#free from the guillotine

[tuuneoftheday]

Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band - Free From the Guillotine

[fictionadventurer]

Things To Make August (the Month of Existential Dread) Bearable

Pray. A lot.

Plan little summer adventures.

Write a fun little retelling (and hopefully finish it).

Read an Elizabeth Goudge book (Book 3 of the Elliot trilogy seems right, because Book 2 is coming to mind a lot as an appropriate summer book).

Remember that sunflowers exist. Find lots of them.

[nabnab-official]

blockout2024 for free syria and free palestine

since I cannot update my other post since it reached the word limit, I'm going to use this post to add some updated links/information to donations/information about this. old post BLOCKOUT 2024 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Pass The Hat Project

Islamic Relief eSims for Gaza Gaza Funds Masterdoc for Resources Resources and Info BDS Boycott | Boycott Eurovision Arab.org Daily click DONOS/RESOURCES 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20

21, 22, 23, 24, 25

keep boycotting, keep blocking, keep protesting, keep posting. free palestine.🕊️🍉🇵🇸

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

Some olympian athletes (young, probably first olympic, often usamericans) complain like a spoiled brat about the Olympic Village, and how it's not a 5 stars hotel, as if that's not how the athletes have ALWAYS been treated at the Games, because it's not 20 teams of 40 players and their staffs that are being housed (to compare it to world championships for football or rugby), but hundred of athletes (more than 2000 athletes officially) and their staffs from hundred of countries. And the hotels are for tourists, for spectators, or do you not want people to not come to the games? These games are extremely expensive, let's not make them more because you are a lil baby that need staff to make your bed. The cardboard beds exist to not create more waste than what the games already produce (imagine buying more than 2000 beds to only be used for a month and than discarded... Every 2 years...) THEY ARE ATHLETES WHO HAVE RUN WITH NO SHOES, AND YOU ARE COMPLAINING ABOUT BUYING TOILET PAPER?! And I have seen so many comments saying awful shit about how 3rd world countries shouldn't participate so the lil usamericans can have a better treatment, and that's unacceptable. The games are about unity between the nations, the goal is not to win, it's to participate. To be together. It is always beautiful to see these countries being able to send their athletes to compete. They deserve their place here as much as any 1st world countries' athletes, they have work so hard to be here. Their whole fucking country gave money sometimes to help them have the equipment for the games. You're so spoiled you cannot even comprehend how privileged you are. "This is cheating to make France wins!" I literally know a French olympian. She has the same age as me, she is the daughter of an ex-colleague of my mother, so I saw her grow up and train to be an olympian. I know how French athletes are treated, and it's not good. What you are getting rn at the Olympic is better than what they get all year long. Damn, one of our best athletes who got multiple olympic medals in his career RAN NAKED IN THE STREET to find a sponsor so he could continue to be an athlete, because he had no money.

I am SO mad because, as a French, I know the REAL issues with these games. But will they talk about them? NO. It's only about their ass and being like "I deserve better because I'm an Olympian, I'm better than everyone!". DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY STUDENTS WERE KICKED OUT TO HOUSE COPS FOR THIS EVENT? Where are they suppose to go when everything cost all your organs rn in Paris? DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE PARIS IS FOR PARISIANS DURING THIS EVENT? It cost more than 100€ every week for a parisian to go to work by metro rn. DO YOU KNOW PARISIANS DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO GO WHEREVER THEY PLEASE IN THEIR OWN CITY FOR THIS EVENT? They have to ask for a pass and it can be refused. They were asked to not leave their house as much as possible. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE WERE KICKED OUT SO THEIR LANDLORDS COULD RENT THEIR PLACE ON AIRBNB FOR AN EXPENSIVE ASS PRICE FOR THIS EVENT? Same as the students, where do they go? DO YOU KNOW THEY DEPORTED HOMELESS PEOPLE, WHICH MEANS CHILDREN BECAUSE WE HAVE HOMELESS CHILDREN, OUT OF PARIS FOR THIS EVENT? They forced them into bus to other cities, so Paris could be "clean". No, they are not housed, they are still homeless. DO YOU KNOW SOME SHOPS WERE FORCED TO CLOSE FOR THIS EVENT BECAUSE THEY WERE JUDGED NOT "GOOD ENOUGH" FOR THE EVENT? This includes the small book stores at the edges of the Seine selling vintage books, which is one of the most classic thing about Paris. How are these people suppose to survive without making a dime for a whole month? DO YOU KNOW THAT CORALS WERE DESTROYED FOR THIS EVENT? DO YOU KNOW THAT FACIAL RECOGNITION CAMERAS HAVE BEEN PUT IN PLACE FOR THIS EVENT? DO YOU KNOW MOST OF THE STAFF FOR THE EVENT ARE VOLUNTEERS, WICH MEANS THEY ARE NOT GOING TO BE PAID A DIME AND WORK AWFUL HOURS, ALL BECAUSE THEY WERE MANIPULATED? DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE POVERTY CRISIS WE ARE GOING THROUGH IN FRANCE RN WHILE THEY PLANNED OLYMPIC GAMES FOR THE RICH ONLY?

They only give a fuck about shaming France to their own benefit, they never give a fuck about the people. We are going to ruin these games, and we do not feel bad for y'all ass. Cry about the cardboard beds, see how you manage the trash cans not being emptied (garbage collectors are on strike during the event, so nobody is going to do that) and people launching pavement, our national sport since 1789.

[chaiaurchaandni]

wtf

[icewindandboringhorror]

Current temperature inside of my room right now in the middle of the night whilst about to go to sleep... villain origin story...

[lemedstudent2021]

a wise person once said history doesnt repeat itself, people do.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

General Strike 2028

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/11/rip-jane-mcalevey/#organize

Trump is a scab.

https://www.democracynow.org/2024/9/2/shawn_fain_2024_election

Trump is a scab and the Dems need unions. While working class votes were all over the place – lotsa turkeys voting for Christmas – union voters voted against Trump with near-unanimity.

Trump is a scab, the Dems need unions, and the Dems are not faithful friends to unions. Harris campaign advisor – her brother-in-law Tony West – is Uber's chief legal officer and the architect of Prop 22, California's scab law that formalized "gig work" labor violations. The fact that when the eminently guillotineable union-buster Howard Schultz tries to win a presidential nomination he does so in the Democratic party speaks volumes. If your political party has room for Michael Bloomberg, it doesn't have room for workers. Seriously, fuck that guy.

Trump is a scab, the Dems need unions, Dems are not faithful friends to unions, and unions keep the Dems honest. The #RedForEd teachers' strikes of 2018 kicked off a wave of public support for unions – and worker interest in unionization – that has only grown in the years since:

https://theweek.com/articles/764828/teacher-strikes-could-future-alt-labor

Trump is a scab, Dems need unions, Dems are not faithful to unions, unions make the Dems better, workers want unions, the public loves unions, and union membership is falling.

It's falling! This one is on the union leadership. Unions are sitting on gigantic warchests that they are resolutely not spending organizing the workers who are clamoring to join unions:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/ten-times-this

Unions have historic high cash reserves and are doing historically low organizing. This part is the unions' fault:

https://www.radishresearch.org/_files/ugd/2357dd_135794f88aa140f2962ee5c71ac31ff0.pdf

Or rather, it's the union bosses' fault. Union leadership in America, broadly speaking, sucks. Bosses love shitty unions, and the biggest unions obliged bosses for decades, with leaders who established suicidal practices like "two-tier contracts." That's a union where all the workers have to pay dues, but only the senior workers get protection from the union those dues fund:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/20/a-common-foe/#the-multinational-playbook

If you sat down and said, "Let's design a union contract that will ensure that every worker hired from this day forward hates unions," this is the contract you'd come up with.

Those shitty union bosses? They're on the way out. In 2023, the UAW held its first honest elections for generations, and radicals, led by Shawn Fain, swept the board. How did workers win their union back? They unionized more workers! Specifically, the UAW organized the brutally exploited Harvard grad students, and the Harvard kids memorized the union by-laws, and every time the corrupt old guard tried the steal the leadership election, one or another of them popped to their feet, reciting chapter-and-verse from the union's own rules and keeping the vote going:

https://theintercept.com/2023/04/07/deconstructed-union-dhl-teamsters-uaw/

Fain led the UAW to an historic strike: the UAW took on all three of the Big Three automakers, and cleaned their clocks. UAW workers walked away with three new contracts, all set to expire in 2028. Fain then called upon every union to bargain for contracts that run out in 2028, because if every union contract expires in 2028, we've got the makings of a general strike.

That means that when the next presidential election rolls around, it's going to be in the middle of the most militant moment in a century of US labor history. That is an opportunity.

Labor movements fight fascists. They always have. Trump and the GOP are not on the side of workers, notwithstanding all that bullshit about supporting workers by fighting immigration. Sure, when the number of workers goes up, wages can go down – if you're not in a union. Conservatives have never supported unions. They hate solidarity. Conservatives want workers to believe that they can get paid more if labor is scarcer, and there's some truth to that, but solidarity endures in good times and bad, and scarcity ends any time bosses figure out how to offshore, outsource, or automate your job. Scarcity is brittle.

