#but frickin hell man

[royalarchivist]

Roier: I love you. You're the best Egg.

Jaiden: You're gonna grow to be big and strong, Bobby!

Happy 1 year birthday to the original QSMP Eggs and my favorite little guy of all time, Bobby! Here are some highlights of Roier and Jaiden's first interactions with Bobby. 🥲💙

[isame-allen]

ok so just. Bear with me. It might sound concerning if I don’t start it right but I swear it’s soft (normally)

There is a Fell!JMV and Fell!DINTIS AU that Wheeze and I made

By the logic of how Underfell’s character fuckery, the worst (in terms of morality and Good/Evil) of the characters become pretty nice. See UF Flowey actually being somewhat friendly.

So. F!Obsidian (Onyx) and F!Jet (Raven) are very nice people. Onyx is a whole ass himbo. Raven’s very wary of strangers, but he’s still very sweet. Everyone who knows them says they’re too nice, but they stick around anyways (save for Malachite and Pitch, aka Fell Jade and Dark, because they live Elsewhere together) because they do like Onyx. Not that they’ll ever admit it.

Onyx has, on at least one know occasion, saved a shit-ton of people from dying, and has been trying to help F!Koroit (Anmolite my dearly beloved) with her amnesia. He would hate normal Obsidian if they met. He’s still very stubborn, like Obsidian is.

Raven normally keeps to himself, but he’s been known to get in the middle of shit when he thinks he can help. And he’s a good talker (and a very powerful corrupt), much like Jet himself, so usually it works. Even if someone tries to attack him he just kinda grabs them and picks them up and goes “no. None of that.” And goes back to the conversation at hand. He would also really despise Jet, especially after hearing how Jet’s been treating Dark.

Onyx happens to be the ace one, which doesn’t do much except give opportunities for Soft Interactions between him and Raven about it, and opportunities for slightly more comedy when he and Obsidian have to meet and they both just go “…??? Why are you so- how are we alternates what the fuck????”

oh they’re also married. because we said so.

So. Yeah. We threw normal DS Nightmare at them once and then we couldn’t pull them apart. They’re just Like That now. Anytime a crossover happens with DS and the fell verse that poly happens. It’s out of our control now

also as a teeeeeny little detail- Onyx and Raven are stronger than Obsidian and Jet. Which is fun when we make the fell boys rescue Jade, Zuli, and Dark and get them therapy and Obsidian and Jet try to start shit about it

I could uh….get the Heroforge references for them. If you want to see them.

Himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx himbo onyx

[kirbyddd]

ok that was a new one

[lizardho]

Before I knew I was bisexual I was just insanely dramatic and weird around guys I liked. I had a crush on this guy in my ward - he was older than me, he played bagpipes and had a cheerful dog and an old Volkswagen bus that he worked on all the time. He also had nice scruff and unnaturally attractive hands and a good sense of humor, so I was like FULLY smitten.

I talked about him a lot and about how he was just so dang COOL, dang it, because he was so frickin’ cool. And I really liked him. I thought he was funny and smart and interesting and cool and fascinating and a bunch of other weird feelings I barely had the attention span to think about (I think my ADHD may have prevented me from coming out for a while tbh).

One day, I’m like 14-15, his dad is called to be my Sunday School teacher. His dad is this ex-military hardass with a chip on his shoulder for absolutely no reason and unattainable standards for his children. He spent most of Sunday School talking shit about his eldest boy and how he was rebellious and didn’t listen to him and how that was going to make him a bad adult and a bad son forever. How his son was too lazy and unmotivated to be successful because he didn’t listen to his advice on how to read the scriptures. He complained about how our generation was too weak to do things right and that our generation would surely be the one that brought the world’s downfall because of our laziness and sin.

And like, first of all, that guy can already go fuck himself for that. To clarify, that’s already stupid. BUT. He was talking about the man I had uncomfortable dreams about at least once a month. I couldn’t stand it. I’d get so mad I’d go home shaking sometimes because how fucking DARE he insult his hardworking stunning son by calling him lazy? For not reading the Bible the way his dad wants? When he’s already spending his time learning bagpipes? And fixing cars? And being cool? And cute? Who the fuck even cares if he uses the footnotes in the Book of Mormon? Who gives a rotten rat’s ass if he doesn’t use the scripture study manual his dad uses? He’s so cool he doesn’t even need it? So fuck off?

And eventually I got fucking Sick Of It and decided to mutiny. And by mutiny, I mean skip class. I’d just not go. And after a bit, adults started noticing and bugging me about it. At first, this was put off by small talk and excuses, but as my absence from Sunday School became more well-known, my excuses began to be rejected.

“Oh, Lizard, why aren’t you in class?” Uhm idk because my Sunday School teacher is mean to his kid and that makes me so mad wtf do you want from me? 🫠🤔

“Where’s your class, I’ll go with you!” Oh no ty I’d rather peel my own eyes than have my taste in men critiqued tyty 🩷

“Lizard, you should go to class, I’m sure they miss you!” And I miss the innocent days where my stomach didn’t hurt when a cool boy I knew was being belittled but unfortunately for us both those days are LONG gone and all that’s left is a budding psychosexual clusterfuck that will render me almost fully incapable of functioning for the better part of a decade so Bye Bye, sister Smith 🙂‍↕️

It had gotten to the point that ward leadership was involved. I was being approached by members of the Young Men’s presidency and the Bishopric to try and make me to back to class. They were telling me God had told them to find me and instruct me on my rebelliousness. This is where I implemented my secret weapon - women. Mormons are weird as hell about a lot of things, but especially about women. And I was GREAT with women. So to combat the leadership’s attention, I started helping women.

Our ward had a lot of new moms with babies who were, as babies tend to be, fussy. But for Mormon women the church is often their only social outlet, so they try to power through as long as they can even if it means enduring the exhausting ordeal of taking care of a fussy baby at church.

For what it’s worth, I have a lot of sway with babies. I got baby street cred. Me and babies have a rapport. I have always known this. I have always loved this. And in this crucial gay time in my faggot life my baby mind powers came in clutch - Every time I saw a member of the bishopric getting close, or a young men’s leader giving me side-eye, I’d start walking slowly towards class, passing by relief society. I’d wait until a mom’s baby had gotten too fussy and needed to leave the room, and I’d swoop in like a knight. “Oh, don’t you worry sister, I’ll bounce him a bit. You go back and hang out with your friends in class. You deserve a break.”

If it was a diaper change or something they’d tell me no. But if it was just some good old-fashioned baby fusses, I mean, they’d be moved almost to tears. They just got their social time back AND a free babysitter who is renowned as the Baby Whisperer. And because I was holding a baby as a favor for someone else, I of course could not reasonably be bothered to return to class.

So just like that, I was out of everyone’s sights. This went on for about a month before the straw that broke the camel’s back, which was that without my class participation the classes were quiet and awkward. I’d often take the brunt of Sunday school lectures by answering questions impulsively and over explaining myself enough that the clock could run out without anyone needing to do or say much. My absence meant everyone else was getting hit with the full unpleasantness of this guy’s bullshit. And so slowly, one-by-one, I had a group of about 8 kids on baby-holding duty. These new moms were so overjoyed, they and their husbands were both so actively in our corner that now chastising us was untenable. Now we had bargaining power. So the Bishopric approached us, confused beyond confused and uncomfortable beyond uncomfortable, and said,

“What’s it gonna take to get you back to class?”

The POWER I possessed in that moment was addictive. By being kind to the women of the ward and ignoring the Mormon de facto Rule of Law of following rules en-masse so the rule breakers feel left out, there were now so many people breaking ranks that we had effectively enacted a church boy labor strike. And they crumbled so fast it was almost like we had swayed God himself to our cause.

“I want brother assholedad gone. He sucks at teaching.”

I didn’t even have to say it. One of my rebels said it for me. I just nodded sagely and said “Yes, his class is not edifying. It’s better to not go and hold babies.”

And just like that, with a snap of my limp-wristed, Christ-wounding, bottom-brained fingers my faggot will was enacted. God’s revelation that brother shitdad was his chosen Sunday school teacher flipped on a dime. Suddenly brother shitdad was asked to be an usher and the fun dad of another one of my crushes was called in to teach us. I still stayed to hold babies a lot, but the rest of the class returned and all was well again.

Although I didn’t recognize it then, I think that was a formative moment for me in a lot of ways. I learned that being really persistently annoying will get me what I want from authority eventually. I learned that God’s will can be swayed by going in strike. I learned that ignoring men’s made up authority forces them to level with you as a person. I learned that caring for women, especially vulnerable women, can make a whole world happier. I learned that letting women rest can help them feel more love for the things that matter in their life. I learned that social bonds make everyone stronger and happier. And I learned that loving others in a gay way can change the world.

Be gayer. Read Terry Pratchett. I love y’all 💕

[the-rogue-mockingjay]

(Replying to this in a reblog cause everything I have to say ain't fitting in a reply fjskfsjdkdj)

@whichwitchery They are!!! And also Estinien calling out Alphinaud for treating you like an attack dog while dealing with Ravana- nobody has wol's back like they do 😭

And yeah no in my headcanon when Haurchefant went on that rant about how absolutely insane the plan to stop Iceheart was and how much he hated being stuck there worrying about you while no one else batted an eye at sending you to your very probable death, O'ravi (my wol) straight up started crying cause she's never had anyone care so much- usually her friends are the first to throw her into the line of fire, she's not used to someone being upset about the crazy shit everyone asks her to do!!

I also hc that Haurche sent a VERY scathing letter to Minfilia about how she/the Scions use wol. Like, Minfilia doesn't intend to treat you like a weapon? But she does, consciously or not, and every time I play ARR it irks me SO BAD how one-sided her relationship with wol is. Wol bends over backwards for her, caters to her every request no matter how serious or trifling, you drop everything to help her, but she...really does not do the same for you. Ever. At all. At no point does she help you even a fraction as much as you help her. O'ravi really struggles with this, and it pisses Haurchefant off so much. You deserve better than this.

Sometimes it just hits me like a ping-pong ball to the face that afaik, Aymeric is the first person to bother asking WoL what they want for themselves, the first person to even consider that WoL's wishes and dreams might not actually be the same as their duties as a Scion, and

brother I am on the floor crying abt it

"Now that the dust has settled, what will you do? Not as a Scion, I mean, but...what do you want for yourself?"

[yayoineko]

Watched Earthspark, S3 E5, "Fire and Ice" episode.

It's nice to see how much Dot cares for her Megs, probably the only one who does for him.

I also really liked how much Megatron cares about Optimus. And at the end of this story--

It felt like.... Did Megs and OP just exchange marriage vows? XD ♥ Awww.... ( ˘⌣˘)♡(˘⌣˘ )

Been reading how much Season 3 of Earthspark sucks, but this was a nice episode.

Megatron's dialogue to Optimus was important too: Optimus: "You need to cease challenging my every decision."

Megatron: "Someone must question your leadership, Optimus. If you leave authority unchecked, it can lead to tyranny. Who knows better, than I?"

*I yell out my window* (＃`Д´) "YEAH! You hear that, America? Frickin' hell, man...."

Also, Megatron is good at sad pubby face. Don't make him sad, Oppie.

[lunaxstrange]

Can we talk about love in orv?

[SPOILERS]

Okay so, I am aware that Kdj loves the "story" but I really wanna point some things out individually because it's 2am and ORV is on my mind.

Kdj had the easiest way out of the 1863rd turn. The most perfect turn (at the time) but he really went I'd let the world burn for Yjh? Yeah, everything is "part of his plan" but let's talk about the 73rd Demon King arc. My man would do anything to make sure Yjh finishes his story. Apart from this, it's the fact that while everyone else dislike any other version of Yjh (even he hates himself lol), Kdj loves every. single. one. I mean 3rd turn (1864th) Yjh? Yes. Hsy's 1863rd turn? Yes. Frickin' Secretive Plotter? Got off to a rough start but yes. You simply cannot make Kdj hate his beloved protagonist. I mean, this man risked his whole existence to make sure the 0th turn is actually the most perfect one. He didn't want Yjh to regress but became his sponsor anyway because it's what Yjh wanted. He would do anything to see Yjh happy. This type of love isn't romantic or platonic or anything else, it's the most inexplicable form of love. Love in its purest form. I'd like to take the time to compare it to Achilles and Patroclus because while we can fight over whether these two were gay or not, we cannot deny the sheer love they had for each other. No strings attached. Kdj is in awe of Yjh.

