#firstly I never thought he'd go into politics

[meraki-yao]

I had a 20 minute meltdown over the fact that apparently BUCKY BARNES IS A CONGRESSMAN NOW???!!!!

I just—I have so many questions

[the-little-ewok]

The Little Spoon

Poe Dameron x G/N Reader

Rating: M

Wordcount : 1600 (ish)

Warnings : Fluff, mentions of getting caught during sex/heavy petting, rife with teasing innuendos, soft softness, spooning, brief mentions of food, Poe being an adorable menace.

Prompt / Summary : Burying your face in their neck, listening to their heartbeat, spooning at night. / After a difficult day you and Poe try something new in the bedroom.

A/N : Anon who sent me the prompts - i dont know if fluffy was what you really wanted but… i kinda went pretty fluffy cute with this. If you were hoping more for a NSFW request please send me an ask and i’ll do an alt fic for you :)

If you enjoy this fic please don't just hit the like button. Hit the reblog button and tell me your thoughts! Support your content creators with reblogs!

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"Stop!" You half whine, half laugh, burying your face in Poe's neck.

"I don't know if he'll ever be able to talk to you again without blushing!" Poe laughs, clearly finding the fact his newest squad member walking in on you both in a, well, compromising, position, hilariously funny, and your embarrassment even funnier.

Since then poor Leru had been unable to look at you without his cheeks lighting up red, and losing all ability to speak.

"Take it as a compliment it affected him so much," Poe shrugs, taking the whole situation in his stride, as usual. "You can't change what happened, and besides you can't hide out here forever."

'Here' was the grassy bank outside the, what now seemed all too small, base entrance. You had escaped out into the humid night air as soon as your shift was over, convinced everyone you encountered knew the story and was staring at you.

Of course, they already knew that you and Poe were close, but perhaps not quite how close. There had never really been time, during the middle of a war, to consider what you were. And now you were together, both of you wanted to enjoy it without too much fuss. At least while you settled into a new routine, and Poe to his new role as General. So really, getting carried away in what should have stayed an empty office, after Poe had returned from a long mission, was not the best of plans.

But oh, he had been so distractingly hot. The way he'd smiled, his eyes flickering up and down your body, the way he'd pulled you tight against his chest, the way his lips had brushed against your skin.

It was hard to regret what happened. But you did regret getting caught.

"I can stay here as long as I like," you challenge his statement, folding your arms.

"I could just order you back inside," he shrugs with a sigh, making out it would be a huge inconvenience for him to do that.

"You wouldn't dare!" You twist to glare at him in challenge, as Poe leans back to look at you, a serious expression creasing his brow. He slowly raises one eyebrow, before he finally gives in, bursting into laughter.

"No, you're right. I like continuing to live without a vibroblade in my chest, so I guess orders are off the table!" He pulls you back into his arms, holding you tight against him.

"How about I very politely request you come back inside? We can grab some food and get an early night?"

"I don't want to go to the canteen,” you mumble, picking at a loose thread on your trousers, unable to remove the idea that everyone would be judging you.

"You know, I don't think anyone else knows? And even if they did, firstly, it's not like they saw anything personally, just second hand, and secondly, if anyone says a damn word I'll have their ass hauled in front of me faster than they can blink!" Poe states passionately.

"That's sweet. But we agreed on no special treatment."

"Not special. I'd do that for anyone talking inappropriately about anyone. You get absolutely no special treatment. I've never given you any special treatment." Taking your chin he tilts your face towards him before he places a soft kiss against your lips.

"Hmm, so you offer that to everyone, do you?"

"Well, everyone is a little broad. More like a select group. You, Finn, Rey, Snap, BB, that really cute medic we met in Yavin," he shrugs with a teasing smile as you roll your eyes. “Now stop overthinking.”

Poe was right, you were over thinking, and as annoying as his teasing could be, you know it comes from a good place in his heart. He simply wants you to see that it's not all bad. Nothing you could do now would change anything that already happened. All you could do was, as Poe does, make the best of the situation.

Still, the embarrassment gnaws a little at your thoughts, though quieter, still there for now.

"Can we eat in your room?"

"Only if we are naked," Poe grins, making you dissolve into laughter.

"Stop that, right now!" You warn through giggles.

"I've been away for almost a month! I've been storing it all up. You are in for a lonnnnnng night, baby," he winks, and for a moment, you`re laughing so hard you forget anything had gone wrong at all today.

~

"I'm sorry," Poe offers later that night, his fingers trailing up and down your back as you lay in his bed, curled up against his side, his heartbeat drumming in your ear as you lean your head on his chest, half asleep.

You hum in question, wondering what he's talking about.

"Earlier. It was my fault we got caught like that. I should have waited. I was just excited to see you and being impulsive. I’ll try and keep my hands to myself for a little longer next time.”

You lean up on your elbow to look at him, frowning in confusion and feeling the tendrils of guilt in your own belly that he feels he's somehow to blame. The last thing you wanted was for Poe to feel he couldn't be his usual, affectionate self.

"There's nothing you need to apologise for. We were both willing participants. I was excited to see you too. You’ve no idea how much I missed you."

Poe's hand slides around the back of your neck, pulling you down to him as he mumbles, "I missed you too, baby," against your mouth before he kisses you.

When he finally lets you go, you have to take a moment, feeling a little giddy, whether with love or lack of oxygen, you aren't sure.

"Anyway, I like you being impulsive," you assure him with a soft smile.

"Then I rescind my apology," Poe chuckles as you snuggle back down against his side, trying to get comfy again.

Except now you have a problem. No matter where you place yourself, you can't quite get comfy enough to fall asleep. Something just feels wrong.

You let out a noise of annoyance, sitting up.

"Turn over," you instruct, laughing as Poe raises a questioning eyebrow, his lips upturning in a familiar grin.

"Is this going a sex thing? Because you know I can stay awake a little longer. I'm sure I can help tire you o-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," You laugh, cutting him off and pressing your hands against his arm, trying to manually roll him over, onto his side.

"So it's not a sex thing? I'm disappointed," Poe sighs over dramatically, ignoring your pathetic attempts to move him.

"I want to cuddle you!" You explain with an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, that's what we are calling it these days? Okay, well, we can 'cuddle' as much as you like," he grins, eyes crinkling with amusement as he makes air quotes at you. You make a show of dramatically rolling your eyes in response.

"No, Poe! I mean I want to hold you!"

"Hold which bit?" He wiggles his eyebrows as you try and bite back your laughter. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, telling yourself you are grateful he's home and he just needs to get this out of his system.

When you open them again you fix him with a stern look.

"Alright, alright!" Poe holds his hands up in surrender, clearly deciding he might be pushing too far now. "You want me to be the little spoon?" He asks, obviously having known exactly what you wanted from the first time you asked.

"I want you to be the little spoon." You nod in confirmation. Poe's expression softens from teasing into something that makes your chest ache with love. It's as though the seriousness of the last few years of war drop away, and the boy Poe used to be, stares at you with hopeless adoration.

"I like that idea better," he says simply, before he rolls over with his back to face you. "But I'm still open to the sex thing." He adds, making you snort as you try to contain your laughter, knowing it will only encourage him.

Once Poe is settled, you curl up behind him, wrapping an arm over his chest, tucking your legs in behind his, cuddling up close to him as you press your face between his shoulder blades.

"Don't think I've ever been the little spoon before. I like it," Poe sighs contentedly, his hands resting over yours wrapped around his chest, holding you in place.

You smile and press a soft kiss to his back, "I like it too."

A near silence settles over you both, the only sound in the room your steady breathing as you hold each other. You can feel your eyes finally starting to drift shut, but you also know Poe is not asleep yet, as his fingers continue to gently caress your arm, almost distractedly.

“What are you thinking, Flyboy?” You mumble sleepily against his skin, not wanting to fall asleep if he has something on his mind.

"I was just wondering," he mumbles quietly, “if you think Leru is thinking about us right now?"

"Go to sleep!" You sigh against his back, feeling him shake with barely contained laughter.

"I definitely think he enjoyed it a little bit."

"Sleep!" You hiss, refusing to play into his teasing again.

There's a moment of silence, one in which you think that he's given up with the teasing and finally decided to get some rest. That is until -

"Do you think he wants to join us sometime?"

"POE!"

You can't help but smile as his laughter fills the room. Insufferable, infuriating, pain in the ass. You had missed him, so very much.

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[dragonmasterhiccup]

Shaking her head, she replied, “No need, I can do it myself.” It’s not like she was deliberately trying to push Hiccup away… Well, okay, maybe in a sense it was, but not like that; she just wanted to do it on her own.

“Mhm, sure whatever you say.” She still firmly believed that he wasn’t being one hundred percent truthful. “I shouldn’t have to lean on anyone, I should be way past that by now.”

Her eyebrow raised as he spoke, listening intently to what he was saying, her eyes fixed on the sand.

The other dragon riders, those were the only people that knew at the time; Astrid, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and…

Snotlout.

“Oh for Thors sake, it was Snotlout! You seriously weren’t going to tell me that?! Are you kidding?!” She glared at him. “No. You do not get to take the blame for him, the only thing you should blame yourself for is not telling me when I had every right under the d*** sun to know!”

She stood up abruptly, anger etched across her. “I can’t even describe how mad I am at both you and him right now! And what do you even mean they would’ve found out sooner than later?! No they wouldn’t! Not if Snotlout hadn’t gone and ran his mouth off!”

“Oh yeah? And how did you ‘deal with him?’ Give him a little slap on the wrist and send him on his way? Would you have done that if Spitelout executed me? Just let him go even though he would’ve been an accomplice to murder?!”

“You know what? No, I can walk home, I don’t need a ride, especially not from you.”

He knew she'd be angry, but he hadn't quite prepared himself for her being this angry.

"I didn't want to say who because I knew how you'd react!" Mostly. "And you know if I had told the people myself, that whole situation would have been avoided. That's why I blame myself, Danny. You even said you thought everyone already knew..."

Standing up, he started pacing, running a hand through his hair in frustration, his breathing becoming more rapid.

He whirled back around to face her again. "Of course not, Danny! Do you really believe that? That-that if you had been killed, I'd react so...so heartlessly? I'll have you know, firstly, yes, I already dealt with Snotlout, he not only got an earful from me, but he'll be shoveling dragon poop til Thor knows when. The dragon race today was his last as well, for an undetermined amount of time. I can't do anything more, because then Spitelout will come back with a vengeance."

His voice was getting louder as he paced and rambled, his breathing still rapid, his hand movements still animated, but incredibly tense and almost stiff.

"I may be chief, but I can't go around doing whatever I want! There are laws I have to adhere to, I know you know that already. If Spitelout had killed you, he'd have gone after me next, he made that much clear. If I survived and kept my role as chief, he would have faced trial and most likely an execution, and thank Thor he didn't kill you...but unless he breaks a law, my hands are tied. I can't do anything." At the last word, his voice sounded almost broken.

Gods, he hated the politics of it all.

"Do you think I like keeping things a secret? It's necessary, yes, but I'm a terrible liar, and everyone knows it." He stopped pacing, his voice getting a tinge of desperation to it. His hands were up, but curled inwards, like he was trying to find something lost within himself, and he didn't know what to do. "I'm on thin ice with the people as it is right now, one more slip up, and...they might decide that Berk is better off without me. They'd get rid of me, and then Spitelout would be next in line and you know he'd go after you first thing..."

Running a hand through his hair again, he let out a defeated sigh. "I can only do so much..." Turning back to her, he quickly added. "Now, I know you, don't you start saying or thinking that you never should have stayed in the first place, that you think you're nothing but trouble, because those are all lies, and you know I won't stand for it."

Toothless hesitantly stepped forward, eyes wide, hoping to persuade Danny to change her mind, to come for a flight.

Hiccup shook his head. "You said you were tired, and your hut is a long walk away, especially in the dark. Toothless and I can get you home in just a couple minutes." He held out a hand towards her. "You can be mad at me all you want, but please let me give you a ride home."