"Law-and-order" candidates want to throw millions of our neighbors in jail. By the way, the 13th Amendment abolished slavery, except for prisoners. American imprisons more people than any other country in the history of the world. We make Stalin's gulags and Chinese Cultural Revolution "re-education camps" look unambitious. American prisoners produce $9b worth of services and $2b worth of goods every year. The average US prison wage is $0.53/hour, but six states ban prison wages altogether and North Carolina caps them at $1/day:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/02/captive-customers/#guillotine-watch

If you think immigrants are bad for American workers' wages, wait'll you see what legions of newly imprisoned slave laborers earning $0.53/hour do to those wages. Also: Californians just voted down a ballot measure to abolish prison slavery:

https://www.kqed.org/news/12013392/californians-voted-against-outlawing-slavery-why-is-prop-6-failing

The GOP are not on workers' side, and workers will not earn more under Trump's policies. Workers will earn more if they join a union, which they will only do if union leaders focus on organizing, which will only happen if we get rid of shitty union bosses. Start with this asshole, who belongs on the scrapheap of history:

https://www.npr.org/2024/07/16/nx-s1-5041345/teamsters-president-sean-obrien-addresses-the-republican-national-convention

With the GOP running the country for the next four years, it's tempting to look for hope in social movements. Maybe Trump will be so terrible that people will band together in informal solidarity networks and #Resist. History teaches us otherwise. The people who need the most help under Trump will be too embroiled in the fight for their own survival to put together the kind of movement that can make a difference.

As Astra Taylor reminded us on the Know Your Enemy podcast, Occupy and Black Lives Matter formed under Obama, when things were eleven kinds of fucked up, but at least ICE wasn't raiding our neighbors' homes:

https://know-your-enemy-1682b684.simplecast.com/episodes/voting-what-is-it-good-for-w-astra-taylor-olufmi-taiwo-malcolm-harris-teaser

Occupy and BLM arose in a moment when people had just enough breathing room to think beyond their immediate survival. Even deeply flawed progressive administrations provide that breathing room.

By contrast, the #RedForEd teachers' strikes were a creature of the Trump years. Even if social movements struggle to find their power under authoritarian, far-right regimes, these are the conditions in which organized labor movements are renewed:

https://www.hamiltonnolan.com/p/to-unfuck-politics-create-more-union

Trump won the election because white men, especially young white men, voted for him, but he couldn't have done it without the votes of white women, and Black and Latino men. These voters may even conceive of themselves as being in favor of women's rights and of the rights of racial minorities, but they still voted for Trump, because some facet of their identity - their maleness, their whiteness - mattered more to them than everything else.

Bosses have always excelled at this game, bringing in Irish scabs to break strikes of German workers, or Polish scabs to break Irish workers' pickets. The Pinkertons relied on Black workers who were excluded from the lily white unions.

Our identities are complex and ever-shifting, and men who worry that women's power comes at their own expense, or whites who worry that this is true of Black and Latino power aren't entirely wrong. As the saying goes, "When you're accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression."

But there's one part of your identity that is inherently solidaristic: whether you are a worker or an owner. If you own the business, you make more money when your workers earn less. If you work at the business, every dollar you earn is a dollar your boss doesn't get. Workers' gains are bosses' losses.

That's why they want us to "vote with our wallets." It's not just that those votes are rigged for the people with the fattest wallets. By tricking you into thinking of yourself as a "consumer" who benefits from low prices, they get you to stop thinking of yourself as a worker who suffers from low wages.

This remains true even after decades of "market based pensions" that forced workers to flush their savings into the stock market casino, to be the perennial suckers at the table in a game where their bosses had an unbeatable house advantage:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

Even after generations of this, the share of the stock market owned by workers is a negligible crumb. This is how GDP can rise, the stock market can surge, and you stay poor. Workers' fortunes don't rise and fall with the stock market. They're not owners.

You're a worker even if you're well-paid. Tech workers are just figuring this out, after a generation-long con in which bosses convinced techies that they were temporarily embarrassed entrepreneurs who definitely didn't need a union:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#sell-job

Tech workers' power came from scarcity, and scarcity is brittle. Tech fired 260,000 workers in 2023, and another 100,000 in the first six months of 2024. Tech bosses have smashed their workers' power, and we know what comes next.

We know what comes next because we know how tech bosses treat workers they can replace. Amazon warehouse workers piss in bottles and get maimed on the job at a rate that outstrips any other warehouse worker in America. Jeff Bezos and Andy Jassy didn't welcome coders with pink mohawks, facial piercings and black t-shirts with incomprehensible slogans because they liked tech workers and hated warehouse workers. Amazon coders owed the privilege to pee whenever they felt like it to their bosses' fear that they couldn't be replaced. Now that coders are replaceable, their kidneys are on the firing line.

"The future is here, it's just not evenly distributed." If you want to see the future of a replaceable Amazon coder, look at the working conditions of a replaceable Amazon delivery driver, monitored by a fucking AI that punishes them if they open their mouths while driving:

https://jalopnik.com/amazon-bans-its-drivers-from-moving-their-own-lips-too-1851639312

Remember lovely Tim Cook, the guy who took over Apple from its sainted juice-cleansing cofounder Steve Jobs? Cook's accomplishment, the one that earned him the CEOship and a personal net worth in excess of $2 billion, was to figure out how to offshore Apple's production to Chinese factories where the working conditions were so terrible that they needed to install suicide nets to catch workers who couldn't face another minute on the job:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/jun/18/foxconn-life-death-forbidden-city-longhua-suicide-apple-iphone-brian-merchant-one-device-extract

That's how Tim Cook treats workers he's not afraid of. Apple workers, no matter how well paid, no matter how pampered, need a union, because the instant Tim Cook can treat you like a Chinese iPhone assembly-line worker, he will.

Tim Cook had some choice words for Donald Trump this week:

Congratulations President Trump on your victory! We look forward to engaging with you and your administration to help make sure the United States continues to lead with and be fueled by ingenuity, innovation, and creativity.

It wasn't just Cook. Every tech boss lined up to kiss Trump's ass: Bezos ("Wishing @realDonaldTrump all success"); Zuck ("Looking forward to working with you"); Pichai ("We are in a golden age of American innovation"); Nadella ("Congratulations President Trump"):

https://daringfireball.net/2024/11/i_wonder

You don't just deserve a tech union, you need one, now:

https://abookapart.com/products/you-deserve-a-tech-union.html

Organizing a 2028 general strike under Trump won't be easy. Workers won't be able to secure support from the courts or the NLRB, whose brilliant Biden-era leadership team is surely doomed:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

But the NLRB only exists today because workers established unions when doing so was radioactively illegal and union organizers were beaten, jailed and murdered with impunity. The tactics those organizers used are not lost to the mists of time – they are a tradition that lives on to this day.

The standard-bearer for this older, militant, community-based union organizing was the great Jane McAlevey (rest in power). McAlevey ran organizing and strike drives as mass-movements; she wouldn't call for either without being sure of massive majorities, 70%-95%:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/23/a-collective-bargain/

McAlevey understood union organizing as a source of worker power, but also as a source of community power. When she helped organize the LA #RedForEd Teachers' strike, the teachers didn't just demand better working conditions for themselves, but also green space for their students, and protection from ICE raids for their students' parents. They did this under Trump, and built a turnout organization that flipped key seats and delivered a House majority to the Democrats in 2020.

In her work, McAlevey excoriated the kind of shittyass Dem power-brokers who just lost an election to a convicted felon and rapist, condemning their technocratic conceit that the path to electoral victory was in winning over precisely 50.1% of the vote in each tactically significant precinct. McAlevey said that's how you get the nightmarish Manchin-Synematic Universe where Dems can't deliver and workers don't vote for Dems. To transform America, we need the kinds of majorities that McAlevey and her fellow organizers won in those strike votes – majorities that produced durable, anti-fascist power that turned into electoral victories, too.

McAlevey died last summer. But she left behind a legion of people she taught and inspired, and a playbook we all can follow:

https://jacobin.com/2024/07/jane-mcalevey-strategy-organizing-obituary

We've got four years. Join a union. Take over its leadership. Create solidarity with your fellow workers and your community. Bargain for a contract. Make it expire in 2028. Get ready.

Because in 2028, we're having a general strike.

[itneverendshere]

trying to behave, but i'm feelin' some type of way - r.c drabble.

request: rafe x bitchy!pogue reader pleaseeeee!!!! he just hates that he wants her soo fucking bad and she finds it hilarioussss warnings: it gets steamy but no smut!; slutshaming; mean!rafe.

you’re out of place here, which is exactly why you’re here, tannyhill.

fuck them. fuck him.

every high-strung kook princess with their perfectly manicured nails gives you a quick once-over, nostrils flaring when they catch the sight of your scuffed-up boots. not that you care. it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone.

and why should you? you’re only here for the free booze, it’s not your fault this place is such a bore. always all pearls, pastels, and the scent of white wine and privilege. who the fuck drank white whine at a party? but the real reason you’re here, the whole damn reason, is staring straight at you from across the room.

rafe cameron. ugh and yum.

he’s leaning against the bar, muscles taut under that fitted navy polo like he was born to flex, with a scowl as always. it’s always that look—the one that’s aimed solely at you, every time he sees you. it’s practically a tradition by now. you show up somewhere, he glares.

there’s a tightness in his shoulders, something tells you he’s going to snap eventually, maybe it’s because you’ve been pushing buttons lately. maybe it’s because he’s got his daddy’s expectations hanging over his head like a guillotine.

or maybe it’s just because he wants you, and that little inconvenient truth pisses him off to no end.

you flash him a slow, lazy grin, shifting your hips as you grab a beer from the cooler. when you catch the way his eyes drag over you, lingering on your exposed skin, your stomach hums with satisfaction.

let him look. let him stew in it.