Yjh. The regressor. The protagonist. The person Kdj loves the most. Yjh had everything (0th turn) but he really gave it all up just to meet Kdj. Suffered the "Hell of eternity" just to see him. Bro didn't even love Lsw the way he loves Kdj. Tbf, 0th turn Yjh didn't know what the real struggle of passing the scenarios without help was but I'm sure he got the gist. Okay, sure, you can call it "curiosity" that led to Yjh keeping Kdj alive during the 3rd (1864th) turn. But my guy didn't choose Kdj to go to Peace Land because he had "someone he loved" like bro, YJH!? THE COLD REGRESSOR??? HE DID THAT FOR KIM DOKJA! Not to mention the fact that Yjh didn't even care that his whole life was a mere novel. He just despised the fact that Kdj chose the 1863rd turn over him. I'm gonna cry. Bro wanted Kdj so bad that he kept fighting the Secretive Plotter. Not only this, he gave up the 3rd (1864th) turn for Kdj too. Went from Supreme King to terrorist just to save Kdj. When everyone else - even Hsy - gave up. After all, what is a protagonist without a reader? The whole astronaut ordeal might've been to "find his purpose" but we can't ignore their connection. He gave up everything he could ever ask for twice (0th and 3rd/1864th turn) for Kdj. The attachment these two have with each other is insane.

I could go on about them for eternity but we have another person to talk about - Hsy. This woman spent 10 years exhausted, stuck in a world-line and body not her own for one person. Even if it's only Hsy with half her memories, she gave up her perfect world-line because she missed Kdj. Just like Kdj loves Yjh, Hsy also loves every version of Kdj. She wanted to meet him, no matter what the world-line. My girl had only a few hours where she was in control and decided to use off all those hours to write TWSA - a story she herself disliked. Hsy wants to see Kdj happy, every part of Hsy loves Kdj. There is nothing a writer could love more than an avid reader who loves their story. And let's talk about the fact that Yjh and Hsy absolutely hate each other. He is literally her creation (more or less) but their relationship is questionable. Why? Because a protagonist has no value without a reader. Kinda like Asuka Ren and Kyrgios Rodgraim. They have no special relationship despite being creator and creation. Since there is no reader, Asuka and Kyrgios are as distant as two people can be. Alternatively, what brings Hsy and Yjh together is Kdj.

I just can't get enough of the way ORV relationships are written. If I had to describe love as a writer, I'd cite ORV as an example.

[billthedrake]

LINEAGE (PART THREE)

I stirred in bed and heard Braden shuffle on the other side of the mattress. My son wasn't a morning person, and now that Bill Jr. was 4, Brade really preferred to sleep in. I loved to let him, and on weekdays I'd fix breakfast for Junior and get him ready and off to preschool on my way to work.

I would let my son-husband sleep in on Saturday, too, but we now had this ritual.

"Hmmm..." I heard his deep morning voice growl as his thickly muscled body scooted over to mine, resting his strong arm on my chest. Braden always had a great body, but he'd spent the last few years dedicating an hour at the gym on most days and I found myself married to a 28-year old who could be a freakin' porn star.

I always woke up with morning wood, like clockwork, but the warmth and body contact had me raging hard.

"Morning, babe," I said, kissing his forehead and running my hand along the knotted tricep.

"What time's tee time?" I heard his groggy voice ask.

"8:30," I said.

"Goddamnit," Braden said. He made a point never to curse around Junior, which meant when it was just us, his sailor mouth was in full force. "Fucking Fiedler."

I chuckled. My son and I had become good friends with both of the Dr. Fiedlers, Adam, father, and son Todd, and we often did double dates. There was the bond of being incest couples and the shared experience of navigating parenthood in that context. While both were "Dr. Fielder" to me, Braden used Fiedler to refer to his doctor, Todd, while he called the dad Adam.

"My golf date is with both of them," I said. "With a new fourth. Todd says he found another man in a relationship like ours."

That woke Braden up. "Yeah?" he asked, looking at me to see if I was on the level. Brade no longer had a buzz cut but his hair was short and thinning already. In the morning it was matted down in a sexy bed head way.

I nodded, patting his side. "He was cagey about the details, but I don't think he was bullshitting me."

"Wow," my son said. "That would be incredible." We both craved to connect to other father-son couples, Braden especially. Incest was amazing, but a lonely experience.

Braden's hand traveled down slowly from my chest over my furry stomach. I didn't have my son's six pack, nor his thick muscle, but I kept trim and in shape for 45. Brade seemed to love what I had going on.

Particular a few inches lower. I grunted when I felt his strong fingers circle around my prick.

"That feels nice, buddy," I hissed.

"Yeah?"

"Hell yeah. Always does."

"I love this cock, Dad," my son said. "It fucking made me."

That dick surged in his fist. Even if we had a ritual, it never got old. To the contrary.

I looked Brade square in the eye as I lay back and let him stroke me. "It made Junior, too."

"Aw fuck!" Braden grunted. That was the button to push all right. He pounced forward for a kiss. He tried to take charge of it, but I battled back with my tongue. I won that battle, but otherwise my son was in charge, climbing on top of me. Braden was four inches shorter than me but with his brawn I definitely had that pleasant feel of his weight on top.

We made out as Brade kind of humped and writhed.

"Let me drive, today, Dad?" he hissed.

"You got it, Sport."

This was going to have to be a quickie. Bill Jr. would probably wake soon and while our son probably could content himself watching cartoons on his ipad, as a married couple you have to find the private moments when you could take them.

We had a discreet container for our lube next to the bed, and I watched Braden's thick muscle flex as he reached over to pump a good bit out. For longer sessions, we didn't use so much, but for a quick entry, my son loved a super slick cock.

I was gonna be really frickin' wet, I realized, as that palm wrapped around my phallus once more.

Braden was horny but more in his quiet, relaxed early morning way. And maybe lost in thought. "The new guys..." he asked. "You think the dad is the top or bottom?"

"Dunno, Brade," I said. "Some guys are both. Or neither, I suppose," I answered.

Braden didn't comprehend that. He'd told me that for him sex was about being penetrated, or getting me to cum. Maybe if he'd been more vers, he could have talked me into switching things up, but I loved being his father that way. Dad on top. Being the breeding stud for my Brade.

Still, I knew some men were wired differently, like the Fiedlers.

Braden settled over my lap, looking down and bracing one hand on the headboard of the bed as his other reached behind to guide my cock into place.

"You're horny, Dad," he said.

I nodded. "It's been a couple of days, buddy."

"I know," he said. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," I said, running my hands along his thighs. Brade had really been hitting leg day. "We get sex when we can."

Brade got a shyly playful look on his handsome face, as he wiggled his hips back on to my dick, nudging his hole into place. "It's gonna be even trickier when the next one is born."

This was frequent with me and my son. Talking about impregnation and procreation, talking about the family we were raising and the sons we were going to sire.

But this was more than sex talk, I knew. Brade was feeling me out. "You itching to get knocked up again, Brade?" I grunted. This was sex talk, and real talk, and the fact they were one in the same was getting to me.

He pushed himself down. Even with out experience, Braden's experience, his kind of quick entry was tough for him, but he relished the way my slickness meant he was being bored with a few inches of dad cock. He winced but his cock twitched and bounced from his crotch.

We were incest fucking once more, like we could never get enough of.

"So ready, Dad," Braden hissed. "Whenever you're ready, Dad, just tell me and I'll stop taking those fucking pills."

I loved the tight hot feel of Braden's guts clenching my prick and descending down. "We'll talk about it, OK?" Real talk and sex talk could collide, but Braden and I were going to make the next pregnancy a planned one, decided in a sober conversation, not while fucking.

"Of course, Dad," he said, maybe a little too loud. Jesus, he was gonna wake Junior.

He rode me slowly, sensually. His goal was to relax his hole and his insides, but it also felt amazing on my lubed dick, like I was being slowly jacked.

"But say the word and I'm ready.... I wanna be so fucking fertile for you, Dad."

I gripped his hips now and pumped in. Ready or not, I need to actively fuck my son.

"Yes!" Braden hissed. It was intense for him, but I could tell he was imagining me planting my seed in him, my sperm fertilizing his egg.

"You're such a handsome fuck," I growled. "Love you, Sport."

"Love you, Dad. Oh shit!" he let go of his prick to keep from cumming. Instead he angled his upper body up to focus on taking my cock.

"I thought you were driving today, Brade," I teased, pumping up more excitedly into his ass.

"You're in charge, Dad. Fucking take me."

"I am..." I grunted. I was so close, and this was one of those fucks where I was riding the edge of orgasm without topping over. "Can't wait to knock you up, kiddo."

"Please dad. Impregnate me."

"Make another incest baby?" OK, I was getting real close now. My hips were thrusting gaster.

"Hell yeah, Dad. How many grandkids do you want?"

Something about those words but also the tone in which Brade said them had me coming, hard. I held onto his hips in a vice grip and fired several jets of my cum into his guts.

Excitedly, Brade gripped his bone and tugged and like that I was getting showered with my son's seed. It had been a while since he'd ridden me and I enjoyed the novelty of a Braden cum shower.

We kissed, softly, catching our breath and letting our heart rate come back to normal.

Our shower together was efficient and quick. I had to get to the golf course, and the sex had taken longer than I expected.

***

This was our way of maintaining a healthy balance as parents and as a married couple. Saturday was my own personal day for me-time, which in good weather meant playing golf. On Sundays, Braden got to do his own thing, which usually meant hanging out with his buddy Jackson, either going off to do some outdoor or athletic thing, or just watching football.

The Fiedlers sometimes played golf separately, but on Saturdays, both Adam and Todd were there in their knit shirts and shorts. Adam was an incredible golfer, whereas Todd had the power swings that could either make for a great game or a lousy one. I was a decent player but mostly enjoyed the game and the break from the routine of work and parenting. And I'd enjoyed bonding with the Fiedlers.

I related to Adam and Todd in different ways, but with either man... well, we'd opened up a lot. Guy talk, discussing the emotional side of married life, particularly in an incest couple, and even frank talk about our sex lives. With anyone else it would feel like a betrayal of trust with Braden, but I knew these guys would keep anything private, and I knew a lot about them. I had no one else to talk to, and maybe it's something a man needs.

Sure, there was some sexual tension, too, but we channeled that into crude jokes and double entendre, without danger of slipping into anything more.

When I got to the club house, I saw the fourth in our party. He looked to he a high school kid, until I got closer and figured he was closer to 19 or 20. About 5'8" with a compact body.

"Hey," came the voice. Adult but very young sounding, like a frat dude rushing at university.

"Bill Drake," I said, offering my hand to shake it.

"Jeff Connors." He smiled but seemed nervous.

Adam Fiedler patted my shoulder. "Bill's part of our special fraternity, Jeff... you can be free around him."

"Yeah?" the young man asked excitedly. But maybe feeling out of his element.

I nodded. "I don't know what these men have shared, but yes." I was nervous too, but something about Jeff's shyness brought out my protective side. I looked over at Todd. Dr. Fiedler. "I guess we got all morning to get acquainted."

My doctor grinned. "Especially cause you get to ride in the cart with him, Bill. Dad's upset he doesn't get to flirt with the dude."

Adam gave a hearty laugh. "Todd told me to be on my best behavior."

The younger doctor gave a mock-annoyed look. "Come on, Dad. You're teeing off first."

***

The first hour was a lot of small talk. Jeff was a college freshman, rising sophomore, home for the summer. My guess that he was a fraternity man was a good one, and in most ways young man Connors seemed like a typical college kid. Into partying but also finding himself and his goals in life. Kind of goofy in his humor but naive and serious about the world, too.

It was after the tenth hole, when he opened up. We'd gotten into the cart after a long drive. I pulled off and I heard him say softly. "Dad doesn't want me talking about things with anyone else, but I feel like was gonna explode if I kept it all inside you know?"

I looked over at him. I almost patted his knee but felt that would be appropriate. "Your dad has a point, but I know how you feel, buddy."

He smiled, a nervous but genuine smile. "Thanks, Bill. You, um..."

I could tell he thought it was too wild to ask. I leaned into the trust of the situation and wanted to show Jeff he could trust me. "I've been with my son Braden for ten years... been married for seven of them."

The frat dude's face lit up. "Wow! That's amazing."

"I think so," I said. "I'm a very happy, very lucky man."

Jeff hesitated. "Like Dr. Fiedler."

"In more ways than one," I said. And seeing that Jeff wasn't following I added, "Brade and I have a son. Together." I felt proud to make that announcement, and I remembered Todd Fiedler's tone of pride when he first mentioned how many kids they had.

"How's that?" Jeff asked. Earnest as hell.

"Amazing. Even if it cuts into the sex life some," I said with a wink.

Jeff laughed. I could tell he was arranging his crotch. "It's so crazy to talk about a father and son having sex."

I looked over. "Well you and your dad are, right?" Maybe I'd misread the whole situation.

He nodded and blushed. "Yeah. Like, um, a lot."

I laughed and Jeff laughed too. It broke the ice a lot.

I figured I could share more. "Braden and I love the idea of incest. Always gets us going."

I could tell Jeff was getting worked up. I was getting hard, too. I was wired for incest talk, and just discussing this openly was way hot.

But we kept the conversation more serious. "I'm pretty sure Dad and I don't want to have kids," Jeff said. "But we've been talking more about what a relationship would mean."

"Parenting's not easy, you both gotta be on the same page."

Jeff and I talked more, off and on, between shots, and it was amazing to see him open up and his happiness at being able to talk about incest.

