#but I can at least show my work and I can at least explain my motivation and I can at least lay it all bare

[redrook]

I spent a lot of time handcuffed and in a cage in high school, for a charity bit the grocery store I worked at would do

the bit was that I was "put in jail for having too big a heart" and customers could donate to my bail to get me out (and the money would go to a children's hospital or something)

now. I was very clearly a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a large cage. and I would honestly tell people that I had been in there for hours. and people would say, that's terrible! that's awful! and I would show them my wrists red from the tight handcuffs, and say but I'm sooooooo close to making bail.

and then they would dump some cash in the basket, I'd thank them, and they'd walk away.

and every so often, one of the managers would come by and collect some of the cash, so I could keep being soooooo close to making bail.

I was very good with this bit. Parents with small kids would pay $5-10 if I told their children I had been placed in jail for not cleaning my room/doing my homework, etc. For people in their 20s, I'd threaten that I was very bad at playing the harmonica, but I WOULD play it and we'd all suffer unless they paid me. and for the most amount of money, older men in suits would almost always pay $20s if I avoided eye contact and stammered a lot.

eventually, the managers started to feel bad because I was in the cage so fucking long and often, that I'd need someone to brace me when I got out because I'd have no feeling in my legs. wobbling like a newborn giraffe.

but I would also rake in at LEAST $100 an hour in charity.

so they were like, hey champ. can we, uh, give you a pillow to sit on. in the cage. would you like a pillow so you're not just sitting on a cold metal slab. can we give you a pillow.

and I had to explain to them that if they gave me a pillow, people would think I was more comfortable, so they wouldn't feel as bad, so I'd bring in less money.

the compromise was that they'd bring me a nice coffee every couple hours, which I would have to try to block with my body from the customers.

all this money went to charity. that's what the money was for. it's what was on the sign. but how much they were willing to pay was very contingent on how comfortable I looked, never mind the fact that I was still a teenaged employee handcuffed inside a cage.

and out of the dozens of shifts I did this on, not ONCE did ANYONE say, hey kid I'm going to go talk to your manager because what the fuck is going on here. they would just drop money in the basket, and I'd thank them and sip from my secret drink.

I actually had people get MAD at me that I told them I was far away from bail, they donated like $15, and then 20 minutes I got let out because my shift ended.

again. the money was for charity. it was on the sign that was very clearly placed on the upper half of my cage.

so yeah. even when people think they mean well. people can be really, really fucking stupid.

[ekingston]

also on ao3.

“Would you stop fondling my boobs?” Lena hisses, watching as a man nearly wanders into traffic staring at what looks like Lena Luthor, elbow-deep in her own cleavage. He swerves, promptly face-planting into a lamp post when he sees Supergirl herself slap Lena’s hand away. “We’re in public,” Lena reminds her.

“Ouch,” Kara yelps. “Gentle!”

“Sorry,” Lena says. But she only feels a little bad, because at least Kara is now cradling her arm instead of getting Lena arrested for indecent exposure.

Kara is still squirming when Lena checks them in, the receptionist beaming at her in a way Lena has never been beamed at before. Dr. Sattler’s ready for them. Kara gives Lena a last, panicked look, and then she takes the therapist’s offered hand and introduces herself.

“Lena Luthor,” Kara tells Dr. Sattler with a lopsided grin. “Good to meet you.”

“And Supergirl,” Dr. Sattler says, turning to Lena, her gaze briefly flitting down at the S on Lena’s chest. “How wonderful you managed to finally come in.”

Kara flops down onto the couch with a grateful sigh, the skirt of her dress gapping immodestly as she kicks off Lena’s heels. Lena nudges her legs to close them, annoyed. The injustice of Kara getting to act as if she wants to be here. As if she hasn’t been avoiding this visit for months.

(Do we really need to do this? Kara had asked Lena just this morning. Kara’s gaze had been a cross-eyed, sparkling green as Lena applied her eyeliner with a trembling, freckled hand.

Lena had growled in response, knowing even the barest bit of unintentional pressure could blind her for life. We’re not going to cancel just because we’re wearing each other’s bodies, Kara. Hold still.

I bet you’d look good with an eyepatch, Kara had breathed, after which Lena had given up on the endeavor altogether.)

“Your work must keep you busy,” the therapist says magnanimously.

Lena huffs out a laugh. “You can say that again.” And when the Dr. looks at her, curious, “Being a superhero and all that. Always off saving the world!”

“That goes for both of us,” Kara points out. “You—I—don’t even make it to bed, most nights.” And then, softer, “Even when you tell me you’ll wait up.”

“I wish I wouldn’t.” Lena turns to the therapist and explains, “I eat when I’m bored. She comes home to a bed full of crumbs. Who wants to have sex when the sheets are littered with bits of Captain Crunch?”

Dr. Sattler opens her mouth to answer, but Kara doesn’t give her the chance. “Maybe I could make an effort not to be such a neat freak,” she pouts.

Lena’s eyes flash. “Maybe I could make an effort to wash my hands after I use the bathroom,” she snaps back.

Kara sits up. “You do!” she shouts. “You’re just quick about it!”

Lena sighs. “The laws of nature don’t work that way, darling.”

Kara makes a face Lena vows never to make again if she ever gets her body back. “I leave my hair in the shower.”

Lena snorts. “I wash it down the drain. That’s worse.”

“But you fix it!” Kara looks at her with Lena's own wide, pleading eyes. “That’s how—how you show love. By fixing things.”

“Wrong,” Lena flings back. “I break them, so I can feel needed.”

Kara blinks at her, looking hurt.

“That’s.” Dr. Sattler pauses for a moment. “Some very impressive self-reflection,” she decides.

Lena smiles at her, glad they���re getting somewhere.

Kara looks from the therapist to Lena, her blood red lips—easier than eyeliner—pinching together with uncanny chagrin. “I faked my own kidnapping to get out of her family’s Thanksgiving,” she accuses darkly.

