#guess the cynicism would have helped here

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Do we know the favorite books that the French revolution figures liked to read? (It could be anyone, Robespierre or Saint just or Louis xvi it doesn't matter).

Much like this old ask about revolutionaries’ favorite dishes, I can’t say I know of any instance of someone exclaiming: ”this is 100% my favorite book,” but at tops people mentioning books that they thought were good or bad:

In his memoirs, Brissot writes he’s picking up Rousseau’s Confessions for the sixth time, so I guess that could qualify as a favorite book? send help

We have this list of books seized at Robespierre’s place after his death.

According to the memoirs of Élisabeth Duplay, Robespierre would read ”the works of Corneille, Voltaire and Rousseau” for her family in the evenings.

In a short biography over Desmoulins written in 1834, Marcellin Matton claims his favorite book was René Aubert de Vertot’s Histoire des révolutions arrivées dans le gouvernement de la République romaine (1719), of which he always carried a copy. Matton is an infamous romanticizer it’s from him we have the stupid leave myth for example, but I’m willing to give him some leeway here since he could have obtained the information from Camille’s mother-in-law and sister-in-law, who were his friends:

In one of his first classes, he received Vertot's Révolutions romaines as a prize. Reading this work transported him with admiration; in the future, he always had a volume in his pocket. It was for him an indispensable companion, it was his vade mecum. He used or lost at least twenty volumes. It is perhaps to this excellent work and to the particular work that he did on the discourses of Cicero and especially on his Philippics, that we owe the lively and sharp style which distinguishes all the writings coming from the pen of Camille .

Desmoulins was however less fond of Rousseau’s Confessions, in number 55 (December 1790) of Révolutions de France et de Brabant he admits that he abandoned the book after getting infuriated by it:

Not that I idolize J.J. as I did in the past, since I saw in his Confessions that he had become an aristocrat in his old age. How far he was from looking at an Alexander with the pride of this Cynic, to whom he is compared, and how painfully I saw that he united the opposite faults of Diogenes and Arisippus! It is a pleasant thing to hear the author of the Social Contract protest in his Confessions about the simplicity of the commerce of such great lords (M. and Madame de Luxembourg) he cries with joy, he wants to kiss the feet of this good marshal, because he wanted to accompany one of his friends, an office clerk, for a walk. Is there anything smaller, more ridiculous? I received, he says elsewhere, the greatest honor that a man can receive, the visit of the Prince de Conti, (an honor that Rousseau shared with all the girls of the Palais-Royal.) At this point I tossed away the book out of spite, and I admit, that I had to reread the speech on equality of conditions, and Julie's novel, in order to not hate the philosopher of Geneva, like Durosoy and Mallet du Pan; for the same principles, in the mouth of such a great man, are more condemnable and worthy of aversion than in the mouths of our two gazetteers, whom God created poor in spirit, and predestined as such to the kingdom of heaven.

In a diary kept over the summer of 1788, Lucile Desmoulins mentions reading L’Âge d’Or (1782) by Sylvain Maréchal (of which she also copied two verses, Le Trésor and Le contrat de mariage devant la nature, in a notebook the year earlier), Les Idylles et poèmes champêtres (1762) by Salomon Gessner, L’Hymne au soleil, suivi de plusieurs morceaux du même genre qui n’ont point encore paru (1782) by Abbé de Reyrac (where she wrote down the verse La Gelée d’avril), Nouvelles lettres anglaises, ou Histoire du Chevalier Grandisson (1754) by Samuel Richardson and  Les Noces patriarchales, poëme en prose en cinq chants (1777) by Robert Martin Lesuire.

In his memoirs, Buzot mentions enjoying the works of Rousseau and Plutarch:

With what charms I still remember this happy period of my life which can no longer return, when, during the day, I silently roamed the mountains and woods of the city where I was born, reading with delight some works of Plutarch or of Rousseau, or recalling to my memory the most precious features of their morality and their philosophy. Sometimes, sitting on the flowering grass, in the shade of some thick trees, I indulged, in a sweet melancholy, in the memories of the sorrows and the pleasures which had in turn agitated the first days of my life. Often the cherished works of these two good men had occupied or maintained my vigils with a friend of my age whom death took from me at thirty, and whose memory, always dear and respected, has preserved from many errors!

Wow any chance you can sound even more like an 18th century man stereotype, Buzot?

…and that’s basically all I can come up with for the moment. But add on if you know anything more! @louis-antoine-leon-saint-just @lazarecarnot maybe you would like to share your favorite books with us if you have any?