I listened, but I had to speak up. "Can I give you some unsolicited advice, Jeff?"

"Sure," he said. Over two hours we'd built up a high level of trust.

"If it's going to be more than sex with your dad, if the emotional part is important... well, you need him on board, buddy. About talking to others."

"Yeah," Jeff conceded, chastised.

I now patted his knee, paternally. "It goes both ways, too. He needs to know how you feel and your need to bond with other man. He may be your dad, but he needs to listen to you, not just lay down the law."

Jeff seemed quiet as he took that in, then finally replied. "Thanks, Bill."

***

I got home to find Braden playing catch in the backyard. I don't know how much of it was Junior into baseball and football, and how much of it was Brade's natural enthusiasm in sharing that masculine rite of passage. My son was such a natural father, it was touching to watch. And to hear Junior alternate between giggling and trying to imitate his daddy's game-focus mannerisms, was endearing.

I decided then and there that it was time for another kid. To give Junior a younger brother.

***

I brought it up on Monday night. Junior was in bed by 9. Brade and I took turns make sure our son did his nightly routine and brushed his teeth. I was grateful that night, because work had been a real long, tough day for me. I sat on the couch and watched some mindless TV with the sound turned down.

Finally Braden came and sat down next to me. "Exhausting, huh?" he said with a laugh. We never bitched about parenthood, but we did bond on the work it took and enjoyed approaching the challenges with humor.

"I'll say," I replied. Then, "You up for feeling more exhausted, Braden?"

He paused as it sunk and looked at me. Then, "You saying what I think you're saying?"

I nodded. "If you're up for it. It's your body, son."

"Oh god, Dad. I'm gonna go off the pills tomorrow."

I smiled. Proud. Excited. Maybe more than a little horny. My dick was firming up. "I figure it's time for Junior to have a little brother."

"Yes, sir," Brade hissed as he scooted closer and leaned forward into my lap.

I'd never turn down a blowjob from my son, but now that he was pawing at my crotch, a started tone entered my voice. "You sure Junior's asleep?" I asked in a whisper.

"He's out, Dad," Braden said with an impish smile as he pulled down down my zipper. "But you can keep watch if you like while I suck that cock that's gonna make our next son."

I lay back and enjoyed the slowest most sensual head I could imagine. Brade was making love to my dick and my balls, and I knew what he was thinking. How he was sucking his father, tasting the dick that made him. Getting closed to the breeding power that going to knock him up once more.

I made myself be quiet, almost silent as I orgasmed, feeding Brade a huge load. This was going to be a fun, emotionally powerful month or two. Or three. However long we had to mate to get the job done. I wasn't even going soft now, not even after Brade suckled at the dribbles and kept licking.

"Bedroom, Dad?" he asked, leaning up with a wild-eyed look on his face. I could tell he was thrilled by my amped up sexual response.

"You bet, Sport," I hissed, leaning into kiss him.

[maviscat123]

Anatomy II

By: JohnBoy

Someone was pounding on the door...

Big Jim Reese woke up with a snort; he'd been having a late afternoon nap on the cot in his office. His "office" was actually a small trailer, parked amongst some trees near the back of the construction site.

Jim sat up groggily -- he coughed and slowly ran a large, beefy hand over the stubble on his shaved head. The pounding came again, more urgent this time.

"Hey, Mr. Reese! You in there?" It sounded like a young guy.

"Yeah, yeah," he spoke in his deep baritone, "hold on a sec." The huge black man got up and opened the door.

It was Ken, the son of the crane-operator. He was tall and rather well-built, about 20 or so, sandy blond and blue-eyed, and with a tuft of bristly beard on the end of his chin.

Jim had noticed (on the four or five other occasions that he'd met him) that he always acted a bit shy and nervous around him. Probably, he guessed, because he was intimidated by his size: Jim was a half-foot taller than him, and probably out- weighed the kid by at least 130 pounds (a good deal of it was solid muscle, too).

"Hey Kenny, what're you doin' here?"

"Is-- is my Dad here?"

"Nope, he's gone home already." Jim yawned; he thought the young man looked even more nervous than usual. "Uh, everything okay?"

Ken glanced over his shoulder. "The cops are after me, man."

"What?" Jim looked towards the street; he could see a police cruiser pulling up in front of the site. He'd heard that this boy had been in trouble with the law in the past: B&E, some minor theft...

"I need a place to hide. Please, you gotta let me in!"

Jim sighed. He wanted nothing to do with this kid's problems. But an idea was starting to form in his head... and before he even realized it, he said, "Okay, get in." Ken was peeking out through the blinds, watching the cop. Jim had not asked him what kind of trouble he was in this time, and the kid hadn't told him...

"What's he doing?" Jim asked.

"He's just talking to one of the workers. Wait-- shit, the guy's pointing this way!"

Kenny looked around the trailer. "Fuck, if I get caught this time, I'm going to jail for sure. You can't let him find me!"

"If he wants to look in here, I don't think I can really stop him."

"But... there's no place to hide in here! What am I gonna do?"

"Well," he said slowly, trying to sound nonchalant, "I got a suggestion."

"What??"

"How much you weigh, Kenny?"

"Wha--? Uh, about 190, I guess. Why?"

Jim tugged thoughtfully at his wiry, dark goatee. This young man was a fair bit bigger than the doctor had been. He wondered, could he do it?

"You can hide... in here." Jim pointed to his stomach.

"Huh?"

"I could swallow you."

Ken just stared at him.

Jim went on, "Just for awhile. I could swallow you whole and hide you inside my belly, just 'til the cop leaves. Don't worry, you'll be safe. If he comes up here lookin' for you, well... there's no way he'd find ya. Then when he's gone, I'll let you out."

Ken continued to stare at him.

"Well? What do you think?"

"Oh come on... this is a joke, right?"

"No, I mean it. I'm serious."

"You're crazy, Mr. Reese. You can't swallow a whole person. It's-- it's frickin' impossible!!"

"Well, yeah, for most people. But I'm different; there's somethin' special about my anatomy that lets me do it. Big mouth, big throat, big stomach... just ask my doctor. Trust me, I can do it." Jim knew this might not be completely true... after all, when he'd done it before (three days earlier), Doctor Moffat had given him some kind of injection as well. Whether he could do it now, without the drug, remained to be seen.

Ken still seemed unconvinced. He looked out the window again, anxiously.

"Well, we're runnin' outta time, son," Jim said, "Do you wanna try it or not?"

"But... you'll let me back out, right?"

"Yeah, sure, of course I will."

The kid shrugged. "What the hell, I guess I got no choice. Okay."

"Damn right!" Jim tried to suppress his excitement. Ever since the doctor's appointment, he'd been thinking of little else but swallowing someone again -- and now he had his chance!! Of course he intended to release the boy afterwards...

but he thought, maybe he could try to keep him inside for awhile? Say, ten minutes or so? Would he survive in there that long??

"Er, what should I do...?"

The big man went to the tiny fridge and pulled out a stick of butter. "Take off all yer clothes and rub this on you."

Ken's face screwed up. "What are you gonna do, fry me up first?"

"It's to make you slide down easy. Come on. And take that earring off, too." Jim looked through the blinds. "You better hurry up, son. I think the cop is comin' this way," he lied.

Kenny started to undress. Jim took off his own shirt, undid the button on his jeans, and unzipped his fly part-way. He saw Ken looking at him as he did this, and said, "Gotta make room for ya." He patted his belly. "You're a big boy."

The young man was completely nude now. After hesitating for a moment, he picked up the stick of butter and began to rub it over his chest. "It's cold!"

"Don't worry, you'll get nice and warmed up once you're inside me." Jim realized that he was starting to salivate. His stomach began to grumble and groan in anticipation, and he wondered if Kenny could hear it...

After the boy had buttered himself up, Jim ordered him to lie down on the cot, on his back. He dropped to his knees heavily at the foot of the cot and grabbed him firmly by the ankles, lifting his feet up. He hoped the hunger in his face wasn't too obvious. Now Jim could see a hint of fear in Ken's expression, and realized he'd have to work fast and get it done with before he changed his mind. (And just in case the policeman came around, too!)

He said in a reassuring tone, "It's okay, kid. I promise it won't hurt a bit. I've done this before." He grinned. Then he crouched down and opened his mouth very, very wide...

"Shit, man," Ken mumbled.

With a grunt, Jim quickly thrust both feet into his mouth and part-way down his throat -- Ken giggled despite his fear, squirming around as if he was being tickled. Jim grasped his legs more tightly and pushed again, taking him in almost to the knees with a thick, slurping sound.

"Holy cow, I can't believe you're doing that!" the boy said in amazement. "Hey, wait, I just thought of something... will I even be able to breathe in there?"

Jim tried to nod (which wasn't easy), and gulped again, taking his legs in even further. He couldn't believe how fantastic this felt... the kid was delicious! He'd be moaning with pleasure if his throat hadn't been so full. He wished he could slow down and enjoy every inch of Kenny's smooth, firm, sweet flesh as it slipped inside him, but there wasn't enough time -- besides, he was too ravenous!

Ken's face turned pale as he watched the huge man's mouth working to take him in, gobbling him up, the lips stretching around his hips and ass now. "Goddamn..." he whispered.

Jim's eyes were starting to roll over white with the effort. He continued to swallow, while at the same time holding Ken by his upper arms and shoving him in. Then he guided his hands into his mouth, gaping even wider to engulf the boy's muscular torso and arms. He could feel his legs starting to fold up inside his belly.

"Uhh, Mr. Reese?"

He ignored him. He couldn't believe the power of his throat muscles; it seemed they were working on auto-pilot, flexing and gulping almost on their own, practically sucking the kid down his gullet... it felt so natural. He realized there was no question now as to whether or not he needed drugs to do this.

But the most difficult part was coming: Kenny's wide shoulders...

Ken seemed to be having a bit of trouble breathing with the pressure on his chest. His eyes were starting to bug out, and there was an incredulous expression on his face; Jim imagined that he must've looked quite bizarre right now, with his mouth stetched out to grotesque proportions.

This was starting to get harder, and the sensation of fullness was unbelievable. Perhaps the boy was too big? Had he bitten off more than he could chew, so to speak?

The young man blurted, "I-- I'm not sure about this anymore. Wait..." He began to struggle feebly, but his arms were pinned to his sides, inside Jim's throat.

Suddenly, there was a loud knock at the trailer door. A voice called out, "Anyone in there?"

Jim's heart lunged. Shit, it was the cop! He looked Ken in the face, wondering what his reaction would be. Would he scream for help??

A moment of silence passed... then Ken seemed to make his decision: "Uh," he cleared his throat, and tried to talk in a deeper voice, "Yes, officer? I mean, who is it?"

Jim would've smiled if he could. He continued to swallow -- but now it felt like the kid was almost stuck!

"Jim Reese? I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

"Uhh... okay, er, gimme a minute," Ken said.

Jim reached out, clamped onto Ken's shoulders and began forcefully shoving him in with all his strength, swallowing hard.

The door handle rattled. "Please open up, it's the police."

"Just-- just let me get some pants on! Oh, Christ..." Kenny gasped.

Now only his head still protruded from the man's mouth. Jim pushed on the crown of his head with both hands, and he continued to slide in... he could feel the kid's little beard scraping against the roof of his mouth.

In a muffled voice, he heard him say, "Jeez, it smells like hamburgers in here..."

And then he closed his mouth completely over him and gulped hugely. He felt the boy going all the way down, filling his gut...

The cop was knocking again, impatiently. "Sir, will you open the door??"

Jim was gasping for air. "Yeah, yeah," he managed to say. He could feel Ken squirming around inside him -- it seemed like he was trying to turn around. He gulped down several large mouthfuls of air so the kid could breathe. Then he got up with a loud grunt, steadying himself against the wall. The weight in his gut was incredible; he was having some difficulty just standing up!

He quickly kicked Ken's clothes and shoes under the cot, then unlocked the door.

The police officer looking up at him was on the short side, but quite burly. He had a thick, brown, brush-like moustache and a buzzcut. He was carrying his cap under one arm.

Almost immediately, his eyes went to Jim's enormous, round globe of a belly, and his jaw dropped slightly. But then he tried to compose himself and looked Jim in the face, saying in a firm voice, "Is there a problem?"

"Uh, no-- sorry I took so long, officer. I was... I had to put some clothes on." Jim tried to laugh.

The cop looked at him suspiciously. "I thought I heard someone else in here."

"Nope, just me. I was having a little snooze."

"Well... I'm Officer Banks. May I come in? I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Oh, sure." Jim backed up to allow the guy to enter.

"So you're the foreman on this site, Mr. Reese?" The cop couldn't seem to help himself; he kept glancing down at Jim's gut. Jim was nervous... for some reason, Ken was struggling a bit inside him, and he hoped it wouldn't be visible from the outside. Was the boy uncomfortable?

"Yes."

The policeman looked slowly around the interior of the trailer. He said, "You know a young man named Kenneth Delaney?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's one of the employees' kids."

"Have you seen him today?"