Lena sniffs. “I have a codependent relationship with my sister.”

Kara gasps. Dr. Sattler’s eyes widen. Lena arches an eyebrow with considerable effort.

“Oh yeah?” Kara sputters. “Well,” she flails, her nostrils flaring. “You—" she takes a deep breath. "I have mommy issues.”

Oh, fuck no. That's too far. “You do not,” Lena squawks.

"No?" Kara cocks her jaw in a way that makes Lena feel, for the first time, a little sorry for the men she’s similarly stared down. “Let’s find out,” Kara says with the smallest of smirks, and then she retrieves, horribly, from Lena’s purse, Lena’s phone.

“You wouldn’t,” Lena whispers, her heart stopping.

Kara jumps up with surprising agility, dancing out of Lena’s reach. “This’ll just take a second,” she promises Dr. Sattler. “Hello? Mother?”

Lena scrambles over to the other end of the couch, practically throwing herself across the room in an effort to get to Kara.

“No reason,” Kara croons into the phone, grinning as she maneuvers herself away from Lena’s grasp. An elaborately painted and unfortunately placed vase isn’t so lucky. “Just calling to say hey,” Kara says. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Lena really should have taken Kara up on her offer to help Lena master her power of flight. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she yells.

“It is!” Kara sing-songs. “Still going strong, yup. Which is why I called! We were wondering—”

“Don’t you dare,” Lena hisses, clawing for Kara’s shoulder and exploding a couch cushion instead.

“—how would you feel about coming to our wedding?”

Lena freezes, flecks of stuffing falling around them like snow.

“Excellent!” Kara chirps. “We'll see you there.”

Dr. Sattler clears her throat. “I don’t think you two have anything to worry about,” she says. “Your communication style is—unique, but obviously effective.”

Kara beams at her as they're leaving, wearing a deeply pleased expression Lena didn’t even think her face was capable of making. “You really should start wearing more comfortable bras,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “Also maybe take up yoga.”

Lena hums. “You’ve never had any complaints before.”

Kara stops and stares at her, aghast. "Is that what I look like when I'm coming on to you?"

Lena grins at her. "Why do you think I'm marrying you?"

Kara giggles.

- - -

This was written for the multi fandom (and original!) flash fiction challenge, using the prompts ‘established relationship’, ‘at a therapist’s office’, ‘body swap’ and ‘an eyepatch’. You should give it a whirl!

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART FOUR)

Braden always teased me for how much Junior took after me, but it wasn't when my son was pregnant with our second child that I fully realized the bond that was developing between me and Junior.

A lot of it was the stretch in which Brade was too tired for the usual games of catch or even his normal parenting stuff. Seven months and starting to really show, my son had to take breaks and lie down in the bedroom. I brought Bill Jr into the chores like it was a game. "Daddy does so much work around the house... why don't we help him out for a change, buddy?"

Junior's face beamed in happiness. He didn't like doing chores, but he liked time with his dads. "Sure thing Dad. Daddy's OK, isn't he?"

I ruffled his hair. "He's OK. Just tired."

"I get tired, too," Junior said in all earnestness. Damn, to have that innocence of a 5 year old.

We told Junior he'd be having a little brother, soon. That the newborn might get extra attention at first, but we loved him in a special way and that wouldn't change.

***

It was one Sunday, and as I watched golf on TV, I felt wistful, because it was normally Brade's day. But he was taking a nap. Selfishly, I missed the hot pregnancy sex Brade and I had before Bill Jr. was born, but now my son-husband usually wasn't in the mood. I'd stroked off in the shower so I'd taken care of my physical needs, but I missed the emotional connection of sex.

"Hey Dad." God, it was Junior. I thought he'd been playing a computer game, but now he seemed eager for my company. I'd learned to read the kid's moods pretty well by now, in a more intuitive way than I'd ever felt when raising Braden.

"Hey kiddo," I smiled, moving my feet off the couch and sitting up in a more proper way. "Wanna go out and play catch?" I asked. "I'm not as good as your Daddy, but you can make me run for the long ones."

Junior shook his head and laughed. "No, sir.... I was wondering if I could watch golf with you."

Talk about surprise. "You sure that's not boring for you?"

Junior sat on the couch, eager to show off his enthusiasm. "I enjoy it, Dad. You seem to get into it." I almost laughed to think of the contrast with Brade, who teased me for the years watching golf alone in the living room.

"Well, sure... have a seat, kiddo..." I patted the couch next to me.

He seemed happy to be joining, like he was privy to some adult thing he wasn't allowed to do. I honestly thought he'd start squirming or sighing in boredom after a while, but he watched the tournament with attention.

"Who are you rooting for, Dad?" he asked at one point.

The kid was pretty curious, I'll give him that. I tried to think of a way to explain that was honest and clear but didn't dumb it down. "It's not like other sports, at least not for me. I kind of root for the guy who's playing the best, the one who's having a great day on the course."

"Oh," Junior said, not getting it but trying to.

I patted his shoulder. "Golf's about finding your best game within you." I could imagine Brade's eyeballs rolling.

We watched for a while longer. It was getting late in the afternoon. I worried about Brade and would need to check on him soon, but he just needed his rest, I knew. And I was enjoying this bonding moment with Junior. As a dad you crave times like this.

Braden and I had a division of labor. He was the stay at home dad and did more of the playtime bonding and day-to-day stuff with our son. I was the disciplinarian. Braden and I decided it would be better to have clear authority so our kids wouldn't play one of us off the other.

My other responsibility was to have the harder father-son talks. It was too early for the birds and the bees talk with Junior, but I knew I had to have a series of discussions about his parents. And I wanted to take advantage of the closeness Junior and I were feeling now.

"Buddy..." I stared, muting the TV. "Can I talk to you about something?"