[ssaalexblake]

it’s also baffling to me that tumblr, home of the ‘why are white men Still being cast as the doctor’ for So many years now (For you know, like over a decade.) is somehow not appalled that they hired a white dude to be the next Doctor because look okay it’s okay if it’s This white man. 

I mean, I do not consent to acknowledge that they’ve shoved him in there under any circumstance, but my Only need for the casting of the next person was that it was Not a white man, otherwise i didn’t care who it was, so when they “announced” Gatwa I was satisfied (i am hesitant to say they announced it bc it was more like a tiny footnote than an announcement, oh the disrespect) and it took a whole seven days (it was literally seven days. Yes i counted. it was easy since it was only seven days) it was ‘actually sorry no it’s this white dude we’ve already had before did we forget to mention that???’ and it’s steadily gotten worse and worse. 

That This site of all places is not up in arms about both the situation and how it specifically played out is depressing, but also massively and darkly hilarious.  

Especially since i Also remember nobody on this site thought casting Whittaker was good enough but literally going backward to a previous white man is?? This is not even a metaphor about diversity getting worse, they literally looked backwards. 

But, yeah,  tenn/ant with the ‘what the future looks like’ headline is uh... Good???? Not super worrying and ominous? 

I feel like i’ve been dumped in some weird parallel universe by reactions to all of this on here like??? the whole way this was done was appalling, the situation is appalling, but i guess the bbc/disney should get a rousing round of applause for accurately judging that nobody would care about their poor actions if the specific white guy they cast was popular enough that next to nobody would care. 

( and to the ‘it’s an anniversary ep’ thing, they legit could have just set a couple of eps in the past. i don’t mean they travel to the past. i mean just say ‘hey this ep is set during s4!’ and nobody would care. this show does weirder stuff than this every second episode. and it would still be bad, but how they did it is so much Worse.)

[poptartmochi]

suddenly thinking about the oracle again... idk if she would be so friendly to lana, if we're being fr

[billthedrake]

CAMP DADDY

"You got this, Carter," I heard from behind me. It was Dave, the guy at the camp I'd bonded with the most.

I wasn't sure I had it. Over the last week we'd done a lot of challenging stuff... long hikes, swimming races, rock climbing, you name it. But the spelunking was freaking me out a little, between the darkness and the tight spaces. I didn't realize I had claustrophobia, but I guess I did. I was hyperventilating.

"Come on, relax, bro," my buddy said. "One inch at a time. I'm right behind ya, man."

I pushed through. And once I cleared into a bigger part of the cave, I saw more headlamps ahead. I unclenched my held breath.

***

I'd been a real fuck up of a teenager. That's why I was here at this Outward Bound camp. Strike one was shoplifting and getting caught for it. Strike two was yelling at my dad and calling him a piece of shit, on his birthday no less. Strike three was the ketamine use. The next weekend Dad was shipping me off to this godforsaken place in the woods upstate. He wasn't going to pay for baseball, college, or my car if I didn't go. So I did.

The first couple of days I gave a bunch of lip to the counselors. I couldn't stand their fake-cheery demeanor or their 12-step BS. "Stay strong," we had to say at the end of each "huddle" meeting. Like it was fucking church.

But I was smart, smart enough how to play this. I knew I should just lay low, go along with it enough. It was just three weeks.

It helped that I bonded with Dave the first day. He was another baseball jock and cynical too. We made fun of the Sunday School teacher vibe of the lead counselor Mr. Connell. Only at Outward bound we were supposed to call the counselors by first name.

Dave had been there a week. "At least all the physical stuff is good exercise," he said. "I'm actually getting in really great shape for next season."

It was true. There was a gym, too, in the common room of the main cabin basement. Kind of a basic barbells and benches kind of gym but a lot of us jocks would work out together, until I got annoyed by them too. Other than Dave, they all bought into the 12 step crap.

I started talking to Pete, a punk guy with a shaved head and a permanent snarl on his face. He was cool. He wasn't just cynical, he'd talk back to the counselors. But one day he was just gone. No Pete.

***

Maybe unconsciously I was trying to get Pete's fate. Get out of this fucking place. I thought three weeks would go fast, but a week and a half had drained me. I mouthed off to Mr. Connell. Sorry, to "Mike." He smiled in that fakey way and tried to be zen about it. But I was getting to him. After dinner I sulked on my own. I'd started to realize Dave was in on it. Playing normal to get my confidence and win me over to the Program.

I was wallowing in self-pity sure, because I knew I was crushed out on Dave. I'd hidden the gay thing pretty well my last few years, but now I didn't have booze or pot or drugs to push my feelings down. Maybe that's why I was acting out, I don't know. My body was just a mess of hormones and my brain a bunch of conflicted thoughts.