“country club,” you call sweetly, raising your bottle in a mock toast, the light catching on the condensation like it’s winking at him. “how’s it going?”

his jaw ticks, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“and yet, here i am,” you sing-song back, taking a slow, pointed sip. you’re feeling reckless tonight. he’s dangerous, sure. but he’s also predictable. you know exactly how to make it worse.  “aww, what’s wrong?”

you know exactly this’ll go. he’ll insult you, you’ll insult him back, and then—

his eyes narrow dangerously, that vein in his temple ticking. “what the fuck are you wearing?”

you blink innocently, glancing down at yourself. “clothes, obviously. why? does it bother you?”

“yeah,” he snaps, eyes raking over you again, lingering on the swell of your chest, the sliver of skin peeking out above your waistband. “aren’t you tired of slutting yourself around?”

your lips curl into a smirk, the slow burn of satisfaction warming your chest. this is exactly what you were hoping for.

“slutting myself around?” you echo, voice teasing. “didn’t know you were keeping tabs.” you cock your head, letting your gaze linger on his flushed cheeks, the way his nostrils flare, and that slight clench of his fists by his side.

he’s seething—looks ready to burst into flames right here in front of the bar. good.

he’s always been like this with you. short fuse, especially when it comes to what you’re wearing, how you look, where you go. but you’re onto him. you know what it’s really about.

“you must really be obsessed with me,” you continue, “it’s kinda weird, don’t you think?” you take another sip, slow and deliberate, licking your lips as you meet his glare. he steps closer, crowding into your space, his chest brushing against your shoulder. you should back up, or at least pretend to care, but you just tilt your head, looking up at him with a smug little grin. “what’s wrong?” you murmur, “feeling a little tense?

“fuck off,” he grits out, stepping back like he’s burned. but it’s too late. you’ve got him now.

you cock your head, giving him a slow, taunting smile. “why? afraid you’ll get hard in front of your little friends?”

his eyes darken, jaw clenched so hard you wonder if it hurts. “i swear to god—”

“what?” you interrupt, teeth flashing. “you gonna hit me? break another one of your daddy’s toys?” you wave your hand around the pristine room, the glittering chandelier, the polished bar. “go on, then. show everyone what a psycho you are.”

“you think i won’t?” 

“yeah, i think you won’t,” you say softly, staring right into those burning blue eyes of his. “because you’re all bark and no bite.”

“you wanna see bite?” he murmurs, voice dripping venom. “i’ll show you fucking bite.”

then his hand snaps out, wrapping around your upper arm, and before you can react, he’s yanking you out of the room, down a hallway that’s all shadowed corners. you stumble, cursing under your breath, but he doesn’t stop until you’re both crashing through a side door into some empty back corridor.

“jesus, cameron, take a fucking xanax—” you start, wrenching your arm free.

for a second, you think you’ve gone too far. his whole body goes still, and something flares in his gaze—something unhinged and a little bit terrifying. but instead of snapping, instead of throwing a punch, he leans in, so close you can feel the heat of him against your skin.

you’re shoved against the wall, hard, his body caging yours in, his hands braced on either side of your head. you freeze, breath hitching. he’s close—too close—and it’s too hot and too much and—

“shut up,” he growls.

you should tell him to fuck off. you should knee him in the balls. you should do anything but feel the way you do right now—flushed, breathless, and…too horny for your own good. 

“do you always have to be so fucking dramatic?” you huff, placing your hand in chest in a futile attempt to push him away. you know he can break you in half if he wants to. 

he doesn’t move of course, just stares at you, chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. he’s got that crazed look in his eyes that should make you run for the hills, and yet you stay put.

and then, suddenly, his mouth is on yours, demanding and angry.

it’s not a kiss—it’s a punishment. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding against yours with a harshness that steals your breath. you gasp, your hands coming up to shove him away again, but somehow they get tangled in his hair instead, gripping the soft strands as he presses closer, closer— it’s a disaster. you’re a disaster. because you don’t pull away. 

you kiss him back like an idiot, just as desperate, your nails digging into his scalp as you pour all your frustration into the kiss. why does he have to be this hot? in your books, kooks aren't allowed to be hotter than a 5. unfortunately, rafe is a solid eleven.

he tastes like mint and rage, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does. god, it does. he breaks away, panting, glaring down at you like you’re dirt under his shoes. “you drive me fucking insane, y’ know that?”

“good,” you gasp, licking your lips. “you deserve it.”

he laughs, a low, harsh sound. “you’re such a fucking bitch.”

“and you’re a spoiled, narcissistic asshole,” you snap back, shoving at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch, just glares harder, and it sends a thrill through your entire body. you’d never seen him like this, so unguarded and it was weirdly intoxicating. 

“i should ruin you,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. his hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw, trailing down your throat. “make you beg.”

you keep your expression defiant. “you think you can?”

rafe smirks, slow and dangerous, and it makes something burst in your belly. “i know i can.”

his hand slides lower, fingertips brushing the hem of your top, and your breath catches. you should stop this again. you should slap him, kick him, do anything but let him keep touching you like that, but you don’t. you just stare up at him, heart racing.

“show me then.”

and then his hands are on you, yanking you forward, spinning you around. you gasp, palms slapping against the wall as he presses up behind you, his body solid against yours.

“you’re a fucking brat,” he growls, his mouth right against your ear. one of his hands comes up, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make your back arch.

“and you’re obsessed with me,” you shoot back breathlessly, tilting your head to meet his gaze over your shoulder.

rafe’s grip tightens in your hair, hard enough to sting, and his lips brush your earlobe, “obsessed?” he repeats, like he can’t believe you had the fucking audacity to say it. “don’t flatter yourself, baby.”

but you feel the way his body presses against yours. your panties might be drenched but this man is just as hard. he’s close to you—so fucking close—you feel every ridge of him, and despite every insult he’s ever thrown your way, despite how much he claims to hate you, he’s here. the way he’s breathing tells you exactly what you need to know. 

you twist against him, pushing back just enough to test his restraint. “then why are you so worked up, huh?”

“i think you’re confusing us.”

“sure,” you laugh, even as his hands move down your sides, his fingernails digging into your hips. “that’s why you dragged me out here, right? because you’re just so indifferent?”

his chest brushes against your back with every ragged breath. he’s losing it. you’re making him lose it. and fuck, that feels good.

“i could ruin you,” he whispers again, like he’s trying to convince himself. his hand skim up your ribs, thumb grazing the underside of your tit, and your senses kicks into overdrive. “one word from me, and you’re done.”

“you’re all talk cameron,” you challenge, arching your back slightly, giving him more room to touch you.

you shouldn’t want this—you shouldn’t need this—but you can’t stop. 

his mouth is on your neck, hot and open, teeth scraping against your skin in a way that sends a shudder from your head to your toes.

“fuck you,” he growls against your throat, the words almost lost in the heat of his mouth. “i’m not playin’ your games.”

you bite back a moan, fingers curling against the cold wall. “you’re already playing.”

“you’re so fucking—” he cuts himself off, breathing harshly through his nose. “fuck, i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” you turn your head just enough to catch his eye. his gaze is wild, and you smirk, taunting him with your lips just inches from his. “you wish you did.”

you know you’re pushing your luck, but then again, when haven’t you?

“you have no fucking clue what i wish,” he growls, each word dripping with so much frustration it makes you laugh.

it comes out like a soft, mocking sound. “ooh, i think i do. you wish i’d shut up. wish i’d disappear. but you really wish you didn’t get hard every time ’m around.”

his jaw ticks, that telltale sign that you’re getting to him. god, he hates you. you can see it in his clenched teeth, his furrowed brows. he hates that he wants a pogue and you find it hilarious.

“don’t flatter yourself pogue,” he snaps, but his voice is strained. his hands tighten on your hips, fingers biting into your skin just shy of painful.

you push back against him just a little harder again, feeling the rigid line of his cock pressed against your ass.

“yeah?” your voice turns breathy. “then why do i feel that?” you grind your hips subtly, just to punctuate the point, and the low sound that rumbles out of him is almost worth the risk of provoking him further.

“because you’re a fucking tease,” he mutters, voice harsh and low in your ear. “you show up, looking like you want it—”

“and so what if i do?”

it’s a dare. he’s holding you, like he can’t decide if he wants to strangle you or fuck you senseless, perhaps both. you know you’ve crossed some invisible line.

“you’re gonna regret this,” he murmurs.

“maybe,” you shoot back, unflinching. “but that’s the thing, rafe.” you twist, just enough to look at him over your shoulder, “i think you’re more scared of what you might regret.”

instead of shoving you away, instead of storming off, he does the one thing you didn’t expect. he laughs.

it’s that crazy sound he makes before he does something reckless every time, the kind that makes people run away. it’s such a humorless sound, it should scare the living shit out of you as he leans in, lips brushing against your neck. “don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

before you can answer, one hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his eyes. they’re wild, almost feral, just like you expected.

“tell me to stop,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your lower lip, the touch so gentle it’s almost jarring. “go on, say it.”

you swallow hard, pulse hammering in your throat. you should say it. but you don’t want to.

