18th century, believed that there shouldn't be any cross contamination between the social classes. He also believed that the only really smart people were in his class. And he wasn't aggressive about this, it's just a passive belief due to the way society was structured.

UNTIL!

Alexander Hamilton was literally opposite to Jefferson in every sociocultural way. In Jefferson's eyes he was an ambitious upstart who rose through the ranks, defying the social order that kept society from collapsing.

You'll hear a lot of people say that in forming America, the Founding Fathers had undone this rigid social class system, but that really isn't true. The class system in Europe was entirely different than the one that developed in America, but it still definitely existed in some form. Without the court system, America formed a loose sort of aristocracy that depended on land ownership and/or success in the mercantile business. In Europe, you'd see members of the clergy having their own class, but in America, it was entirely based on wealth, and less on birthright, but if your parents were not wealthy, the only way you could become wealthy was by getting in on some kind of get-rich-quick scheme, like owning a plantation or being a lawyer.

What made Hamilton different from this was that Jefferson, and other enemies, could literally watch in real time as he rose through the ranks. He could see him go from a captain in the artillery, known for his bravery in the New York campaign (someone who would eventually be forgotten), to Washington's aide-de-camp (okay... but he'll probably still fade into obscurity), to a member of the Confederation Congress (oh! well, okay, but that doesn't particularly mean anything, this is probably the highest he'll get), to the only New York delegate in town for the Constitutional Convention and the only person from New York to sign it (well that'll get him in the history books...), to the FIRST SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY OF THE NEW US GOVERNMENT (WHAT THE FUCK HOW DID HE FUCKING DO THAT WHAT THE FUCK GET HIM OUT).

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow

So, let's talk about Hamilton's political career now, specifically through tracking his writings.

One thing the musical gets right is that Hamilton DEFINITELY utilized anonymous pamphlet publishing throughout his political career. And these are some of my favorite documents ever. From A Farmer Refuted to The Monitor to The Publius Letters to Pacificus, Hamilton absolute served irreparable cunt in all of these writings, and there are more than what I've listed, I just haven't finished my chronological list of Hamilton's published works.

"I'll use the press, / I'll write under a pseudonym, you'll see what I can do to him [Jefferson]." -Alexander Hamilton in Hamilton by Lin Manuel Miranda

Source: Blumenthal Performing Arts

All of these anonymous publishings had some things in common that I've used to categorize them:

A target (usually a person he didn't like and thought was immoral)

A core lesson (typically a political stance he was taking at the time that he wanted to defend and garner support for publically)

A newspaper publisher that was symbolic or strategically important in some way (either an enemy newspaper, and up-and-coming newspaper, an old friend's newspaper, etc.)

multiple editions

2-3 coauthors/beta readers

Almost each one of these publications follows this pattern, though number 5 tends to be the least common among all of them. But, since his college days, Hamilton would ask for his friends' input on his writings (whether or not he accepted their advice is not confirmed). Before he would give his college-era speeches, he would consult with the small debate group he and his friends made before he gave those speeches. When he was writing The Publius Letters, he most likely consulted with his lover, John Laurens, on the subject matter, as Laurens had close connections with congress, and the target (number 1 on the above list) was Samuel Chase, a congressman who had basically scammed soldiers out of food, causing many to starve for a prolonged period.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, John Laurens and the American Revolution by Gregory D. Massey

Like Jefferson, Hamilton had his magnum opus, and the influence of others played a major role in defining the document. Hamilton would ask other men, including William Duer, and Gouverneur Morris to write this document, but ultimately settled on John Jay and James Madison. This was, of course, The Federalist.

William Duer was related to Hamilton by marriage, as they married a set of cousins. Duer was educated in England and worked for the East India Company, which gave him a very good resume to be one of Hamilton's coauthors. However, the two submissions Duer made for The Federalist were rejected. Gouverneur Morris was a blue-blooded politician who gave the most speeches at the Constitutional Convention, a whopping 173. He spoke multiple languages and had been educated at King's College, which is now the ivy league Columbia. Morris was too busy to contribute to the project.

John Jay was the first coauthor selected. He had been the main draftsman of the New York State Constitution, a negotiator of the Treaty of Paris (1783), and was another alumni of King's College. He later became the first chief justice of the United States Supreme Court, and negotiate a treaty with Great Britain. Hamilton often called on him in regards to political matters, and the two were close, lifelong allies. Jay only wrote five of the 85 Federalist essays, because he was hit in the head with a fucking brick during the Cadaver Riots.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow

The other principal author of The Federalist was James Madison. James Madison, in my opinion, was the most qualified to write The Federalist, despite his later delusions about the Constitution (which were largely the result of Jefferson's influence on his opinion but that's neither here nor there). James Madison was educated at what was considered the greatest educational institute in 18th century America: Princeton (then called the College of New Jersey). Madison was the reason Hamilton wasn't able to take an expedited course to his degree, because Madison had attempted to finish his four year education in two years, and had a nervous breakdown... fun fact...

But, still, he got his law degree from Princeton, and was in several legislatures, including the Virginia Governor's council where he met Jefferson. And of course, he was the author of the Virginia Plan, which was the foundation of the US Constitution of 1787. His notes on the Constitutional Convention are the most complete set of notes, and he was there every fucking day. So yeah, James Madison knew the Constitution pretty well, even if he eventually cared too much about states' rights to recognize what was blatantly written in the Constitution, and maintained that viewpoint until his presidency.

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow, The Three Lives of James Madison by Noah Feldman

The Federalist was not as evenly divided between the authors as Hamilton intended, since he could not shut the fuck up, but that's not the point. The point is that the men he sought to be his coauthors had several things in common: they attended prestigious educational institutions and had long histories of Revolutionary work. Reading of these men's person histories reads like you're going through a company's qualifications for their employees. Because it almost was except they weren't getting paid. Hamilton sought out these men based on their qualifications, and, as you can see by William Duer's rejected submissions, he had a high standard that they had to fit for him to affix his name next to theirs (which he didn't do until the weeks leading up to his death because he knew he was gonna die but that's a topic for another time).

I KNOW THIS IS LONG BUT IM STILL FUCKING GOING BECAUSE THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU GIVE ME THE CHANCE TO ANSWER COMPLEX QUESTIONS ABOUT HISTORY INSTEAD OF THE SAME FOUR SHIT SUBJECTS THAT EVERY HISTORIAN COVERS IN THEIR BOOKS THANK YOU OKAY

This pattern of finding qualified contributors to his works continued throughout his life. Now, idk if you know this, but Hamilton was actually planning another The Federalist-style publication right before his death and i am LITERALLY SO EXCITED TO TALK ABOUT THIS

Hamilton told his visiting friend James Kent that he wanted to look through all of history and analyze government and the various forms it took throughout all of written history. Mirroring The Federalist, he intended to invite six to eight authors, including John Jay, Gouverneur Morris, Rufus King, John M. Mason, and James Kent. He thought that each of these men would write about the subjects in which they specialized (Kent on law, Mason on theological history, etc.) Hamilton would be in charge of writing a synthesis on the previous volumes.