[newtonian-tragedy]

Thoughts on The Sensorium of God

Firstly, the tagline ("Sparks of genius—the momentous clash between Isaac Newton and Robert Hooke") is a bit misleading. While the book does indeed cover the timeline between Newton's work on the Principia all the way up his Presidency, the conflict with Hooke is actually not even the focus of the story.

Although there is a wide cast of familiar characters, the attention divided between them is unequal. The premise starts with Halley as the main protagonist and Newton and Hooke as the deuteragonists, but as it progresses it mainly flips back and forth between Newton and Halley's perspectives, with Hooke's presence dwindling more and more after Grace's death until he becomes demoted to a minor background character.

Despite being limited to supporting characters, certain other philosophers like Flamsteed and Leibniz get a satisfying amount of screentime, with even a scene here and there featuring Fellows like Wren, Papin, and Pepys, and even a whole chapter dedicated to Locke. But for some reason, Boyle's role was disappointingly brief, limited to a line or two during a clandestine meeting with Newton. Given his connections to both Newton and Hooke, you'd think he'd be featured just a bit more prominently, but alas.

I enjoyed the interactions between Hooke and Grace, even if some of the more sexual scenes came off as incredibly unrealistic and like something out of an adult fantasy story. Without going off into a political rant (I'm by no means a libertarian, but I'm no feminist either, if you must know), even as someone who is largely accepting and sympathetic of Hooke's unhealthy relationship with his niece, it came off as more than a little unbelievable that a 16 year-old (presumably a virgin) who found herself cornered in an uncomfortable situation (presumably for the first time) not only reacted by initiating sexual contact, but did so with the boldness and dexterity of an experienced woman. It just made me roll my eyes. That, and the "first-aid handjob", while kind of sweet, came off as gratuitous.

Considering that both sides of Hooke's affair are explored here—from his sincere caring and protectiveness to his darker fits of jealous rage and emotional manipulation that enshroud the former—it would have been neither unreasonable nor unbelievable to hold Hooke himself responsible for the very same "whorish" behavior that he was all too eager to shame her for. And although Halley may or may not have caught the eye of Grace in real life, it served as a painful reminder that she most likely never returned her uncle's feelings, and that any sexual favors were performed out of a sense of obligation towards her only source of security. What's more, both of the Hookes came off as being burdened with guilt—Grace, for being unable to love her uncle as more than her uncle, and Robert, for his sexual possession of her—which may have explained why the references to their affairs disappeared from the diary after Grace's, well... disgrace involving Robert Holmes. A very complicated relationship, to say the least.

The part about Grace giving her uncle dancing lessons just hours before she died really hit me in the feels, and I'm certain it was inspired by the couple of diary entries that mentioned "dancing shoos" (although those were from a whole decade before her death).

It was overall an enjoyable read that felt like a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Several of the men fostered mutual grudges against one another, but I found that my sympathy for Newton waned to nearly nothing by the end of the book. If you thought he was an asshole in life, you'd be right, but the author's added interpretation of his motives crank the cuntery up to eleven here. Even worse is how Halley is treated.

Granted, there are more pressing complications that arise in Halley's life that originated with the death of his father, but the reward for his unwavering faith and loyalty in Newton is not only to be used thanklessly (and on one occasion is outright insulted) by him, but to be caught in the crossfire of retaliation from what had once been mutual friends of theirs—particularly his mentor Flamsteed, with whom, to be fair, he'd always shared a precarious relationship with. Even as the hero of the story, Halley really has it tough, getting screwed left and right throughout.

Newton being portrayed as a closeted homosexual is done in a largely believable way, but it doesn't really change much. If anything, Fatio becomes the more tragic and sympathetic figure of the two, although the reason for Newton throwing him under the bus was to protect himself from having his secret exposed (and it's not the one you'd assume). I will say though, that I particularly enjoyed the idea that the justification for Fatio later being involved in the French cult was due to the influence of Newton's religious delusions spreading like a contagion. Were this actually the case, I would not be a bit surprised.

Newton's hypocrisy also shines through here on more than one occasion, a notable example being how he looked down on Flamsteed, refusing to acknowledge the other man as his peer despite his theory relying heavily on the latter's astronomical observations. Say what you want about how Hooke openly relegating mathematicians to builders as philosophers were to architectures, but the parallel here is clear enough that you'd think Newton would feel ashamed to agree with Hooke's hierarchy.

In the end, Newton is a manipulative karma-dodging bastard who leaves behind a plethora of ruined lives in his wake. In other words, not all that different from reality.

That said, however, I still highly recommend this book to anyone who is even remotely interested in the history of Newton and/or his contemporaries. While the narrative is mostly based on what actually happened, it is almost seamlessly interwoven with a few artistic liberties and fictional events—none of which alter the outcome in any major way. Chief among them is the spymaster Winslow, a character whose sole existence in-universe is to torment poor Halley and keep him on his toes, but he also manages to drive the plot forward and bring everything together in the end, which ultimately centers on the theme of Newton's new philosophy being viewed as a threat to religion and government.

[indirecticn]

i watched thor again... bro so many thoughts???

firstly, my GOD they were young.

secondly... ok just a recap on observations about loki.

lets assume thor was never banished. i truly don't think he believed odin would do that. i think this wasn't just a prank either, obviously. it was a real attempt to be like, "SEE??? SEE???!!?" and it feels VERY hormonal teenage angst.

ok so then how old is loki in mortal years? i know people did the math and said 16, some said 21. i guess assume 5k is the length of their lifespan, that is a third of his life. but is their maturity biologically speaking easily sliced into equal parts? i don't think so.

i think their physiology has them physically maturing quickly, the physiology it's self a result of celestial genes??? where beings of that sort of energy and existence are meant to mature quickly but then these beings replicate or take on a more base lifeform to interact with other similar base lifeforms and so you have like the blood of celestials now slightly diluted among various alien species?

ok so assuming that then now we have the children of the children of the children of the children and what have you so various species across the universe can probably atest some of their own powers and shit to the same thing.

ANYWAY MY POINT IS now they still mature physically but mentally they aren't this omnipresence but they still call themselves as much when realizing other creatures of the universe don't have the same power.

so loki looks like he's early twenties at this point but is technically much older and with a perception of time so different when you know you live 5k your years as a youth are extended compared to that of beings. especially when you consider the fact that some animals do have varying lengths to the stages of their life. some stay in the juvenile stage for hundreds of years (ex: greenland shark), but then it also depends on how you want to define what makes a being move on to the next life stage.

SO THAT is a good question but anyway.....

say thor is not banished, loki gets what he wants: a brief stay to the coronation. i 1000 percent believe his wanting to sabotage isn't just to be a jerk ass, but a true concern for what thor's actual ruling style would be. i think he just sees thor as also too immature and lacking in true political prowess.

but under that is a true issue he hasn't yet fully faced which is how much he wishes to be taken more serious. it's like... you are the little brother of a kid who does everything right, even when it's wrong. first you like to imitate but you keep getting caught and your brother is never held to the same standard for some reason. you don't get it so you just think well fine ill do the one thing better than him: not get caught.

and so you develop your gift and you find really the deeper issue is your father seems more and more distant to you as you grow up, and you can't figure it out. it's not like he completely dismisses you but he definitely spends more energy on thor, right? so you spend your time with your mom and learn even more things, maybe stuff considered by the wider culture to be sneaky and shit, so also conflated with being a woman's thing (very outdated, you know, but people on asgard are surprisingly behind with the times cosmically in certain social ideals...) and this is how things go for a thousand years.

until you really cant take it and while... if this had been just another simple feast, or something like that, thor would have been pissed and you wouldn't have gone to the extreme just to get his goat, so to speak. he'd be mad and you would fight but like you always do.

buuuut yeah, its more serious, so you choose to do a more serious thing and the result is you know why your father has been distant, what thing he was thinking about when choosing to spend time and energy on thor instead of you, and you also get why both parents seemed more harsh on you, or at least you think you do. you assume its because they were worried your monster would show, would grow.

but you think that because you're still relatively young and you are hurt as fuck by all this shit, even if the revelation came about because you fucked up and took something to an extreme it shouldn't have been taken to.

anyway so now im watching avengers and i 1000000 percent am on board with the idea that loki was tortured into submission to thanos. by the time we see him there he is literally looking like absolute shit and we know that isn't because of the portal travel through the tesseract. that thing allowed plenty of people to safely travel in the what if series.

its because he has been freshly let go and given a chance to fuck shit up. and his hatred and pain has been nourished and you are under the minor influence of the mind stone that is just an echo chamber for your pain, a feedback loop that keeps you unhinged far longer than you would have been without it.

so yeah come dark world.. you are scarred from that torture, you are angry at yourself as much as everyone else and you haven't worked through your issues at all. going to a dungeon cell for over a year just makes you sit and stew. maybe if it were five years later he would have come to better terms, allowed his mother to finally talk to him, but that doesn't happen.

and instead what does happen is dark world shit, and he realizes he can get what he wants, odin is tired and thor clearly doesnt want the throne right now so why not do everyone a fucking favor?

and then it's four years later... five since you were put in the dungeon, six since you fell from the bifrost, and maybe... just maybe... its easy to mask your pain literally, by being someone else in front of everyone else and you think haha im proving to everyone that i am capable and a better ruler, but deep down:

bitch, no, you are just fooling yourself.

so this is where MY loki comes into play, ragnarok happens and he sticks with thor because both men seem to have hit a new stage in their life cycles, and loki is still coming to terms with his entire youth and beginnings when he helps the avengers save the world (after being blipped ofc). new asgard is a new beginning, and king val is also a huge step up from odin and thor, honestly. he can support her and feel GOOD about it.

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[catsafarithewriter]

“Please stop implementing secret rooms in the castle without informing anyone.” (whispers um, maybe for the cat kingdom? i totally understand/won't be disappointed if it doesn't spark something tho! XD;; i thought i'd try anyway `~`)

A/N: One Cat Kingdom ficlet coming right up! <3 This was so much fun to write, I always forget how hilarious Natori’s POV is XD Thank you for sending the prompt! 

x

Natori remembered with some fondness the previous Cat King who, even if he hadn't been necessarily sensible, had at least been wise.

(This was less of a contradiction than it sounded; all it meant was that he'd purposely choose his moments to wreak havoc, rather than bumbling blindly into them.)

Natori also, and this was the more pressing issue at hand right now, remembered what the palace had been like during the previous monarch's reign.

It hadn't, for instance, had a secret passage built behind the neoclawssical hunting tapestry in the south wing.

"It's all good," the new Cat King dismissed when this discrepancy was aired, waving his advisor's concerns away with a sweep of his paw. "Every new cat adds their own flair to the palace. It's tradition."

Yes, Natori thought, and that was why the western tower regularly leaked (inexplicably, given the Cat Kingdom's permanently sunny clime) and why the extension from Queen Demeter's experimental magisurrealism phase gave onlookers a headache if viewed on the second Tuesday of the month.

These proved two things. Firstly, that monarchs do not good architects make. And secondly, that no royal advisor has ever been able to convince their monarch of just that.

Somehow, Natori doubted he'd be the one to break this streak.

"Tradition or not," Natori attempted regardless, "it doesn't alter the fact that there is–" a gaping big hole "–a secret tunnel in the south wing."

"And?"

Natori's mind supplied issues such as the terrible draught, the damage it would wreak upon a historical tapestry, and the fact that no fewer than two members of staff had fallen through it already. His mind also supplied that the Cat King was unlikely to be see these as actual issues.

"Well," he opted for instead, "it doesn't go anywhere."

In hindsight, Natori thought, this had been a terrible complaint, designed only to magnify the problem.

"What," he asked a month later, "is that?"

The King glanced up at him, and then down at the trapdoor installed at his feet. "Is this a trick question?"