Jim's stomach gurgled audibly. "Ah, no. Haven't seen him."

"You sure? One of your workmen seems to think he came up here. He's in a bit of trouble, I'm afraid."

"Sorry, I was sleeping. I didn't see anyone." From Jim's belly came a small moan; Jim thumped a hand to his gut and uttered a short, loud burp. "Ooof... 'scuse me, officer!"

Banks couldn't seem to contain himself any longer -- chuckling, he poked Jim in the belly and said, "I'm sorry, but... man! That is some huge gut you've got there, buddy." He shook his head. "You got a horse in there, or what?"

"Aw, no, it's just fat. And... I had a big lunch today, too." Jim smiled broadly.

"Never seen anything like that. Damn! Sorry, I hope I haven't embarassed you."

"That's alright, I know I could stand to lose 'bout 200 pounds. So, umm... what's the boy done?"

"I can't really tell you that." The cop took another quick look around the trailer. "Well, you just keep an eye out for him, okay?"

"Okay, sure thing."

"Thanks for your time. You take care, sir." He left.

Jim could feel a massive belch building up, trying to escape. He sat down on the cot with a groan. Ken was wriggling around more now, and he could hear him trying to say something -- obviously, he wanted to be released.

Now that the policeman was gone Jim could relax, and really savour the experience of having a whole, live person inside his stomach. It felt great, even better than with the doctor... he'd never had such an enjoyable and satisfying meal in his life!

And now he was starting to realize something else: he didn't want to let the boy back out after all. He knew he had to; he'd surely suffocate in there before long and besides, he thought he could feel his digestive juices starting to flow. Just awhile longer, he thought...

The kid moaned again from inside his gut. His struggles seemed to be weakening.

Mm-mmm... he'd sure been a tasty morsel. He felt so full... and yet he thought that he could probably take someone even a little bigger than Kenny, next time. Jim rubbed his belly, opened his mouth wide and heaved out a huge, long, thun- derous belch. He was about to gulp down some fresh air for the boy, but then stopped himself.

With a sigh, he stretched out onto his back instead. I guess this was my plan all along, he thought to himself. Wasn't it? He didn't know if he could actually digest such an incredible amount of food...

but he supposed there was only one way to find out.

[miss-musings]

"You Weren't Loyal To Me": How Crosshair's Brothers Absolutely Failed Him in "The Bad Batch" Season 1

I know I'm not the first person to make these arguments, but after recently rewatching "The Bad Batch" Season 1, I feel compelled to play Devil's Advocate and assert that Crosshair's brothers absolutely failed him in Season 1.

Now, don't mistake me. I don't believe Crosshair was 100% in the right. Once he regained his free will -- whether he actually removed his inhibitor chip, or whether his injury on Bracca deactivated it or lessened its impacts -- he definitely should've left the Empire the first chance he had.

I imagine he was trying to make the best of a bad situation, but I don't see why he would stay with an organization hijacked his mind and ordered him to kill his family, civilians and other people who were trying to do the right thing.

But, I don't think his brothers -- I'm excluding Omega because she's a child and was following everyone else's lead -- are 100% in the right either.

I believe Crosshair's brothers basically abandoned him.

CROSSHAIR'S GREAT INSECURITY?

Now, I understand that they didn't initially plan to abandon Crosshair. But, once they knew he was being mind-controlled and especially once they knew how to undo its effects, they never even considered going back for him.

We never see them debate trying to save Crosshair. They don't discuss whether it's feasible, whether it's worth the risk, how they would even attempt it, etc.

I think this was a much-needed moment that we never get to see. In fact, as others have pointed out, we don't really get much discussion about Crosshair at all.

He's their brother. He's been by their side from infancy through their time as cadets through dozens of missions. Why aren't they more upset about him turning against them? Or being mind-controlled by the Empire?

They seem so blasé about it. Like it's more of an inconvenience than a tragedy, especially by 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth." Like "Ope, Crosshair's here. I bet he's gonna try to kill us again."

As I'll discuss more later, Hunter gets captured on Daro, and Omega loses her frickin' mind. Even Echo, Wrecker and Tech seemed distressed too, even if the show didn't focus on their reactions as much.

But, Crosshair's mind and body get hijacked by the Empire, and nobody seems to give a shit.

No wonder why Crosshair felt so betrayed and said everything he does in 1.15 and 1.16. It probably confirmed something he always felt, or always feared:

That he was the odd man out in his squad -- the last to be included and the first to be excluded.

That they never cared about him as much as he cared about them.

Based on experiences in my own life, with friends and coworkers, I do wonder if Crosshair was always insecure about his standing within the group. This makes sense given that he's likely the youngest of the four original brothers, and that as a sniper, he isn't always in the middle of the action like they are. His personality doesn't really help either, but his brothers seem to be able to navigate it just fine in their "The Clone Wars" Season 7 arc.

Maybe this is partly why he seemed OK with Echo joining the squad at the end of TCW arc: because he felt like Echo would become the new 'odd man' considering that he didn't grow up with the Bad Batch and wouldn't know Crosshair's brothers like he does.

It's been a while since I watched TCW Season 7, so maybe I'm wrong.

But, I definitely think this is partly why he resents Omega so much in Season 1:

The Bad Batch -- mainly Hunter -- decided to risk their lives and their freedom to go back to Kamino for Omega. She might've been their "little sister," but they'd known her all of one day and Hunter still decided it was worth going back for her.

Yet they never went back for him.

Hell, as far as we the audience know, they never even considered it.

I'm not saying it would have been easy or risk-free. They also now have Omega in their care, and trying to extract Crosshair from Imperial custody while all parties involved would be trying to kill or capture them isn't an easy undertaking.

But, as I'll talk about more later, these guys do rescue and extraction missions all the time. They put their lives on the line for complete strangers several times in Season 1 to save them from Imperial custody, slavery, etc.

And I'm not saying they were wrong to do those things. It was objectively good that the Bad Batch saved the people they did.

But, I can absolutely understand why Crosshair would be infuriated that his brothers take on all these missions to help complete strangers but never bother to help him...

ANALYZING THE BATCH'S DECISIONS BASED ON THE SEASON 1 TIMELINE

I understand that, before he confronts them in the hangar in 1.01 "Aftermath," that they were planning to go back for him. And that they were forced to leave him behind because he was literally gunning for them. And -- as far as his brothers knew -- he was doing it of his own free will.

However, in 1.02 "Cut and Run," Omega tells them about the inhibitor chips, implying that that's how Crosshair is being controlled.

Then in 1.03 "The Replacements," we see that Tech is building a device to locate their inhibitor chips, and Omega tries to tell the Batch and specifically emphasizes to Hunter that Crosshair has no control over his actions. Hunter admits that he's angry at himself for leaving Crosshair behind, and Omega reassures him that they'll get him back someday.

So, it seems like -- at least in Omega's eyes -- the Batch was planning to save Crosshair at some point. And, Hunter at minimum feels guilty for leaving Crosshair on Kamino, even though they didn't really have much of a choice at the time.

However, the Batch gets sidetracked in 1.04 and 1.05. First, they need supplies; then bounty hunters are after Omega; then they need intel on who's after her and why.

Then, by the events of 1.07 "Battle Scars," we see that they've fallen into a routine of doing jobs for Cid. It's safe to assume they've done -- or at least attempted -- a dozen jobs for her at this point, based on Wrecker and Omega's 20 orders of Mantell Mix.

And then Rex shows up and tells them point-blank that the clones can't fight the inhibitor chip's effects, re-emphasizing Omega's earlier point that Crosshair had no control over his actions.

The Batch then experiences this firsthand with Wrecker, whose chip activates before they can extract it. We see that, even with Wrecker fighting the chip's effects with all his might, he endangers his brothers and was *this* close to killing Omega, before Rex stunned him.

Now, we have confirmation based on both Rex and Wrecker's experiences that removing an active chip restores a clone's free will.

Thus, by the end of 1.07 "Battle Scars," the Batch definitively knows:

Crosshair is being controlled by an inhibitor chip and is being forced to do the Empire's bidding;

How to remove an inhibitor chip; and

That removing a clone's active inhibitor chip will restore his free will

And yet, despite all this knowledge, the only effort they make to save Crosshair is to tell him about the inhibitor chip.

They don't attempt or even discuss possibly stunning him on the artillery deck and taking him with them.

But, admittedly, this isn't the best time to attempt a rescue, as they're outnumbered and essentially trapped aboard the Jedi Cruiser. And then Omega gets captured by Cad Bane and Hunter gets shot, and the others are desperately trying to get off Bracca before Crosshair & co. shoot them down. Fine. Getting off Bracca safely and then trying to find Omega should be their priority.

But, once they recover Omega on Bora Vio, and their lives aren't in immediate danger anymore... this would've been the perfect time to at least debate going back for Crosshair.

Again, they have all the information needed at this point.

As for how they find him, well, I'm sure they could get the information somehow. Or they could just cause a stir somewhere so he'd show up to arrest them again, like he did on Bracca.

But, no, they just continue doing jobs for Cid in 1.10-1.13. They don't bring him up at all until they see him on Ryloth in 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth," and again, the tone is like, "Well, Crosshair is here. That's annoying."

If not being able to locate him was the only reason they didn't try to save him after 1.08/1.09, that argument doesn't apply to 1.12 "Rescue on Ryloth." He's there. They know he's there. They're already there doing an extraction job anyway... why don't they just grab him too???

Yes, there would be additional risks, but YOUR BROTHER HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED BY THE EMPIRE AND FORCED TO DO ITS BIDDING, AND YOU DON'T SEEM TO GIVE A SHIT!!!

Which brings us nicely to:

THE DOUBLE STANDARD

Throughout Season 1, but especially in the latter half, we see The Batch putting themselves in harm's way for complete strangers, or at most, friends-of-friends.

They rescue Muchi the Rancor and other people from enslavers; they extract the former Separatist Senator from Raxus; they extract the Syndullas from Ryloth; they break Gregor out of the Imperial base on Daro.

In the latter three cases, the Batch went to Imperial-occupied planets and an Imperial base, despite all the risks involved. And, especially when they saved Gregor, they had very little information going in and basically just winged the entire thing.

It just feels like, when you look at all these cases, any argument the Batch could make for not saving Crosshair just falls apart.

"We didn't know where he was." He was on Ryloth -- grab him then.

"We didn't have enough information." You didn't on Daro, and you still snuck into a heavily fortified Imperial base to rescue Gregor.

"Everyone there would've been trying to kill us." You literally extract/rescue people from Imperial forces for a living...

"It would've endangered Omega." Well, buddy, have I got a story for you...

You see, when Hunter falls on Daro and gets captured, the Batch still comes to his rescue despite knowing it's a trap AND THEY BRING OMEGA WITH THEM!!!

Every excuse they could've made for not saving Crosshair sooner is gone. The Batch will literally run into a trap for Hunter, and they constantly throw themselves into danger to save Omega, but they never do the same for Crosshair.

It really feels like such a double standard.

They seem to care about everyone BUT him.

Plus, sadly, there's one more parallel I can draw. One more instance where the Bad Batch put themselves in harm's way to save a fellow clone who was being mind-controlled by their enemies in an attempt to kill them...

Echo.

Yes, remember all the way back in TCW Season 7, when we find out that Echo is the one behind the algorithm that's giving the Separatists an advantage in all these battles?

Even though Rex thought Echo was dead, the minute he suspects Echo's still alive, he goes after him. He even punches Crosshair over it, after Crosshair bullies Rex for leaving Echo for dead at the Citadel.

One of the "regs" went back for his brother despite knowing he was being mind-controlled by the enemy and forced to attack them.

Rex, Anakin and the Bad Batch save Echo from a terrible fate. They extract him from the Separatists, restore his free will and essentially give him his life back.

Yet, when the exact same thing happens to one of their own, the Batch don't even consider going back for Crosshair the way Rex went back for Echo -- hell, the way they went in for Echo too, even though they didn't know him!!

SOME CONSIDERATIONS

I will give the Batch this: once Crosshair confronts them on Kamino and Hunter stuns him, Hunter decides not to leave Crosshair behind this time. And that was even after Crosshair refused to say when he had his chip removed. So, for all they know, he might've been acting of his own free will when he tried to kill them on Bracca.

While taking Crosshair with them at the end of 1.15 was a step in the right direction, I don't think it was enough to make up for everything they failed to do.

And, while he doesn't specify exactly what, Hunter later admits to Crosshair in 3.05 "The Return" that he has regrets too. And considering the context and the timeframe they're talking about, it's possible Hunter regrets not going back for Crosshair sooner/at all, among other mistakes he's made. (Story for another time.)

I'll also give some consideration to Wrecker, who was the only one of the brothers who said he actively missed Crosshair in 1.03 "The Replacements." Tech mentions Crosshair very flippantly a few times, and Echo doesn't really mention him at all.

(EDIT: Looking back now, Echo *not* talking about Crosshair is such a weird choice. Shouldn’t he of all people know what it’s like to be mind-controlled? To be weaponized by your enemy and forced to kill your loved ones?)