"The conclusions to be drawn from these historical reviews he intended to reserve for his own task and this is the imperfect scheme which then occupied his thoughts." -Chancellor James Kent

Source: Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow

As you can imagine, these additional dudes followed the pattern shown above for Hamilton's qualifications for his coauthors, especially for a project this big. I mean, if this could have happened, it would have been literally incredible. I did the calculations, and it would have taken Hamilton five years after 1804 to get rid of all of his debts. If he had lived for that length of time, he could have started on this project, and alleviated the debts that later plagued his family. But that ties into my other theories on Hamilton's death, and that is just too weighty of a subject to get into in a post that's already this long.

To wrap this all up, the conclusion we can draw here is really just related to the class differences between Hamilton and Jefferson. Alexander Hamilton was not bound by a lack of social mobility in the 18th century, since he completely decimated that concept by his existence, which allowed him to view his co-contributors more objectively and more selectively. He handpicked those who he worked closely with based on their qualifications and their experience. His categorization of their abilities in that last example shows that he specifically sought them to speak on subjects they were most acquainted with.

Jefferson, on the other hand, didn't have that kind of social mobility, nor did he desire it. Jefferson stuck with his peers, who were mostly all lawyers of the same religion and political beliefs. While I'm not saying Hamilton was going around and writing alongside Democratic Republicans, he certainly didn't pick those he worked with based on like-mindedness or status. He chose them entirely on the basis of their revolutionary resumes, and that is really the difference we see in these two men's respective political careers. Was that the reason Jefferson was president and Hamilton wasn't? Definitely not. Was that the reason they didn't get along? Well, it certainly didn't make them like each other. Does it make Hamilton smarter? No, surprisingly. Do I like Hamilton more because of this? No comment.

I know this is lengthy, but I've literally been brewing up historical theory in my head for the past six months without having any outlet for it besides ranting at my parents and scribbling in the margins of Alexander Hamilton by Ron Chernow (as you can tell by my sources). I genuinely cannot say how much I appreciate this kind of question, because it not only gets me thinking, but it allows me to remember why I got into history in the first place, and why I want to spend the rest of my life educating people on the wonderous world of pussy politics between middle aged men that are so decomposed, the matter that made up their bald ass heads is probably in your drinking water (have fun thinking about that). Anyways, thank you for the ask and I hope you got enough examples :3

[hypnotisedfireflies]

ooh, I'll ask - what's your headcanon for Australia, New Zealand, and Polynesia??

Thank you for asking! This was a fun exercise to get down in a doc and out of my head.

I think everyone knows that I’m Australian by now.  So yeah, it’s particularly entertaining for me to imagine how things might be in the TLOUinverse on my side of the pond for a change.

Many Polynesian nations escaped Cordyceps completely – Tonga, Tokelau, Kiribati and the Cook Islands amongst these.  They closed their borders and were essentially remote enough to be able to protect themselves from the first wave.  However, that didn’t mean they had an easy time of it.  Many of these nations rely on imports and with those grinding to a complete halt, they struggled in other ways to survive.  Some of these nations also had unwelcome visitors in the form of refugees from other countries trying to fly or boat in.  Most of these brought in sick people.   Some of the nations formed methods of screening refugees who made it to their shores, others rejected them completely, and some nations fell apart over the ensuing years, unable to support so many people. 

The North Island of New Zealand was completely overrun.  The South Island had a bad few years, but pockets of it were able to resist, and within a few years they were able to rally and take the island back.  They were mostly in control by 2005 – they were not fucking around – and Cordyceps-free by 2008.  The nation officially reverted back to its name in the Maori language,  Aotearoa me Te Waipounamu (but most just called it Aotearoa).

It was many years before they conquered the North Island, and then there were several years of warfare to fully secure it.  The haka performed before the Battle of Auckland (which was one of their final victories over Cordyceps in 2015) was renowned the world over – the Kiwis documented much of their war on film, and these were distributed to survivors across the globe.  These were often credited as inspiring a new generation of survivors not to endure and survive, but to fight.

Aotearoa me Te Waipounamu maintained contact with Australia throughout the war, but the situations in the two nations were very different.  The densely populated centres of Australia were decimated.  This is essentially all down the east coast from Brisbane, to Sydney, right down to Melbourne in the south.  Darwin, right in the top end, was also destroyed, but this was mainly from refugees fleeing other nations.  But Australia is a big, varied place, and not all was lost.

Many of the islands and remote towns around the country were able to find ways to survive.  And the largest island, Tasmania, proved to be a haven.  While its population centres were initially overrun like the rest of the continent, the army concentrated its efforts on eradicating Cordyceps in Tasmania first.  There were three major offensives before they got the tactics right and were able to declare the state Cordyceps-free.  The Government relocated here, but it was not the only success story.

Perth did okay.  This is probably because the Infected, much like everyone else in Australia, thought it was too expensive and far away to bother with.  Perth was the site of the first Quarantine Zone in Australia.  Australia had a number of these over time but they were very different to the North American QZs.  Australia’s tended to be constructed in remote areas, not large cities (with the exception of Perth).  They each supported some kind of industry to try and keep civilisation humming along.  These were not perfect, but most were successful. 

The one in Port Hedlund said “fuck you cunts,” to the rest of the country and declared itself independent.  The army didn’t much like that and it was dealt with pretty quickly.  Wagga Wagga, with its RAAF and army training bases, was established not long after Perth and continued recruit training at Kapooka and Forest Hill.  But some of the most successful survival stories came not from those within Australian Quarantine Zones.

Many Indigenous Australians, especially those in remote areas towards the centre, returned to country.  Some of their camps and communities were overrun like everywhere else, but a lot survived.  Some communities adapted so well that their lives were almost uninterrupted.

(It's difficult to explain the scale of Australia, and just how remote some Indigenous communities are, and how far they are from anything else. Suffice to say, there are people who know how to live on country in Australia in a way most of us cannot comprehend, and there are families and tribes that really could weather Cordyceps out - especially those towards the centre of Australia, where the conditions are dry and wholly unsuitable for a mushroom-based infection).