No, Natori thought, but it had been a polite one. He tried again. "Your Majesty, why is there a secret door in the floor of the Grand Hall?"

"It's an escape hatch," the King told him proudly. "For escaping."

Natori almost didn't want to know, but he had to ask. "Escape where?"

"To the edge of the palace, keep up." The King grinned. "You wanna give it a try?"

"No, I'm... I'll take your word for it."

Keeping in mind the casualties to the tapestry tunnel, Natori quietly informed the staff about the trapdoor, lest any unsuspecting cats fell foul of the hidden opening.

The Cat King could not be said to have a particularly long attention span (this was less a unique personality trait, and more of just the fact that he was a cat) and so it was with some surprise that a maid later informed Natori that she'd leant on the statue of Queen Pawbury and a door had opened in the wall.

Natori found his monarch reclining in a room hidden behind the statue gallery, where a large crystal ball had been installed. Several tapes stacked up against the wall.

'How do you keep managing to build these rooms without me knowing?' was what Natori wanted to demand (and the answer was quite simple: while the King built hidden passages, Natori was too busy running the actual kingdom to notice) but what he actually asked was: "What happened to building tunnels instead?"

The King looked up from where he was watching a rerun of Dogton Abbey. "Oh I got bored of them. Never needed to use them."

"Alas for the lack of revolts," Natori deadpanned.

"Now, secret rooms, they're the way to go."

Natori noted, with resigned dread, the use of the plural there. "If I may be so bold, Sire, but how many secret rooms have you built?"

"Does a swimming pool count?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Then seven."

"Sire, could you please stop implementing secret rooms in the palace without telling anyone?"

"But if I tell people, they're not secret anymore."

Or checked over by a professional architect, Natori was sure. "How am I meant to find you, Sire, if you're hidden away in a secret room?"

The King grinned. "That's the idea. You don't."

x

The King was still young, Natori reminded himself, and would eventually grow out of these... childish actions. (Natori tried not to remind himself that he was only a year or so the King's senior, and he'd never had the urge to dig holes into the nearest wall... well, mostly.)

Life had been a lot easier with the previous king and (he would think in more traitorous moments) would be also a lot easier without the current king. He was just trying not to think too much about that restful life when a maid came running in to tell him the western courtyard wall had collapsed.

"That wall?" Natori echoed disbelievingly. "But that wall is wider than this room." Then, remembering that the western courtyard was inexplicably set adjacent to the sixth floor, added, "Was anyone hurt?"

"No," the maid replied, "but a load of billiard balls have been found in the wreckage."

"Billiard balls?"

"And a table," she added helpfully.

"What would a billiard table be doing in a–" Natori froze. The King. The King and his stupid secret rooms with his stupid lack of foresight – of course the courtyard wall would be built into. He just had to hope that the King hadn't been...

He jumped to his paws and went running for the palace gardens. As told, sandy-white stone littered the grounds, the only colour the occasional cracked billiard ball. Bastet, if the fall could crack billiard balls...

He dug his paws into the brick and tried to pull them back. The stone caught on his pads, paws softened from the years of royal advisor duty, and his claws chipped on the rubble. But he had to keep going. If there was even the tiniest, mouse-bitten chance that the King was still... if could find him before it was too late...

If the King hadn't been so stupid...

"Who's stupid?" someone asked, and Natori hadn't even realised he'd been muttering "stupid" repeatedly under his breath until then.

"The King, he–"

Hang on.

He knew that voice.

Natori staggered back to his feet and stared at the King. Alive. Unharmed. And not in that stupid, stupid secret room. "You're alive," he said, just for good measure.

"Yeah." The King glanced up at the remnant of the courtyard wall. "Lucky I wasn't in there at the time, right?"

"Very." Natori sniffled and tried to look like his usual put-together advisor self, and not like a cat who had just been hysterically digging through rubble for the past five minutes. "Do you think, Sire, that maybe it is time to move on to another hobby?"

The King looked his advisor up and down, and although he didn't comment on the absolute wreck Natori was in, his expression shifted. Just a little. "Fine." He turned away and headed back into the palace. "How does abseiling sound to you?"

Years passed. And Natori almost forgot about the secret passage phase entirely – that was, until a human girl escaped from the Grand Hall down a secret tunnel set into the floor...

x

A/N: the broken courtyard wall line is based on this screenshot of the film:

[elpida]

Eden appreciated that was all they'd say, they'll leave it at that for now and she could talk to them about it in time, when she felt like she could say Angelo's name without the threat of crying about it. She was however alarmed by this person introducing on the family dinner, even though she doubted if she should really be here, she wasn't direct family in a sense but... Eden and Cade were basically family at this point. From the moment she knew about the baby she'd been more committed than any friend could be. They sought out what they'd both lost with the passing of Ben in each other and Ben would've been the most fantastic godfather a kid could want so, she'd be the best she could possibly be for them too. Her eyes turned to him when it came to the toast, she knew he'd be getting a rising temper from this, the atmosphere in the room thick enough to cut with a knife and she didn't particularly want to be sat near this man. He was a stranger and not part of this family.

Margret reached across, tapping her hand over Eden's as though she wanted to be a calming factor for her and it worked.... because she knew if Angelo had been here she'd have been holding her fingers around his hand to distract from all this tension. It left even her a little on edge.

To say that Cade's patience was wearing thing was an understatement. "He's already been warned once, very clearly, I don't want to stress Agatha and the baby is all." he mumbled to Patrick, keeping that quiet and to themselves and already Cade knew that he'd try to handle this better than he did last time.

He joined with the toasts when his name was mentioned, making a point to clink glasses but nobody would know that what was in his glass was non-alcoholic. He didn't feel like he was missing out but it was nice to get a hint of the taste, plus it wasn't like Agatha could drink right now either. Hearing and seeing how his family reacted to the baby kicking he stood behind where she sat, his hand rubbing one of her shoulders and he leaned down to press a quick kiss to the top of her head, rubbing and massaging her shoulder softly, it was half means of keeping himself calm too. His Mother was watching him carefully, she was proud enough that he hadn't dragged James out by the scruff of his neck already.

Cade lifted his own glass. "I'd like to thank you all, my family, for being here. I never thought I'd be a family man but being with Agatha made me see the life I wanted, crystal clear, and I couldn't be more lucky to have you all in my life." he paused. "I'd like to also thank you all for celebrating the upcoming joy that'll be in our lives, so this is for you baby girl, with love from us all. She's going to be a hell of a fighter if she'd anything like us sweetheart, but she's going to be my little princess." he took a swig and then placed his glass down on the table. "This is however, a family event and with formalities done I'd like to ask anyone without a formal invite, to leave." his eyes locked with James. Eden was the one that timidly want to stand and Cade pointed, a waving motion for her to sit her ass promptly back down. He turned, walked to the front door and opened it.

He stood, one hand in his pocket and his shoulders squared, eyes locked on James. Fucking roses. There was something in his stare, warning and viciousness, he was done playing games like this. He drew a breath in slowly. "I apologise for this ladies-" he firstly commented before continuing. "-but buddy I'm givin' you one polite chance to leave with your dignity intact before I put you in the hospital you work at." his voice had lowered and every part of that threat was serious.

Agatha chose to respect Eden's decision on not revealing anything about Angelo, but she was certain something had transpired between the two that led Eden to be present without him. "I just want you to be okay." She whispered to her, tucking a strand of Eden's hair behind her ear. Patrick wasn’t fond of a man bringing roses and a gift to a woman that was taken, especially when she was expecting a child. It didn’t sit well with him, mainly because it was his only daughter who was involved. “Yes, I’m Patrick. I haven’t heard from you before,” he said bluntly, taking a step back to let him in despite his reservations. James stepped in, giving Patrick a nod. “We reconnected not too long ago.” Turning towards Agatha, he purposefully ignored Cade, something that caught Patrick's gaze. “Hi. I’m sorry, this is unannounced, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity to give you and your baby something.” He offered his most charming smile before leaning forward to kiss her cheek gently.

Agatha looked surprised but managed a polite smile. “James… Thank you for the gifts.” She glanced at Cade, her eyes silently seeking his reaction. Patrick watched the interaction closely, his protective instincts on high alert. “Well, it’s quite the gesture,” he said, his tone neutral but with an underlying edge. “But this is a family gathering. Perhaps you’d like to join us another time?”

"Patrick, don't be rude. It's clear he wants to join us!" Catherine interrupted, walking towards Agatha and Patrick. "Ah, now I see where Agatha's beauty comes from. Had to be the mother." James complimented Catherine, making Patrick upset. Patrick's jaw tightened, but he held his tongue. Catherine, smiling graciously, responded, “Thank you! I'm Catherine. Please, join us.” James didn't hesitate to take a seat beside Eden, while Patrick turned and walked over to Cade. "Cade, do enlighten me—what could possibly possess you to allow this man a seat at that table? I must admit, he strikes me as rather unsavory…" He murmured to him so no one could hear it, then turned to glance over the table.

Catherine was helping Agatha with sitting before she sat down. Agatha couldn't hide her unease; while she was thankful for the gifts, she found it unpleasant that James had shown up without an invitation. As soon as she sat down, she slightly leaned forward, speaking quietly to James. "James, don't take this the wrong way, but I wanted this to be a family gathering, which was the reason why I didn't invite any friends over. Just... family."

James' charming smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "I understand, Agatha. I apologize for the intrusion. I promise it won't happen again, but I'm happy for you. I'll stay for that, because you deserve it. And besides..." James reached for a glass and got up, glancing towards everyone gathered. "Everyone, a toast to the momma, please. And let's cross fingers the baby is as beautiful as she is." He was pushing Cade aside purposefully once more. Catherine narrowed her eyes at him, noticing how he let Cade out of his toast. "Well, let's toast to both Cade and Agatha, because I know my granddaughter will have both sides, because both of our families are wonderful." Catherine mentioned, raising her own glass. Patrick, catching the subtle tension, nodded firmly in agreement with his wife. "To Cade and Agatha," he echoed, raising the bottle of beer higher. "And to our future grandchild, who will undoubtedly be the best of both worlds."

Patrick’s eyes then narrowed slightly, but he remained silent, letting the moment play out while he approached the table. Agatha forced a polite smile, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Suddenly, she felt a kick within her stomach from the baby. "She just kicked," she announced, placing a hand on her bump with a mix of surprise and joy. The atmosphere shifted instantly. Catherine's face lit up with excitement, and she rushed over to Agatha. "Really? Can I feel?" Agatha nodded, guiding her mother's hand to her bump. "Right here." Patrick's stern expression softened as he joined them. "Our little one is already making her presence known," he remarked, his voice filled with awe. "this one might be a fighter, Cade."

[david-talks-sw]

These are the only three flaws I will concede, when it comes to the Jedi during the Prequels.

“They got lax/complacent.”

Yeah*. If you listen to the director’s commentary, George Lucas states the scene in AOTC with Jocasta Nu is there to indicate how unprepared the Jedi were before the Sith’s plan. They thought they were secure and ready but they were not and it turns out humble restaurant owners like Dex know things they don't.

*HOWEVER: Who wouldn’t be complacent, in times of peace?

The Sith were thought to be extinct and Dooku was once a Jedi, a revered one at that. Nobody could have suspected he’d betray the Order that raised him and loved him.

Nobody could've suspected that he'd abuse of their trust and delete a system from the Archives using the credentials of his best friend who he'd had assassinated. That's a verrrry specific scenario, and expecting them to be prepared for that is unreasonable.

"They should've sensed something!" Well, by this point in time, everything surrounding the Jedi was tainted by the Dark Side, which clouded everything. So on the one hand, this situation granted Sidious the gift of foresight and allowed them to always be one step ahead, and on the other, it caused the Jedi to be stuck trekking ahead in a fog, unsure of what the next move would be.

“They were politically-inept.”