Junior looked at me. Trusting. Open. "Sure, Dad."

I sighed but tried to keep like I was bringing up anything difficult. "You know how we've talked about privacy before."

He nodded, like he proud he'd learned his lesson from school. "Oh yeah, I know if your and Daddy's door is shut, I gotta knock." That had been a previous talk.

"Um, yes, buddy, like that," I said. "But you're getting to be a big boy now and you probably know that your Daddy and I are not a conventional couple."

"Is it because I have two daddies? Because Bobby has two daddies too."

"Does he?" I asked in mock surprise. "I guess that is more common." I continued. "But your Daddy and I are different than a lot of those families. See... your daddy is my son. Just like you are."

"I know, Dad," Junior said. "He calls you Dad sometimes."

We'd never fully hidden it, but now that Junior was entering kindergarten he needed to be aware. Careful.

"A lot of people don't understand that, kiddo."

"Why not?" Junior asked. I was glad he didn't seem to respond to any sense of impropriety.

I shrugged. "It's just how it is. Your daddy and I have a very special bond, a special love. And we love you very much. That's all that matters."

Junior seemed OK with that answer. But he seemed to be thinking over this talk. "Is that why you say you're my grandad when you pick me up sometimes?"

I nodded. "I am your granddad, too, Junior. And your father. It's complicated."

He smiled. "I don't mind, Dad. It's kind of cool. Like I'm special."

"You are special," I smiled, ruffling his hair. "You just can't talk about it with anyone. Not your friends or your teachers or anyone who's not family, hear?" I was combining my loving-dad and disciplinarian.

"Yes, sir," Junior responded.

I gave an encouraging smile. "So, buddy... what do you say you help me whip up some dinner? I think Daddy needs his nap today."

****

The next day might as well have been a different month. The alarm went off early, real early, and I felt Braden's warm body snuggle against mine. He was completely naked, and just the feel of his pregnant build against my arm and hip and leg was enough to wake me up, fast.

"Um, what time is it?" I asked in a morning voice. It was pitch black out.

Braden was still not fully awake, even as he was initiating sex. "I thought maybe you could come home early today, Dad... it's been a while."

I grunted an assent and turned to kiss Brade. Sure we'd given each other a good night or good morning peck of a kiss, as husbands, but I missed kissing him deeper. I could tell he's missed his too. His free hand was all over my body, my chest, my abs, my briefs-covered cock as we made out.

Over the last year, we'd gotten into a good rhythm of married sex. I'd worked out a flex schedule, where I'd go into the office real early a few days a week so I could get home while Junior was still at preschool. This gave us time for longer sessions in addition to the quickies we could sneak in.

That rhythm had been disrupted by the tough pregnancy Brade was enduring this time around, but I was more than happy to pick things back up.

Particularly now that my hunky son-husband was turning away from me and turning on the bed lamp. I could see his strong ex-footballer, ex-Marine build. Brade's a few inches shorter than me, which makes his brawn stand out even more. Even with pregnancy, he kept up at the gym, and I could see the strong lats and broad back and that muscle ass. Best of all that eight-month preg gut made visible love handle-like swells along his waist.

I knew how to read my son's body language and the silent way he could communicate his needs in the bedroom. I slipped down my underwear and then reached over to fumble for the lube in the nightstand. It had been nearly two months.

"Think Junior's asleep?" I heard Brade ask.

I slicked up my boner. "Like a rock," I said. It was about 5 AM, and if Bill Jr. took after me in a lot of ways, he was gonna be like his Daddy when it came to not being a morning person.

"I want us to talk, Dad," Brade said. "If that's OK."

My dick was rock hard and I turned toward Braden's strong body and scooted up toward him. "You want an incest fuck, son?" I said. We often had to put the kibosh on verbal sex when our son was in the house. Even with a closed door, you never know.

"Mmm hmmm," came the reply. Brade pushed back against me, savoring the feel of my big father cock in his ass cleft. My son was in heat, pregnancy hormones kicking in.

My own hormones were doing their work, and I felt my heart beat fast. I placed my hand on his belly. Big and round, I loved the way Brade's pregnancy gut was hard and soft at the same time.

"How's my grandson doing in there?" I growled.

"He's gonna be a strong, healthy one, Dad."

"It's because he's an incest kid, Brade. Made by a father and son."

"I love my father's cock," Braden hissed, lust in his voice. "Love that you knocked me up, sir."

I pushed into his ring. Slowly, because it had been months.

"I can feel that breeder cock, Dad."

"Your father's cock."

"Yessir... took my cherry. The night before Basic." Brade's insides were opening up for me now. It was like riding a bike for him I suppose. Or maybe he was reliving that deflowering in his head.

"Sent you off with your own father's cum inside you."

"Hell yes.... I wish I hadn't been on the pill then."

My dick surged inside Braden. I kissed along his neck and rubbed his stomach. "You wanted to get pregged on your first fuck, Sport?"

"You could have done it, too. Potent dad cock working me open."

I was now pushing all the way inside. My son's insides were hot and tight and alive. I missed this but the best part was that Braden had clearly missed this, too. He bucked back against me.

"Unprotected dad cock," I hissed.

"You lectured me so much, Dad," Braden hissed. "But I wish you'd just taken me raw and put your kid in me. At eighteen"

"Damnit, Brade," I said in a tone that was only annoyed by how much that turned me on. "I never told you, Son," I said. "But I made you the night I lost my virginity."

That gave Braden a pause. "For real?" He couldn't tell if this was just sex talk.

I fucked faster, holding onto this big bulk. Fucking a very pregnant Brade was one of the hottest things, almost as hot as knocking him up on the first place. "For real, Son. I fucked your mother the first time out, and all of a sudden I was a teen dad."

"God, Dad," he hissed. I could tell he was trying not to get too loud. I love Braden, but my son can be a screamer in bed. "That's so fucking hot."