But the QZs kept in contact with one another and most importantly, with Aotearoa me Te Waipounamu.  Trade recommenced between Tasmania and the South Island once both these zones were fully secure, and over time, links were reforged with other smaller nations in the region.  The South Pacific Alliance was formed. By 2023, there was a good deal of cooperation – except for Perth, who also decided the rest of us could get fucked, and declared themselves as the Independent Nation of Perth or some crap.  Nobody was really listening, they’re pretty far away and no one wanted to go there anyway so it was like okay good luck bye.

… I don’t really have beef with Perth.  I’m sure it’s lovely. Anyway, thanks for the question! I'm not sure how plausible all of my theories are, but it's fun to consider.

[mommy-mortis]

I want Homelander to use his tongue to write The Declaration of Independence on my cunt.

[bunny-banana]

everyone signing the Declaration of Independence knew this is a once in a life time thing and had to bring their fucking A game that day, everyone woke up that day and decided to serve absolute cunt in handwriting.... except this guy apparently

[kronulv]

@lannioness asked: It's no insult to say a dead man is dead.

The   king,   no   longer   a   boy   looks   back   at   the   Lannister   woman,   if   he   does   not   show   his   emotions,   the   wolf   beside   him   surely   does,   a   warning   growl   coming   from   the   direwolf's   throat   until   Robb   places   his   hand   on   the   animals'   throat,   petting   him   to   ease   him.   "Perhaps   not.   Unless   said   dead   man   does   not   rest   properly.   Not   only   you   disrespected   my   House   and   the   North,   but   you   disrespected   his   body   and   his   faith."   The   North   clammered   for   war   at   the   news   of   Lord   Stark's   death,   a   crown   now   on   his   head   to   declare   the   North   independent,   his   father's   body,   placed   half   on   a   spike,   and   the   other   god   knows   where.  

"You   claim   to   be   a   just   ruler   and   all   but   disrespect   the   Old   Gods   and   those   who   wordship   them.   Eddard   Stark   should   be   resting   in   a   crypt   in   the   North.   Instead,   you   let   that   cunt   of   a   son   cut   his   head   and   parade   it   for   everyone   to   see.   Shameless."   And   he   does   not   back   down   for   he   has   his   own   bargain   chip,   the   Lannister   boys,   and   Jaime   Lannister   himself.   He   will   speak   as   he   wishes   so.         

[nehswritesstuffs]

Trick or treat! 🦇

Here, have 500ish words of TTOU that I'm many chapters away from broaching even if I started posting tomorrow (which I won't), most of it being under the cut.

Babies. Malcolm Tucker was minding multiple babies. How the fuck did his sitting room turn into a full-blown fucking daycare? His son was bouncing around, with Emma crawling at top speed after him, and his grandson laying underneath the overhead activity center. Having Conall was expected, Emma or Jack were alright to come over, but all three at once? With him as the only cunting adult? What did he fucking do to deserve such fucking torture? Oh, yeah, he simply was the one working at home that day.

“Da! Da! I gots a bug!” Conall announced as he bounced up to him. Malcolm was attempting to sit on the couch with his laptop computer, which had some very fucking important press release drafts on them. With the way things were puttering on, they needed to have five different versions of everything depending on not only the latest political gaffes, but also the UN's decision on whether or not to keep them in London. “Why do you keep on finding bugs?” he wondered. “I dunno.” The boy opened his hand and a spider of the non-biting kind was sitting in it, calm and collected. “Bugs are neat.” “Glad you think so,” he replied. “Now can you please let Da work?” “Okay!” Conall bent down and showed the spider to Emma, who poked at the creature in curiosity. “Bugs go in plants!” “Puh!” Emma declared. She followed Conall as he went over to the plant next to the French doors and placed it on one of the large leaves. “This is fucking mental,” Malcolm grumbled. He placed the laptop down on the table and got up to grab Jack, who was making suspiciously-cranky noises. He rested the infant against his chest and sat back down, attempting to continue his work. Three children under the age of three was going to drive him fucking bananas, but he was going to at least attempt it, so at least they could put on his epitaph that he died trying. He bounced Jack gently, soothing the child. “Just wait until you’re in this fucking game, lad. It won't be fun.” The baby drooled in response. “Da? Peppa?” Conall asked. Malcolm saw that both he and Emma were staring at him expectantly. “Yeah, yeah; go the fuck ahead.” “Yes!” Conall bounced—how the fuck was he always bouncing—to the Bluray player and turned it on, getting a Peppa Pig DVD to place in it. Before long the show started up and the two children that were capable of independent movement were entranced. Malcolm was almost about to think he might get some real work done, when his mobile rang. Fuuuuuuck... it was Dr. Shaw. “Better be good, Lizzie—I’m up to my elbows in nappies and bugs and dry cereal.” “Sounds like some pork roasts too,” she smirked. “…wait, how do you…?” “I’ve got tiny terrors in my family too, as unfortunate as it is to admit,” she said.

[laurabwrites]

Plotting out loud, because I can. astolat/GoT fanfic edition.

So I’m going to do some plotting here, because if I can’t build a sequel plot to an AO3 fanfic on Tumblr, where else am I going to build it? My head? I’ll never finish it that way!

Right so, Winter’s Crown by Astolat, which is fanfiction of Game of Thrones. This thing consumed me for the 4 or 5 days it was being released. It’s a damn good thing Astolat posted two chapters a day because I was refreshing my email waiting for those chapter notifications two or three times an hour and then injecting several thousand words into my veins the second that notification hit.

Just as a programming note. I’ve read the first third of the first book in Game of Thrones. Most of my knowledge of the series has been absorbed by osmosis from my partner and general pop culture saturation. Moving on.

I loved Winter’s Crown.

I also took one look at the ending and said “well, they’re going to be in a civil war within the year.”

Again, to be clear, the ending was perfect for the story. I’m just also sure that if the story continued we’d be into a war for the Iron Throne, like the main series is actually about.

Here be spoilers for Winter’s Crown.

So, our set-up for the sequel is that Robb is still the King in the North, with all the magical power that crown from the Children of the Forest invested in him. He’s promised/engaged to Shireen, Stannis’s daughter and only heir. You know, the niece of Robert Baratheon, the King of the South/Seven Kingdom (except whoops Robb declared the North independent, so I guess it’s Six Kingdoms now?). Robb is also currently fucking Jamie Lannister. Jamie Lannister who was Robert’s Hand before uh... declaring? taking service? with Robb. (There was magic involved.) Who also probably didn’t actually explicitly break up with Cersei before following Robb out of the throne room on Robb’s orders after the declaration of independence. 