Yes**. That’s how the Sith ran circles around the Jedi. They figured “there’s only two of us, if we march into the Temple we’ll get slaughtered, but wait, the Jedi serve the Senate and the Senate is run by politicians… what if we become the politicians? Then we can destroy the Jedi and the principles from the inside!”

**HOWEVER: The Jedi were politically-inept by choice.

After all, their function isn’t setting policy but carrying it out. They’re not politicians, they’re diplomats and as such they're not allowed to get involved in the political process.

But if they were... they still wouldn't. Because power corrupts, and if you let the space monks (who already have magical powers) have political power too, then that will lead to a very dark place.

The Jedi knew that if they tried to play politics, they’ll lose because they have neither the ruthlessness nor the status to do it well, so they make it a point of never going anywhere near it.

Unfortunately, that leaves them open to situations where the Senate or Palpatine corner them into doing something they really don’t wanna do.

It's how they were forced to expel Ahsoka, how they lost the favor of the citizens and it's how Dooku, then the Emperor, framed them as power-hungry sorcerers with his propaganda.

“The war made them hypocrites.”

Sure***. The Jedi were meant to be diplomats, not soldiers. By waging war instead of keeping the peace, they’ve compromised on their values.

***HOWEVER: The Jedi know this and they’re not happy about it at all.

Firstly, because they were forced into this situation by the Senate and Palpatine, who drafted them into service.

Secondly, because they know they’re essentially moving ahead blindly and playing right into the Sith Lord’s hand by fighting this war he orchestrated.

But finally, it’s that they know that not joining would’ve been worse. Sticking by their principles would’ve resulted in the enslavement and genocide of many populations. Sometimes, the spirit of the rules must be prioritized over the letter. Either do nothing and be true to your principles, or go against them but save lives.

It’s a bad choice to make, but not as bad as not making one.

It's a bad choice, but it's motivated by a desire to do some good and it did. They saved countless lives (sometimes at the cost of their own) and inspired countless more to form the Rebellion, later on.

So... three flaws.

But they all come with asterisks. There’s a reasonable (sometimes, even admirable) justification for each of them.

I’m pointing these out because a lot of people seem to conflate “the Jedi were flawed” with “the Jedi were at fault” when talking about their own demise. And the answer to that is:

No.

The Jedi were not at fault. Everybody else was.

The Senate was at fault for growing corrupt and self-serving.

Big Corp for their never ending greed.

The Separatists for being so blind and naive as to think Big Corp would tooootally value their principles and absolutely not commit war crimes every chance they get.

The Sith for being the mass-murdering egotistical assholes who started this whole mess.

And the citizens of the galaxy for not taking up arms in the face of blatant injustice.

Sometimes bad people win.

That doesn't always mean the good guys are at fault. Sometimes, the bad guys are just… better at the game. Mostly because they see it as a game, and the good guys don't.

Luckily, 20 years later, most of the above faults were rectified by the Rebellion, which was led by the best of the Senate, and composed of Separatist remnants and brave citizens of the galaxy.

[prettyboykatsuki]

thirsty thoma thoughts please if you have try time, if you have anything filthy I want FILTHY because I know that man would take anything you give him with a smile on his face

—WEAK TO YOU | THOMA

♡ tags ;; arranged marriages, reader is from an unnamed but powerful clan, unqualified genshin writing, handjobs + fingering (no penetration), fem + afab reader, reader is wearing a dress, thoma is a bit subby

♡ wc ;; 1.6k

♡ a/n ;; anon this got SO out of hand so sorry.

"We're going to get caught."

"So?"

Thoma's expression twists into something unreadable - hands gliding over your waist as you push him up against the wall. Your breathing has gone soft and even as you lean into him with force and purpose.

"Would you rather not?" You pose, innocent. His eyes widen. You both know the answer is no, the half-mast in his pants giving it all away. Still, you offer the suggestion earnestly. Curious on whether he'll indulge your whims or if he'll push you off in embarrassment. Neither idea makes you angry.

Rather, pushing Thoma's buttons in such a way is delightfully amusing. For someone so happy and amicable — responsible really, you would've never expected him to be so easily flustered. That he'd crumble like fragile glass over even the most innocent of gestures. Your fiancé is always surprising you.

The proposal wasn't your doing, but your parents. It's an old story. You, the child of a powerful clan, finally at marriageable age. Like other things in your life - your responsibility in regards to your position overshadowed most everything else. Whims of love and fleeting romances were nothing more than fantasies to idly muse at. Most men who proposed to you were threatened by your presence and couldn't look you in the eye.

While your mother encourages you with warm words of her own love story, you've never once experienced something even close. The pleasant emotions and giddiness seemed foreign Many have tried to incite it in you but none succeeded. They think you're sheltered—that you'll be swayed by sweet words and expensive gifts. Truly, you found most of them pathetic. How boring.

Soon it became tedious. You weren't looking for someone to love. Just someone who didn't outright disgust you. Handsome and capable. It should've been an easy request you think but apparently not so.

Thoma was a happy accident. When you went into Komore Teahouse to meet him, you were sure it'd be another fluke.

But he exceeded all your expectations in the first five minutes you spoke to him. Firstly, he had no issue talking to you as if you were normal. Probably in part to his connection to the Kamisato clan. Secondly, he was very handsome. His green eyes were striking. He was friendly and pleasant.

When coming on the question of why he agreed to such a thing since he has no family ties, he sheepishly told you his companion encouraged him. Ayato Kamisato, who had once been in Thoma's same seat. The two of you ended things mutually, though not because you detested him. Apparently Ayato thought Thoma would be perfect fit for you.

And he was right—because you were terribly charmed by Thoma indeed. You don't really understand your mothers musings of love. It was then you realized perhaps you had a peculiar taste in men. You didn't want someone like your mother described, you wanted Thoma.

You told him as much almost immediately, and thus you've been engaged been engaged for nearly a year. Your father approved so it's set in stone. Every once in a while, you ask Thoma if he'd like to break-up just to tease him, but by now he admantly rejects the even the though. Always asking sweetly if he's upset you somehow.

Maybe because it's your natural position. Your job in being always respectable, always polite, always upright—that Thoma is someone you want so much. Like a puppy, always ready to listen. Who doesn’t expect anything from you but affection.

You like it about him, and you like more how innocent he is. Up until meeting him, your sexual desires were fleeting. Things you took care of privately with no interest in losing your virginity until marriage, under the assumption that you'd marry someone you find decent.

You didn't know you were so lewd until you met him. Clumsy but persistent to fulfill a life-long set of dormant urges. You didn't know you were so sadistic either.

That's why you can't help but approach him like this. It's the first time he's been allowed in your room with you alone and he's played the part of filial son-in-law better than you expected.

It's unkind to be like this to him. You can't help yourself though.

"O-of course, but your father is home. And your housekeeper is outside the door—"

"You've been staring at my neck all evening haven't you?" You hum. You feel him shift under you, bed creaking as shimmy forward until your legs are on either side of his thighs. He's red in the face.

"That's..."

"Did you think I wouldn't see you? Your eyes wander every time I walk. Right at slit where you can see my legs, isn't it?"

"Please be merciful." He pleads, voice thick. You pout.

"Why should I when you won't even touch me? Do I not tempt you?"

"Love," He says, breathy and desperate. You wrap your arms around his neck, heart thumping. How handsome he is never fails to make you weak "Don't even joke about that"

"Since you asked politely." You shift your weight again until your core is pressed over the fabric. You let the material of your outfit slip down your shoulders - neck exposed and breasts nearly bare. "I've listened to your request, won't you listen to mine?"

His hand sneaks up under your dress, the flowy material swishing as he slides it up. Squeezing the back of your thigh, he guides your hips towards him with a harsh sigh.

"We have to be quiet." He says ragged. You hum.

"And?"

"N-no more than this until we're married, okay?"

"How chivalrous of you." You say teasing. It's a bit funny that he's considerate in this way. You can see how much he wants it but the guilt insists he draws this line. You've married him for such things as this "No more, of course."

"Then," He takes a deep breath, warm green gaze peering at you through blonde lashes "Let me see."

You let the rest of the material fall of your body until you're completely bare. Nipples hardened, Thoma's gaze immediately travels down. You stand on your knees to take off what's underneath too, but you leave the dress on just in case. The material bunches at your waist as you pull it up. Thoma takes to holding it like. Pussy bare, you spread yourself apart for him to see. A thin string of sticky arousal as you pull yourself apart.

"Oh, Archons, you're—I mean, really."

"Will you only look?"

His hands still manage to hesitate. A sharp inhale, he lets his fingers trace the outside of your folds. Soft and gentle as usual, you'll touch each other just like this. Almost out of habit, his mouth finds your chest. Kisses on your sternum where your breast bone dips, mouth sucking and biting wherever he pleases. You moan softly at the sensation, a wave of euphoria starting at your center and splintering off.

He rubs your clit with the utmost care, in circles - just like how you taught him. His eyes are heavy, blinking slowly and drunk. You feel yourself drip onto his fingers. Syrupy and thick. You want to touch him, to feel his cock weep against your hand.

"I want to touch you." You assert through a breath "Won't you let me?"

You question him like this only because you know he's weak. Of course he'll let you. He stops everything to slide his pants down just far enough that his cock is free. Standing to attention, red tip already so achy. Seeing it makes your mind feel hazy, anticipation like a plague coursing through your veins.

"It'd be nice if we could marry sooner." You say smoothly. Thoma chokes, watches as you spit into your hand and wrap your palm around his shaft. "To feel you inside of me. I can't help but wonder. How would that feel? Of course I like your hands. They're much better than mine but—"

"Than yours?" He questions. You giggle.

"Did you think I were some pure innocent flower? I'm a lady with needs."

You do this in tandem. Your hands fisted around Thoma's cock while he slowly spreads you apart with his fingers. Gasping quietly when he intrudes, his palm up against your clit to give you the right type of tension. Desire swells in your stomach like a balloon when you hear him groan underneath you. You keep your movement steady.

"Than you...? To yourself?"

"Just with my fingers." He throbs in your hand. The faint redness in his skin suddenly becomes bright and his hands jitters in nervousness as he fucks you with his fingers. You roll your hips with a smile "Oh, I see."

"I like it better when you do it." You tease, feeling your core tighten as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. You can hear how wet you are. The flush in his skin and his desire for you turn you on "Y-your fingers are much better."

"Please. Please, I need you to—please."

He wants you to finish for him. He always waits for you. You moan as you clench around his fingers, the muscles in your body tightening as the knot slowly comes undone. Like the tension of a taut rope, you feel something your body snap. Heat crawls up your spine as you cum, hard enough that you tuck your chin and bit your lip to mask the sound. The postion has your thighs trembling. Re-opening your eyes, you glance down at his cock.

He looks out of it. Twitching so hard and so full of desire but keeping himself restrained patiently. How thoughtful.

"You can cum, Thoma." You say, sweetly. His head nearly knocks into the wall from where he throws it back. His adams apple bobbing. You use your free hand to cover his mouth, content it as he cums hard. Thick and white as it spills between your fingers.

When he opens his eyes again, he looks about ready to cry. You tilt your head.

"We were so loud." He says with a frown. You can't help but laugh at his reaction.

"Don't worry, darling." You coo, pressing a kiss to his hairline "I'd marry you even if my Father chased you out."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

[what-are-even-humans]

I don't intend to sound rude, but related to the tags about opening the door... What is considered polite vs. rude? I have been (sometimes loudly) informed that opening/holding the door for someone is rude and belittling, but also that not opening/holding the door is rude and passive aggressive... Is there some guideline to when it is or is not appropriate?

Okay so this is a good question but first of all I have to say I'm not a regular wheelchair user. My disability is invisible, for the main part anyways, but im currently fresh from yet another surgery. I'm not an expert in the way someone who uses a wheelchair all the time is.

But to answer your question, the distinction for me is whether or not its natural to open the door or not. Opening the door for someone when you're both going through it in close succession is natural and polite. I can't imagine anyone being offended by that unless you make a huge deal out of it or act like a dick. Alternatively the other person might have a really bad day idk.