I don't tend to be loud in sex, but I was getting worked up myself. "I'm thinking of that moment now... when I made you...." I slowed my thrust to be deep and purposive. "When I made Junior...."

"Fuck!" Braden hissed. His hand left his cock to grip the top of my own hand that was on his big belly, coaxing me to rub it all over.

"When I made Evan," I growled, kissing Braden's neck. For me it was all coming together, the sexual power of fatherhood, of breeding.

I could sense Braden's back muscles tense. Now that I'd slowed my thrusts, going for power rather than speed, he was bucking back against my dong again. Hungry for it. "Just like you're gonna make our next son... and the one after that."

"Oh god..." I hissed. I'd tried to make this mating last, but I was getting closer to orgasm.

"After Evan..." my son muttered, trying to keep his bedroom voice down. "I don't wanna wait for the next..."

"Yeah?" We'd talk about this seriously, later, but my sex addled brain was entertaining the idea.

"Yessir... I want you to bring my home from the hospital and bend me over and rough fuck me right then..."

It was wild and a total Brade thing to say.

I was cumming inside my eldest boy, hard.

I felt my pregnant husband squirm on my spurting dick, and only after a few seconds did I realize Braden was orgasming hands free.

We came down and caught our breath and I held my hunky son's big body from behind.

"I love you, Dad," Braden finally said.

"God, Braden, I don't think I could love you any more."

He nodded in a way that said he loved hearing that. "Dad... I'm proud of how you've stepped up with Junior."

I rubbed his furry preg belly and just savored the warmth and heat of his back against my chest. I was still firm and buried inside him though slowly softening. "You do the work, buddy." It was easy to take for granted what Brade did as a stay at home dad, but I knew he was incredible and hard working at it.

"I mean, emotionally... it takes a real man to grow... it feels weird saying that."

I chuckled. "Weird.. why?"

"Cause you're my dad," my husband said. "Like, I can't imagine any other sons talking to their fathers like this."

"We're husbands, too, Brade. Partners, equals."

"Parents."

"Fuck yes," I hissed, kissing his neck softly.

Finally my dick plopped free and Braden turned around to kiss me. He was still hard and I could feel the tip of his prick against my leg.

"Can I let you in on a secret, Dad?"

"Of course." I figured Braden and I had few if any secrets between each other at this point.

"The equal idea... what you just said... I love that, sir..." he started. "But I also love that you're always gonna be older and wiser and the man I looked up to from my childhood."

"Brade," I said, emotional and getting hard at the same time.

"It's true dad," he said, snuggling up to me, and reaching down to feel my prick. "Just the idea that you've knocked me up twice and are going to do it again..." He didn't finish his thought. We were too busy making out once more.

"We doing round two, Sport?" I asked, running my hands along his side.

Braden shook his head. "Save it for later, OK?"

I forced myself to pull myself from his embrace and slip out of the bed. "In that case, I better get ready." I stood by the bed and got one more good look at Braden's amazing physicality as his eyes stared at my rigid dad cock sticking straight out.

***

Maybe it was getting laid, maybe it was just seeing Braden get his energy back, but I was in a great mood all day. I did miss the time driving Junior to kindergarten, which I'd been doing lately, but I'd make sure to catch up with my son and play with him in the evening, after dinner.

I had a busy work day but threw my head into it and focused and banged out a lot efficiently. By 1:30 I was texting Brade to let him know I was leaving the office.

"Hot damn... we get a nice long session then," came the reply.

When I got home, I had a good idea where I'd find my son, back in the master bedroom, half naked or fully nude.

But as I pushed open the door I was thrilled with the obscenely hot sight. My ex-Marine son was naked on the bed, an extra sheet on top of the mattess. He was watching some intergenerational porn but not really jacking off, more just letting his hard dick ride up against his pregnancy swell. Best part was his normally hairy torso was shaved smooth and looked shiny.

"Jesus, son," I'd hiss as I unknotted my tie and kicked off my dress shoes. "Looks like Evan is ready to pop out any minute." I was exaggerating, since the due date was still a few weeks away. But Brade and I knew how to go into the fantasy and push each other's buttons.

My son just smiled and lay back into the pillows, spreading his legs. "You gonna induce labor with that big dad dick of yours?"

I felt my throat go tight. "I never know how far is too far to go with you, son."

Braden smiled. "Physically or verbally?"

"Verbally," I said, stripping off my suit jacket and undoing my belt. I was rock hard, just like I hadn't gotten off that morning. I'm sure Brade could see my erection riding up the crotch of my trousers. "I know not to go rough when you're this far along, Sport."

"I know, sir," my son said softly. "I just like working you up."

I took a look at the TV screen. I had wider porn tastes than my son and in any case preferred to watch only when I had to stroke a quick load out without Braden. But my son was very focused on daddy-son pairings and roleplay stuff, and he liked when we watched it together. "One of your favorites," I said. I'd seen this video several times with Brade.

"Yes, sir," my son said. "I just wished there was mpreg porn... or real dad-son teams."

A thought came to me. "You ever feel like taking the Connors up on their offer?" Jeff Connors and his father Frank had become part of the incest social circle Braden and I had, along with the Fiedlers. It had taken a few months for Frank to get comfortable with it, but now he was the one dropping hints and finally an outright suggestion that it would be hot to have a dad-son foursome. For all their flirtiness, Todd and Adam Fiedler hadn't gone that far.

Braden's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yeah? I didn't think you'd go for that, Dad."

I unbuttoned my shirt. Normally, I'd be pouncing on Brade's naked, knocked up body, but I knew we had a solid hour and a half for sex that day, before I had to go pick up Junior.

"And you would?" I asked. I wasn't sure if this was going too far. Brade and I had talked about the possibility of playing with others but only in an idle way.