ALSO, Stannis has already said to Robb that he intends to declare Robert an oathbreaker as the Protector of the Realm. Which from a strict reading of the situation, Robert WAS. Which Robb has already lain on Robert with the force of magic behind it. Here, I’ll quote: “I name you false kind and false friend, oathbreaker and coward, and may you end your days in the shame and misery your treachery deserves.” Which, as far as I can tell the only witnesses who aren’t Robb’s people are Robert, Cersei, the children, Margaery Tyrell, and a small handful of goldcloaks/Kingsguards. So, I doubt that bit of information is getting publicized by anyone in that room. Which Stannis was not.

Basically, I see war coming from two fronts. One, Stannis declaring Robert an Oathbreaker, which is politically tricky because either Stannis has taken himself out of Robb’s service and is making a play to be the king himself? OR he’s calling Robert an Oathbreaker as one of Robb’s sworn liege lords. Which, yikes. Plays right into the narrative that Cersei has built up for herself: that Robb wants power and will march on the South with the Wildlings and/or Stannis’s men at arms and/or the Lannister men (answering to Jamie).

I think if Cersei left the North alone after the Long Night and Stannis was very clear he was not one of Robb’s lords, Robb and the North would be happy to sit out a war and just work on recovering from the Long Night. Because, again, yikes, about half the population that survived the initial rise of the dead froze to death. The North is not in any shape to be going to war.

But I don’t think Cersei can put herself in someone else’s (Robb’s) shoes and believe they won’t act like a politically duplicitous cunt after power and only power. So she’s going to want to go to war to strike first and protect her own power. And also to pay back the “betrayal” of her brother/lover (Jamie) abandoning her. Also Stannis’s betrayal of swearing to the King in the North. But I think she’ll care about Jamie’s more.

And I think Robert isn’t strong enough, morally, emotionally, etc. to stop her. 

So... I tend to think that Stannis at least wouldn’t kick off a war until he could secure his supply lines. Supply lines which after the Long Night freezing a significant portion of the country would be in terrible shape. Especially since the largest supply of excess grain is the Tyrell’s and Cersei has that on her side since Margaery Tyrell is married to Joffrey. 

End result is that I think Cersei will kick off the war and Stannis will lay the charge of Oathbreaking as a response. To you know, weaken/divide her forces as much as he can.

What Cersei may not have is a competent General. Robb, Jamie, Stannis, and Tyrion are on the side of the North (whether or not Jamie and Tyrion can stomach fighting their sister and niblings/children, those two at least aren’t on Cersei’s side). Tywin is MIA from Winter’s Crown except as a brief aside in the past tense and may or may not be dead in this iteration of the world. The best General we can reasonably project to be on Cersei’s side is her Uncle Kevan. Who did see the dead with his own eyes, so that might change his thinking on if the charges of Oathbreaking are true and who that means he should fight for.

Meanwhile, Robb/the North has six direwolves, at least 3 giants, Brienne of fucking Tarth, Jon Snow, Jamie Lancaster, Tyrion Lancaster, AND, most importantly, every single hero and every foot soldier of the Long Night who survived who’s willing to be called to arms again (they’d probably all like to just go home and recover, but damn, if their king is calling, these are the people proven to show up when called). A significant portion of that army are Wildlings who are now released from their oaths and will most likely head back home over the Wall. But! There will also likely be a significant number who stay (*cough* Tormaund making eyes at Brienne) and can function well as a scouting force. 

So the North has an army that trained and trauma bonded through the Long Night together. Morale/belief in each other and their leaders is going to be high. The Boltons are all dead due to events in Winter’s Crown and the Freys are possibly all to mostly dead, so Robb is not going to be stabbed in the back by traitorous liege lords this go around (no Red Wedding here!). What the North doesn’t have is food. 

So, what they need is to get the intelligence of Cersei attacking quickly and to haul ass South where they can pillage food.

As a side note, I am assuming that Danerys does NOT show up with dragons at any point to turn this into a three-way fight. She is not mentioned at all in Winter’s Crown, not even the aside Twyin got, so I’m working off the assumption she’s dead or busy on her side of the sea and will not be appearing in a relevant time frame to this completely hypothetical sequel fanfiction of fanfiction.

So, questions I would need to answer, for myself, before writing: 1) What does Varys choose to do? In GoT, he is canonically more loyal to the realm and thus the people living in it than whoever is on the throne. We know he’s still the Master of Whispers in the Winter’s Crown iteration of the world and was able to slip a number of spies/potential assassins into Robb’s camp. Assassins who were routinely thwarted by Brienne and Tyrion, but all it takes is once. And people might be more willing without the magical terror of the oncoming Long Night/Night’s King. Robb still has the magic invested in crown however, so maybe not. Essentially, I think Varys would be a strong asset for Cersei if she utilizes him (she didn’t earlier because he was telling her information that didn’t fit her world view). And therefore what he choses to do would be important. Tyrion at least knows Varys is the spymaster and to work to counter him.

2) Is Joffrey enough of a cruel bastard to still get offed?

3) Does the accurate parentage of the royal children come out?

Well, this is a lot of thinking about the state of the board at the beginning and not much thinking about ‘plot’ isn’t it? Maybe thinking about a theme would help me out here.

The theme(s) in Winter’s Crown is(are) oaths, the costs of them, being a ‘worthy’ person, and when to adhere to an oath. So I would want this hypothetical sequel’s theme(s) to flow naturally from that. Meaning... the consequences of adhering to your oaths when your opponent doesn’t. Good job brain, the theme is the Prisoner’s Dilemma and what shame and misery is the natural consequence of treachery. 

Okay, cool, now I have the overall arc of my plot: a sudden swift victory on Cersei’s side (she seizes the first mover advantage) followed by the slow build to victory of Robb’s side. I picture this slow build to be Robb focusing on the smaller battles and alliances that builds a solid alliance to suddenly at the end sweep Cersei off the board. I’d focus on getting smaller lords on their side and peeling away minor but consequential logistical goods from Cersei’s side (armies march on good boots kind of thing) while Robb keeps his army out of direct confrontation with Cersei’s, nibbling away at their numbers in hit-and-run tactics, or swaying the men to withdraw their oaths to their lords and take up service with Robb, or just picking the terrain a battle happens in very carefully.

Too bad I don’t trust my writing chops to write a drawn out war story complete with military campaigns yet... Ah well, into the ideas pile it goes.

[my-tummy-hurts]

One of Fuqua's first really maternal moments is when Reese tries to basically get her to hand over her burster and says something along the likes of. "You can always have REAL baby baby later." And she's like.."Real baby, what the Fuck are you on about you fucking mummified cunt."

I can't imagine it would have been easy wresting control of Hadley's science division away from Reese, considering it's still technically a WY colony and it'd be really hard for a place so dependent on outside resources to declare independence (the Colonial Marine presence might help, and like in canon Hadley's Hope might be the turning point where the Corps stops supporting the Company).