“make me.” you know he hears you—feels you—because the corner of his mouth lifts in a slow, taunting smirk.

“yeah?” he drawls, thumb slipping from your lip to trace along your jawline, his touch featherlight and maddening. “you sure?”

“prove me wrong. or are you scared?”

“you think ’m fucking scared of you? think i can’t handle a little mouthy brat like you?”

he’s goading you, pushing you like he always does, and every word you had prepared dies on your lips 

“i’d loooove to see you try.”

“oh, you will.”

[amateur-weatherman]

Nobody:

Absolutely No Single Person:

Aziraphale in the 1790's: ~oh no~ I'm *all locked up* and I can't do ANYTHING to save myself because I might get a (gasp) STRONGLY WORDED LETTER from ~Heaven~. If only a tall goth redhead could come and save me before I get (gasp) guillotined!

Crowley: here you idiot, you're free. Wtf are you wearing, by the way.

Aziraphale *face lighting up like the fucking sun*: oh goody you're here, let's go on a date!

[user211201]

Chronivac Coworkers

--- Originally posted on 2022-09-19 by davidrodge ---

You sit down at your desk and rub your eyes. Another day of paper pushing and number crunching to get through. It wasn’t like you had done anything particularly interesting the previous night. You had stayed up a little later playing some mediocre matches of online gaming - but when I guess when you get to be around 40, your body constantly feels like it’s been dragged behind a car down the high way. Not that you didn’t take care of yourself, in fact you’d say you looked pretty good for your age…

You stretch in your seat, and reach for your coffee as your computer powers on. The few windows illuminating the office show the first few morning beams of scorching July sunlight. Behind you, the door opens and your Coworker David strides in.

“Morning Adam!” He says in a strangely cheerful voice. You put your coffee down from your lips and give him a stare. Normally David was about 20 minutes later than he already was, and usually he walked into the office with the same enthusiasm you’d see in a man walking towards a guillotine.

“Morning Davo,” you say, typing in your far too long corporate password. “You seem less Zombie-like today, what are you so excited about?”

David Smiled as he sat down in his chair opposite from yours. You were techniqually Davids senior Manager, but the two of you had developed a decent friendship between Friday drinking and the occasional tennis match.

“Oh Nothing Adam, I just got to the top of the waitlist for this super cool Software, and I was finally able to download it!”

You nodded, half listening as you began logging into all your engineering system.

“Very Interesting, what’s the program called? Is it like a Gaming platform?” David opened up his laptop and started to type furiously.

“No it’s not a game at all, It’s an app called the Chronivac. It’s supposed to be a reality altering software. I had a friend in the UK that sent me the information for it, He said that it completely changed his life.”

You paused from your coffee long enough to lean over and roll your eyes at him.

“I hope you didn’t have to pay any money for it.” You moaned, “This Job doesn’t pay you enough for you to be wasting your time on Overseas Scams.”

David was absolutely transfixed on his laptop. A wide, slightly crazed looking grin spreading over his face.

“It actually ended up costing me thousands of dollars,” he said, now in a far quieter voice, “but it was completely worth it.”

“THousands Of DoLLARS!” You exploded, immediately turning the heads of the fellow desk jockeys nearby,

“SHut UP man,” David hissed, half closing his laptop defensively. You simmered as the both of you waited for the rest of your colleagues to return back to their work. David narrowed his Eyes at you, smile creeping back onto his face.

“It wasn’t a waste of money and I can prove it too you. Just let me find your profile really quick.”

“Wait, this thing has a profile for me on it?” You said, now even more concerned then before. “David, This seems like some really dangerous software And I definitely thing that you shou-“

Davids Computer cut you off with a cheerful beep, and immediately you felt a strange sensation course through your body.

“What the hell!” You shout as you start the world around you starts to grow. You feel a strange tightening sensation in your body, as you glance downward. Your clothing seemed to liquify, shifting from a smart suit and dress shirt into a casual tee. In shock you glance at the bay window and catch a reflection of yourself. There you were…. Or rather, there you were 20 years ago! You lift your hands up too your face and feel your skin. Wrinkle free, young, and real!

“ there’s no way this is real,” you say in a whisper. This has to be a dream you think, as you continue to explore your now unfamiliar body.

David leaned over the edge of his desk beaming,

“ See I told you man! This program is incredible!” He looked you over, seeming to be proud of his work. “Dang it’s crazy what taking 20 years off a man can do!”

You take a brief pause from reveling at your new found youth.

“ this is incredible David! How is this even possible?!”

“It’s the chronivac man! Like I said it’s freaking amazing and can change anything!” The wild grin still fresh on his face.

You stand up, coursing with a newfound energy.

“WE HAVE TO TELL EVERYONE ABOUT THIS!” You say ecstatically. The grin drops from David’s face.

“What?”

You begin to jog away from the desks, heading straight for the break room where you knew, most of your coworkers would still be gathered.

“We can change anything with this! This is going to be the coolest thing any of these morons have ever heard about!”

“Wait! No stop! Aww shit-“ you hear David shout as you continued running. You barely processed his voice or cared. You felt so alive! The excitement in your chest was all you could feel or even think of right now. You slid around the corner, breaking into a sprint down the hallway. You could hardly wait to introduce your new younger self to your coworkers and tell them about this amazing new device.

“GUYS, YOU WOULDNT BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO-“

Suddenly your voice catches In your throat, as your mouth dries out In an instant. You keep running, starting to trip over yourself on the concrete floor.

“ what the” you gasp through a dry mouth. Your tongue feels like a pillow in your mouth as you tumble to the floor. You are vaguely aware of the sight of your hands, which appear to be changing color and texture. Your vision fades with the sight of your fingers turning bright blue and seeming to collapse in on themselves.

You can’t seem to find your voice, or be able to move as you feel yourself shrinking. You feel an indescribable softening sensation on all sides as you slide to a stop. Suddenly, it’s over as quickly as it started, and there you lay on the floor. Your brain slows down, filled only with the most basic thoughts now.

“ what….. happened…” you think to yourself with great effort. Your aware of footsteps coming towards you from your position on the floor.

“ Sorry about that man, I just couldn’t have you sharing my new toy with the rest of the world. It’s kind of like a private club, ya know?

….David? You think through fuzzy thoughts.

“ I’m still learning how to use the program haha, but you did turn out to be a nice pair of underwear Adam.”

You feel your now small form being lifted from the floor, then shoved into a pocket. David’s pocket.

“Don’t worry man, we’ll get you sorted out. I think you’ll make a really good practice for me before I start changing myself.”

You couldn’t respond at all, but felt almost at home In the musky warm pocket you were haphazardly shoved into.

….so … nice… you find yourself thinking. You try to shake the fuzz out of your primitive mind. Trying to remember anything besides the new world you found yourself in. You faintly hear David through his clothing.

“ alright, I think the first thing we should do is get you home so we can have some fun.” You feel yourself being lifted from his pocket and placed back on the ground. You felt a longing to be back in the warm musky dark.

“this time however, I think we’ll turn your awareness off.”

David smiled punching his new specifications into the chronivac program. Adam wouldn’t remember any of what just happened, and also be open to his suggestions. The underwear on the pavement started to expand, shifting and changing until Adam once again stood in front of him with a slightly dazed look on his face.

“is it weird that that kind of turned me on…” David muttered to himself.

“Dave… what the hell is going on? Adam said In a bewildered voice. His voice echoed in the parking garage that they now stood in. David smiled, and typed into the chronivac.

“you were about to give me a ride home, remember big guy?”

Adam, still looking confused, but seemingly unaware of the last 20 minutes of his life shrugged and fished for his car keys.

“Alright man but don’t judge about the mess in my car.” He smiled and clicked his horn. The two of you walked over to the old SUV Adam drove and stepped inside, scooting aside the old take out bags and random junk. Adam sheepishly got In and fastened his seatbelt.

“Thanks for taking me home man, I wasn’t feeling the best.” David said hiding a smile while still typing in his computer. Adam started the car and began to pull out of the parking lot.

“no problem man, it’s been a boring day for me anyway.”

I’m sure it was… David thought pulling up Adams profile again. David pulled up Adams profile. He continued to explore it as they got on the highway - passing the braves stadium. Now it was time to really see what this program could do. He clicked on the occupation section and replaced senior engineer with Uber driver and hit enter. The cars interior suddenly shifted, quickly becoming neater and tidier. An Uber sticker appeared on the windshield. David smiled and Adam glanced over at him.

“Hey you owe me tho David,” he smiled “I could be making money right now instead of driving your ass around.”

“for sure man, I’ll make it up to you.” David grinned. He clicked onto Adams body specifications.

Alright let’s slide that age way down�� maybe 22? He looked good like that, but let’s pump up his muscle mass by 80 pounds and increase his attractiveness level. David pulled open Adams identity profile and messed around with a few things. Instead of being a work friend, Adams new relationship to David was a complete stranger. David deleted Adams previous educational experience tab and input college fraternity brother into his profile. He dropped the IQ level down to one of the lower settings. It might be nice for Adam to worry about less right? He input “easygoing” into his profile. He hit shuffle on race, just for some added fun and eagerly hit enter.

the change was immediate. Adam shifted in his seat, losing a few inches of height but gaining a ridiculous amount of mass everywhere. His legs filled in his pants so quickly David thought they might burst. His arms ballooned outwards and his face shifted to a cocky smirk. His pecs jutted out against his shirt, bouncing with the cars motion. The clothes he previously wore liquified and stretched tight against his body - becoming a simple tee shirt and short shorts. His hair styled itself into a skin fade, and a tan crept over his body. A backwards cap materialized on his head, and a stud In his ear as he glanced over at David.