"Oh yeah"," he said. "I'd love for them to watch you fuck me."

"I think the polite term is 'making love,' Sport," I winked.

"Trust me, Dad, when it comes to incest... you make love and then there gets a certain point where you just fuck."

I now pulled down my trousers and briefs, showing Brade my paternal hardon. This ritual would never, ever get old. "Is that right, Son?"

Brade nodded, his brown eyes hungry. "You can be a total beast, Dad. I fuckin' love it."

I gently folded my trousers and peeled off my button down shirt. "I think Frank wants to make a play for you," I cautioned him.

Braden grinned. "Dad... you've been wanting to nail Jeff Connors since you met him."

I blushed. "Come on, Brade..."

He laughed. "I know your an incest man, Dad. But you're also a man. Men look. And fantasize. It's OK."

A had a bit of jealous streak but also a real curiosity about spicing up our sex life with a threesome or foursome. And as a dad-son couple it would have to be someone we trusted. I stepped up to the bed and ran my hand along Braden's leg, feeling the hairs and knotted calf muscle, then tracing my fingers higher.

I watched his cock jerk and his dimples form on his face. "Nice, sir.." He put his hands under his big eight month belly to frame it for my gaze. "We don't gotta, Dad... but I figure it would amplify the incest, being with another dad and son." My son nodded toward the night stand where a new bottle stood. "I got some massage oil. Why don't you put some more on me?"

I felt that crazy horniness as I did just that, smearing the oil all over that freshly shaved muscle, feeling up the full muscle tits and those strong arms. I oiled his legs, massaging the quads before I finally go to the big prize, that big round stomach. I added extra oil and admired the vision and feel of that large belly.

"Oh fuck, he's kicking," I growled. I could feel it.

"Our son, Dad," Braden said, excited. "Our second son."

I leaned forward and deep kissed Brade, feeling his own sexual excitement and emotion coming back to me. We made out for a good ten minutes, each of out touching each other as we got into it.

"Evan Braden Drake," I finally muttered into my son's lips.

"I love giving you that gift, Dad. A second grandson."

"Baby boy," I hissed. I now felt his fingers curl around my prick, which was dripping.

"Make love to me, Dad. Nice and slow... like that the night you took my cherry."

"Damn, buddy."

I did my best, but it was hard given Braden's size. But as he scooted to the bed's edge and I placed his calves on my shoulders, I entered him slowly, very slowly, lubed up from all that massage oil. It was a new thing. Not being the Beast, not going hard into him. Just seeing how gentle I could be with my son. That slow pump lasted ten minutes until like a tantric cum, Braden and I came at the same second.

I had to pull out to kiss him again. Lazily I rubbed his belly more, smearing sperm into the oil as we kissed.

"You better go pick up Junior," my son finally said. "I'll clean up." It was funny to see my son be the responsibly minded and practical one. Life throws surprised your way for sure.

"Yeah," I hissed before claiming one last kiss. I hopped in the shower and got dressed again.

Braden moved slower at 8 months, but he'd gotten up and was stripping the sheet. Still nude, he was a beautiful sight.

"OK if I reach out to Jeff?" I asked. I needed to check if the idea was as appealing post-nut.

Braden smiled. "Oh yeah. We can get a baby sitter for Junior. If you're cool with the idea, Dad."

"I think we should," I said. "I want to show us off... in the right circumstances." I looked at my watch. "Gotta go... " I stepped up for a last peck of a kiss.

I made good time getting to Junior's school and had a few minutes to wait. I texted Brade. "Love you so much, Sport." Then I pulled up Jeff Connors contact. He was the one who usually contacted me or Todd Fiedler, not his Dad. Plus, I had my own flirty dad-substitute vibe with him. "Hey man, Braden and I are open to your Dad's idea... if you guys are still game."

Junior was all smiles when he came out. He'd gotten a gold star on a drawing he'd done that day. I told him it was going on the fridge. "Feel like stopping for ice cream, kiddo?" I asked.

"Won't it spoil my dinner, Dad?" the kid asked.

"Probably," I admitted. "Don't tell your Daddy," I winked. I was in the mood to spoil my younger son a little.

***

It wasn't until Junior and I got home that I noticed a reply text from Jeff Connors. "Oh yeah! We'd love that."

"This weekend?" I asked. "Saturday? We can get a babysitter and come to your place."

A few seconds later. "Dad says ok. God, I can't fuckin' wait."

I smiled and slid my phone back in my pocket. I'd tell Braden later. For now, he was back in parent mode, asking Junior about his day. Time for me to enter parent mode, too.

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

Something both relevant to this issue and worth addressing in their own right are the tags @uhuh100 left on my post about why cars of late seem more boring than cars of old.

[I should note a factor: many large SUVs share a platform with a truck, meaning the two will grow in unison.]

All valid points, the above! I did express myself suboptimally in that post, though; what I meant to say is akin to the old adage "the customer is always right" - or, as it should go, the public always has the final say.

You can make a new product and tout it as cool and great and what the public should be buying, you can even pivot your entire line to it. But you cannot prescind from the public humoring you. If people don't buy what you pivot to, you either walk it back or die - as we're seeing lately, with full-electric vehicles declining in popularity and manufacturers hurriedly altering their lineups and plans to feature more hybrids and even plain old combustion powertrains.

This is the other side of the coin those eager to lament modern times often overlook - our picks are obviously influenced by what we're offered and how it's marketed, but what we're offered is itself influenced by what we're known to pick. Manufacturers can't afford to say "well, fuck sales data, we want people to want this so that's what we'll make."

But legislation can alter a choice's appeal - be it by altering its use cases, as we do by gatekeeping some urban areas from polluting cars, or by altering its barriers to entry, as we do with lower age minimum for motorcycle licenses and special ones for heavy towing, or, most importantly, by altering its costs, as we do with extra taxes over a certain engine size or power.