(ANOTHER EDIT: I was rewatching 1.14 “War-Mantle” today and this line stood out to me:

Echo: If there’s a chance that trooper is being held against his will, we have to try to get him out.

I realize that being imprisoned is different than being mind-controlled and actively hunting down you down, but it’s still weird that Echo of all people doesn’t seem to give a flying eff about Crosshair’s situation while practically begging Hunter to rescue a clone they’ve never met.🧐)

Obviously, we'll never know for certain, but I do wonder how Crosshair would've reacted if his brothers had rescued him and removed his chip at some point. Would he have stayed with them? Would he have wanted to rejoin the Empire voluntarily?

Considering he (supposedly) had his chip removed and still stayed with the Empire willingly in-universe, it's possible he might've wanted to do the same thing in an AU where his brothers rescued him.

He definitely despised that they were fugitives and "scavenging like rats," while he had authority, respect and purpose as a soldier of the Empire.

But, I think a large component -- although not the only one -- of why he stays with the Empire is that he felt like his brothers abandoned him. He brings this up several times in 1.15 and 1.16, and the way he does indicates this is a major sore spot for him.

We see in 1.01 "Aftermath" that the chip enhancement procedure is painful. He scrunches his face, flexes his hand and squirms around in the chamber. Plus, the machine itself looks similar to the Mind Flayer from other "Star Wars" properties.

Crosshair was literally being tortured by the Empire. Maybe he doesn't recall that once the procedure's done, but we see him getting his chip enhanced in both 1.01 and 1.03, and it's possible it was enhanced even more times off-screen.

I cannot stress this enough: the Empire basically took Crosshair prisoner, tortured him and hijacked his free will.

And his brothers essentially did nothing to save him.

It would be one thing if his brothers were civilians like you and me, and didn't know the first thing about how to infiltrate an Imperial compound or how to navigate a firefight despite being outnumbered.

But, that doesn't apply to The Bad Batch. That's literally their bread-and-butter.

And Crosshair -- especially once he seems to regain his free will between the Bracca and Ryloth arcs -- watched his brothers risk their lives to save complete strangers while doing nothing for him.

I would've been livid too.

Not to sound like Tech, but while I don't agree with Crosshair's decision, I can understand why he decided to stay on Kamino rather than go with them at the end of 1.16. His brothers offered him no real comfort and no real apology, and I think he desperately wanted to hear that, especially from Hunter.

I know after everything that's happened -- especially Crosshair refusing to say when he had his chip removed -- that it would've been hard to admit their mistakes. But, Crosshair wanted to hear something beyond: "You can come with us if you want. And if you don't, we don't have to be enemies."

The closest thing to comfort any of them offer is Omega affirming that, despite everything, she still cared about him. This seems to be the only thing that really effects him, that causes him to doubt his decision, that causes him to show any kind of emotion beyond anger.

I legitimately believe that if someone had talked to Crosshair one-on-one for like five minutes, and really showed how much they still cared about him and always did, that he would've rejoined them.

Granted, it's really hard to tell.

Crosshair has, as Tech said, always been severe and unyielding. Plus, he really suffers from this "in for a penny, in for a pound" kind of mindset, which is partly why he stays with the Empire for so long even after regaining his free will.

But the fact that all his brothers leave him on Kamino again so effortlessly, so easily is just tragic. No final goodbye. No hug. No nothing.

For all any of them know, this could be the last time they ever see each other. (And, for Tech and Crosshair, it was.)

I know it wouldn't have been easy after everything that's happened, but for crying out loud, I just wanted them to try.

And I imagine Crosshair did too.

IN CONCLUSION

Honestly, I think the TBB writers and producers purposely never gave us a scene of The Batch debating whether to go after Crosshair, or a scene of them outlining to us the audience why it wasn't possible even though they wanted to.

I think the creative team wanted us to sympathize with Crosshair when he says "You weren't loyal to me," while also arguably giving our protagonists a weakness to overcome later.

This really seems like the case if we look at Season 2.

Once the Batch finds out Crosshair's being detained by the Empire's Advanced Science Division in 2.14 "Tipping Point," they immediately start discussing whether and why they should try to save him, even after everything that happened between them in S1.

On top of that, this time they actually decide to do whatever it takes to get him back, despite limited intel and the imminent danger behind such an undertaking.

I think the Batch genuinely learned from their mistakes in Season 1 and, as Hunter maybe alludes to in 3.05 "The Return," regretted not going back for Crosshair sooner/at all after the Empire started controlling him.

I'll admit: I think when I first watched Season 1, I was basically in the Batch's corner. Crosshair was gunning for them at every opportunity, and Omega's well-being quickly became their priority (understandably so).

But, after rewatching Season 1 -- especially now that the show is over and we see how everyone's arcs play out -- it really hits me just how much Crosshair's brothers failed him in Season 1.

Again, I'm not saying Crosshair didn't make mistakes too. He definitely did.

But Crosshair's brothers failed him first.

AN ADDENDUM

(EDIT/UPDATE:) Since writing the above, I've stumbled across a few other posts of people making the counterargument, saying they believe Hunter was in the right and don't appreciate the hate he gets for not going back for Crosshair.

People are more than welcome to make that argument. I think that kind of debate just shows how nuanced this show and its characters are, because you can make valid arguments for both sides.

And to clarify, I don't hate Hunter (and the others) for not going back for Crosshair in S1. As Hunter says later in 3.05: "Nobody really understood what was happening back then." It was a chaotic time -- for the galaxy and their family.

In the span of one episode, the Jedi are exterminated; the war ends; the Republic is reorganized into the Empire; the clones' future role in the galaxy is questioned; and when CF99 refuse to kill civilians, they're declared traitors and arrested.

And to top it all off, Crosshair is acting strange AND they find out they have a little sister who's in danger.

So, when Crosshair seemingly betrays them, and they barely escape with their lives, it's understandable that the Batch's first move is just to get their bearings and figure out their next steps.

And, of course, all the dominoes fall from there.

So, while I definitely don't hate him and I understand why they don't go back for Crosshair initially, I am disappointed in Hunter.

If the writers wanted me to be on his side and understand that it was basically impossible to go back for Crosshair, then I needed a scene showing/telling me why they can't. Or I at least needed a scene proving that they care about him, because based on what we actually got in Season 1, I tend to fall on Crosshair's side when he argues his brothers didn't care about him the way they clearly care about Hunter when he's captured.

You can certainly make arguments that, because Crosshair's their brother and he knows all their strategies, strengths, weaknesses, etc., that he's even more dangerous than all the other Imperials they might face. Yes, definitely. I argue that's all the more reason to try to save him.

Yes, there would be risks. But, if you succeed, not only do you lose a very dangerous enemy -- one who knows you inside and out -- but you would (hopefully) regain a teammate.

Imagine you're in Hunter's shoes and your sibling -- or if you don't have one, a really good friend who feels like a sibling -- gets taken captive and mind-controlled by an evil organization. Wouldn't you try your damnedest to get them out? Or at the very least, wouldn't you be sad about their situation?

Rewatching 1.03 "The Replacements," there's an interesting scene that's probably the closest we get to a real discussion about Crosshair -- how they feel about him, whether they miss him, whether he really betrayed them or was being influenced by the chip.

@laughhardrunfastbekindsblog did a great analysis of each character's reaction, which I recommend you read at some point.

I want to take a quick look at it too, starting with the brothers looking at Omega with Crosshair's weapon kit like she just knocked over Grandma's urn or something.

It feels like, for the first time, they're starting to let themselves process what really happened. This is their first real chance to mourn losing their brother.

Tech wonders whether Crosshair's actions were influenced by his inhibitor chip, and Omega basically confirms that theory. Wrecker is excited by the possibility that Crosshair didn't willingly betray them, but Hunter very quickly shuts the conversation down, saying they have other problems to tackle first.

While he's not technically wrong, Hunter pulls out the "raincheck card” too frequently in Season 1. And subsequently, a lot of the topics that come up in conversations keep simmering in the background while the Batch does other things until they're FORCED to confront them.

This scene is the perfect example of that. The Batch didn't mention Crosshair except in passing in 1.02, and it's only when Omega finds his weapon kit that they are FORCED to talk about him. (EDIT: Check out the 3:45 mark of this video on 2.09 “The Crossing” for more examples.)

I get the sense that Hunter's reaction in this scene, plus all the distractions that come up later, is why the others never really bring up Crosshair again, except in passing. It's a sore subject for Hunter, and they all tend to take their cues from him, especially this early in the show. Plus, they're probably still processing their own feelings, so they might not be ready to bring up the topic.

One last thing from 1.03 I want to note is that, later in the episode, Hunter is telling Omega about his and his brothers' enhanced abilities, and he automatically excludes Crosshair from the list.

It really feels like Hunter -- and the rest of the squad by extension -- labeled Crosshair as a lost cause very early on. That it was a given that he was their enemy now and there was no real chance of getting him back (unless he came to his senses on his own like Howzer and other clones later do).

This might be why they're so shocked when he reveals he removed his chip, because they were hoping that once he "woke up" that he would come back to them. Wrecker even says as much to Crosshair in 1.16: "We still would've taken ya."

Ultimately, I think the characters had differing perspectives on who had the responsibility in the situation.

It seems Hunter and the others took a very passive approach. They told Crosshair about the chip when they had the chance, hoped he would "wake up" on his own, and would've accepted him back if he had.

But, Crosshair feels they should've taken a more active approach. He's hurt that they never came back for him, whether to save him or to join him.

(EDIT #2: I realize that by 1.15, at least, Crosshair seems to be arguing that they should’ve come back to join him in the Empire. He might be making that argument, but I’m saying his brothers had a responsibility to try to save him, and in that regard, I believe they failed.)

This is essentially the exchange Hunter and Crosshair have in 1.15:

Crosshair: They don't leave their own behind, most of the time. Hunter: You tried to kill us. We didn't have a choice. Crosshair: Hmm. And I did?

And, as I said before, based on everything we saw in Season 1, I tend to side with Crosshair.

Hunter made mistakes -- never talking about Crosshair and shutting down the others when they did was a big one. He never addressed the elephant in the room until he HAD to, and by then it was basically too late. And, of course, it seems the others took their cues from him.

As the leader, it was his job to -- at some point when they weren't in immediate danger -- introduce the topic and ask the others for their thoughts about Crosshair, especially once they knew how powerful the chip's influence was and once they knew how to remove it.

But, he didn't.

If the writers wanted me to side with Hunter when he says "We didn't have a choice" -- especially given the double standard I discussed earlier -- I don't think they gave me good enough reason to.

However, I think that's ultimately why the writers did what they did.

Both Hunter and Crosshair made enough mistakes in Season 1 that you can argue all day about which one of them failed the other more, which makes the show and characters all the stronger for it. Because neither one is 100% in the right or 100% in the wrong.

I just wanted to play Devil's Advocate, and try to explain why Crosshair felt like he did, and why I believe he was (at least partly) justified.

So, feel free to continue debating it, but I at least believe that Crosshair's brothers failed him first.

[brn-t]

Thermotropism

TAGS:

eyy where my plant fuckers at? 👀🌱🌿 you can read it on AO3 here

I don’t think I should have taken this plant home…

Like, when I saw it baking in the sun in that alley outside my building, it’d looked like it had a lot of potential! It was all shriveled but the leaves branched out from a thick basal stem like a monstera almost and there were these bright red blotches on its roots that looked super cool!

When I brought it in (heavy!!) I could tell just by looking how root bound it was, so I popped it out of it’s cheap decorative planter (poor thing was probably never repotted) and yup, there were more roots than dirt.

I had no idea what the hell it was. Inatural had no frickin clue. It looked like a tropical plant with it’s broad green leaves and knobbly aerial roots, but the ground roots were so thick they looked like tubers!! 

I have to admit I was fascinated, but I should have gotten rid of it then…

It spent uh, a couple weeks underneath my shitty little plant light, the one in my room. I was quarantining it in there until I knew it didn’t have any critters on it, but it seemed happy with its repotting and daily soakings for the most part.

The thing really liked water

Like, I started off watering it once a week, and it did perk up, but it didn’t really change much until I started dousing it every morning before work.

And man when it started goin off, it really went off.

It seemed like every time I came home it had sent out a new aerial root or new leaf! The thing was voluptuous as hell! When it got too big for my pathetic little plant light I moved it to the window sill next to my bed. 

It was kinda nice! Like a natural blind or something once it got its runners going up the screen.

I didn’t mind, it was always hot as hell in my little apartment and my landlord couldn’t be arsed to install an AC. I just had to be careful not to accidentally crawl over the little shoots it was sending out all over when I got into bed.

I guess where I fucked up is when I found out about.. its uh.. nutrient preferences

I swear it was a complete accident the first time!! 

I had just gotten home from another 10 hr day and I was tired and smelly and needed to jerk off pronto. I hosed myself down and threw myself into bed, still steaming from trying to scrub off the smell of fried food from my skin, and cracked open my laptop.