***

I woke up in a room that was identical to the two-bed cabin I'd been sleeping in with another guy Zach. Only it wasn't the same room and there was no Zach. On the other full bed a man sat reading a book, kind of a big beefy-but trim older man, dressed in joggers and a zip-up athletic top that clung to his thick muscle. I thought it was a sex dream, but the second I realized it was real I jolted awake, sitting up straight in my small bed.

"Wait, who are you?" I blurted out. This man wasn't one of the counselors. He was older, with salt-and-pepper hair trimmed short. Probably in his early 50s.

Patiently the man set down his book. He didn't have that fakey-nice look but was on the sterner side of normal. "You can call me Daddy," he said. He had a smooth tenor voice.

This was weirder than a dream. "What the fuck?!" I yelled. "I'm not fucking calling you Daddy. Where's Zach? Where are the other guys?"

He shrugged. "You didn't like the other guys," Daddy explained. "We had to change plans."

I was freaking out now. More than in that dark cave. I jolted up and ran to the door. This cabin wasn't in a big compound but was attached to a single small room with a window overlooking the mountains. I looked back on the bed. The man was surprisingly calm, like he expected my reaction, or worse. That was one thing that made me try to check my emotion, to use my head. I knew how these fuckers worked.

"This is kidnapping," I said. I was realizing I must have been drugged to be moved entirely to this new place.

Daddy shook his head. "Fraid not. And we suggested to your father that we extend your stay here to two months. He agreed it's needed. We'll add more if takes all summer.

I broke down. Tears welled up in my eyes. I wasn't going to let this asshole see me cry, and yet I already was. Defeated, I sat on the bed facing away from him.

"It's OK," he said, with terse reassurance. "It's tough here. I'll make breakfast for when you're ready."

***

I gave him the silent treatment. Unlike the Outward Bound counselors he didn't try to make me talk. Maybe he was giving me the silent treatment too, maybe he realized a one-way conversation was useless.

I got dressed and while Daddy was showering up, I stepped out of the small cabin. There was a trail, and it had to lead somewhere. I took one look back into the cabin, then took off.

Fortunately the trail split a few times so if Daddy followed me he'd have a hard time catching up. I don't know why I hadn't thought of escaping before.

I got lost. Real fucking lost. The deeper into the woods I got, the less sense I had of where to go. The day went on. I got hungry. I kept walking. I expected to hear a highway or cars or people or some sign of civilization. Nothing.

I was freaking out. I stopped and sat on a tree trunk. Crying. There was no Dave urging me on. No "stay strong" mantra. No other guys. It was just me, fucking up again. My stomach rumbled, and I felt thirsty. It was getting dusk. I couldn't believe I'd have to sleep out here, but my big fear was wondering if I'd ever get back.

I heard rustling on the trail. Then saw a flashlight and the dark imposing figure of a 6'4" man coming my way. It was Daddy.

"Here," he said, offering me a sandwich and water. "Have this, then we'll head back."

I was too grateful and relieved to mouth off. But on our walk back I had a realization. "You knew I was here," I said.

"Yes," Daddy replied. They probably had a tracking chip in my clothes somehow.

"And you made me wait here alone."

"Yes," he admitted. "You had to learn the hard way, Carter." There was an undercurrent of empathy to his voice.

***

It took me a couple of days, but I opened up. And once I started talking, you couldn't shut me up, it felt like. I talked about my problems, and Daddy listened. It was like a therapy session and a buddy conversation, from breakfast till night.

Daddy was the first man I told I was gay. We were sitting on the Adirondack chairs outside, enjoying the view of the mountains and the sunset and I just went there. I confessed my problems dating girls and the times I got erection problems during sex.

"I told them I was drunk, but I wasn't," I said.

"I'd have done the same," Daddy said in his mellow voice.

That caught me off guard. I tried to read him, but he was still an enigma to me. A flash of me wondered if he was into men. The dude was jacked for his age, and I got a flash of excitement imagining him having sex.

Daddy was counselor, captor, friend, and father figure rolled into one. "What's your deal, man?" I asked. Not hostile like before, but probing. "Here I am spilling my guts out and I don't even know your name."

He smiled but just kept his even manner. "You don't need to know name, just Da..."

"I know," I interrupted. "You're 'Daddy.'"

Something about my exasperated tone made him smile. And maybe relent. "I did Outward Bound when I was your age. I acted out, got into trouble," he explained. "The Program set me straight."

"Was the program as unconventional when you did it?" I gestured around to the isolated cabin where I was more or less hostage.

That got a grin. "More so."

I was curious. "Did you have a Daddy?"