Between Sneddon and Brackett (and the Marines under his command), they could probably leverage getting LV-426 declared as a nature preserve of sorts.

[ramrodd]

EnergyX - RVA - Video 02 - copy 01 - WS - 18 sec - 10/03/2023

COMMENTARY:

Here's the thing about any Elon Musk investment opportunity is that it requires Trump's fiscal policies to work. Trump's fiscal policies are based on the white supremacist economics described in George Gilder's Wealth and Poverty, the so-called Supply Side economics of William F. Buckley's Sharon Statement, which is a marketing strategy for the Ivy League socialism of the John Birch Society Here's the thing: we are a cunt hair away from the Star Wars economics of 2001: A Space Odyssey and have been since 19 January 1981, If Carter had been re-elected, or Reagan have been able to fully implement his New Federalism, and kept his promise to Gorbachev, if you replace the Pan Am logo with SpaceX, that is where would have been at or before 2001, The cunt hair standing in the way of Starship America projected by Eisenhower's 1956 Presidential Platform and Starship Troopers of any lunar base is the economics, business model and politics of Elon Musk and all the anti-DEI CEOs who are doubling down on Trump with billion dollar bailouts, just like his daddy taught him Reagan's New Federalism was the final piece to the completion of Stage 2 of Eisenhower's process for the transformation of the Manhattan Project of the global Military Industrial Complex to the Aerospace Entrepreneurial Matrix of Eisenhower's Star Wars economics, we be using the Moon in our campaing to colonize Mars the way Britain was the launching pad for D-Day across the Channel. Stage 1 produced Apollo 11 and Nixon and Daniel Patrick Moynihan created the legislation that authorized the reconfiguration of the New Frontier and Great Society into the core of the social fusion engine of DEI economics, going back to the Declaration of Independence. The Declaration of Independence is 4 Square with the universe like Jesus's version of the Shema: Heart, Soul, Mind, Strength and the City on the Hill in Revelation, The Edmund Burke social contract of the syndication is a DEI culture. The secular rule of law of Socrates is the ethical foundation, the Thomas Paine Rights of Man the foundation of the I, a Person democracy and the Benjamin Franklin's Pursuit of Happiness is the structure that unleashes entrepreneurial impulse  of the Elan Vitale of the Self-Actualizing person's will to win in a Free Society Nixon and Daniel Patrick  Moynihan launched Stage 2 with Affirmative Acition, a complex DEI performance technology that will provide the economic basis for Stage 3, the final paradigm shift from the dialectical wilderness of the Boomer Food Fight to the organic performance structures of Eisenhower's Starship Capitalism of 2001: A Space Odyssey, In 1981, we were a cunt hair away from launching the final paradigm  shift but the reactionary nature of the Hollywood John Birch Society around Reagan stopped it cold, where we have been stalled for the last 43 years. And as I say we remain a cunt hair away from the Starship Capitalism of 2001: A Spce Odyssey by the economics, business model, social philosophy and MAGA Conservative politics of Elon Musk and the January 6 insurgency legacy of William F. Buckley, Elon Cusk's performance model was state of the art when women began to blay half court basketball, The anti-DEI MAGA Conservatives like Musk want to restore that social milieu,

[fumblingmusings]

hi, asakiku anon again. I was taking some time to think about what bothered me. 1/? I initially found the concept and the early execution of your story quite intriguing. However, as I progressed through the narrative, particularly after Alfred's declaration of independence and the expanding influence of the British Empire, which even touched upon my own country, I couldn't help but notice that England seemed to assume a passive and victimized role, except for her interactions with the children.

2/? Your narrative delves into the British Empire, yet the impression I, and perhaps others, have received is that the primary victims of the empire are the British themselves, specifically the English. You've said that that was the unreliable narrator, but it feels deeper than that.I understand your intention to craft a romantic interracial love story. However, the extreme powerlessness of nyo!England unintentionally conveys a message of victimization. 3/? It uncomfortably suggests that a privileged, presumably white woman suffered more at the hands of racist and sexist men around her than they suffered under the empire. I want to approach this subject with sensitivity, but the portrayal of England as small, sickly, and helpless while engaging in a romance with a man of color doesn't quite align with the interpretation I want to believe you were going for. but thank you for taking the time to write this and be open minded! I hope to read more.

Hiya! Thanks for messaging in again, and I totally understand where you are coming from. I see that I really needed to have more of a presence from other colonies - and specifically not the ones that she stole and raised - to really emphasise how much of liar England was in the fic, rather than just having everyone say that she is one.

I really do want to make it clear the intent was that my female England is not a good person, nor was her first attempt at a relationship with Japan supposed to be good either (he's not a particularly nice person in the fic either). Nor was England's relationship with any of the colonies good, nor was her relationships with France, Germany, or any other country she knew.

She's narcissistic, lazy, smug, un-empathetic, ignorant, too comfortable in misery, and a generally melancholic nation. She is not the hero in the story, she is very much the villain. I don't know if that changes how people read the story, or even if it should, but I have tried to be clear in asks in the past. She is - at best - a deeply pitiful person who needs a massive wake up call and - at worst - a genuine villain.

At nearly any stage in the fic, she is being awful. She is rightfully called a liar and unnerving by Alfred and a self victimising cunt by Erin. You're totally right, English woman were indeed imperial agents, and Evelyn does the things that many of them did in the name of comfort and civilisation. They are angry about the way British society treats them, but the concept of solidarity (through class, race or other factors) is out of the question. Her drug addiction is separate to Empire - it's a sickness of her own making following a Civil War and then being shot by Alfred. It's not Empire that is victimising her, it's one hundred percent herself, she just refuses to see it that way. She is capable of changing things, but unless the problem is presented to her right in front of her face where she cannot turn away with an obvious solution... She will not act. The fact that she does only act when it comes to a microscopic circle of people is meant to be deeply troubling.

To me, she is a frustrating and cruel character with bursts of kindness and pity who has a long way to go before approaching anything close to redemption - hence why Canada does not forgive her at the end of the fic.

All this is try and explain the angle I was writing from, not to excuse it. It doesn't need me to excuse it.

If I did not get the tone right and make it clear in the fic, I one hundred percent hear you and know that I am sorry. I need to be more objective in my writing to flag out behaviour and put more of an emphasis on the other side, on the people on the receiving end of such behaviour. You are absolutely correct, Brits did not suffer more than any colony under the British Empire. Certainly one of the ways to agitate me is to make a blanket statement like Scots were victims of colonisation as much as the Irish were (because they really bloody weren't). The British government certainly did not (does not) care about the people on the ground and often left the poorest to literally freeze and rot, but this is not a case where you can quantify and compare suffering. What the government did within its borders versus outside are very different cases. Oranges and apples really.