In the situation yesterday, however, the only reason he opened the door for me was because I'm in a wheelchair. I was alone in a room with a glass door. The man in question was sitting about 5 metres away on the other side of the door, eating some soup. I had just turned around, and sat directly in front of the door, with a bag on my lap rearranging the straps. He happened to glance over at me, and then got up so quickly I thought he'd spill his soup. He rushed over to the door and opened it. And let's be clear, I was sitting alone in a semi private room, focused on my bag.

I'm sure his intentions were good! Im sure he was pleased with himself for being nice afterwards. But the message he sent was still "I don't think you could be capable of opening a door, I'm here to save you" which isn't really nice at all. I had given no indications of struggling, and in fact him opening the door just created a bigger obstacle for me. Firstly I felt rushed, and second, instead of me moving my arm a bit to open the door fully, and then going out in my own pace at the angle i wanted, he was in the way. Because he insisted on holding the door (which btw wasn't going to close on its own) I had to maneuver around him and the door, which involved turning an additional 90°, get one wheel over a threshold that I'd otherwise steer clear of, and then backing up a bit before I could go. Not the biggest problem in the world, I admit, but still annoying and unnecessary. Add to that that my chair pulled to the left, the casters had a tendency to get stuck, and the maneuverability of the chair was awful, in part because it didn't fit me well, it became more of an issue. Because there were other people eating around, I also had to make sure I didn't bump into anyone or anything.

So him "helping" actually created a bigger issue, and he had no idea. And now imagine all of this happening to you, only it's the umpteenth time this day. Because everyone wants to "be nice" and "help".

If you've never been in a wheelchair it is incredibly difficult to understand what may or may not be an issue. Even if you have, wheelchairs vary, and wheelchair users vary. What's simple to me might be incredibly difficult for someone else. What's simple to someone else might be difficult or impossible for me with my limited experience and shitty chair. And you have no way of knowing where the person falls on that spectrum without asking.

Dont ask willy nilly though. Imagine you're going about your day doing something you've done countless times with no issues and someone asks if you need help. First time it might be sort of nice, if a bit strange, by the third time it's getting annoying fast, and by the 20th time you've lost all your patience. At that point, its been less than an hour since the first person asked. If that happened every time you went out, wouldn't you get a bit snappy at some of the random people?

Which brings us neatly to the closest thing to a rule of thumb I can come up with: ask yourself: Would you do it if they weren't using an assistive device?

If we copy paste the scenario above but remove the wheelchair, that'd seem buck wild to most people. An adult guy is fiddling with his backpack when a random stranger rushes to hold the door open for him? No. Bad. Don't.

Someone is clearly struggling to open a door or hold it open? Ask if they need help, regardless of their assistive devices or lack thereof. If they say yes: open the door for them. If they say no: Don't.

You're passing through a door but let it smack into the person behind you? Bad regardless

So TL;DR

If you wouldn't do it for someone without assistive devices, don't do it to someone with. If you would do it for someone without assistive devices, ask before doing it, and respect the answer.

[rist-ix]

I've been wondering something: both in TBHTBH and Sparked, Valtor is secure that Bloom will fall for him eventually, he just needs to play the long game, so I was wondering how you think he'd handle it if it never happened. How would he handle a Bloom that might be attracted to him, but never actually falls for him? And, god forbid, might even fall for someone else. Do you see him ever taking that well lmao?

Tbh that’s such a loaded idea it should be it’s own fic, but I’m not gonna write that. In my opinion, he would probably never notice. Firstly because he's Very Old, and as a near immortal being operates on a vastly different timescale. So what if she still doesn’t love him back? It’s only been like what, 200 years? He's a gentleman, he's not gonna rush this! (On an emotional level. He does canonically know how time works for ppl, I just don’t think it would translate into his feelings.)

And secondly because he has no actual basis for what love even is. He substitutes it with desire or obsession often enough, and projects his own conflicts on Bloom whenever he feels some kind of sympathy, so that his feelings for her are basically feelings about himself too. In a way it’s idolization as well. Bloom might just grow increasingly fond/obsessed/horny for him and he'd be like Mission Accomplished! She Is In Love Now!

If we disregard that option… well, he is a big fan of a) eliminating the competition, b) terrorizing Bloom, and c) murder in general.

Sparked!Valtor, who is positively smitten and less willing to hurt Bloom's feelings, would not go that far, to be fair. By the time they leave Cloud Tower they do have some kind of mutual understanding, and at least some kind of affection for one another that would make them unwilling to cause intentional pain to the other. Honestly, I have no idea how he would react. I just can’t imagine him as someone who gets heartbroken and sad, but he is a prime example of the animal that bites if cornered. His reaction to Bloom having feelings for someone else would be incredibly dramatic, politically unwise and pretty malicious, most likely.

But I’ve never really thought in that direction, so anybody got another take on this?

[memento-morri-writes]

happy blorbo blusday morri! today i’m curious about how each of the mcs of one of your stories approach leadership? do they thrive under pressure or do they flounder? what is their particular style of leadership? how would they cope w being suddenly thrust into that position?

Hello, and thanks for the ask!!! Happy Blorbo Blursday!

This is a really, really good question, because my stories are both either directly or indirectly centered around leadership. So, this is perfect.

Fallon takes leadership as her job. It's her connection to her mother, it's what she was raised to do, it's all she's ever known or thought she wanted. She's good at it, and has a good balance of confidence and command, but also genuinely caring for the people she's leading.

Most of the time she can cope with the stress just fine, but when she's under additional emotional or personal stress (such as after her mother's death, or after Lavinia's attack), she tends to backslide a bit. She doesn't have the healthiest coping mechanisms, and the downside of Fallon being so passionate about leadership being her job is that when things go bad for her, she throws herself into the work of being Queen, neglecting herself in the process.

And she already was suddenly thrust into the position. Yes, she had been raised to be Queen, but she was expecting for her mother to step down and still be around to offer advice, at least for a while. So, she reacted just like I said above. Threw herself in head-first, and neglected her own health, mental and physical.

Kristopher's stuff under the cut, along with Dorian.

Kristopher is not a leader, and never wants to be. Quite honestly, being King is the one thing he never ever wants to do, for several reasons. Firstly, he doesn't have the temperament. He gets angry far too quickly, and doesn't have the patience to deal with people's subtle remarks and posturing. He also hates being stuck inside, so long policy meetings and diplomatic affairs would be hell for him.

And then there's the whole thing about his father. Pierre is an awful King, and he's used his power for his own benefit at the expense of the wellbeing of his people. Kris never wants to be put in a situation where the power can go to his head.

Plus there's the fact that no one in Oryn would ever take him seriously. The vast majority of his own people hate him, and he doesn't find it worth his time to fight the losing battle to convince them otherwise.

So, if he was thrust into a position of leadership, he would probably get inside his head a lot and convince himself that he would do a horrible job and everyone already hates him, and he'd just kind of let the whole thing blow up in his face so he could get out of it.

Well, maybe. If he were to, through some absurd series of events, become King of Oryn, at first he would kind of spiral and freak out, but also, he really wants things to be better for the people of Oryn. So, I think that at some point, he would hopefully realize he has a chance to make a difference and try his best. But it would be hard, not just politically, but also emotionally, because a lot of people would be saying a lot of very cruel things about him.

Dorian has a complicated relationship with leadership. He's honestly somewhere between Fallon and Kristopher on the scale. On one hand, he was raised to be King, but on the other, it's never been a burden he wanted. He doesn't want the stress, doesn't want the pressure to make everything right, and if he screws up it could ruin thousands of lives.

He was honestly a little relieved when Lenora stepped in, and he was much more angry about being imprisoned than he was about getting his throne stolen. He never wanted it in the first place.

I've been trying to think about how I want his arc to end. Does he remove Lenora from the throne and take it back? Does he replace her with a new system of government? Or does he just let her keep it, given that she hasn't actually done anything wrong to the citizens of the kingdom? I'm still not sure.

Another part of Dorian's battle is that he doesn't want to disappoint his parents. They wanted him to be King, and he worries that if he lets that pass him by, he'll be letting them down. But at the same time, he'll probably be making himself miserable.

Also, there's the fact that as King, he would be expected to marry and have kids. He's aroace, so that's not something he even remotely cares about, and he doesn't want to be in a loveless marriage with anyone because it's not fair to them. Also, there would be the matter of his child/children would then potentially be subjected to the same thing he is. They don't want the throne, but they have to take it.

So, I'm not sure what I want to do about that, because ye old "depose evil monarch and replace with democracy" plot is often used, and it doesn't really make much sense for this series, since the focus is on one person, not a whole kingdom. And like I said, Lenora is actually a mediocre ruler. She's less attentive than Dorian's parents, yes, but she's not actually bad. But also, I feel like just leaving her on the throne feels kinda weird?? But I also like the idea of Dorian grappling with his parents' approval throughout the book, and coming to the conclusion that they would want him to be happy. So... idk.

Sorry, this got really, really long. But given that both of my books revolve around leadership at least in part, this question was actually really good for me to answer!! So, thank you!!

[lovee-infected]

♦♥ Paint them red ♠♣

[Yandere!Riddle Rosehearts x reader] [pr 2] [pr 1]

♠♠♠♠

"Enough"

(y/n) Stood there helplessly , after all she knew better : it's always the same.

"30 days , one month , don't be late "

Again

and again

and again...

There was no end .

Fixing her dress , she bows to Riddle with a : " Thanks for the tea , Riddle ." , leaving immediately , trying her best not to run as long as being in his sight .

(y/n) was no longer a hopelessly romantic child , but a young , well grown lady instead. The girl who was known for being loud and carelessly excited about new things long away died inside her ; all that was left was an obedient , quite shell , serving its master.

It's been years since (y/n) firstly stepped into rabbit's trap and now , she could feel the hole being digged deeper and deeper each time she returned to start this mad game over which was getting longer and deeper each time ... slowly turning from a hollow to a pitch black well...

How slow and temporary , she didn't ever see this coming

At first all was a simple tea party , or that's what she thought . They'd normally talk but (y/n) wasn't ever the one to ask ; perhaps it begun because she found it rude to ask a host questions at first , but it continued because she no longer dared to ask anything . It was pretty unnoticeable at first since she was just trying to be polite against Riddle , considering his countless questions a small trend out of curiosity , but soon , things changed

Riddle begun with any simple thing others might ask : Her favorite books , animals , opinion on sweets , favorite activities to do...

(y/n) wouldn't be bothered by answering any of them , though it sometimes took hours

She must've admitted that she quite enjoyed herself spending time with him , someone who's always willing to listen to you instead of forcing you into listening to them : Riddle was often the listener , not the speaker . There were very few times she could get him talking about himself but it didn't get any further than simple comments on different types of tea and sometimes his obsession with rules . She'd asked him about his family a couple of times and he'd just...change the topic by asking more questions before she could argue

He didn't ever say a word , but (y/n) could tell it from his face : He wasn't happy . She'd spent countless hours talking about her friends and family , how much they mean to her and she loves them expecting him a similar reply or at least , a note to his family and friends . But he'd always end up being quieter than ever , not even looking her in eyes . When they were younger it used to bring him blushes on cheek and watery eyes , making him have to turn back and wipe them away before (y/n) could've seen , but she always saw .

Perhaps that was what made her want to keep playing his game for sometime longer , hopeful that she could actually change him . She thought that it's what makes her a nice person , a good friend . She really thought that it was what Riddle needed .

But he didn't

(y/n) used to believe that she was changing him , that she was taking the pain away , that she was taking making him stronger than before .

(y/n) didn't realize how she was the one being changed by Riddle , slowly becoming his doll .

Even his questions slightly changed from simple friendly ones to deep , personal accusations .