“What? You like what you see man haha?”

The new Adam raised his arm and flexed his now massive bicep.

You both laughed as you felt a mixture of pride and arousal. Adam put a beefy arm on the dash of his car and started typing into the gps, stopping at an intersection .

“Where was it you said you wanted to be dropped off again sir?”

David rattled off his address, trying to hide the growing… excitement that was beginning to show In his crotch. The new Adam glanced down and smirked at David, but continued driving. David smiled, reviewing Adams profile again.

“ So what do you have going on in your life… Adam right?” David asked, trying for conversation with his previous boss.

“We’ll I’m just chilling at the university right now…” Adam said with a dull laugh, “spending a lot of time at the gym and with the boys right now.”

David nodded absentmindedly, sliding Adams sexuality to nearly 100 Percent gay. Just to see what would happen. He slid the Libido curser to high and glanced back up at Adam. A distracted look now plastered on his face, one hand on the wheel, one hand now migrating down to his shorts.

“… and you know… spending time… with the boys.”

David could barely contain his excitement as the two pulled up to his house. Adam threw the vehicle in park and shifted his Adonis frame in his seat to face David.

“Hey man, don’t even worry about the ride today, it was nice meeting you. I’ll void the bill In the app.” He said with a smile. David met his gaze and blushed. Oh my god, was he flexing?

“Oh that’s really too nice of you man, there’s really no need.” David stuttered

Adam smiled and bit his lip, he hopped out of the car to get David’s door.

“No I insist. I Really enjoyed being your driver today.”

David stepped out of the car, amazed by what he had been able to do to his friend. The new Adam held out his hand for a solid high five. He winked and said,

“Message me if you ever need a ride again bro.” With that, he strutted back to his car, then got in and sped down the road - blasting music.

David stood on the edge of the driveway. Clutching his lap top and trying to calm himself. He began to stride into his house, weighing his options. People had warned him, that the chronivacs power could really go to your head if you didn’t have a handle on it. He unlocked the door and paced into his living room. David hadn’t thought much about it, but man had he really surprised himself. In the space of 1 hour he had changed his boss into a horny college himbo without so much as a blink.

He through himself onto the couch and started up at the ceiling. David smiled, thinking of the limitless possibilities that now awaited him. He could literally become whatever he wanted to. Could change the world in whatever way he wanted. The possibilities were so endless p, he had no idea what to do.

After a moment of watching the rotating fan David grinned. He didn’t know all the things he wanted to change, but he did know what he wanted right now. He pulled his laptop back up and fired up the chronivac. Adams profile still displayed on screen. David clicked into Adams relationship status and began clicking around. It took a second to find the option, “willing to sleep with any man.” But David aggressively slammed the enter button and pulled out his phone, finding an Uber text string with the new Adam.

“Thanks again for the free ride today man. Was wondering if you wanted to ride anything else tonight? 😘🍆”

He waited breathlessly for a moment before three dots appeared on his screen, and then a message. Apparently a picture the new Adam had taken at the gym.

“on my way back big guy”

David slammed his laptop closed and ran to change into some more relaxed clothes. That was enough messing with the chronivac for the day. It was amazing what a horny stud he had been able to change his boss into. And ridiculous how quickly David had fallen for him.

David wrestled with his tie and glanced out the bedroom window as a car raced up. The new and improved Adam jumped out and started sauntering towards the door, already removing his shirt. David could only stares as he felt himself begin to go hard. He and Adam were going to have a lot of fun tonight.

[mellowwillowy]

Yandere who tricked you into debt with each game you played against him. You really shouldn't have involved yourself with the shady bastard who refers to himself as a 'Sponsor'.

You had always been intrigued by the mysterious man referred to as the 'Sponsor'. He lured you into a dangerous world of games and debts, ensnaring you in his web of manipulation. He promised lucrative rewards and fame, a high-risk high-reward game yet each time you played against him, he would trick you into incurring more debts with every loss.

His games were rigged against you and each game you played brought you further into debt. Now, he had you exactly where he wanted you – in a position of desperation and with no way out.

His slender fingers lightly stroked your arm, his touch like a whisper of poisoned air. You had just lost a hand of poker against him, a swift defeat caused by his royal flush against your full house. With a sickeningly sweet cooing tone in his voice, he gripped your face by the cheeks, his nails digging into your flesh.

"I thoroughly enjoyed our game, but did you?" He asked in a mocking tone, his eyes sneering and uncaring at the way you trembled against his touch and tone.

You tried to shake him off, or at least pull your face away, but his grip was tight and firm. His maroon eyes gazed into yours, unblinking and unrelenting. With a shivering lip, you snarled at him through gritted teeth; "Curse you, you fraud."

A curse in retaliation instead of a plea, it truly amused the 'Sponsor'.

In a split second, you were pinned beneath him, your back hitting the poker table. The impact of the collision knocked the air out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath. While you were still gasping for air, his face was now inches away from your neck. His tongue licked a stripe up from your now forcibly exposed collarbone to your jaw, sending a shudder of revulsion through you.

"I really like you," he whispered, his breath hot and heavy on your skin before he added, "You never fail to show me just how shallow you can be."

Right before he could bite your neck, you managed to thrash free from his iron grip and elbowed him right on the face. He staggered back, rubbing his red cheek in shock. His eyes blinked at you in an empty daze once, twice.

As he regained his bearings, his eyes flickered into a familiar teal hue. Erickson's teal eyes came back to focus and he broke into a laugh.

"Why, I just enjoyyyy teaching disobedient pups like you." The veins on his neck stood out, and though he tried to feign politeness in his tone, the scrunched-up brows betrayed him.

"Stupid mutt," he spat the words out, his fingernails digging deeper into your cheek, threatening to tear it open.

"You should have just behaved and I'll let you live as a pampered cat thoroughly." Your struggles only seemed to excite him further, tightening his grip on your cheek and raising his other palm threateningly.

Just before Erickson could slap you, a man held Erickson in place, preventing him from landing the blow. "How much is their debt?" He inquired, his tone dripping with indifference.

Both men locked eyes, maroon against teal, both of them resembling each other quite a lot if not for their physical stature.

"And what do you think you are doing, Noel?" Erickson asked, his head cocked to the side. To your surprise, he didn't seem to mind the interference.

"I am here to sever them from you debt-wise," the man who you assumed to be Noel replied, his other hand motioning like the blade of a guillotine falling down.

Erickson barked into a laugh before he decided to let you go. He gave Noel a theatrical head shake, "Why of course, why not ask this little mutt how much they owe me?"

Noel walked over to you and helped you rise to both feet, his maroon eyes bore into yours, the answer was obvious.

Upon hearing the ridiculous amount of your debt, Noel's brows scrunched as he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. Erickson merely smirked and shuffled the playing card, seemingly enjoying the show.

Moments of silence passed, except for Erickson's whistling.

"I'll loan you the fund for you to gamble with me. It'll be half of your debt and you are to play against me to pay off your debt."

Erickson raised both of his eyebrows before laughing again, this time in a mocking manner.

"Aren't you lucky, mutt? You got yourself a 'Sponsor'."

"If you are worried about losing and falling into a larger pool of debt, then rest assured because I guarantee you that it will end with your victory." "And how do we gamble for it?" Noel held out his right hand, "As simple as rock, paper, and scissors."

You tilted your head, a curious expression tinted with suspicion on your face, "What's the catch?" "You'll have to play paper against my rock twice. That's the catch." Erickson smirked, a mocking gaze twinkling in his eyes as he interfered, "No," Erickson's fair face twisted into a mocking smile, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What's the catch, dearest brother?"

"... You'll have to pay your debt off and stay away from gambling for as long as you are still under my wings."

****

It ended in a swift victory. Noel kept his end of the deal well, allowing you to pocket a large sum of money, which you promptly passed on to Erickson to clear your debt.

You believed that you had reached a happy ending, having successfully cleared your debt.

Erickson pocketed the cheques and elbowed his brother from behind, his lips curling into a smirk.

However, your sense of ease quickly dissolved, the momentary relief was dampened as Erickson turned around and spoke to you.

"I suppose it's time for you to pay up."

You looked at Erickson dumbfounded, "What?"

Erickson simply folded his hand and cocked one of his eyebrows, "Pay up what you owe."

"I have paid off my debt on you, what the fuck do I owe to you again?"

If you had a cent for every time Erickson laughed, you would indeed be filthy rich. He was still cackling with his arms wrapped around his stomach, folded into a laughing mess, apparently finding something very funny about your plight.

You looked on in confusion as Erickson continued to laugh. After another moment, his thumb pointed to your 'Sponsor'.

"Not me you silly head," he stated, "but him."

It is suffocating. "I never stated that it was an interest-free loan."

Has this man always been the devil in a saint robe? "And you are not allowed to gamble to earn the money you owe me. Not for as long as you are still under his wings. Kha-ha! I really want to help you but that's what you get for striking a deal with the saint."

The devil and fallen saint had captured its lover through collusion.