Still, thank you for sending this over, I really do appreciate hearing people's thoughts. I hope you have faith that I can do better going forward.

[velvetrogue]

Lily could only whimper needily when Trey teased her about her lust for him. She was far beyond any sense of pride or wit now, too consumed by the need he’d created within her to verbally spar as she’d done before. When Trey declared that he took what he wanted, Lily nodded quickly and murmured, “Yes, Daddy. You can have whatever you want from me, Daddy, whenever you want, Daddy…” As much as she prided herself on being a feisty, independent woman professionally, Lily couldn’t deny just how good it felt to submit to a cocksure man like Trey, someone who could make her heart race and cunt throb in equal measure. His promise to make sure she was continually wet and satisfied just proved the point for her, and so Lily quickly responded with, “Thank you, Daddy,” as soon as he’d said it.

She gasped when he spun her around and pressed her against the bannister. Her breath hitched in her throat when he flipped her skirt up and then pulled her panties down. She couldn’t see Trey from her newfound position looking down at the hall, but that only made it more exciting for Lily. The sudden trailing of his tongue and fingers against her sex and hole made her cry out loudly, her moan reverberating around the high walls. Briefly, she worried about being caught, but lust soon saw to those fears as she whimpered and moaned upon feeling Trey’s tip against her soaked cunt. When he dangled her soaked panties in front of her, Lily didn’t question the command to open her mouth. She just did so, and a muffled moan followed when the damp lace was stuffed into her mouth as a gag. It was just as well, for when Trey pushed his cock into her a mere moment later, Lily began moaning and crying in a way that would’ve been heard outside had she not been silenced in such a sensual way. 

@writermuses

Despite the confidence on his face and in his stature there was something in the initial softness of their kiss that had confused Trey. He didn’t want anything to do with a commitment, so why was he feeling? This arrangement was purely contractually, so why was he so desperate to impress her? Pushing his thoughts away, Trey watched as Lily pushed he’s pants down with his boxer briefs. His grin grew when at the blonde’s reaction to his dick bobbing eagerly for her. In a show he flexed and watched her reaction as it bounced again. “Look at my greedy little flower, picking up your skirt so I can have your tight little cunt.” His thumb traced her heart-shaped face, then ghosted across her kiss-swollen lips. “You never had a choice, Little Flower. Daddy takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants.” With a wicked chuckle he leaned in as if he was going to kiss her again, but only placed a gentle peck to her nose. “Don’t worry, Lily. I’ll make sure you’re always fucking soaked, keep you nice and wet so you’re always ready for Daddy’s cock.”

Trey spun her around, pressing her stomach to the banister as he flipped her skirt up from behind. His palms rubbed over the globes of her ass before he pulled her panties down. It was only an excuse to burry his face in her cunt and only for the briefest moment, a swipe of his fingers through her folds, a dip of his tongue in her sex, a loop around her puckered hole, and then he was standing again. With Lily’s soaked panties in one hand and his cock in the other, his swollen tip teased her as he gave his next command, “Open your mouth, Little Flower. I want you to hold onto this for me.” Only when she complied did Trey press his cock slowly into her. She’d get fucked just like she’s begged for it, but he wasn’t a barbarian indifferent to the fact that most of his partners had to work up to it. He would follow her cues or cave trying. Probably the latter given the feeling her tight warmth sucking him in deeper.

[xtruss]

There Is No Isra-Hell, But “Love For All Forever Palestine 🇵🇸!”

“MIKE POMPEO, The Scrotums Licker of the God’s Fucked-up Terrorist People, The Zionist Cunts:” Isra-Hell Has Biblical Claim To Palestine and Is ‘Not An Occupying Nation’

Trump’s secretary of state makes comments on podcast to defend former administration siding more openly with ‘An illegal apartheid regime of Isra-hell’

— Chris McGreal in New York | Thursday 16 February 2023

Braindead, Boak Bollocks and the Guy Who Carries His Brain in His Incurable Cancerous Swelled Scrotums, Mike Pompeo, the Former US Secretary of State, has defended Israel’s decades-long control of the Palestinian territories by claiming that the Jewish state has a biblical claim to the land and is therefore not occupying it.

Pompeo told the One Decision podcast that his religious beliefs, US strategic interests and his view of the Palestinian president, Mahmoud Abbas, as a “known terrorist” underpinned his support as the Trump administration’s top diplomat for the shift in US policy away from mediating a two-state solution and toward more openly siding with Israel.

“[Isra-hell] is not an occupying nation. As an evangelical Christian, I am convinced by my reading of the Bible that 3,000 years on now, in spite of the denial of so many, [this land] is the rightful homeland of the Jewish people,” he said.

Pompeo, who referred to the occupied West Bank by its Israeli name of Judea and Samaria, declined to support a two-state solution of an independent Palestine alongside Israel – an increasingly diminishing prospect after years of failed negotiations and the rise to power of politicians in Israel who advocate annexing the occupied territories.

“I’m for an outcome that guarantees Israeli security and makes the lives better for everyone in the region,” he said.

Pompeo, who once suggested that God sent Trump to save Israel, was speaking ahead of publication of a book, Never Give an Inch: Fighting for the America I Love, that has fuelled speculation he is laying the groundwork for a presidential run.

As secretary of state he reversed a number of longstanding US policies, including overturning legal advice from 1978 that declared Israel’s settlements in the West Bank “inconsistent with international law”. Most western governments, such as the UK, say the settlements and Israel’s annexation of occupied East Jerusalem are a breach of the Geneva conventions and are therefore illegal.

Senile Oaf Putang Ina Mike Pompeo spoke ahead of the publication of his book, fuelling speculation he is laying the groundwork for a presidential run. Photograph: Anadolu Agency/Getty Images

Pompeo was Trump’s CIA director before his appointment as secretary of state in 2018. He played an instrumental role in an administration that recognised Jerusalem as Israel’s capital and moved the US embassy to that city from Tel Aviv. The move was widely criticised, including by Washington’s allies, as pre-empting a final agreement between Israel and the Palestinians.

Pompeo said it is in the US’s interests to back Israel whatever its policies, and he blamed the Palestinians for the failure of peace negotiations.

“What’s in America’s best interest? Is it to sit and wait for Abu Mazen [Abbas], a known terrorist who’s killed lots and lots of people, including Americans … to draw a line on a map? That’s what the state department would do,” he said.

“The previous secretary of state ran back and forth from Tel Aviv to Ramallah and tried to draw lines on a map. We said: ‘That’s not in America’s best interest. Let’s go create peace,’ and we did.”