Now, fun fact, there's this thing that plants do where they move towards things. Most of the time its towards light, but they can also be attracted to heat! It’s called thermotropism. So I dunno if it was the heat from my ancient laptop or the steam off my skin, but just as I'm about to nut I feel something brush against the head of my dick.

It took me so much by surprise that I came right there, frickin coating a leaf in my jizz. The thing had turned completely around from facing the window above my bed to nearly touching me with its broad soft leaf.

Even for a tropical plant that’s shockingly mobile.

So I cleaned it off as best I could but I guess some of my spunk got absorbed into the soil, I dunno, I passed out shortly after that. I didn’t wake up until nearly nine o clock the next morning because the room was still completely dark thanks to the density of the wall of leaves covering my window. The plant had frickin doubled in size and the terracotta pot I had repotted it in had some fresh cracks in it where the aerial roots were exploding out through.

I didn’t have time to freak out about it since I was once again late to work, but I gotta admit, I was digging the jumanjI vibes it brought to my otherwise very dull room 

So.. I may have started jerking off into it every night?

What! It’s like, natural fertilizer, or whatever!! And the plant seemed to like it? 

I even got it to flower!! It started putting out these crazy flower stalks that closed up during the day but unfurled at night giving off this crazy floral fragrant scent.

It made me remember being a kid and running around in the woods behind my stepdads rental cabin, so I let it keep spreading.

I realize now, this was not the smartest idea, but fuck it, my landlord all but explicitly told me I wasn’t getting the deposit back unless I sued him for it so when it started putting its roots into the drywall, I let it.

It was nice honestly, coming home after seeing nothing but concrete grey for hours and then throwing myself into my little tropical nest. And the smell of the flowers really set the mood when I was jerkin it.

Embarrassingly I think my mind started associating the smell with orgasm because I swear I walked past a florist shop the other day and had to walk bowlegged to the 7D train.

The trouble really started when it started sending its roots in my direction .

Now, I ain’t proud of it, but I more often than not just sleep on a bare mattress. Its got one of those memory foam layers on top and I just couldn’t be bothered to put a fitted sheet on it half the time.

So when I started feeling a bump underneath me as I lay in bed, I just thought it was like, a sock  or something that had gotten shoved underneath there, nbd, until that night… 

I was feeling particularly pent up and kept grinding my ass against that spot on the mattress. I don’t know why I did it, I just wanted more friction and the blooms on the ceiling above me were gettin me wound up with their heavy fragrance. Anyway, it feels like there's a soft tear below me and suddenly something hard and Wide and cold is pressing right against my gooch.

I kinda jump (because it’s cold!!) and look down to find that the frickin plant has grown into the mattress !!

And it was a fat root too, no idea how I didn’t notice it more earlier.

It was kindof freaky to be honest how fast it had grown, the thing really must have liked my semen, but at that point with how humid the room was and how dizzy the flowers were making me feel… I went with it.

 I ground my ass into it and when the thick ridge popped in past my ring I swear I came harder than I ever have in my life dude

I felt like I blacked out a little at the end there because the next thing I knew, it was morning and I'm absolutely painted in my own cum. I guess at this point I should have realized what was going on but I think the pollen those flowers were putting out were scrambling my brains a little. When I woke up, there was a network of thin bright red roots crisscrossing my body, sending out these feathery little things, absorbing the frankly ludicrous amounts of cum I had shot out last night. They pulled at my skin a little as I tore them off but part of me was still a little horny. So I cleared them away and and pulled out my phone.

Fuck it, right? It was my day off and I had no responsibilities that day anyway.

I just rolled over and started going to town on my morning wood.

My ass twitched around something and that's when I noticed...

The fuckin root was still in my ass from last night!!!

I'm trying to use one hand to milk my dick while the other one shoots down in between my legs and sure enough, that fuckin root had buried itself who knows how deep! I tried in vain to pull the thing out, but it was rooted in the mattress after all and didn’t budge. So, humiliatingly, I had to pull myself off of it.

I have to admit, I came a little just from feeling how much of it was inside of me, there was a good 7 inches of thick knobby root dragged out of me, grinding against my prostate as I pulled myself off of it.

I just lay there breathless, staring at the root, sticking straight up out out of my mattress now that it was no longer buried in my ass. My inner walls twitched and contracted, trying to close around the space it had carved out in me.

I guess I still had some sense then because I did actually prune the plant after that

I pulled the root out of my ruined mattress and trimmed all the stalks and roots near my bed. I started jerking off in the bathroom and yea the leaves wilted a bit but that was too much for me, you know?

Well, I don’t know if plants can get pissed but I must have pissed this one off because it responded to me suddenly not “fertilizing” it by sending out these little sticky climbers that got everywhere.

I woke up one morning to the fuckers wrapped around my tiny nipples. I went to sit up and yelped because they got yanked by the fuckin things, pulling my chest to the side. I tried to pull it off as delicately as I could, but the thin stems snapped in half, bleeding a reddish sort of liquid all over my chest!

It sort of burned but I just yelled at the plant, wiped it off and got dressed for work.

Now, I don’t know if I was allergic or something, but for the rest of that day my nipples stayed hard and puffy, poking out visibly from underneath my thin uniform shirt and earning more than a few snickers from the girls up front.

Good thing I had a vacation week coming up.

It had been asked for months in advance, and was the first one I’d had in a decade. I was supposed to drive out to the lake across the state to hang with a buddy of mine at his parents bougie lake house. Well, that night was the night before I was due to head out, and I went to bed in my travel clothes so I could just pop out of bed in the morning. Not wanting to ruin my clothes, I watered the Plant like usual and saved the jerking for when I got to my buddies place.

I was just on the edge of unconsciousness when I felt something moving up my shirt sleeve. I couldn’t tell if I was dreaming it or not so I just laid there, feeling the thing slowly snake its way up to my chest, resting on the sensitive swollen bud there 

I only really tried to react when I felt a second tendril branch out from the first and start oozing that same irritating sap over my OTHER nipple!

Groggily I straightened up, falling for the same headphones on the doorknob trap as last time, but this time it felt a lot better.

My nips hadn't really gone down since that last time so when they got yanked I thought a yelp of pain was what was gonna come out of my mouth, so imagine my surprise when a full bodied moan slipped out instead.

I immediately got super red in the face and yanked off my shirt.

This, unfortunately, snapped the thin tendrils stem, causing it to bleed more of its spicy sap all along my side and chest as I shucked off my shirt.

It left an angry red trail of raised sensitive skin, swelling my nipples far beyond what was normal, and they stuck out of my chest like two puffy toilet plungers out from my swelling pecs.

I tried to pull the tendrils off of them but they were too tight and my nipples were too big now.

I looked up from groping my chest to see how many of the plant’s flowers had opened up above me, showering me in who knows what.

I couldn’t take it anymore, I was openmouth panting, inhaling the perfume and palming my shorts which had at some point started to fill out. I ripped my shorts off too, and only after a few strokes realized how deeply I had just fucked up

If you guessed “that idiot just smeared a sap he’s clearly allergic to all over the most sensitive part of his body” you would be correct...

I was howling in pain as it started to burn, but after a minute or two I was thrusting into the air and moaning like a whore, the fire had turned into an electric storm of pleasure.

My dick was swelling way past normal hardness and I could only continue to try and fuck the hell out of my hand.

It was entirely too humid in that room, everything felt wet and sticky, so when I came finally, I barely even felt it on me

I screamed so loud the neighbors probably thought I was dying I probably did die a little... I think I shot into my own mouth at one point??  I collapsed immediately after, and when I woke in the morning, the whole plant looked shiny and glossy, like it was gloating over the fact it’d gotten me to come for it yet again.

I know it was just a plant but I got mad

I jumped out of bed, completely ignoring the tendrils still wrapped around my nips, put a thick jacket over my shirt and left the room with my suitcase while flipping it the bird.

I felt bad that I would be gone for a week but I’d set it up with a slow release watering pitcher, so I figured it’d be fine without me.

What I didn’t plan on was how I would do without it.

What should have been a great vacation turned into the worst case of blueballs seen this side of the Mississippi.

Not only did my nipples constantly pulse and throb against the tendrils, but I found out later when I went to go use the bathroom that one had slipped around the base of my dick as well, which had also refused to recede back to its normal size. The woody chord was a bit thicker and it wrapped around the base and balls, completely blocking any and all attempts to even get hard.

So instead of focusing on the boat ride or my friends stupid alcohol choices, I was stuck in a constant struggle of being aroused by my throbbing nipples and being unable to address it at all. I was actually filled with relief when the final day came and I was saying goodbye to my hosts.

I flew home after that in my tiny little beater car, shifting uncomfortably at my seatbelt rubbing directly against my chest. I practically kicked the door in, shedding all my clothes in a line to my bedroom and threw myself into bed.

I yelped when I landed on several thick somethings beneath my body creak under my weight, poking me through the thin layer of foam.

The Plant was the worst I’d seen it since I brought it home, with several dead leaves deposited on the bed and an explosion of fuzzy white runners running the length of that bedroom wall.

The roots jabbed into me like it had planned this.

“Ow!” I’d said, “ I'm sorry ok? I just needed a break!”

As a response, I watched a giant cream white flower slowly expand and burst open, sending a shower of shimmery yellow pollen floating down directly over my face.

Things uh, got a little out of hand after that…

The tendrils had finally loosened enough around my dick to where I could pull them off but that just led to all my pent up semen literally dumping into my balls as soon as the tie was removed. I moaned as I could physically feel them growing heavier as a weeks worth of pent up jizz dropped into my balls. They felt like leaden weights.

It was almost painful how quickly I got hard, and it didn’t take more than a stroke or two before I was yelling and releasing said load all over myself and the plant.

You could visibly see it perk up, opening up more buds, showering me with pollen and dusting the bed. The two substances got mixed by my frantic motions and soon I was lightly cheeto dusted with the stuff,

My skin was on fire but it also.. uh, felt really good somehow... So once the high of the first orgasm died down, it wasn't long before I was rarin to go for a second round.

I palmed my recovering erection and was just about fully hard when I felt it.

Again, at my ass!! Was one of the plant’s thick basal roots!! Except this one looked a little weird..

First off it was tremendously thick, about the width of my wrist, and secondly it was covered in all these little backwards facing ridges, like a drywall sink

Man, I don’t know what wires go crossed but between the way my ass was twitching and the pollen I was huffing, I put my ass right against that thing

It must have reacted to my bodyheat because it felt like as I was pressing down on it, the thing was pushing into me as well.

It was intense, there was no give to its turgid walls, so I had to stretch myself out around it to get it past my ring.

Once it was properly seated inside me I started going to town on my dick, which at this point was leaking like my kitchen sink maintenance had refused to address for weeks.

I swear I could feel the root get deeper and deeper inside me as I jerked and spasmed around it I was panting and moaning like a bitch, I can’t believe how horny I was

at some point I felt something at my mouth and wouldn’t you know it, an equally thick tuber had been drawn to my hot breath and was poking at the corner of my lips

I was way past the point of rational thoughts at that point, I just leaned forward and let it creep into my mouth.

The further it got the hotter I felt. My tongue swiped across the underside and that’s when I tasted something sweet

Was this root leaking sap??

Turns out the itchy nectar tasted amazing so I ended up suckling it as I frantically jerked my dick. The root inside my ass had reached my prostate at that point and thats when things got really hazy for me.

I remember exploding all over myself, I would have been screaming if not for the thick root tunneling its way down my throat

I was jerking and spasming to the best of my ability but the roots were getting a little out of control, they were budding from the base of the main roots and expanding all over my body, and every couple of inches they would plant a sticky little node like a command strip onto my skin and keep going, until I could barely move.

The only part that hadn’t been covered was my right arm, which was moving too fast jerking myself off for the tendrils to colonize.

The root in my mouth seemed to expand further, and suddenly I realized that I could still breath despite it feeling like it had reached my guts almost.

My tongue felt a small hole on the underside and sure enough, I could breath just fine.

Good thing too because that’s when I noticed the two thinner roots making their way up my nose, expanding into my nostrils and plugging them completely.

The root in my ass must have had the same idea...

At this point I was slowly starting to realize, like, “oh shit, I really can’t move” and started trying to pull things off of me to escape bu t I honestly couldn’t budge. My left arm was completely rooted to the mattress and my right arm couldn’t be lifted above my waist, just enough to reach my dick but not enough to reach my face.

Leaves were starting to branch out from the tendrils, and with them came more flowers.

They were visibly crawling all over me now, moving fast enough for me to track with my eyes, and I watched in horror as several thin tendrils spiraled up my cock.

I wish I could have broken away but I was quite literally rooted to the spot watching these tendrils poke at my leaking pisshole and worm their way inside.

I screamed and cried but the progress was unceasing, it steadily tunneled into my dick until it hit the base and pinched my prostate against the root in my ass, which at this point must have reached high up into my guts.

I screamed against the root as I came, but no semen escaped my completely plugged dick.