He would ask her about he smallest spots on her life : What time she'd wake up , what she'd eat , how many hours would she spend outdoor , anything she does durnig her days , even dreams she'd have

None of these seemed to be any big deal on their own , but things are different when there's someone knowing them all .

With all these years being asked and exposed from head to toe , he was starting to know (y/n) better than she did herself :

He could tell what would be the first thing that'll come to her mind when she wakes up tomorrow , and what she'd whisper slowly before closing her eyes to sleep

He could tell what will make her smile when she walks in to her house and what will make her cry after quiting her classes .

Her whole personality was a half written book and Riddle had decided to write the rest of it after reading all that was written .

sending a mild shiver down her body and mind . He was neither asking nor or dering , he was speaking of a speaking of a fact . A request can be denied , and order may be disobeyed , but his words...they were like predictions of her future . What she will do in three days...one month . He was the puppeteer and she the small , naive doll.

(y/n) could sense his heavy gaze on her each time hey met ; all of her.

She could find herself being judged into his eyes :

Head to toe

left to right

Outside to inside

She could feel them all watched-

And she didn't like it

More roses would grow every months . More time would be spent on that hellish tea parties . All of her now non-existing personality had been wiped off her , since the day her curiosity killed the cat .

She couldn't take it anymore , she was sick of it , all of it . Sick of being haunted by Riddle's phantom . She was sick of not being able to smile in years . She was sick of his '30 days , one month ' . She was sick of him

Month after month , party after party , year after year...

Enough

What was wrong with her ? Why didn't she ever try to run away ? 'because he would find her-'?

No

No he wouldn't

He wouldn't even realize how she ran off , forever. What was there to stop her...?

Roses

Roses and more roses

They weren't yet done , and will never be...

Unless...

♣♣♣♣

(y/n) stepped into the empty area , all quiet and dark now . She must've returned home hours ago , but no . Not until this ends , so she can have a peaceful sleep after years . Wind growled and trees shook , while the moon brightened up her figure standing right in the middle of the forest .

She gazed upon the rose bushes with hatred , wishing that she could burn each and every one of them in flames ; flames that have been burning her for so long .

But no , there was no use destroying all that was created by her own hands , she wasn't going to touch any of red roses. All she needed were the white ones . No more painting , never again .

She tightened her fist , feeling her blood boiling . She's been played with over the years , just to end up here . Heart broken and tired . She suddenly remembered the old moments this place carved into her heart ; times that were actually sweet . It wasn't like this before , and she never thought that it would be . There were many times she thought that she was in love with Riddle , even after he turned into a monster she'd never expected him to be . There was no deny of it , Riddle was her closet one now , he's been for so long . No one ever knew her like he did , not a single soul wished to listen to her like he always does , there wasn't and will never be anyone more willing to meet her each and every time like Riddle would , never .

She could feel her eyes teary and her throat heavy ; she couldn't help it . Riddle had stolen all of her , including her heart . She was supposed to be mad but she couldn't , Riddle was a part of her now . Just as much as she wanted to run away from him , she wished there to be a way to stnad by his side for an eternity , forever . She didn't need anyone else when he was around , he couldn't think of anything else than him . Riddle had become her one and only option , but this wasn't right . This couldn't be right. There was no way she could walk up to him throwing herself into his embrace , telling him how she felt and asking him to stop playing with her . She wish she could but no , he will never change , unlike her . She now hated how much she'd changed into such a pitty full doll , she couldn't take it anymore . There was no way of Riddle ever letting go of her thoughts , he'll always be a part of her . (y/n) wished they could've stayed together forever but this wasn't a fairy tale , life never was. She now had to let go of her fantasies and live the reality for once .

"Forgive me..." , she said as tears fell down her eyes . Her vision went blurred but that wasn't going to hold her back from seeing white roses through the night . She cut them one by one , ruthlessly , crazily , hatefully

4,5,6

She cursed herself for the first time she stepped there , cursed the world by making the two of them meet the day , and cursed Riddle for catching her heart and getting her to where she was .

9,10,11

She cried as her hands turned just as injured as her heart , filthy and drowned in blood , making her let out a silent scream

12 , 13...

She rose both of her hands to catch the last rose , the 13th...

Just to feel choked on neck and pulled back harshly by hair at once .

Riddle harshly pulled (y/n) by neck , almost breaking it . Her body hardly met the ground ,starting to wheeze , The freezing cold ground now seemed a lot warmer than her frozen mind . She apparently lost the ability to move or talk , not even daring to look up , begging him for mercy .

He knew she'd come back

Just as he knew her everything

"I'd warned you about my temper , (y/n) .Thought that you were smart enough to listen "

(y/n) wished to find a source of anger through his voice , but she didn't . It would've been way better than this terrifyingly calm and cold tone of him which made her blood run cold and her throat dry .

" I knew that you'll one day try to run away , had no idea that it'd come this soon though..." , he said , slowly pulling (y/n) up by hair , making her silently cry with her eyes closed , biting her lip to shut her scream .

"Tell me , (y/n) , " his eyes weren't at her , but at the now destroyed rose bush : " You seriously did think that all that was bounding you to me were these roses...? " his hand was pulling her hair recklessly , yet his voice managed to be calm as ever , that was just like him .

" Roses will wither , tea will run cold , copper will ring , that's the matter of nature, " his words brought you back to your first day here , the day you two met . Withered roses , half empty tea cups and ringed chest clock ...

" Not all relationships can be bound by such things , they cannot be measured by mortality and such short lasting stuff..." , he continued with his rhythmic tone , making (y/n) feel worse and worse.

" If it were just roses , you would've ran away long ago . There was something else , right ? Something that kept you coming to me ," his words are as deep as ever , making she ask herself the same question :

'Why didn't she ever run away?'

Right , there wasn't any force on her ; there never was. She was there because of the choices she , and she had made so far . It was her choice to go to the deeper part of the forest thougt her parents had forbidded her from doing so . It was her choice to come back one month after painting first half of the roses and it was her choice to keep playing this game until now , what could the reason be ? Fear ? Respect ? Curiosity..?

" What could the reason be (y/n) ? Why did you choose to come back to me each and every time? " he asked , but he certainly wasn't expecting an anwser .

" Can't you see this ? it's because I am your choice . You've got a great family , wonderful friends , and an amazing life . But were they really enough for you ? Did they ever satisfy you like they should ? "

For once , she didn't get what Riddle was saying . Satisfied ? Why shouldn't she be satisfied ? Did he really think that she preferred to be caught in the middle of the woods here with him than being out with the ones whom she really loved?

" You laugh with them , cry with them and smile with them , day to day , hour to hour , minute to minute . But is that really enough for you ?"

(y/n) remained blank at his words , unsure what to say or how to feel but...what if he wasn't that wrong...?

" When was the last time someone asked you how you feel ?"

Last time ? It was Riddle of course . He'll ask the same question everytime they meet , not even caring if he keeps getting the same anwser as before .

" You talk with them , from how cute kittens are to how sweet lollypops can be , but what was the last time you talked about yourself ? "

Last time...was there even a first time ? Did they even care to ask her about herself ? She didn't know . She was the questioner out there , unlike how she was with Riddle .She was the one to always bring up topics , no one would ever ask her anything but regular stuff or things she'd bring herself . She thought that it was all she needed to live , wasn't it enough..?

" You know it yourself , don't you ? No one out there cares for you , (y/n) . Not a single soul . Your parents protect you as a responsibility , your friends talk to you as their own entertainment and others , others are just passing by . You're nothing but an invisible shallow to them , do you like it? "

(y/n) wished she could've argued him on that point , but realizing how he had a point his throat went dry again , unwilling to face reality :

No she didn't , she hated it . She hated it all . She hated how she smiled and shouted just to gain attention . She hated all times she cut off into her friends chats just because no one was going to ask her to join , she hated everyone around her for not ever coming to her unless having a trouble or being in need and she hated how fake all her life were ,

Hated

" You needed a listener , someone who would really care to know about you and only you , someone like me . No one will ever know you like I do , not a single soul will wish to listen to you like I always do , there wasn't and will never be anyone more willing to meet you each and every time like I would , never . "

Riddle's words were too complicated for her to describe ; gloomy and sad , fluffy and sweet , bitter and sour , just like Riddle himself ; a total riddle .

" I'm the one for you (y/n) , and you're the one for me . Our bound isn't a simple strand that can be destroyed by cutting roses off , and you know it . "

He suddenly freed (y/n)'s hair , making her head bang the ground again . He leans toward her to pull her up from behind , holding her from the armpit. Just as your first time .(y/n) was now feeling all dizzy and shakey , not even able to stand if he wasn't holding her . She felt weak in legs , arms , mind , all of her . No longer sure if it was a dream or reality .

He helped her try to stand on her own feet , but didn't let go . He lowered his head to whisper into her ear : " Roses will grow again , but I won't let go of you this time . "

(y/n) was expecting something different , something romantic or low-key sweet , something that a lover might say . But uh , not all love stories are like those ordinary ones , not all fairy tales have a sweet , happy ending .

Riddle held her by waist with his left hand , while holding her right hand with the right , bringing her closer to the very last rose left . For the first time she knew what he was about to do , with your bloody hand still fresh and pleasing for him : " And now , you shouldn't waste that all " he says before bringing her hand closer to the rose , making her fingers meet its petals . This time Riddle wasn't the only one painting it , he was just holding her hand . She brushed her fingers down the soft petals , careful enough to do it as soft as possible . Her first time doing this was filled with excitement and her 10 minutes ago with hatred , but now , all that was left was a simple breeze among flowers , she couldn't even feel anything . It couldn't be called sad or happy , it couldn't be called neutral either . All that she could feel from the moment was the sight of her fingers dancing on petals , and on the other side...Riddle . His warm breathe brushing her neck , their bodies touching and tied closed as if they were actually hugging . And his heart...the feeling of it beating at (y/n)'s back . This sound was just as it were years ago , just as calm , just as rhythmic , just as beautiful

(y/n) felt empty yet...safe right there . Her future had dark and cold inside if she were to have an compliment on it now , but for now , being held close to Riddle into his warm and calming embrace , seemed enough for her ;

Enough to believe in fairy tales ...♥

♦♥♠♣

This was supposed to be finished ten days ago lol , happy non-birthday to you Ana @yandere-romanticaa 💕💕💕

Tagging : @twst-soul @kanaverni @twistedlymad @yandere-of-your-dreams @ghostiebabey @roaringyouth @yandere-wishes @tsuisute ♥

[mandymc]

can't make you love me:

Dan Jones/Reader

Also on AO3 :)

Summary: You're falling for your boss, Daniel Jones, who just sees you as nothing but a release for his stress.

Notes: Dan fucks you hard but is a bad boyfriend. You're his assistant. (Just go with it.)

Warnings/Tags: Shameless Smut, Boss/Employee Relationship, Vaginal Sex, Desk Sex, Vibrators, Blowjob, Spanking, Rough Sex, a bit of edging and orgasm control, light bondage???, some angst???, you love Dan and he loves his report.

Chapter 1: Mr. Jones

 Your foot is tapping and you're biting your lip, watching as the right hand on the clock above your head is inches away from the exact time he said to come to his office and bring coffee. You hope you got it right, you frantically scribbled down, in your little lined notebook what he specifically asked for.

Black. Two sugars.

Your thighs clench together, they always do when you think of him, your boss, in his deep voice, ordering you around. You hate what he's fucking doing to you, you weren't always like this, horny as hell at work, you were professional, then he came around, and you developed a stupid little crush, your skirts started getting shorter, and he noticed, and punished you for it, you remember the first time your pussy walls seized around his dick, he bent you over his desk, and spanked you, grinned to himself at the evidence of his large red handprints, and squeezed your cheeks together, slid his cock between, no one had ever fucked you like that and you were certain no one would ever again.

Naturally, you assumed him fucking you to tears every day on his desk meant that your feelings were reciprocated, and it would go somewhere, dinner, the movies, anywhere away from the office, and the stacks of paperwork.