Pompeo was part of the Trump administration team that negotiated the Abraham accords normalisation agreements between Israel and several formerly hostile countries, including the United Arab Emirates, Morocco and Sudan. At the time he said the accords were part of the administration’s efforts to ensure that “that this Jewish state remains”.

“I am confident that the Lord is at work here,” he said. (Yep! That’s true. God is gathering them all in one place, ‘Forever Palestine’, to send these God’s Fucked-up Terrorist Zionist Cunts back altogether to the “GAS CHAMBERS” of Europe again where they actually belongs.”)

Isra-Hell (The Apartheid Illegal Regime) Votes To Strip Citizenship From Arabs Convicted of Terrorism (Freedom Fighting)

New law is aimed at Isra-helli citizens who have received financial aid from the Palestinian Authority

— Bethan McKernan in Jerusalem | Thursday 16 February 2023

An aerial view of homes in an illegal settlement in the Israeli-occupied West Bank. Photograph: Ronen Zvulun/Reuters

Illegally Occupied Palestine (Apartheid Regime of Isra-hell) — Isra-hell has passed legislation allowing the state to strip Arabs convicted of terror offences of citizenship or residency and deport them to the West Bank or Gaza Strip if they have accepted financial aid from the Palestinian Authority.

The new law, which the Knesset voted for on Wednesday, is designed to discourage what Israel calls “pay for slay” stipends, which Palestinians view as assistance for the families of those imprisoned. Israel says the longstanding practice serves as an incentive to violence.

“It is inconceivable that Israeli citizens and residents who have not only betrayed the state and Israeli society but have also agreed to receive payment from the PA as wages for committing the act of terrorism, and continue to benefit from it, will continue to hold Israeli citizenship or residency status,” an explanatory note to the bill says.

The decision could affect 140 citizens of Israel with Palestinian heritage and 211 Palestinians from East Jerusalem with Israeli residency permits who are currently held in jail, according to the Israeli rights group HaMoked.

The deportation of people from East Jerusalem, which Israel annexed in 1967, would be considered a war crime under international law, and critics have said the new measures amount to population transfer.

Jewish members of the Knesset, including the opposition, voted overwhelmingly in favour of the legislation, which passed 94-10, while Arab lawmakers voted against it. Ahmad Tibi, the leader of the opposition Ta’al party, which advocates for the rights of Israel’s Arab minority, said the bill was racist because it did not apply to Jews convicted of terrorism.

“An Arab who commits an offence is a conditional citizen,” he said. “If a Jew commits the same offence or a more serious one, they don’t even think of revoking his citizenship.”

Kadoura Fares, the head of the Palestinian prisoners’ club, a West Bank-based group that represents prisoners and their families, said the law was a “very dangerous decision that aims to transfer Palestinians from their cities and villages under the pretext of getting social assistance from the Palestinian Authority”.

The Palestinian Authority (PA) is a semi-autonomous body that controls parts of the West Bank, while the Gaza Strip is ruled by the Islamist group Hamas. In 2018, Israel passed a law allowing the government to withhold the same amount of money the PA is estimated to give to the families of Palestinian prisoners.

Last year, Israel’s supreme court ruled that the state could revoke the citizenship of people convicted of acts that constitute a “breach of loyalty”, including terrorism, espionage and treason.

In a separate case and a legal first, Israel recently deported Salah Hamouri, a dual national Palestinian-French human rights lawyer from East Jerusalem. The state claimed he belonged to a banned militant group, which fitted the 2021 definition of a breach of loyalty.

[howieabel]

“What happens to people living in a society where everyone in power is lying, stealing, cheating and killing, and in our hearts we all know this, but the consequences of facing all these lies are so monstrous, we keep on hoping that maybe the corporate government administration and media are on the level with us this time. Americans remind me of survivors of domestic abuse. This is always the hope that this is the very, very, very last time one's ribs get re-broken again.” ― Inga Muscio, Cunt: A Declaration of Independence

[drakenology]

𝐁𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  ♡  𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : smut!, daddy kink, violence & mentions of blood, established relationship, dumbification, face slapping (politely), dirty talk, degradation, a pinch of knife play (he just cuts your panties open), exhibitionism, breeding kink, cum, fingering, swearing and size kink if you get a magnifying glass. 

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: Hey sexy bitches. This one’s for my Vice City event. I scrapped so many ideas to get here which is why I extended the due date for it.. Anyways! Enjoy, sluts. Daichi supremacy. 

He sat at the bar; tall, dark and handsome. He had this roughness to him, his hands riddled with scars and his face rocking one just above his eyebrow. He was one of your most handsome regulars. He always came in around 12 am on Friday, all blooded up and battered from god knows what. Tonight was no different. You sigh, taking in his strong arm that was now covered in bandage wrapping. You strut over to him, pulling your top up a bit to push up your breasts. 

“What can I get ya, handsome?” You ask charmingly. He looks up from his empty glass, his deep brown eyes soaking in your form. 

“Whiskey, neat.” He replied, smoky tone of voice vibrating against your ears as you bit your lip. 

“Comin’ right up” as you turn and walk away, adjusting your shorts after bending down to get his drink ready. His eyes trailed to your hips where your g-string sat snugly on those hips he often watched sway as you walked by to serve your patrons. Were you always this sexy? He never stopped looking at you as you poured him a drink, leaning over the bar to ask him something. 

“I swear every time you come in here you show up with a new injury. This is a bar, not a hospital. What the hell were you doin’?” You question, reaching a soft hand up to his brow as if to try and heal it with your touch. He didn’t even flinch either, almost leaning into your hand like a touch-starved puppy. You grab some napkins and wipe some blood from his leaking nose, tsk-ing at him as he sighed. He knew you’d give him shit.

“Got into this nasty scrap with some gang. One of ‘em tried robbing me.. I showed him why he shouldn’t have. His boys came after me and they caught me off guard. One of ‘em had a knife.” He admits. You flinch, looking at him in awe. What’s this guy into? 

“Be careful, Lui Kang.” You tease, sliding a glass of ice over to him from one end of the bar while you took some orders. 

Not even a few moments later, someone came up to you at the bar. This sleazy looking man with his hair gelled back so thickly it didn’t move as he craned his head to look you up and down. 

“Hey, sweetface. Get me a drink, will ya?” His voice like a natural irritant. You turn to him and take his order, your protective regular watching him closely as he sipped his drink. He hardly knew you; just some girl who worked at the sleazy bar he always finds himself licking his wounds in after a scrap. Still, you were always so nice to him; greeting him with a pretty smile, a cold drink and a conversation. He was just so used to violence, fighting for everything he has. He was grateful to have just one ray of sunshine. Vice City, nor his life had ever granted him that luxury. 