I could feel it making its way inside my through my internal passages, rooting itself straight into my balls, 

At that point I really did pass out, whether from lack of oxygen or overstimulation I couldn’t tell.

Well, I'm awake now and I am utterly fucked, the roots have expanded into nearly every available orifice, even trying to fill out my belly button and uh.. they might have broken through the skin...

I can see ridges beneath my skin.. little hard lines were they’ve penetrated me.

I'm being constantly milked and I can’t even move as they constantly grind against the inside of my cock

I'm not even thirsty or anything, the liquid being drip-fed down my throat fills me up and I'm just kept in a constant state of bliss.

I dunno what to do bro, I have my phone but even texting is getting hard with one hand and roots slowly crawling down my fingers…

you’re the only one close enough to me, theres a key underneath the mat..

you gotta help me man before it's too la

[mrs-dr-reid]

“Lecture”

A Wolverine Fic

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Summary: Logan's late-night crisis of worth leads to a loving reassurance/lecture from the reader

Genre: Super frickin fluffy, but a teensy bit suggestive at the end because why not?

Warnings: Swearing, allusions to Logan's past, suggestive language, tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: The voices got me. I'm writing for Wolverine now

Word Count: 1668 (just a baby)

———————————————————————

As time went on, Y/N began to appreciate the quieter moments she shared with Logan. Sure, she enjoyed the banter with the other X-Men and watching Scott get humbled, and of course, she adored seeing him interact with the kids. But her favorite time to spend with the man she loves was when it was just the two of them in their shared room talking about nothing and everything all at once, wrapped up in each other like they were the only two people in the universe.

On one of these nights, Y/N was snuggled against Logan’s chest as he traced random shapes on her back, and she was almost asleep when she heard him heave a sigh and whisper, “Shit,” so she opened her eyes and mumbled, “Logan? Is everything okay?”, making him run a hand over her arm and say, “Ah, it’s nothing, Baby. I didn’t mean to wake you, go back to sleep,” while shaking his head.

Y/N craned her neck to look up at him and said, “Lo, we’ve talked about this. When you start getting into your head too much, you need to talk to me,” while bringing a hand up to cup his face, a look of concern taking over her features. Logan grabbed her hand and kissed it before saying, “Yeah, okay. I was just… and this is gonna sound stupid, but I was just thinking about how you could do so much better than me,” which made Y/N fully sit up with an aghast look on her face.

She said, “Please tell me you’re joking, because if you aren’t, you’re in for one hell of a lecture, Bubba,” and when Logan just looked at her with a somber expression on his face, a crease formed between her eyebrows before she cupped his face in both hands and said, “I love you, Logan Howlett. Every scar, every bruise, every freckle and line is perfect to me. There’s nobody else I’d rather be with than you, and I need you to believe me when I say that because it is God’s honest truth, okay?”, her thumbs lovingly stroking his cheeks.

Logan looked at her mournfully and murmured, “Why me?”, so Y/N repositioned herself so their shoulders were pressed together, and she grabbed one of his wrists before saying, “First of all, I love your hands, because they’re warm and rough, and you have to admit mine fit in them pretty good,” and lacing her fingers with his, which made him chuckle despite himself and say, “Yeah, they do fit together quite nicely,” squeezing Y/N’s hand for emphasis.

Y/N turned his hand over in her grasp, then double-tapped one of his knuckles and said, “I love your claws, because they’re a part of you whether you want them to be or not, and because they help you protect yourself and other people, but mostly me,” earning her a soft snort from Logan as he rested his head on hers. Y/N continued by running her free hand up and down his arm and saying, “I love your arms, because they’re strong and sturdy, and because I never have to worry about anything when you’re holding me,” which made Logan playfully flex his arm and joke, “You sure you don’t just love them because they’re big?”, earning a loving swat to the chest from Y/N.

She brought a hand up to trace his mouth and said, “I love your mouth. Not just because you can do some… very enjoyable things with it, but also because you have a wonderful smile, and the corner of your mouth quirks up when you know I’m right but you don’t want to admit it,” and Logan was barely able to stop himself from doing that exact thing before saying, “Are we just gonna brush past that first part?”, which made Y/N shoot him a look that clearly said she wasn’t done yet, so he raised a hand in surrender and let her continue.

Y/N’s fingers wandered up to the creases by Logan’s eye, then she said, “I love your eyes, because even though they’ve seen some of the most awful things you could imagine, there’s still a tenderness to them, especially when you’re looking at me,” and he couldn’t help the lovestruck look in his eyes as he smiled at her. Y/N added, “I also love the little glint in your eye when you’re knocking Scott down a couple of pegs, or when the kids are getting up to some mischief that you helped them orchestrate,” and tapped his nose, which made him chuckle and tap her nose back.

Her hand migrated back to his chest as she said, “I love your chest. Not only because it’s a really nice pillow…,” and Logan flexed the peck her hand was resting on playfully at that sentiment, which made her shoot him a lovingly exasperated look before she continued, “But also because it’s where your heart is, and I love your heart most of all because even though you’ve lived through some truly horrible things, you never let them harden your heart. You love so fully and so fiercely, you put the most famous lovers in history to shame,” her thumb stroking the skin where his heart was. Logan put a hand over hers and whispered, “Thank you,” so Y/N smiled and whispered back, “Of course,” with a loving wrinkle of her nose before leaning in to press a loving kiss to his lips.

After she pulled away, a wicked grin spread across her face, and she slid her hand down to the waistband of Logan’s sweatpants while saying, “I also really love your co-...,” but she didn’t get to finish her sentence because Logan cut her off with a hand over her mouth and said, “Okay, Darlin, you’ve made your point,” trying to fight back a blush at her salaciousness. Y/N said, “Are you sure? You don’t need a demonstration?”, while toying with one of the drawstrings, so Logan said, “Can we raincheck that? I just want to hold you right now,” which made Y/N make a playful thinking face before saying, “I can work with that,” and snuggling against his chest once again.

Logan rolled his eyes, but he still pressed a kiss to the top of her head and said, “I love you, too, Y/N. You have no idea just how much,” making Y/N say, “I think I get the gist of it. Sweet dreams, Big Guy,” and tighten her grip on him. Logan murmured, “All my dreams are sweet because you’re in them,” earning a playful nudge to the ribs and a grumble of, “Sap,” from her. After a few moments of silence, Y/N said quietly, “Did I forget to mention how much I love your butt?”

The belly laugh she received was all she needed to know that Logan wouldn’t be having any crises of worth anytime soon.

———————————————————————

MCU Taglist: @libraryofloveletters

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[fic-heaven]

But you belong to me. (Graves x reader)

He was so annoying... And yet you craved his annoyance.

(graves never betrayed the 141 in here)

.

A whistle startles you when you were returning from the city to Alejandro's base, said man gives you a knowing look with a very noticeable hint of annoyance before he scapes with Rudy and you flip him the bird for leaving you behind to deal with-

"Lookin' good, gorgeous. I like tha' dress. It suits." Graves.

"Nice eye, American boy. Who are you? The fashion police? Here to admire my wardrobe?" You ask still a little confused as to how he spawned right next to you. Jesus, you'll have to burn this dress later... And apologize to Ale, he was the one who gifted it to you when he helped you pick something to impress a certain someone.

"Could be." Graves winks following your hurried steps with a small trot.

"Not with that haircut you ain'."

"You'll realize ma' hair won't matter much once I get to take off that pretty dress of yours and show ya what I've got in store."

You scoff and chuckle astonished. The Shadow commander never seemed to give up on his constant flirts, getting bolder and bolder with the passing time. Your banters with Graves have been quite frequent and very, very awkward. As much as you try to light them up with your wit, he screws it all with his broken humour and poor flirts which ends up in you feeling uncomfortable and your sass levels to increase but it never seemed to scare him off, it only tempted him further. You see, when you all were forced to collaborate with Shadow Company to track the missiles and Hassan in Las Almas you didn't think much of it, you'd stick to your thing and that was it. But the bad side of being and feeling attractive is that sometimes instead of gaining the attention of your crush, you'd end up having Phillip Graves licking your ass every opportunity he got seemingly enchanted with everything you pulled when you were trying to flirt with another different man.

That man being Soap frickin' Mactavish, the oblivious Scotchman. You could strip naked right in front of him tying your waist in a little bow like a wrapped gift and he'd pay more attention to the bow than your bare body. That sexy fool...

"I ain't got no time for this, dear. I'm tired. Mommy needs her beauty nap before we head to El Sin Nombre's mansion or wherever the hell he's hiding later tonight."

"I could accompany you. You know, warm the covers for ya before we-"

"I'll pass. But thanks! Ask Soap if he'd be interested in doing so instead, yes?" You smile to later grimace before going to the barracks leaving Graves behind laughing bitterly. How the hell could you make him take you seriously? That man had less brain than a sack of potatoes.

______

Perhaps you also had less brain than a sack of potatoes.

There was a very noticeable shift in the air when you went working solo with Soap at Diego's mansion. And it begun after you two bantered with one another and your team had finally managed to trap Valeria. Soap was characteristically oblivious of your flirting, and there was one certain pick-up line you said that was so clear of your intentions it made Valeria, who was handcuffed to the other side of the Heli scoff in disbelief, the other men chuckled lowly amused by your bold flirt.

For the first time in all the months you spent trying and failing at wooing Johnny, you felt pure embarrassment. Suddenly your team's laughs felt like they were mocking you, Soap seemed to be playing oblivious on purpose probably irritated by your futile attempts, and the weight of Graves' eyes made you shiver a bit, now you understood Phillip all those times he spent trying to court you only to end up being the butt of the joke.

Ghost was quick to notice your discomfort and with an authoritative bark he shut the other men up quickly before he gave you a knowing look you returned with a tight-lipped smile and a single nod. You all were quiet then, which took you by surprise because normally Graves wouldn't waste a minute trying to shift the attention you gave Soap to him, but this time he stayed quiet stealing a glance or two you way from Valeria's side, as if the blonde was giving you time to digest the discomfort and finally realize that perhaps Soap simply wasn't interested in you.

And fuck did it sting.

During the interrogation you remained professional trying to move on from the previous very awkward situation. Alejandro's temper tantrum and Phillip's sass helped you focus on the tied woman you were all supposed to squeeze information out of, the embarrassment was still burning your insides so you didn't comment much leaving the boys to their thing.

Soon enough, when the interrogation finished, you were approached by an smiling Phillip. He was content with how fast the interrogation had gone but you could feel his worry in the way he softly called out to you.

"You have a way with words." You said casually trying to halt him from making the question that almost fell from his lips. He obviously came to ask if you were okay and you weren't ready to answer that because frankly you didn't know for certain. Graves' fingers graced your forearm, you were wearing short sleeves at that moment so the gentle touch made your skin erupt in goosebumps, his face was sickenly soft as if he was approaching a wounded kitten until he broke it with a crocked smile and a little chuckle.

"Made her talk real quick. I'm an expert when it comes to interrogations, but that's only one of many skills as you'll come to know."

"Maybe she wanted to get it over with so she wouldn't catch more of your smelly breath." You picked on him with a playful smile of your own pinching his arm back before you crossed your arms on your chest.

"Were you jealous I was standing so close?" He bit stepping a little closer, both hands now tucked under his vest giving you this seductive look you were so familiar with.

"Should I? After all, I know you'll come right to me whenever you're done playing." Graves' brows quirked a bit in surprise. You were teasing him back, this was new.

But... Were you doing it because Soap had let you down yet again and you wanted to use him as a way of revenge trying to make your crush jealous?

Phillip moved his head to the side spotting Ghost roughly yanking Soap by the arm and walking away with him while bombarding his eardrum with whispered snarls, men stalking to the opposite hall you two were in. Phillip then looked back at you, your eyes were still on him, amusement written all over them. Now that Soap has left the scene would you drop the act if he pressed you a bit?

Graves launched forwards, his arms trapping you against the wall with a type of dominance that could only belong to a possessive commander. The huff you let out when your back hit the wall and the way your eyes widened in surprise as your palms shot to his chest so he wouldn't crush you made the blonde's smirk widen.

"You look adorable denying my advances, teasing me by staring at other men and fluttering those gorgeous lashes pretending you are not into me, (y/n). Lucky you, I'm not dumb." He whispers, his voice a growl of clear desire.

"What-..." Your voice failed you intoxicated by the delicious smell of Graves' minty breath. It seems you were in the wrong.

"I've got a darn good taste in women. Do you?"

He left you perplexed then. His back was to you when you were able to break out of your stupor. Graves just questioned your taste in men, what a joke.

But was he right, though?

______

The next time Graves tried to pull a move on you, Ghost, Soap, him and you were detonating a missile in the middle of the gulf of Mexico, the turbulent waters showed some mercy on Alejandro and the other shadows when they evacuated the zone of impact, the gigantic missile blew the oil rig and with it, one of Hassan's deathly weapons of mass destruction.

You couldn't remember how it went exactly, but in an instant Ghost was behaving strangely, taking the mercenary by the shoulder and guiding him somewhere else as Johnny approached your side near the big window that overlooked the chaos.