Tick tick

But you knew it, he knew it, it was an unspoken mist in the air, he could never flat out say it to your face.

His work, his report comes first, always. And you would be fine with being second, but you're not sure you're even third. It's been weeks since he's even acknowledged your existence.

  You lay the notebook on the seat beside you. No way he could see it, and you know he'd be curious too, probably mock you for writing all those dirty little thoughts, no, he wouldn't just mock you, you think, knowing your superior he would make you read it all aloud in front of him.

Tap tap.

One more second.

You shake off the nerves, not today, you think, you are better than this, and you're going to show him what he is missing.

Knock, knock.

"It's open."

You hear him say, voice all too familiar yet all too distant.

 You shut, lock, the door behind you, and stand up straight, placing the cup of coffee on his desk, firstly, you notice the dark-purplish circles under his eyes, caffeine, the only thing keeping him alive, it seems.

"Just as you requested, Mr. Jones."

Eager and patient, you take in every bit of him, hanging at what he will say next, like a thread. But his face is glued to the computer and his beautiful eyes refuse to meet yours.

A mumbled, "thanks" is all you get.

You pout, sit on the edge of the wooden desk and lift your pencil skirt up just a bit, just enough so Mr. Jones could see your lack of panties.

He's typing on the keyboard, and with all the politeness he can muster, he shoos you away, like you're a fucking, fly buzzing, vexing him.

"That's all, you can go now."

You huff.

"I-I-I please, I want you...so badly-" you're interrupted.

 "No, I am working."

 "Mr. Jones...please, I've been so wet for you since I woke up, and you took my vib-"

 He stops you again, focus still solely on the document.

"Yes, I have your vibrator, it's in the drawer here, and because you are such a horny slut, you violated HR rules, and just had to bring it to the workplace."

"You told me to."

"Yes, and I'll decide when you can use it, now go away"

You unbutton your shirt, slowly, taking your tits out of the bra cups, your tongue darts out to try and lick at your nipples, you know he likes that.

But he must not like it enough because your boss is still ignoring you.

"Dan...please, I know how stressed you are, please take it out on me..."

No response. Nothing. Silence.

 You move the stacks of paper aside, and you spread your legs in front of him, lifting the skirt higher, and your hand traces down, down to your clit. 

And that gets him, Dan snaps and finally, he stops you, his hand digs into your wrist. He's actually looking at you now, handsome as ever, and his cologne smells so goddamn good. 

You wince, he's a lot stronger than you and he's standing up now, having enough of your antics, and taking both your wrists behind your back, he manhandles you around the other side of his desk, bending you over, pushing your head flat in the papers.

His name plate falls to the floor with a loud thud, but he doesn't give a fuck right now, not when he's tearing at your useless skirt and eyeing your bare ass that is completely healed from last time. Dan needs to hit you now, he's aching for that release, just as much as you. 

"I told you to go away."

With no warning, a loud smack echoes through his office. And another, and another. He spanks you so hard, you jolt forward, nipples brushing against the cold wood.

"Mmmmore...please."

Dan nestles in your neck, breathes hot in your ear, and rubs at your labia, slicking up with every grumble he makes at you, his voice shaky from being so pent up.

"That's what you want?...so desperate for an ounce of my attention?"

He growls and with his full strength, spanks your ass again, you grab at the desk for dear life.

Tears start to form already in your eyes at the stinging, and Dan doesn't rub or soothe at the redness forming, instead, he grits his teeth, squeezes and pinches your ass cheeks, and with his other hand works his belt loose and pulls it out.

 He holds your wrists back together with his one hand, and wraps his belt, ties them so tightly together, making you unable to move, and he almost grins to himself when you try to wiggle out. 

Another smack.

"Stay still."

But you want to tease him, you wiggle again and try tilting your head so you can look at him.

He smacks the forming welts on your ass, you cry out. He won't tolerate that today.

"I said-" he pauses, "stay- fucking still."

He presses your legs together, wanting your pussy as tight as possible, he's quick, unzipping his fly and pulling out his hard cock, Dan wouldn't admit that he's been this hard since the second you walked in.

He gives his cock a few tight strokes, and rubs your juices around your clit, teasing you, he can't take his eyes off your cunt and how it seems impossible for him to fit, how you always struggle to fully take him. It's his favorite part, watching how you split open so wide around him, how it almost hurts you every time.

"Please..."

Your whisper is all he needs, and he pushes past your lips and watches as his cock pierces into you, and the little noise you make, he goes lightheaded, overwhelmed with the drive to fuck you silly on his desk. He groans, and adjusts his tie, lifting up his shirt and digs into your hips, thrusting with vigor.

"Oh...oh my god...that's so good, fuck"

You whine.

Dan's head tilts back, and he slams into you over and over, you hear his skin slap against you. Slap, slap. It's incredible, but he wants to go deeper. He squeezes your cheeks apart, and you sob as he pushes all the way into you, you feel his balls smack against your clit, stuffing you full, a smile starts to tick upon his face when he sees your tight little asshole almost bulge out with every thrust. He feels himself about to cum, and after a few more deep thrusts, he's growling and pulling out of you, your pussy gushes and contracts at the sudden lack of fullness.

"Come here, on your knees, suck it."

Grabbing you by the hair, Dan pulls you off the desk and sits you on your knees in front of him, he's stroking his cock in your face and pushing the head into your lips, moaning around him, you taste your own tangy juices and do what you're told, you suck.

Your boss quietly mumbles out, "yes, ah..goddamnit, such a good fucking slut." Wrapping your hair in his fingers, he's forcing your head down, and you gag. He does it again, and holds your skull, slides his cock in and out until, he's just too thick to handle and you gag again. 

He pulls you off, and lifts you by the waist, sitting you back at the edge of his desk, you hiss as your ass stings at the impact, Dan's kissing into your neck and spreading your legs apart.

"You want me to get the vibe? Put it on your little bud while I stretch you?"

"Fuck, Dan, please..."

Instantly, he's at his desk, pulling out your vibrator and laying it beside the ruffled papers. 

 He's on you again, breathing hard in your ear. "I'm going to make you scream, let everyone hear how much of slut my assistant is." 

"Dan..." 

He pushes you down, lifts your legs and your ass hangs at the edge. Dan grabs at your tits, and his cock dives into you again, thrusting perfectly, upwardly, aiming for his swollen head to nudge against your G-spot, it's so good, too good, he knows exactly how to make you cum in minutes.

The noise you make is inhuman, you look up at him and you're full-on crying off your makeup, you feel the warm, knot in your lower abdomen, you're getting so close, and he knows it.

 Dan reaches for the vibe, turns it on, and sets it on top of your clit.

The thrusts are brutal, he's hitting your cervix now, and doesn't slow down, not for a moment, all you can manage is a pathetic "please, please." He turns up the setting, and raises his foot up on the desk, giving him leverage to pound you even deeper. 

You hear him breathless, "Cum...now.." 

The vibe is at its highest setting, and he rolls his hips, balls smacking against your sore ass. 

"Let me feel it, cum...cum..for me." 

You close your eyes and before you can finally give in to the bliss of the most blinding orgasm, he turns off the vibe.

The build-up warmth, it all crashes down, you whine. 

"I change my mind, a little longer", he grunts, you hate him, want to kill him. 

"Please...please." You try begging for him, you swallow, "I'll be good, I won't" you choke out a sob, "I won't bother you again, Mr. Jones, please." 

He holds back a groan, "Is that..so?"

"Yes..yes..god, please just let me cum."

"You'll stop dressing like a slut? Stop having me focus on this...perfect.. tight...pussy...instead of my work...?" 

"Yes!..please!" 

"Fuck." 

He spreads open your cunt, and turns the vibrator back on, at it's most intense, rolls it in circles on your sensitive nub of nerves. The simulation, how stretched he's made you, his dick rubbed deep against your spot, it's too overwhelming, and once he mumbles in your neck to "cum on his cock" you convulse, legs shake and you scream, his name, over and over, squeezing him in. 

Dan looks at your face as it contorts in euphoria, he coos at you, trying his best not to spill all his seed in you as you cum so unbelievably hard around him. 

Your breathing comes back down, and his pace doesn't stop. You shake from the sensitivity of your clit thumping, as he keeps the vibe there working it through every second of your orgasm. 

He finally shuts it off, and tosses it to the side, he holds your knees up to his chest and fucks you, deeper and deeper until he feels his balls tighten and he's close, and you can tell, the ever-present stern look on his face softens. 

"Please, I want it...I want your cum, give it to me." You whisper.

He places his forehead on yours, large hands on both sides of your head and he closes his eyes. With a couple more thrusts, he's a goner, holding you in place so you take all of it, you feel the warm spurts inside you, so deep, you thank your luck you're on the pill.

Dan shudders, curses, and his lips press against yours, finally, he's never kissed you before. 

Your tongue meets his, and he's biting your bottom lip, cock still twitching, busting his entire load in you, and it's a big one, you already feel it seeping down your inner thighs. 

 "Fuck..." He doesn't look at you, just breathes into your mouth, until his orgasm subsides.

Finally, after a long moment of staying inside you until he's soft, he pulls out, a few drops of cum fall on your thighs. 

 He leaves you like that, Dan pulls up his pants, adjusts his tie, and fixes his hair. As you're still shaking, his cum dripping down your thighs, he goes back to his seat, takes a deep breath, and leaves you spread out, hands tied on his desk. His attention goes back to the computer. Your tears dry, and you roll your eyes, start to wiggle out of his belt. 

"No, you're going to stay like that until I'm done." 

"But..." You wiggle again, but Dan smacks at your hand.

You know the number of hours, how long he works, up to 3 days straight, sometimes longer. 

You huff, it's going to be a long while before your boss frees you. You roll to the side and he doesn't speak to you again, the only thing you hear is the keyboard typing. 

  ____________________________________________________

  Two weeks later, you sit beside his office again, watching the clock, waiting to see him. You're writing in your notebook, hearts, and scribbles alongside, Mr. Jones, written repeatedly. You know he neglects you, treats you as some kind of pocket pussy. But you still want more, more of him, more of anything he'll give you, the rare times he decides to give it. You glance at the clock again, your heart flutters, it's almost time.

Tick tock. 

You know it. You should hate him. But you know the truth. It's written on nearly every other page. 

I love him. 

I love him

I love him. 

[onelungmcclung]

im sorry if you've answered this before im relatively new to the ship hehe but-- how'd mcclung fall for toye? was it in bastogne? before bastogne? in holland? in aldbourne? after the war? what were the circumstances? when did he realize it? and after he'd overcome that high of finding out he's in love, how did he deal with the aftermath once it started to settle in? hehe, i hope this week isnt as rough on you as you're anticipating. sending you much love and strength and calm vibes.

💜💜💜 

ok, firstly, I have not been asked this before; secondly, even if I had no earthly power would stop me from answering it again; and thirdly, obviously no pressure but pls consider coming off anon and being my tumblr friend  

probably everyone is new to this ship lmao

so, I started writing a (probably long) mctoye fic starting in fort bragg or aldbourne and continuing to postwar (enablers always welcome). but for the purposes of this ask, I’m mostly going off character insights revealed to me developed over the course of writing the ask him to dance universe. 