[lemedstudent2021]

im so proud of this generation. we are organised and the transgressors will suffer. we will make them suffer. they can only hide for so long. the power is, was, and always will be with the people.

Over on Tiktok, people are organising to mass block celebrities that haven't talked about Palestine in a campaign called "Blockout 2024". This has spread to Twitter and Instagram as well.

The idea is to mass block a list of major celebrities, including their brands and fan pages, and ignore them. Celebrities get money when we hate on them, but blocking and ignoring them makes them loose attention and therefore money.

Does it work? Well yes! Lizzo lost several million followers in a day and has suddenly spoken out in support of Palestine. You only need to block a social media account. Its very easy.

Which platforms? As many as you have or use. This includes Spotify!

Which celebs? A lot of peoples blocklists vary but the names I've seen the most are:

Taylor Swift

Rihanna

Beyoncè

Kim Kardashian

Kylie Jenner

Selena Gomez

However, the idea is to block all celebrities and influencers that don't support Palestine or haven't spoken out for Palestine. This can be ANY celebrity or influencer, and yes, this includes Kpop and MCYT. Encourage your fandoms and fan bases to block!

YOU, the consumer, provide a celebrities income. No consumer, no income. It's time to utilise that power!

[badjokesbyjeff]

A physicist, a mathematician, and an engineer are all found guilty of treason and sentenced to death by guillotine.

The priest reads them their last rites, then the king orders the executioner to kill the physicist.

The executioner offers the physicist two choices: would he like a hood on or off, and would he like to be executed face up or face down. The physicist replies, "I spent my whole life studying the heavens. I would like to face the sky, with the hood on like night!"

The executioner positions the physicist and drops the blade... ... and it stops inches from the physicists' neck.

The priest cries, "It's a sign from God! This man is innocent! Set him free!", so the king pardons him, and orders the mathematician executed next.

The executioner offers the mathematician the same choices: would he like a hood on or off, and would he like to be executed face up or face down. The mathematician replies, "They all result in an equivalent state, but hood off face down is the most elegant solution!"

The executioner positions the mathematician and drops the blade... ... and it stops inches from the mathematician's neck.

The priest cries, "It's a sign from God! This man is innocent! Set him free!", so the king pardons him, and orders the engineer executed next.

The executioner offers the engineer the same choices: would he like a hood on or off, and would he like to be executed face up or face down. The engineer replies, "I have always loved machines, and there is no more elegant a killing machine than the guillotine. I will spend my final moments marveling in its beauty!"

The executioner positions the engineer and, as he's about to drop the blade, the engineer shouts:

"I see the problem!"

[amateurvoltaire]

Exhibition 1793-1794 at the Carnavalet Museum (Part I)

For anyone interested in the French Revolution, a visit to the Carnavalet Museum is essential. Though the museum covers the history of Paris from its very beginnings to the present, it’s also home to the world’s largest collection of revolutionary artefacts. Which makes sense, given that Paris was the epicentre of it all.

Frankly, if you plan to explore it all, you’ll want to set aside a good 3–4 hours. For those focused solely on the French Revolution, head straight to the second floor, where you can get through the collection in under an hour. Best of all, the permanent collection is free, making it a brilliant way to spend an afternoon in the city on a budget.

Currently, though, there’s a special treat on offer. Running from 16 October 2024 to 16 February 2025, the museum is hosting an exhibition dedicated to my favourite (and arguably the most chaotic) year of the revolution: Year II (1).

Now, since the family and I were in Reims for a long weekend, I somehow managed (possibly after too much Champagne) to convince my husband to drive 150 kilometres to Paris just so I could see Robespierre’s unfinished signature. It helped that the kids were on board, too. Yes, the four-year-old fully recognises Robespierre by portrait. The one-year-old is, predictably, indifferent.

So, slightly worse for wear after a ridiculous amount of Champagne tastings, off we went to the museum.

1. Why Year II?

Because it was a catastrophe. No. Really.  Let me explain, in a very overly-simplified summary:

In Year II, France was plunged into an unparalleled storm of internal and external crises that would define the Revolution’s most radical year and ultimately mark its turning point.

Internally, the government was riven by factional divides, economic collapse, and civil war. The Jacobins (2) took control of the Convention, sidelining the federalist Girondins (3), aligning themselves with the sans-culottes (4), and arguing that only extreme measures could preserve the Revolution. Meanwhile, the more radical Enragés (5) demanded harsh economic policies to shield the poor from spiralling inflation and food shortages. The Convention introduced the Maximum Général (6) to placate them, which capped essential prices; however, enforcement was haphazard, fuelling discontent across the country. At the same time, the Indulgents (7) called for a reduction in violence and a return to clemency.

Externally, France’s situation was equally dire, encircled by the First Coalition—a formidable alliance of Britain, Austria, Prussia, Spain, and the Dutch Republic, all intent on crushing the Revolution before it spread further. With the execution of Louis XVI, France found itself diplomatically isolated, and the army was, frankly, a shambles. Most officers were either nobles or incompetent (8), and the soldiers were inadequately trained and equipped. In a desperate bid to defend the Republic, the Convention issued the Levée en Masse (9) in August 1793, sparking revolts in many cities and outright civil war in the West.

Confronted with this barrage of existential threats, the Convention dialled up its response in spectacular fashion, unleashing what we now know as the Terror—a period of sweeping repression backed by some rather questionable legislation. As you can likely guess from the name alone, this was a brilliant idea…

Put simply: by the end of Year II, nearly all the key figures who had spearheaded the Revolution up to that point were dead. And no, they didn’t slip away peacefully in their sleep from some ordinary epidemic. They met their end at the guillotine.

In short, Year II wasn’t just the Revolution's most radical and defining phase—it was also the year the Revolution itself died. Yes, the Revolution, in its truest, purest, most uncompromising form, met its end the moment the guillotine's blade struck Robespierre’s neck.

2. Overview of the exhibition

The visit  opens with the destruction of the 1791 Constitution and closes with Liberty, an allegorical figure of the Republic depicted as a woman holding the Declaration of the Rights of Man in her right hand. In between, the experience is structured around five main themes:

A New Regime: The Republic

Paris: Revolution in Daily Life

Justice: From Ordinary to Exceptional

Prisons and Execution Sites

Beyond Legends

More than 250 artefacts are featured, including paintings, sculptures, decorative arts, historical items, wallpapers, posters, and furniture. The layout is carefully structured around these themes, with a distinct use of colour to set the tone: the first three sections have a neutral palette, while the final two glow in vivid red, creating a very nice change in atmosphere.

What I appreciated most was how the descriptions handle the messy legacy of Year II. The texts actually admit that, while some Parisians saw this year as a bold step towards equality and utopia, for others it was an absolute nightmare. This balance is refreshing, even if things are a bit simplified (because how could they not be?), and it gives a well-rounded view of a wildly complicated time.

In this first part, I'll focus on the first two sections, as the latter three fit together neatly and deserve a deep dive of their own. Besides, there's so much to unpack that I'll likely exceed Tumblr's word limit (and the patience of anyone reading this).

3. A New Regime: The Republic

The first section covers the shift from the Ancien Régime to the First Republic, and, fittingly, it starts with a smashed relic of the old order: the Constitution of 1791. After the monarchy’s fall and the republic’s proclamation in September 1792, the old constitution was meaningless. Though it technically remained in force for a few months, it was replaced by the Constitution of Year I in 1793, marking the end of France’s brief experiment with a constitutional monarchy. In May 1793, the old document was ceremonially obliterated with the “national sledgehammer”—a bit dramatic, perhaps, but Year II was nothing if not dramatic.

This section zeroes in on the governance of the new republic, featuring the Constitution of Year I, portraits of convention members, objects from the Committee of Public Safety and the National Convention (including a folder for Robespierre’s correspondence), and national holiday memorabilia. There’s even a nice nod to Hérault de Séchelles (10) as a principal author of the republican constitution.

3.1 Martyrdom as a political tool

Interestingly, the exhibition places a heavy emphasis on the concept of martyrdom. A significant portion of this first area is dedicated to the Death of Marat (11) and, to a lesser extent, the assassination of Le Peletier (12). It’s a clever angle since martyrs—whether well-known figures or nameless soldiers—have always been handy for rallying public opinion. The revolutionary government of Year II understood this all too well and wielded the concept to its full advantage.

In this spirit, the middle of this section features a reproduction of David’s Death of Marat, several drawings from Marat’s funeral, Marat’s mortuary mask, a supposed piece of his jaw, and more. Notably absent are any issues of L’Ami du Peuple, as though the display suggests Marat’s death was more impactful to the Republic’s narrative than his actual writings. I’d agree with that—the moment he died, he was elevated to a mythic status, and his legacy as a martyr of Year II took on a life of its own.

4. Paris: Revolution in Daily Life

While the first section focuses on the workings of governance, this part delves into Year II’s impact on ordinary Parisians. This period stands out for two reasons: France was in economic and political turmoil (wars, both internal and external, aren’t exactly budget-friendly), yet it also managed to introduce some remarkably forward-thinking legislation aimed at improving the lives of the common people.

4.1 The Paris Commune & Paranoia

To understand life in Paris during Year II, we can’t overlook the role of the Paris Commune (13). Rooted in the revolutionary spirit of the Estates General of 1789 and officially formalised by the law of 19 October 1792, the Commune was the governing body responsible for Paris. Divided into forty-eight sections, each with its own assembly, it gave citizens a strong voice in electing representatives and local officials. Led by a mayor, a general council, and a municipal body, the Commune handled essential civic matters like public works, subsistence, and policing.