"I've seen plenty of explosions. But never like this one..." The Scott said softly under his breath like he was contemplating an spectacle of beautiful fireworks.

Somehow you weren't in the right mind and you simply hummed feeling distracted as hell. You'd excuse it as if you were simply worried about Alejandro and the other shadows but the truth was clear when your eyes went from Soap to Phillip. The last interaction you had with the commander had made your brain explode with a thousand new thoughts and none of them were about Soap.

The blonde was shaking Ghost's hand eagerly with a delighted face, he seemed satisfied with how the mission went. These Americans and their love for explosions...

"Y' alright, lass?" Soap called startling you.

"Sorry, what was the question-?"

Johnny brushed his mohawk back with a charming chuckle, you smiled at the sound of his sweet laugh but... You still felt very distracted. It was when Graves' blue eyes met yours from Ghost's shoulder that you felt something warm on your stomach before the tall Brit blocked both your line of view.

"Say, what if we all go find the others? I wanna see if Ale shat himself during the explosion, poor man must have lost a few more inches of hairline with the stress." The men laughed at this bumping fists and patting shoulders with one another, a short celebration for the successful mission. General Sheppard congratulated all of you individually in the comms and after thanking the general, Graves walked up to you while all of you were walking to the boats, Soap pressed to your side hugging your waist with one heavy arm as he looked at Graves as if whatever he was about to say was also directed to him. Normally you'd silently fangirl on the spot but right now the Sargeant's touch felt slightly suffocating. As usual, Graves never showed any care for Johnny's presence when it came to bantering and flirting with you.

"Nicely done, sarge. Next time we work together, remind me to send ya an application, you'd look great in black."

"You offering me a spot at your company, mister Graves?"

"More like a spot right by my side. I could use a very loyal shadow watchin' my back. Y'never know, right?"

"I think you have plenty of those under your command." You smirked waving a hand around you three, some Shadows who passed by chirped a "yep yep!" Instantly making Graves puff up his chest with pride, your sassy smirk melted into a sweet smile at his reaction. You knew Phillip was faker than Price's favorite Nike's, but the love he had for his Shadows was clearly real and honest.

Was his attraction to you just as honest? You asked yourself.

The American replied to you instantly making Soap stiffen. "You'd make a great Shadow, love. You'll never change ma' mind on that."

"And what makes you think I'd be so loyal to you, Ken doll?" You teased. Johnny was baffled on the spot but knew better than to say shit.

The way Phillip looks at you says it all. The bastard knows he lives rent free in your head, and sadly you just realized this now, just when Soap seemed to be reciprocating your advances you stuttered. Grey eyes under dark brows faded in your mind, orbes changing to a color blue under dark blonde brows. The weight of the American's eyes felt more intoxicating than Soap's.

"Yeah, we gotta go. Lt will lose his shit if we keep him waitin' any longer, right (y/n)?" Soap said in warning patting your shoulder.

But he was met by your silence, your eyes were firmly planted on Graves' as if leveling him, he didn't waver either. The bastard only broke eye contact to shoot Soap a smug look, he then turned back and joined a small group of shadows who awaited him on his boat but not before winking your way.

Fucking Graves...

_______

You all left after Hassan. Trying to corner the rat on the spot before he blew the whole country to the ground was hard, specially when Phillip aided you with a bunch of shadows seeking to trap general Shepard and luckily press charges of his traitorous intentions when he forced the commander to order his men to betray you.

You had missed Graves for the whole mission and it was taking a toll on your senses making you clumsy and risky. You suffered many close-calls until Hassan attacked Gaz, Soap, Price and you along with some of your men and neutralizing the little group of shadows you had left working by your side, the Iranian had wounded the captain and you while poor Garrick did his best to pull all of you out of harm's way. Soap went after him and not so long after you all received Ghost's call that Hassan was dead.

Hurrah.

"Hurrah." You huffed out drinking your tequila in one gulp. The whole gang was tired to their bones and weakly cheered drinking their own glasses. But then out of nowhere a voice you all knew too well broke your comfortable silence.

"He-hey!! Look at the gang enjoying a celebratory drink after a job well-done!"

None of you said a word, too exhausted to even look at the approaching commander who cheerfully perched himself near your stool.

"I'll let ya have this round under ma' count and forgive ya for not inviting me this once but only because I'm in a pretty good mood."

The captain sighed. "Shepard?"

"Laswell's dealing with the preparations. Soon enough that ol' bastard won't bug us no more."

That seemed to take a huge weight on all your shoulders, your team's faces changed in an instant, they seemed much more relaxed than before.

"Now there's only one thing to deal with." You heard Graves whisper behind your ear.

"The day you get more annoying I'll shove my knives so far up your ass you'll be shittin' blades for weeks." Maybe it sounded more rude than you intended but right now you couldn't indulge him on his charming shit.

"My good you are sweet. Mind if I call ya sugar pop? Or perhaps pumpkin is more fittin', what do ya think, love?"

"You can call me whatever you want but do not call me later for dinner."

"Even if that implies my infamous Texan-style ribs? I'll even serve em' with sweet potatoes. Have y' ever had sweet 'tatoes, pumpkin?"

Your brows could have very well reached your hairline, eyes wide in surprise, you pursed your lips and tilted your head slightly at the idea of trying such dish. After what happened with Hassan, the plan of eating a whole pig with the commander sounded too good to refuse.

"Are they just like normal potatoes but sweet?"

"I'll take that as a yes!" Graves laughs soundly pointing a finger to your very expressive face.

You groan rubbing one eye with your open palm. "Fine, fine. But only for dinner. Don't get too excited."

"Sure, love. One meal and I'll drive ya home like a gentleman."

"Youuuuu got it."

______

One fucking hour later at Graves' provisional apartment. He had pinned you under him on his comfy couch as the TV lowly played a mix of soothing music from YouTube that Graves had prepared for the occasion.

"Fuck you taste so sweet..."

"Maybe's cuz you didn't let me wash my mouth after the whole-ass dinosaur of a pig we has just eaten."

"The bbq sauce and the sweet potatoes are one thing, your tongue is just fucking addictive. Worse than nicotine I might add..." He sensually said before nipping your chin gently eager to attack your lips once again.

The way Graves kisses your mouth as if he was a man starved steals your breath away, his hot muscle swipes every corner of your mouth turning sloppy and if it wasn't because of how hot this man was and how amazing he has been treating you for this whole night, you'd say gross. And yet you look up at him, how his blue irises twinkle with desire, his reddened lips shine with all the saliva he was able to steal from you, and you feel so content. Like this was meant to be.

You broke the kiss panting, both hands pushing his chest back slightly to catch your breath from how sticky he has gotten ever since the first small peck.

"Fucking hell, Lip... You kiss like a middle schooler."

"Keep that up. You have no idea how hard you make me with your insults, woman..."

"Lil' bit of a masochist ain't ya?"

"Only for you, pumpkin..."

Yes, you do have good taste in men.

_______

"When your ma and I first met she was obsessed with me."

"Obsessed!? I was after another totally different guy!"

Your son laughed baffled at this new information shaking his head in disbelief making his dirty blonde hair sparkle under the rays of sunlight from the nearby window. With ten years of age, little Dominic was asking for more and more stories about how you and your husband met, eager to brag in class about the cool adventures you two shared with him. It was tradition. Every third of January Graves and you would sit Dom at the couch to grace him with a new cool story of the old days and reminisce on how you two met before your mother in law would pick him up so you two could celebrate your wedding anniversary.

"Ma', you have a funny taste in men."

This pearl from your son made Phillip spit out his lemonade staining your brand new carpet, you bursted out laughing from your spot of the couch, your legs spread to the side where your husband previously massaged your feet with one hand and supported his glass with the other. Said glass was carefully placed on the table as he cursed lowly at the freshly stained carpet.

"Oh you have no idea, little one..."

[shoot-i-messed-up]

I mean like…yeah!

hey guys is “additive color model” a stupid alternative name for superlanhunter (clark x hal x j’onn)

[neutralitymybeloved]

A lil bit of an idea that's been running in my head for a bit,

Immortal and/or invincible Bad Kids AU

Because of the lovely event in freshman year where they were all healed (and revived) by a phoenix egg (which think about it. An egg?? Of the ashy bird?? I'd assume it's pretty damn legendary) that it turns into a "you can't really die" effect of some sort.

But not the way Ayda does it, that's phoenix blood relation specifically. Just some sort of weird egg immortality where you can't stay dead.

Like, say Adaine died from a critical weapon attack. She'll get up maybe 2-3 rounds later? But for poor Riz that got fireballed, it'll take at least 4-5 days to reconstitute the burnt flesh. And scaring the shit out of everyone, leading to them figuring out they're immortal.

I can imagine Gorgug becoming the wild scientist of Aguefort since he's got the whole teacher thing going on. But then a student befriends him and finds out that hey he's pretty chill.

Adaine and Fig being largely unaffected bcs they’re gonna be alive anyway for a really long frickin time but now they can't really die? Maybe Fig will do some taking over Hell shit with Bill, and Adaine can finally burn Fallinel's government to the ground.

Riz kicks ass being an old Spy bcs for some reason no one really questions the nice grey-haired little green man walking by until he Black Widow style kicks you in the face.

Kristen’s already got weird shit going on with being the Saint of Cassandra? But yeah she's gonna have some fun in her now built up congregation going "back in my day"

Fabian's going to rub it in his elvish relatives faces first. Tell me Hilariel stayed in that egg bcs she's in the same boat as Telemaine. But yeah just be a kick ass pirate or a privateer, hang out with Ayda every so often.

[magicalmysteryperson]

The drugs are not drugs. (Or, how Better Man portrays fame)

SPOILERS FOR BETTER MAN AHEAD...

NGL, the sudden appearance of Angel Robbie really did make me change my perspective on this movie from a linear biopic to a man looking back on his life and how the desire to be famous and liked became a drug to him.

Especially when events start blurring together, which gets more and more apparent until it reaches its climax in "Land of 1000 Dances". (I mean, we had the Brit Awards thing with Tom Jones from 1998... in 2002.)

Note: This decision was intentional. Robbie explicitly stated in the interview that the events of the biopic are not told in order, but are told based on his emotions and feelings.

All that stuff during "Land of 1000 Dances" was Post-Rehab Robbie btw.

Man didn't get thrown back into drugs until sometime between "Intensive Care" and "Rudebox", only this time it was prescription meds.

So all that shit that was going on from 1997-2003 was when he was SOBER.... but why is he taking drugs in this period? What feelings are being expressed here?

.....

What if I told you that the drugs were not drugs?

What if I told you that FAME was the drug?

Sobriety made him stable, (well, he did get a drink every now and then but that's beside the point) but it didn't help fill the void that his depression (and by extension, his self-hatred) had created.

Nigel was pushing Robbie and the boys constantly for performances, so much so that at one point, he slept right as the first number was starting to happen.

It got so bad that his drinking, smoking, and drug taking habits were amplified to the point that it became a major concern.

He keeps getting everything wrong, but he keeps doing it in a way that no one can tell.

His form of self mutilation was not by razor blades but by having the paparazzi and the tabloids take pot shots at him while he purposely made himself worse.

And even after he went to rehab, the scars just kept getting re-opened, over and over, and over again.

He even had panic attacks before he performed and sometimes when he performed.

And then we have frickin' Knebworth.

Most biopics would celebrate the super big concerts and make it the pinnacle of their career. Not here.

Knebworth went from being the moment where he became a god to his personal hell.

Knebworth '03 was three whole days of back to back 125,000 person attendance. A total of 375,000 people.

Knebworth made him so anxious that he wanted the helicopter to turn around and leave.

His fears of messing up are amplified to the point where he can't afford to screw up. If he isn't able to recover, he's dead meat. And no one will ever see Robbie ever again.

Seeing that scene was amazing, but also goddamn heartbreaking for how suffocating the whole Knebworth experience was to him.

Imagine having 125,000 people watching your every move.

What happens if you do something wrong?

What would people think of you afterwards?

You can't be seen as weak. You need to be loved. You can't mess this up. You can't. You just can't.

Not after everything you have been through.

The only concert that wasn't a nightmare to him was the first time he performed with the rest of Take That at the nightclub, and "One Night with Robbie Williams" at Royal Albert Hall.

Especially the latter. This was the moment he was the most proud of because, and this is what I believe it represents, he got a chance to show people a thing that he loved and people loved him for it.

Not because he was famous, because they like what he was doing.

Him singing with his father didn't happen in that show, but I had a feeling that singing My Way in front of thousands and thousands of people made him feel that he was making his dad proud.

He did perform with his dad with "That's Life" in 1998, which is where plenty of the mannerisms of that scene come from:

Rob is not a pop-star. He never wanted to be a pop-star.

He wanted to be an Entertainer.

And his rehab from the thrill of fame came in the form of being able to love himself again and to finally do something he loved doing, regardless if its something the people are interested in or not.