And the United States heavily weighs in, in large trucks and SUVs' favor.

For one, well, the use cases are dramatically different in Europe and US simply because every road is (and at this point has to be) sized for gargantuan vehicles that would physically not fit through many narrow European roads (for reference, I've mentioned before how a two way street near my house is 20cm narrower than the most popular truck in the US). But the government can't really be faulted for sizing the roads for the cars that are on them.

What it can be faulted for is how it lowers the cost of trucks with subsidies intended to ease the burden of a "work vehicle" purchase... which however don't actually require you to actually use the vehicle for any sort of work, so essentially they just lower the price of whatever counts as 'work vehicle' - i.e., mostly, trucks.

But it doesn't end there, as trucks are also incentivized on the manufacturing side. See, the fuel economy standards for trucks are more lenient than the ones for cars, because achieving a given fuel economy will be harder for a truck than for a car. And as we've learned, achieving high MPG is hard for everyone, but especially for yankees. (Irony aside, the lower your fuel economy target, the more spritely and appealing your engine can be, especially in a land where fuel costs remain basically symbolic compared to anywhere else.)

As you can imagine, however, this (and the aforementioned subsidies) incentivizes carmakers to build trucks - or at least, to alter their vehicles just as much as required to ensure they're classified as much. So let's look at the chart that explains what it takes.

Yes indeed.

If it has 4WD and enough ground clearance, it's a truck. This is a truck.

If you shove in a third seat row and make it fold flat, it's a truck. This is a truck.

And it's still not over. Because, if you can believe it, the calculation that actually determines the vehicle's fuel economy target actually penalizes smaller trucks.

As you can see, the targets increase year over year, but the larger your footprint, the lower your hurdle - meaning you're incentivized to lengthen and/or widen your vehicle.

And it would be so cinematic to show that famous picture of a first generation (1995-2004) Toyota Tacoma vs. a fourth generation (2017-2022) Ford F-250.

But, while this picture often makes the rounds as a visual for just how much pickup size has increased in just three decades, a lot of it can be explained away by an apples-to-oranges comparison.

For one, the dainty old Tacoma is a 2WD version, starkly lower than the offroad oriented 4WD one, and for two, the Tacoma is a single cab and the Ford a so-called crew cab (with four full-size doors). Correct for these factors and...

...sure, there's still a big difference, but let's remember, these two trucks are in different size categories, the F-250 being the heavy duty brother of the F-150, a size up from the Ranger the first Tacoma lined up with. Once you correct for that too, even larger age gaps start lining up.

But what's important here is not those differences, but a crucial similarity.

The issue that picture really highlights is how much more truck you need nowadays to get the same bed size (you'll recall our dear tag leaver rightly bemoaning that). Broadening passenger space and shrinking the bed is the opposite of optimizing for shit carrying, which is meant to be trucks' whole point, so why is this happening?

Well, in the chart above, the "footprint" on the x axis is not determined by vehicle width and length, but by track width (distance between left and right wheel) and wheelbase (distance between front and rear wheel). And, as you can see, the increase in length from a crew cab goes all in the wheelbase.

But you'll notice the crew cab Tacoma's bed is shorter than the single cab one. And if we add that lost bed length back...

...we get pretty much the same length as the F-250, from a truck three decades older and two sizes smaller. What gives.

The thing is, once you calibrate your wheelbase for a crew cab, to have a single cab you'll either need a preposterously long bed, that will just not make much sense for most buyers...

...or a shorter wheelbase, which however would mean the engines you probably calibrated for the longer wheelbase will earn the single cab a fine which will either raise its price or eat into your margins.

So why bother, if no one's buying them anyway? They're unappealing propositions in price, and/or in proportions, or even in concept, now that the above myriad of factors and some good-old-fashioned toxic masculinity has lead to the utter insane situation of most pickups serving daily and even family hauling duties, so why, as a dealer, burden your lot with them? So why, as a manufacturer, do all the engineering, manufacturing, and marketing rigamarole for a truck no dealer will ask for?

So why do foreign manufacturer with successful, economical small trucks not just send some stateside? Well, that's because of the chicken tax. But I've written about that already.

And most importantly...

...well, dear tagger, that's probably because this addition was going to be included in the last one, but then I took it out to polish it further and not plop two thousand words on y'all at once, and you got a notification over the tag even though I'd removed it because, it turns out, this is Tumblr.

i rented this cabin for vacation and the owner had a note about the driveway, warning me that "cars without AWD are going to have trouble with it" and when i got there in my rental chevy malibu i saw it was like, your standard gravel driveway thats a bit steep and i was like, sir i grew up in the great lakes rust belt. i drove my shitbox late 90s chevy cavalier through road conditions that would make your range rover cry. i took that thing camping on worn out logging roads and never got stuck once

[xxplastic-cubexx]

If you were to like redesign Magneto's classic outfit in a way that both suits the character and your own tastes, how would you redesign it?

uhhhh errrmmmmm i dont know i really couldnt improve upon perfection but i have still tried for you my friend !!!

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The fandom can't make up its mind on what's supposed to be a joke and what's supposed to be serious because the show can't either half the time. It's a tonally disjointed mess that wants to have absurd over-the-top humor as well as a plot and moments of drama, romance, and angst that demand you see the characters as people and feel for what they're going through. Except you can't do that without also treating the dumb bullshit in a somewhat grounded way. Like, you're still dealing with the same characters. You can't just go "Oh, that? Let's ignore that!" the moment it's no longer convenient to you. You've opened this can of worms and now you have to sleep in it. So, every character flip-flops between two different versions of themselves depending on what the writers need in any particular scene.