From 2 June 1793 to 27 July 1794 (the height of Year II), the Commune implemented the policies of the Montagnard (14) Convention, which aimed to build a social structure grounded in the natural rights of man and citizen, reaffirmed on 24 June 1793. This social programme sought to guarantee basic rights such as subsistence (covering food, lighting, heating, clothing, and shelter), work (including access to tools, raw materials, and goods), assistance (support for children, the elderly, and the sick; rights to housing and healthcare), and education (fostering knowledge and preserving arts and sciences).

All this unfolded in an atmosphere thick with paranoia and intense policing; enemies were believed to lurk everywhere. The display does a solid job of capturing this side of the Paris Commune, featuring various illustrations that urged people to conform to new revolutionary norms—wear the cockade, play your part in the social order, fight for and celebrate the motherland, and so on.

One of my favourite pieces was the record of cartes de sûreté (safety cards) from one of the 48 Parisian sections. Made compulsory for Parisians in April 1793, these cards were meant to confirm that their holders weren’t considered “suspects” in a climate thick with paranoia. This small, seemingly random document—issued or revoked at the discretion of an equally random Revolutionary Committee—had the power to decide a person’s freedom or the lack of it.

At the risk of sounding sentimental, in the study of history, we often focus on broad events and overlook the "little guy" who lived through them. But here, this record reminds us that behind each document was, in fact, a real person. And that this very real person was trying to make their way through a reality that, 230 years ago, must have felt stifling and, at times, terrifying.

4.2 Education

A significant spotlight is rightly placed on education in this exhibition section, given the sweeping changes it underwent during the Revolution.

Before 1789, Paris was well-supplied with educational institutions. Eleven historic colleges and a semi-subsidised university offered prestigious studies in theology, law, medicine, and the arts, drawing students from across France. Inspired by Enlightenment ideals, boarding schools and specialised courses in subjects like science and mathematics had sprung up, mainly catering to the middle class, while working-class children attended charity schools. Private adult education also provided technical and scientific training. The catch? Most of these were church-operated.

Revolutionary policies targeting the Church caused a mass departure of teachers, financial difficulties, and restrictions on hiring unsalaried educators. Military demands, economic turmoil, and protests added to the strain on schools. Even the Sorbonne (15) was shut down in 1792, and by late 1793, nearly all Parisian colleges were closed except for Louis-le-Grand (16), which was renamed École Égalité. With the teacher shortage and soaring inflation, a handful of institutions struggled on.

This left the Convention and the Paris Commune scrambling to find new ways to educate the young, and they rose (or at least attempted to rise) to the occasion. On 19 December 1793, the Bouquier Decree aimed to establish free, secular, and mandatory primary education—a remarkable move, though it never fully materialised due to lack of funding.

With France at war, the Convention turned public education towards the needs of a nation in crisis. Throughout 1793 and 1794, new scientific and technical programmes sprang up to meet urgent demands, combat food shortages, and push social progress. Thousands of students were trained in saltpetre refinement (vital for gunpowder), and scientific knowledge spread beyond chemists to artisans and tin workers. In the final months of Year II, a saltpetre refinement zone was set up, the École de Mars was founded to rapidly train young men in military techniques, and the École Centrale des Travaux Publics (future École Polytechnique) was established to develop engineers in military-technical fields.

The education display features a fascinating array of educational degrees, lists of primary school students, and instructor rosters. Although a bit more context on the educational upheaval would have been helpful, the artefacts themselves are intriguing. Placed in the context of the rest of the exhibit, it’s clear that the new educational system wasn’t just about breaking away from the Ancien Régime; it was also very deliberately and openly crafted to instil republican ideals. Nothing illustrates this better than the way Joseph Barra(17) was promoted as a model for students at the École de Mars.

And, of course, this section also showcases one of the most enduring legacies of the Revolution: the introduction of the metric system and modern standardised measurements.

4.3 The (lack of) Women in Year II

The women of Year II were not real women. They were symbols—or so the imagery from the era would have us believe. There is shockingly little about the actual experiences of women in the collective memory of Year II.

Women played active roles in the Revolution. They filled the Assembly’s tribunes as spectators, mobilised in the sections, founded clubs, joined public debates, signed petitions, and even participated in mixed societies. In many cases, they worked side by side with men to bring about the Republic of Year II. So where are they?

Well, they’re certainly not prominent in this exhibition—but that’s not the fault of the organisers. It’s a reflection of how the time chose to represent them. In revolutionary imagery, women became allegories: symbols of Liberty, wisdom, the Republic, or the ideal mother raising citizens for the state, often reduced to stereotypes and caricatures. Rarely were they depicted as part of the public sphere.

The absence of a serious discourse on women’s rights in this part of the exhibition speaks volumes and is true to the period itself. At the time, there was no cohesive movement for women’s rights, and while specific individuals pushed for aspects of female citizenship, these efforts lacked unity or a common cause. Eventually, being perceived as too radical, all women's clubs were closed in 1973.

4.4 Dechristianisation

In my view, dechristianisation was perhaps the greatest misstep of the various governments from 1789 onwards. Not because I think religion should be central to people’s lives—not at all—but because, in 18th-century France, it simply was essential for most. The reasoning behind this attack on religion was sound enough: no government wants to be beholden to a pope in Rome who had heavily supported the deposed king. But in practice, the application of this principle was far from effective.

By Year II, Parisian authorities were still grappling with the fallout from the Civil Constitution of the Clergy (1790), which had left Catholics split between two competing churches: the constitutional church, loyal to the Revolution, and the refractory church, loyal to Rome. Patriotic priests suspected refractory priests of using their influence to fuel counter-revolutionary sentiment—a suspicion that only intensified the general atmosphere of paranoia.

As tension mounted, it devolved, as these things often do, into outright destruction. On 23 October 1793, the Commune of Paris ordered the removal of all monuments that "encouraged religious superstitions or reminded the public of past kings." Religious statues were removed, replaced by images of revolutionary martyrs like Le Peletier, Marat, and Chalier (19), in an effort to supplant the cult of saints with the cult of republican heroes.

The exhibition presents this wave of destruction with artefacts from ruined religious statues, the most striking being the head of one of the Kings of Judah from Notre-Dame’s facade. These 28 statues were dragged down and mutilated in a frenzy against royalist symbols in 1793. . Ironically, they weren’t even French kings; they were Old Testament kings, supposedly ancestors of Christ—a fact that most people at the time were probably blissfully unaware of. But hey, destruction in the name of ignorance is nothing new, is it?

Many in the Convention and the Commune were atheists and enthusiastically supported the secularisation of public life. Unfortunately, they didn’t represent the majority of the French population. To bridge this gap, Robespierre proposed a "moral religion" without clergy, a way for citizens to unite and celebrate a shared, secularised liberty. In December 1793, the Convention passed a decree granting "unlimited liberty of worship," leading to the Festival of the Supreme Being, held in Paris and throughout France on 8 June 1794.

As with so much in Year II, the "Supreme Being" affair was a logical solution to a pressing problem that ended up blowing up in Robespierre’s face—by now, you might detect a pattern. But that’s a story for Part II of this already very long post.

5. Conclusion to Part 1

Overall, the exhibition presents the first two themes—A New Regime: The Republic and Paris: Revolution in Daily Life—in a balanced way, which I really appreciate. I was expecting a bit more sensationalism, given that Year II is known for its brutality, but instead, it provides a thoughtful overview of how the Republic was structured and the impact this had on Parisians.

The range of media and text offers a good dive into key points, especially on everyday life during the period. I didn’t listen to everything, but from what I saw, the explanations were well done. Naturally, since the exhibition is aimed at the general public, many aspects are simplified.

For younger audiences (pre-teens, perhaps?), the exhibit includes 11 watercolour illustrations by Florent Grouazel and Younn Locard. These two artists attempt to fill the gaps by depicting events from the period that lack contemporary representation (like the destruction of the Constitution with the “national sledgehammer” on 5 May 1793—an event documented but unillustrated at the time). For each scene, they created a young character as an actor or observer, sometimes just a witness to history, to make the scene more immersive. It’s a nice touch, though easy to overlook if you’re not paying close attention.

In Part II, I’ll share my thoughts on the remaining themes: Justice, Prisons and Execution Sites, and Beyond Legends. And yes, a lot of that will involve Thermidor—how could it not?

In the meantime, if you made it this far… well, I’m impressed!

Notes

(1) Year II: Refers to the period from 22 September 1793 to 21 September 1794 in the French Revolutionary calendar.

(2) Jacobins: A political group advocating social reform and, by 1793, strongly promoting Republican ideals. Most revolutionaries were, or had once been, members of the Jacobin club, though by Year II, Robespierre stood out as its most prominent figure.

(3) Girondins: A conservative faction within the National Convention, representing provincial interests and, to some extent, supporting constitutional monarchy. Key figures included Brissot and Roland.

(4) Sans-culottes: Working-class Parisians who championed radical changes and economic reforms to support the poor. The name “sans-culottes” (meaning "without knee breeches") symbolised their rejection of aristocratic dress in favour of working-class trousers.

(5) Enragés: An ultra-radical group demanding strict economic controls, such as price caps on essentials, to benefit the poor. Led by figures like Jacques Roux and, to some extent, Jacques Hébert, the Enragés urged the Convention to fully break from the Ancien Régime.