(counterpart to this ask: toye noticing/falling for mcclung)

essentially: mcclung is/would be kind of theoretically ok with the idea of falling for a guy, if it had occurred to him he might fall for anyone right now, but falling for anyone is — for the time being — a concept he has strategically compartmentalised out of his entire thought process. (please clap.)

maybe he’s relatively ok with the possibility falling for a guy because he did not really grow up with white conservatism the way most of the easy co guys did; he’s always been aware of it, and his worldview is not informed by it in the same way. his family is arrow lakes/settler and he has friends & acquaintances among the other confederated tribes. and though he doesn’t take a strong interest in domestic/international politics, he has a more critical attitude towards the us govt and its laws (he’s still quietly angry about the grand coulee dam, constructed during his childhood). he’s never really considered that he might be into men; he likes women and he’s always assumed, without thinking much about it, that he’ll get married at some point; but he’s not particularly homophobic, outwardly or inwardly.

he’s not thinking much about these things when the war comes. he gets drafted into the army, thinks “not with these fucking clowns” and besides the airborne pay is better, and volunteers as a paratrooper. he joins up with easy after he’s completed his jump training.

he is excellent at training, naturally; he’s spent days at a time alone, fishing and hunting, since he was a child. he’s an exceptional sniper and scout. he’s confident in his own abilities. some of the toccoa guys initially assume he won’t be as skilled as them because he didn’t have their training, but in fact he has a headstart on most of them; and he knows it. (if he knew it any better it would probably come off as arrogance, but he’s just very clear on what he’s good at. and if he wasn’t beforehand, the airborne has proved it, to him & everyone else.)

he recognises, of course, that toye is an excellent soldier too (not as good a shot as himself or shifty, but overall one of the best paratroopers in the company), and they’re in the same platoon, so that helps. he never really gets afraid, not while training and not in combat; he just keeps his focus and gets on with it. for the most part, he doesn’t form close friendships until they get into combat.

he has some instinct towards helping and protecting others, but once they’re in a combat zone he realises that’s going to hurt him a lot. while they’re training, he helps some of the guys make their shots by shooting the targets for them; but after they jump into normandy, he avoids befriending the replacements because so many of them are killed early on. it’s — a little — easier that way.

he and toye don’t become close friends before bastogne, but they get familiar with each other’s combat style, and they’re comfortable working together. they trust each other; they’re both good soldiers, and toye is a good nco.

and then of course in bastogne they share a foxhole, and that is (I think for all the other characters as well) an incredibly vital, pivotal relationship. he and toye rely on each other entirely; without that, they’d probably die. they learn each other backwards; there’s no possibility of pretence. he knows what toye’s flaws are (stubbornness, prickliness, a reluctance to accept help), but there’s a lot more about him that mcclung likes, trusts and admires (not that he’d say so), and he knows those things are genuine.

he does his level best to stop toye from developing trench foot when he loses his boots. sure, he pretty much calls toye an idiot for getting into this situation and for refusing to tell the medics, but he does everything he can think of. it hasn’t occurred to him that he cares deeply about toye; it just seems inevitable.

(and he tells smokey to let the medics know. he doesn’t tell toye he’s told smokey, because it’s funnier this way. like everyone else, he’s starved for entertainment.)

but toye gets hit, and they’ve spent months beside each other — sleeping in shifts, keeping each other safe, trying to keep each other warm, kvetching, arguing with each other; he’s put up with toye’s singing and toye’s put up with mcclung talking to himself. a synchronicity and interdependence has developed between them, throughout the war but particularly in bastogne, to the point where it’s almost telepathic. he doesn’t consider what a powerful kind of intimacy this is, both physical and psychological, until it’s gone.

toye gets hit, and mcclung loses him. toye gets hit, and mcclung is blindsided by the enormity of it. you can’t take anyone’s survival for granted, he’s always tried to be careful of that, but losing toye is like losing part of himself.

he’s pretty determinedly unsentimental about everything: he’s not going to fall in love with anyone while he’s fighting a war, and he’s not going to dwell on situations beyond his control, and he’s not going to let himself be distracted by worrying about someone who isn’t here anymore. or at least that’s the attitude he’s internalised, and he takes it so much for granted that he never even considers that he could have fallen for anyone: right here, right now.

but he can’t forget anything that’s happened, even if he’d like to, and there’s no other friendship that can quite replace what had developed between toye and himself. bastogne was when things were at their worst, and toye is the one with whom he survived the worst. without toye, he feels an inescapable sense of wrongness, unevenness.

he’s half aware that he misses joe. he tries not to acknowledge that to himself, because that would mean acknowledging that he may not have any chance to see joe again, that one or both of them may not survive. that’s a line of thought he keeps away from altogether; it’s there, but he won’t look at it.

he knows it’s not his fault toye was injured. sometimes it has nothing to do with being a good soldier; sometimes it’s just luck and timing; he’s nearly been hit himself. he knows that, but deep down inside he wonders if he could have saved joe, by making sure he was in their foxhole before the shelling started. he heard toye and second-guessed himself. he stayed where he was. he thinks he probably did the sensible thing. he still feels guilty about it.

(sidenote: the glaring exception to his “don’t befriend the replacements” rule ends up being babe. after toye, guarnere & compton are taken off the line, he and babe start sharing a foxhole. possibly he could have found someone else, but his protective instinct resurfaces and maybe it helps to take his mind off missing toye. it’s a friendship that comes out of grief and loss.)

he gets through foy, and haguenau, and he focuses on the situation at hand and he doesn’t think about toye.

when they reach austria, mcclung is ordered to hunt animals to feed landsberg’s prisoners, and so he sets up camp alone in the woods. it’s beautiful; it’s peaceful; it’s the first time he’s been truly alone in two years. it’s the first time his mind is able to relax, and the memories come back — prewar life, everything he’s been through since, bastogne, toye — and the thoughts of the future, what he might do after the war.

he’d like to see toye again.

he still hasn’t thought that maybe he has feelings for joe.

and then the war ends, and he has the freedom to decide what to do next. he returns to england, and then ships back to the us. the memory/loss of toye is still a weight on him, and so he tracks toye down and goes to see him. that’s the obvious, logical course of action.

it’s also making him much more nervous than it has any right to.

(for the past year and a half, he’s been compartmentalising very hard because he intuitively understood that as the best way to survive the war. he learnt it early on, and it’s hard to let go of it. he’s convinced he’s handling everything great, very matter of fact and pragmatic, getting the job done, no emotional baggage here, etc etc. this is... not 100% true, but a coping mechanism is a coping mechanism is a coping mechanism. he is doing pretty well; nobody thinks he’s not; so obviously that counts as a roaring success.

but once the war is over, the psychological walls he’s maintained throughout combat — between survival and emotion — begin gradually to disintegrate. he has to let himself become whole again, learn to navigate who he is now, accept that the war has scarred him. he still feels himself to be one of the lucky ones. some of the things he’s been avoiding hit harder than others, and he can’t control that anymore.

insofar as he’s aware of these developments, he considers it extremely unfair.)

but, ensuing stupid panic or no ensuing stupid panic, he commits to meeting up with toye. he figures they’ll catch up, maybe keep in contact, that now he’ll be able to stop wondering how toye’s doing, stop this strange off-balance feeling he’s had since toye got hit.

seeing toye again is actually a lot more than he’d ever anticipated, and he’s forced to acknowledge that maybe there’s more going on here than he’d figured.

he realises he’s attracted to this guy, and he doesn’t know when that started: probably in bastogne, but maybe earlier. it feels new but not new; if he hadn’t pointedly avoided thinking about joe after foy, maybe he’d have figured it out sooner. if they’d made it through the war together, maybe something would have happened between them in europe, but they lost each other too soon for him to know. he’s a little discomfited by these feelings suddenly creeping up on him, but he’s trying hard not to let any of it show: not the attraction, not the unease.

he reasons that his feelings are only a problem if toye doesn’t share them. he thinks he could deal with that, but he is afraid they may not have a friendship anymore, that it was left behind in wartime.

he tells himself he’s not afraid of rejection. but he is. he doesn’t like feeling vulnerable, and suddenly he is.

when he thinks there’s a chance the attraction is mutual, he takes it. it works out for him. they stay together. he accepts that he’s falling in love and he lets it happen.

he falls in love with joe’s courage and honesty and selflessness, and he finds it incredibly hard to actually say that. (this is someone who considers “hanging out with you voluntarily” to be a love language.) he’s moved just by the fact joe wants to be with him, that he’s able to acknowledge that attraction and act on it despite his provincial catholic upbringing lol. he knows that joe’s recovery has been difficult, and he sees how joe is dealing with it, and, like in bastogne, he tries to support him as quietly and simply as possible.

he finds it hard to tell joe he loves him, but he pays attention to what joe does and says, and does whatever he can to make his life better. he never thinks joe needs him there, and he wouldn’t want it that way. he helps joe to adapt their old calisthenics training; they take roadtrips together. they’re still deeply protective of each other, and they still express it via touch, practical acts, and snark. they don’t struggle with physical affection as much as either of them might have worried; they’re a little hesitant at first, but it falls into place.

they’re fumbling their way a little, but they respect each other completely and unconditionally, and they’re kind and careful, and their relationship gets stronger as it goes on. 

and they dance together.

[rosiewitchescottage]

What a show Spitting Image was back them.

Absolutely no one was off limits and the gloves were off, regardless of who they lampooned.

It managed to be hilariously silly and thought provokingly sharp all at the same time.

Now. I made a perfectly innocent comment on a post about the egging of Mrs T's statue.

And frankly, it shocks me that even a tiny deviation from whatever view is considered 'acceptable,' means today that it's open season.

Sad, because I've no problem with being disagreed with. But you'd think people could manage to do it with a bit of courtesy.

Ahh well. Apparently not.

So. Whether anyone sees it or not. I'll go briefly over my thoughts on the matter. And then I know that I've cleared it up.

Firstly. I was a working class child of 9 in North West England when Mrs T was first elected.

So yes. I'm very well aware of her less than stellar track record. I was there.

If she's unpopular now, imagine how it was when she was in power.

And not a bit of it surprises or shocks me. Of course most working class people across Britain and Ireland were angry at what she was doing to our country.

She messed with the means people had of taking care of their loved ones, education included (free school milk was axed under her).

I am not surprised that the statue in her home town is a target. She wasn't PM so long ago that people who lived under her are not still living. And memories are vivid.

Plus. At least it's just egg. Whoever has to clean it off won't have as bad a time as they would have trying to shift paint.

I was no fan of hers. Particularly as Prime Minister. You won't hear me defend a single thing she did. Because I see no reason to.

And I can't say that I was terribly fond of her as a woman either.

That being said. I'm a strange sort of girl.

I can dislike a person in most ways.

But, if they do something that I can respect them for. Then I will respect them for that, if for nothing else.

And this is the case with Mrs Thatcher. I don't care how she compares in these areas with other women.

I will respect them for it too. But they are individual persons, just as Mrs Thatcher also was. And I will respect each of them as such.

There are two things. Yes, that's it. just two, that I respected her for.

And yes. I am surprised that even hated as she was/is, and with good cause, as Prime Minister.

People can't spare her a little respect in just these areas only.

Things that it is currently the norm to want for women.

And had she different politics, she'd have that respect. You know this as well as I do.

Firstly 'Women in STEM' - Margaret Thatcher (nee Roberts) was accepted into Somerville College Oxford to study Chemistry in 1943.

Now she was not a public school educated girl. She was the daughter of a Lincolnshire greengrocer who went to grammar school.

So I don't doubt that she had to work hard to get herself that place at Oxford. And she succeeded.

I'm going to applaud her for that. Regardless of what sort of PM she later became.

Secondly. She was never 'A Woman In Politics'.

She was simply A Politician.

What she did with her power was diabolical. I don't argue about that. She's no example of how to be a good politician, by any means.

BUT She never expected the fact that she was a woman to make the smallest difference to her career.

No Affirmative Action, No All Women Shortlists. And if any man disrespected her, you know full well that he'd long remember the put down he'll have received in that deep, carefully elocution trained voice of hers.

Again. I will admire her for that. Because in 1979. When she was the first woman to get to be British Prime Minister.

She fought for it on exactly the same field and by the same rules as any of the men.

She did so bad a job that we still feel the effects of it today. Ohh yes.

But when she was first elected, it was completely down to her own skills and the potential people believed that she had (sadly misplaced, as it turned out) to lead the country.

bust of Charles Darwin; Spitting Image Margaret Thatcher puppet hanging out in the Cambridge University Library