As you serve the man his drink, he takes a sip and makes this repugnant face. 

“Women. Not even good for making a man a fuckin’ decent drink.” He snaps, tossing the drink towards your direction; the glass almost hitting you. You scream as the glass shatters against the wall, your regular standing from his stool to give him a piece of his mind. 

“Fuck’s your problem, tough guy?” He spits at him, grunting when a fist suddenly meets the bridge of his nose. The thud causes you to jump, staring at the scene with wide eyes as your heart slammed against your chest. Of course you were no stranger to bar fights, but this? How could one man make violence look so tempting. You gasp as you watch him pick that grease ball up by his shirt and practically toss him out the doors of the pub. 

“Fuck off home, before I decide to kill you.” 

 He takes his seat back at the bar to find you cleaning up the mess, noticing your startled and clumsy movements from shock. 

“You okay?” He asked, concerned. You nod. As tough as you try to front to be, you were scared shitless. Though this wouldn’t be the first nor last asshole to grace your bar. 

“I can handle myself, ya know?”, putting up a front that you didn’t need his help. You were grateful. But he doesn’t have to know that.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Remind me not to interfere, miss independent.” You stare into his deep chocolate brown eyes and lean closer to him. 

“What, am I supposed to thank you now?” You tease, taking a cherry and sticking it in your mouth. 

“It’d be nice.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow at you. You giggle, leaning over to give him an innocent kiss on the cheek as a token of gratitude. 

“Thanks.” 

After that fateful day, you and Daichi were attached at the hip. He brought you everywhere with him as if his scene was safe and tidy. Most nights consisted of dressing his wounds after watching him roughhouse at his fight club. You never minded caring for him since you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. 

The life he lived, the way he made his money just to get by was terrifying and... exciting. You always came with him for his matches whenever someone had bet big money on him or if some assholes wanna settle a score. You always stood in the loud crowd as they watched, beer bottles and cigarettes littering the concrete ground. Daichi told you to always wear his name chain so that the guys knew who you belonged to, those dudes can get real handsy and Daichi would hate to have to hurt a friend. God, you were such a distraction. Daichi stared at you almost too long; dodging a swing of a knife as he took his opponent down with his bare hands. The crowd smashed more glass against any nearby surface to celebrate, the other half of the crowd booing and hissing. 

After he was declared the winner, he got his cut of the bet in cold hard cash; about a nice $200,000. Boy was he frisky after that. His big hands stayed planted right on your ass as he walked you both out and onto the streets to walk home. Your walks were always so peaceful after the boisterous and rowdy night. But tonight, Daichi wanted to claim the second part of his prize. He swiftly scooped you up in his arms, sitting you atop a car parked on the side of the steady street. He pulled his knife out from his back pocket, spreading your legs with his palm. 

“Better not make a fucking sound, baby. ‘Else everyone’s gonna hear how much of a whore you are for your daddy.” He grunts, taking the blade to cut your panties apart by the crotch from under your skirt. Your pussy was now on full display for him and quite possibly the ongoing traffic driving by. You shudder as the cold breeze hits your bare skin, looking at him with doe eyes - only making him want you more. 

“What? Don’t act like you don’t want it like this, babe.” his voice thick with lust as his thick finger reach up to pinch your nipples through your thin top. “God, look at these.” as his hands grope and squeeze the softness of your breasts. You’re moaning into the air as his lips kiss your neck feverishly, taking your top and lifting it up over your breasts. 

“You want my dick don’t you, baby?” He whispers into your ear, your thighs starting to tremble just at the low, brassy tone of his voice. You nod, your cunt fluttering as it starts to drip with slick. Your obedience has him feeling firm, the brunt side of his hard cock starting to grind against you through his jeans. You gasp, Daichi’s hands still pinching and teasing your nipples as his hips grind to make you feel good. You start moving your own hips to follow his movements, Daichi groaning as he watched you try and get yourself off. 

“Look at you humpin’ me like a little bitch in heat.” He spat, a whimper leaving your mouth as you start getting desperate. His hands stop your hips in place, his eyes seemingly dilated with a dark appearance. 

“Take it out since you want it so bad.. yeah, put it in for me. Work for it, slut.” He demands, tapping your cheek to keep your eyes focused on his. He slaps the other side of your face as he snapped his hips, this chubby cock seemingly splitting you open as you cry out. He starts off brutally, as if he weren’t railing you out in public in the middle of the night on some stranger’s car. You weren’t making the scene any more discreet with all your pathetic groans, your hands pulling at his shirt to hold onto something. Your mind became cloudy, panting and sobbing like a real whore. Daichi’s just enjoying the sight of you ruined underneath him, slapping you in the face once more to snap you back from your daydream causing you to gasp. The sting faded as his hand went to stroke the blow with his thumb, the rest of his hand lifting your chin.

“Look at me. Don’t cum until I say so, got it? I feel your greedy cunt sucking me up already.” He says, thumb pressing up against your clit just to make it harder for you to contain yourself. You feel your walls squeeze him, whimpering with every vein of this cock sliding in and out of your walls so addictively. Your hands claw at his back, drooling into his shoulder as you start trying to grind your hips to change the pace. He grunts and holds you still as he slides his thick cock in and out of you slower to tease you, smirking when you start to cry. 

“Pl-Please go faster, Da-Daddy, please, I can’t-” You whine, interrupted by a harsh slap to your outer thigh causing you to yelp.

“You can and you will. Daddy’s almost there, c’mon. You don’t want me to punish you out here, do you?” He coos, opening your mouth by squishing your cheeks together, spitting on your tongue and tapping your chin. You shake your head and try your best to take him for a little while longer, your slick oozing all over the hood of the car you were pinned to. As your eyes roll back, you feel Daichi’s cock start to throb intensely, a sign he was close. Relief was soon to come. 

“G’head and cum for daddy, baby. Want you throbbing for me, c’mon, you wanted to cum so bad.” Daichi urged, swiftly flicking your clit to help you. You cum in a flash, white lights shining behind your eyes as you scream his name. Seconds later he fills you, pumping his hot seed into your pussy before pulling out to watch it spill out onto the cold metal of the car. 

“Sloppy little whore.” He spits, taking his fingers to scoop it up and shove it inside you, pumping his fingers to secure it inside. You pant, your thighs trembling as Daichi hoists you up on his back to carry you the rest of the way home. 

Your eyes close, humming as you lean into his shoulder. A silent “I love you”. The walk was silent and safe, dozing off on Daichi’s shoulder as he trudged through the mean streets of the neighborhood you both lived in.