(6) Maximum Général: A 1793 law imposing price caps on essential goods to curb inflation and aid the poor. Though well-intended, it was difficult to enforce and stirred resentment among merchants.

(7) Indulgents: A faction led by Danton and Desmoulins advocating a relaxation of the severe repressive measures introduced in Year II, calling instead for clemency and a return to more moderate governance.

(8) Incompetence: At the Revolution’s outset, military positions were primarily held by nobles. By Year II, these noble officers were often dismissed due to mistrust, and their replacements—particularly in the civil conflict in the West—were frequently inexperienced, and some, quite frankly, incompetent.

(9) Levée en Masse: A mass conscription decree of 1793 requiring all able-bodied, unmarried men aged 18 to 25 to enlist. This unprecedented mobilisation extended to the wider population, with men of other ages filling support roles, women making uniforms and tending to the wounded, and children gathering supplies.

(10) Hérault de Séchelles: A lawyer, politician, and member of the Committee of Public Safety during Year II, known primarily for helping to draft the Constitution of 1793.

(11) Jean-Paul Marat: A radical journalist and politician, fiercely supportive of the sans-culottes and advocating revolutionary violence in his publication L’Ami du Peuple. Assassinated in 1793, he became the Revolution’s most famous martyr.

(12) Louis-Michel Le Peletier de Saint-Fargeau: A politician and revolutionary who voted in favour of the king’s execution and was assassinated in 1793 shortly after casting his vote, becoming a symbol of revolutionary sacrifice.

(13) Paris Commune: Not to be confused with the better-known Paris Commune of 1871, this Commune was the governing body of Paris during the Revolution, responsible for administering the city and playing a key role in revolutionary events.

(14) Montagnard Convention: The left-wing faction of the National Convention, dominated by Jacobins, which held power during the Revolution’s most radical phase and implemented the Reign of Terror.

(15) Sorbonne: Founded in the 13th century by Robert de Sorbon as a theological college, the Sorbonne evolved into one of Europe’s most respected centres for higher learning, particularly known for theology, philosophy, and the liberal arts. It was closed during the Revolution due to anti-clerical reforms.

(16) Louis-Le-Grand: A prestigious secondary school in Paris, temporarily renamed École Égalité during the Revolution. Notable alumni include Maximilien Robespierre and Camille Desmoulins.

(17) Joseph Barra: A young soldier killed in 1793 during the War in the Vendée, whose death was used as revolutionary propaganda to inspire loyalty and martyrdom among French youth.

(18) Civil Constitution of the Clergy: A 1790 law that brought the Catholic Church in France under state control, requiring clergy to swear allegiance to the government. This split Catholics between “constitutional” and “refractory” priests, heightening religious tensions.

(19) Joseph Chalier: A revolutionary leader in Lyon who supported radical policies. He was executed in 1793 after attempting to enforce these policies, later becoming a martyr for the revolutionary cause.

[yanderefarm]

yandere mad king introduction

same kinda vibe as before!! just letting you know more about him before I make part two!! i also have another request in my inbox for him. and yes he does have a boob window. and no I can't draw boobs

cw; violence, violence towards animals, nsft, yandere tendencies, manipulation, rough sex

Emil is called the mad king because he claimed the throne by killing his father and all his supporters. It wasn't out of malice but duty to his people but he doesn't mind people thinking poorly of him if it means they don't bother him.

He decided to marry your sister because of growing concern for the movements of your neighboring kingdom. He didn't actually care about her until she started to reject him so firmly.

He just likes things that are interesting. It was interesting that she was willing to let everyone die rather than be with him but its more interesting that you're willing to kill to keep them all safe.

He's bisexual, doesn't actually care if it's a man or woman he marries as long as they don't bore him. Of course the noblemen of his empire have more to say about this topic.

He'll probably kill them if they start acting homophobic towards you. His love for you is one thing but he also doesn't want anyone who's going to insult his decisions.

Once you get more comfortable with him he'll try to avoid you seeing any bloodshed or pain. Even if he had to execute his whole court he'd never let you witness it.

He's willing to be kind if you ask him cutely. He'd feel such a rush if you clung to him and begged for someone's life. That doesn't necessarily grant them mercy but it might give them a little more time.

If you're bigger than him and you act cute and pathetic its even more exciting. He loves the feeling of your larger body holding him and acting like he's your shield from anything you don't like.

If you're smaller than him it's cute too. He likes you sitting in his lap, head hidden in his chest too afraid to look.

If you're not scared, if you get a taste for the bloodshed that's interesting too. He'd love to guide your hands on his sword doing his dirty work.

If you show your stubborn side like your sister's he finds it fun. He likes to push you as far as he can. What can he do to get you to snap again? How far is too far?

Don't be stubborn until you're sure your family is safe though. Really don't want him to get his guillotine out again.

Speaking of!! Your family is/was made of 8 people. Your father is Elio and your mother is Estelle. Your eldest brother is Philip who is about 5 years older than you, then your sister Eliza who is only about 2 years older than you, then you, then after you is Isabella who is 15, your youngest brother is Anthony and he's 12, and finally the youngest child is Maria at 6.

If you're not like all into the fantasy of an entire royal family who isn't your actual real world family feel free to imagine it in an isekai way. I almost wrote it that way but decided it was a little too much. (Also if you don't mention where I got some of the names you get a cookie.)

Back to Emil. He will threaten your family up to and including the day of your wedding. He doesn't want you to back out last minute so until he slides that ring on your finger the knife is at their throats.

After your marriage is official he'll follow you around the castle sometimes. He'll watch you in the garden or stalk you through the halls. He ignores his work just to watch you read in the library.

He'll also adorn you with gifts if you want. You do have to give him the idea first. Either just asking him for something you like or slipping the hint to one of his close assistants.

It's not hard to guess he didn't have the happiest childhood so he doesn't really understand the idea of gifts or romance. He's just as likely to gift you a dead rat as he is a gold necklace if simply given the instructions to give something.

So yeah he's also not romantic. He's sweet don't get it twisted, he'd be kind and loving to you. He would adore you. But he's never been on a date and doesn't know how romance works.

You might never know how he attempted to court your sister but it might have been the reason for her stubbornness.

Still once he gets the hang of it he'll show his truest yandere tendency. Being a massive simp. Gifts, dates, touching, anything you tell him you like you'll get ten fold.

Honestly even if you didn't personally teach him what to do he'd probably just do disturbing versions of romance towards you. Dead rat gifts, poisoning your maids, chocolates full of razorblades, giving you your dead sister's head, messed up things.

He doesn't like being in pain but once he's in deep all you have to do is tell him to suffer and he would. You'd probably have to wait a few years into your marriage for that though. Butter him up first before you ask him to eat glass.

nsfw time!!

Just like romance he is a bit clueless about sex. If god (aka me) ever let him top he would cum first and then roll over and go to bed leaving you unsatisfied.

On your wedding night the maids will dress you both up in intimate garments and leave you to it. You don't have to sleep together then but if you decide to because he looks so pretty he'll let you use him however you want.

He'll be overly accommodating the first time you do it regardless of when. He needs to know what exactly you're doing before he starts to get more freaky with it.

The first time is so mind blowing for him. He didn't realize he could feel that good, he gets hearts in his eyes as he begs for more.

His favorite position is cowgirl or a mating press. He loves riding you and he's a total power bottom but his breeding kink trumps all.

His breeding kink is intense. It doesn't matter if you bring up breeding him first or not because his body knows it needs to be bred. He knows sex is for procreation and that's all he wants.

He begs for your babies, he begs to be a daddy. He doesn't like for you to waste a single drop of cum outside of his body. How could you waste it when he wants you to get him pregnant so badly?

If you jerk off alone, cum early during foreplay, or just try not to cum inside of him it doesn't matter. He'll scoop up any cum and either push it inside of him or suck it off his fingers.

He'll sneak into your room and steal your dirty underwear or dirty tissues to smell and lick clean. He knows it's a bit gross but he loves your smell and taste.

He could be ftm or cis it doesn't really matter because his behavior is the same.

He'd be down to get kinky too. Like previously stated he doesn't like pain but he would absolutely love it if you tried to hurt him during sex.

You can spit on him, choke him, slap him, scratch him, anything you want. He might pretend he'll fight back but he won't.

If you try to hurt him without proper warning he'd probably actually fight back at least a little bit. At a certain point he'd just trust you not to hurt him but it takes a while.

His absolute favorite is your dick buried balls deep inside of him and your hands tight around your neck. If you mating pressed him while you choked him he'd be putty in your hands. Tell him he can breathe when you cum and he'll cum so hard.

He doesn't hate soft vanilla sex either. Sometimes its really nice to be treated gently and adored. Run your hands over his scars and tell him he's pretty.

Call him your pretty princess and rub his stomach. Say he'd be a good daddy or mommy it doesn't matter which.

He'd probably cry if you did nothing but adore him. Overstimulate him for hours telling him how good he is and how he's so pretty and he'll sob.

Hell he'd probably start apologizing and begging for you to hate him for being such a horrible person. He's never known so much love as when he's with you.

After you're done either adoring him or breaking him he'd force you to cuddle him. Keep yourself buried inside him and hold him gently. You can play with his hair or kiss his bruises just as long as you stay with him.