This is not to say surreal humor can't be used right alongside characters you're supposed to empathize with, Teen Titans (not Go) did that and it worked. It's just that the absurdity can only come from the setting (Mad Mod, Mother Mae-Eye, pretty much anything Control Freak is in) or from designated joke characters (Date With Destiny). Teen Titans never had the main characters acting in clearly absurd ways as the butt of a joke unless those characters were brainwashed somehow, because the writers knew that would ruin any of the more grounded moments they wanted to write. The writers of Miraculous missed the memo on that one.

I don't disagree. A perfect example is Derision where the show takes all of the bad jokes about Marinette's crush and decides to take them seriously as if you can possible take them seriously without making Marinette come across as unhinged and dangerous. You can't, which brings us to the topic at hand: how do you even begin to understand these characters when the show is constantly making character-breaking choices?

My approach - and the approach I recommend others take if they're going to keep watching the show - is to focus on the characters' cores and reject anything canon does to violate those cores. I don't argue for this stance because I love the characters so much that I only want the good things to count. I take this stance because, if you don't, then the characters fall apart. There is no way to make them work as fully realized characters while embracing every choice canon has made. Miraculous has massive characterization issues that go well beyond the humor.

For example, Adrien has multiple moments of terrible behavior that are played in a serious manner such as the moment in the episode Frozer where he tries to start a fight with Ladybug in the middle of an akuma attack because she wouldn't accept a rose from him earlier:

Setup

Ladybug: I can't accept this rose from you. I told you already. I'm in love with someone else. Cat Noir: I know, M'lady. But if he weren't here, would things be different between us? Ladybug: Well, you know, I can't even begin to imagine him not being here. I'm sorry, Cat Noir. I really gotta get going, and you better do the same. (Swings her yo-yo to head back home; Cat Noir is sad, looking downwards, with one petal of the rose falling.)

Payoff

Ladyice: Cat Noir. We need to set up a trap for whoever turned the city into a giant ice rink. (throws yo-yo) Icecat: (bitterly) My feline instincts prefer to track and observe before I attack. You go your way, I'll go mine. Ladyice: Please don't tell me you're mad at me about the rose. Icecat: There may be a certain chill now between us. Ladyice: I get it, but we should really focus on saving Paris right now. Icecat: We don't always have to do everything together, after all. It's not like we're a couple. (skates away)

There's no way to argue this off as a bad joke. While Adrien has every right to feel hurt, those feelings don't excuse him acting like a pouting child in the middle of an akuma fight. It doesn't excuse him acting like this at any point! Ladybug is not a villain for telling him no. She wasn't even mean about it!

I clearly fully agree that Adrien looks awful and selfish here, but I'd still argue that it's not something that should be used to define Adrien's character if your goal is to tell the "ideal" version of Miraculous. "Ideal" being the version that canon seems to be going for based on the overall picture we can sort of make out if we back way, way, way up and look at the extremely abstract picture canon is clumsily painting.

Unless canon is going to do something monumentally stupid, Adrien is Marinette's endgame romantic interest. It's also clear that there is no plan to cut him from the team. He's going to be Chat Noir for the rest of his life or at least well into his adulthood. This means that he is supposed to be a good hero who deserves his miraculous just like he's supposed to be a charming and cute romantic lead. These are the two things I keep in mind when trying to shift through canon to figure out what writing choices I should fully embrace and what writing choices I have to either ignore or treat as true flaws that get an actual character arc. In my book, either approach is fine because most of the characters are deeply flawed at this point and you can't give them all arcs without bloating the story to nonsense levels.

My goal with this approach is never to say, "oh, that moment shouldn't count in terms of how people feel about the character." It's more, "that moment goes so hard against who this character is very clearly supposed to be that I can't take it into account if I want to tell the kind of story that Miraculous is trying (and clearly failing) to tell."

As an example, let's list off Adrien's worst behaviors. The things that make him look terrible:

He sucks at communicating his needs and feelings, leading to multiple moments where he gets mad at Ladybug for things she's totally unaware of

He has quit or considered quitting without warning multiple times and only one of those was because of something he did "wrong" (NYC Special)

He puts his feelings before the safety of Paris on multiple occasions, even going so far to purposely miss akuma fights to see what happens

He is incredibly pushy about his crush, often ignoring Ladybug's feelings on the topic by continuing to bring it up even after she asked him to stop

There have been multiple instances where he almost cataclysmed multiple people in a fit of anger

His love for Ladynette isn't strong enough to let him break free of things like akumas and nightmare dust even when he's looking her in the eyes making him a pretty crappy romantic lead

People will argue that some of this behavior makes sense for his character because of the abuse that canon has technically introduced, but that the writers seem blissfully unaware of. I don't disagree with that argument, but that doesn't change the fact that none of this is acceptable behavior for a hero and Adrien is a hero who keeps doing these things. A sad backstory doesn't give you the right to behave poorly without consequences.

At the same time, if I fully embrace these elements of canon, what I get is an Adrien salt fic where he loses his miraculous for good while Marinette finds her real true love or even just a non-salty fic where Adrien leaves for his own meatal health and gets replaced by someone who can handle being a hero right now. Canon's not writing either of those, so the only way to engage with these flaws while enjoying canon or aiming for the same end goals as canon is to say, "I guess this doesn't count" or "I guess I need to tone this way down and work through it via a character arc" or even "I guess that was just a bad joke maybe?"

That is the essence of what I mean when I call myself a writing salt, character sugar blog. It comes from looking at canon and seeing that there's simply no way to embrace the worst moments and the best at the same time. We're not dealing with a coherent plot and/or complex characters. We're dealing with a nonsense plot that will warp the characters to bizarre shapes to make random ideas work even if those idea go wildly against canon's end goals.

As an example, Glaciator and Frozer should not exist in the same universe or, at the very least, something should explain why Chat Noir randomly changed his stance on Ladybug's crush from acceptance to pushiness. As is, the pieces don't fit together. The behavior is too contradictory. Remember, this is how Glaciator ends:

Perhaps Ladybug will love me someday. I mean, like, I love her. I have to believe. In the meantime, her friendship is the best gift of all.

Where did this version of Adrien go? Why did he regress in Frozer? There's no in-universe reason. It happened because the writers weren't ready to let the love square date or grow close, but they also wanted the love square to cause drama, so Adrien ends up looking terrible just like Marinette ends up looking terrible when it's her turn to cause love square drama. Her terribleness takes a different flavor so it can be hard to realize that this is a systemic issue, but that's what it is. It's deeply frustrating, but it also clearly stems from cheap writing and not quality characterization.

This is also why my stance is that canon as a whole only supports my Doyalistic core-character analysis style of approach. The writing is too poor quality to do Watsonian analysis where you embrace the full picture and try to put it all together. The closest I'll get to Watsonian analysis is pointing out how much the writing botches a Watsonian take by showing you all the way the writing contradicts itself, twisting into a nonsense pretzel of frustration where the payoffs never satisfy! (See the season four rant for an example or anything where I talked about Chloe's supposed damnation arc.)

There are even characters where canon is such a total mess that you can Doyalistically argue for two separate takes! Gabriel is a perfect example. He is all over the place and his ending was so poorly handled that you can make strong arguments for writing him as a cold-hearted villain or a sympathetic villain without the end result feeling like it spits in the face of canon because both takes maintain his one core element: villain.

That's the big thing I keep in mind when I look at the characters and the lore and the plots and try to come up with versions that the average fan would like. I don't think that there's one true version of any of these things, but I do feel comfortable saying that there are versions that will very clearly only appeal to people who are salty about a specific thing that canon did poorly. That's not who I want to appeal to in my adaptions, so while I'm not going to argue that those takes have no backing in canon, I will argue that those takes are not supported by canon as a whole. Embracing them requires you to take the worst parts of canon at face value while ignoring what canon is clearly trying to do with the overall story.

I get the appeal of that, but it's not fun for me because that approach feels like rolling around in the mud with the pigs. I don't want to sink to canon's level! I want to have fun! That's why I talk about how to make canon into its best self, not its worst self. If you want its worst self, just go watch the actual show. I will be shocked it if disappoints you.

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[thirdeyeopen]

((private))

I hear you, I'm here. I'm listening

Tolya, my Garden, i know you love me. I know how much, in my blood, in everything I am. I'm so sorry, for making you think I doubted that. I know it's. I worded everything badly and it's so much to sort through and I just. I dont know how much of the fear is rational? or how much is just me reacting to ghosts

Fear, not just about the infection but losing you to it. It is the home and worry about myself but you. I know you're used to the risk and it's technically no different from last week but this, it feels. felt dangerous, and I can't think straight when I feel like you're in danger, actual danger. danger that just did something unpredictable and that we don't understand yet. I love Reboot because he is yours and I don't want him to be alone in this either, but I'm more afraid of losing you than helping him. You know what this feels like, I know you do, how it gets so loud that it. It's- Reassurance, that helps. When things are going that fast just taking the time to, to explain why and cut through the noise of everything. I can't know your plan or that you're being careful if you don't tell me, I can only land on worst case scenarios but. I trust you. I trust you, more than anything else, more than my own fear. I do. I just need to...to smooth it down I think. When it gets too big. I just need to know what's going on and not feel so...helpless

The prioritization also it's. I trust you with that too, it is me most of the time and when it isn't that's not a bad thing or anything I resent, please know that. This, that was at least in part boilerplate jealousy and insecurity turned to eleven because of. Everything. and I know, I do know that you weren't actually setting me aside and that it was miscommunication or warped perception or a mix of godawful circumstances but I need you to know that I know i matter to you. You show it in everything, there isn't anything about either of us that doesnt matter to each other. God, no one else could ever...no one else has ever come close to seeing me and caring the way you do, Tolya. I don't take that for granted, or maybe I have and I need to. to fix that. If I can make you feel half as loved as you make me feel every day I'd...well I'd bust my ass until you feel it just as much. I never understood that phrase.

.. I shouldnt have said that I didn't matter to you, I don't know why this flavor of anxiety keeps sticking in my head but it's. I'll work on it, work through it not just bury it but actually look at it and. I'm sorry. I love you, I love you with everything I am

((private))

It's already out here. We're as safe as we were before

What else is that but platitudes to get me to stop acting irrationally? If I misinterpreted then I'm. I am sorry but that's what it felt like. Feels like. I'm not used to being this. Fuck I can't even speak correctly. Im not used to not being able to control this and they almost died and then you immediately turned around and welcomed it into our home. Just because he didn't have a way to actually get here doesnt mean you didn't offer without even

I am afraid. I am weak, right now. We both almost lost someone that we love and there's nothing I can do except just sit here and. And when it came to it you chose him and I'm not. Theres no resentment, I'm not angry with you and I know he's your best friend and I'm only your girlfriend and god I understand it, I do, I'm just. Whether that was what you meant by it or not, that is what it felt like. Feels like.

[hikaruchen]

Commissions!

-

The Process ✨

[energeticpoltergeist]

Part 1: Mad King's War

Prologue: Diverged History(pages 22-25)

[todayisafridaynight]

the elderly and their matching gloves

[infiniteseriesofhalfways]

sitting in the parking lot thinking i might vom

[raininyourblackeyes]

My cousin, a published writer, a well-known poet in my country and a literature professor, for whom I've always been no.1 support ever since her first attempts at writing in high school, told me that I must stop writing as a hobby because that's her thing and since I'm writing fantasy mostly my writing could never have any important artistic value anyways.

[racke7]

Huh. I think I might've actually gotten a diagnosis. A hypothetical one, sure, but that's more than I've gotten for like seven years.

[dennisboobs]

watching ap bio past season 1

[sonknuxadow]

they werent lying that knuckles series barely has knuckles in it