He nodded. "I did." He took a sip from the can of soda. "Later he taught me how to be a Daddy."

I still didn't get whatever psychoanalytic babble the Program was tapping into, but Daddy's words did make me think.

"You know what makes me, mad?" I asked.

"What?"

"This shit's probably working."

That got a chuckle. "You'll be glad when it's over Carter."

It was dark now and it felt darker out here in the middle of nowhere. "You ready for bed, kiddo?"

It was the first time Daddy used that nickname. But I replied I was.

We'd talked so much we were pretty quiet now as we went inside and got ready for bed. Normally Daddy slept in a T-shirt and shorts but that evening he peeled off his shirt. In the lamplight I could admire the powerful chest muscle and ripped abs. Best of all that DILF body was covered in a trimmed coat of salt-and-pepper fur. Before Daddy I didn't realize I was into older men. Now, I had to check my gaze.

"It's ok to look, buddy," the man said. His voice was as soft and encouraging as I'd ever heard it.

"What?" I replied in a checked grunt.

He tossed the shirt aside and turned to face me directly. He was a masculine god, even more alluring for his quiet nature. "It's OK to look," he repeated. "That's what Daddies are for."

The words were fucked up but they gave me a boner, instantly. I couldn't help it.

Daddy saw and was unfazed, peeling down his joggers to show off his soft genitals. That cock was meaty and matched the low-hanging full nuts in their shaved-smooth sac. It wasn't the first cock I'd seen of course, but it was the first live one I'd seen in a sort of sexual situation.

He walked over and pulled down the bed sheets. Daddy's backside was just as magnificent as his front. Strong back and a meaty round ass, the kind I didn't know 50-something men had. But Daddy had one.

My body was shaking, nervously, but the man was acting normal, getting into bed and pulling up the sheet to his abdomen. He gave one more look over.

"If you want to join me Carter, that's your move."

I didn't know if this was some Outward Bound trap or mindgame. A part of me didn't care, I was so horny. It's as if my brain couldn't stop my body from slipping out of my bed and crossing over. The one thing that gave me courage was seeing Daddy scoot his bed to the side to give me room to get in as he lifted the sheet a little. I could see a flash of his erection, even, thick and meaty like him.

"Stay strong, kiddo," he said softly and I nodded, getting into the bed to join him, my body shaking.

"There," he grinned as I finally settled into a lying position next to him. I could feel the heat of his body even if I was afraid to touch him still.

"You're first time with a man?" Daddy asked.

"Yes, Daddy." It was the first time I called him that. It made him smile, which made me glad.

His fingers touched my flank. I was still wearing my shorts but was shirtless and the skin contact felt incredible. This wasn't faking it with a girl.

"You're a very handsome young man, Carter," Daddy said in that soft tenor voice of his. "I'm honored to be your Daddy."

With that the mean leaned in and placed his lips against mine. It was my first kiss with a man, and nothing prepared me for it. A tingle went up my body and my prick surged even harder in my shorts. Particularly when Daddy's tongue pressed forward between my lips and into my mouth.

I was following his lead. Daddy was my coach at that moment. Coach in life and Coach in sex. I couldn't have dreamed of a better one. It was intense and sexual and passionate, but we also took our time.

As we got into it, I got the courage to feel him. His hairy, muscular, warm body. I reached down and touched his cock, hard and alive in my grip. My first dick, and one I'd never forget.

The way I moaned made Daddy pull back from the kiss.

"You like that, buddy?" he grinned.

"Yes, sir," I hissed.

"You like dick," he said with assured ease. "Don't let anyone make you think you're a lesser man because of it."

"No, Daddy," I replied, gripping his boner one last time before relinquishing it. I had to feel up the rest of him, too. More.

He slipped my shorts down, at least from one side till I decided to help him out. My dick was sap-wet and as rigid as I had ever remembered it being.

"You're not the only one," he said. "Not the only young man into dick. Your buddy Dave..." he started.

That jolted me in surprise. "For real?"

Daddy nodded. His hand now circled around my crotch before his fingers grazed my boner. "For real."

I don't know if it was jealousy or something else I was feeling. "You do stuff with him?" I asked.

The man shook his head. "No. He has a different Daddy," he explained, pausing before deciding his could share the information. "Connell."

Well, fuck me, I thought. The last thing I would expect.

Now Daddy's lips were on my neck, kissing me as his hand alternated between massaging my smoother body and stroking my cock. "You up for the full ride tonight, Carter?" he asked.

If he'd asked me that even an hour before, I would have chickened out. But the body contact and the sexual intimacy made me want it all.

"Yeah, Daddy, I do," I answered. "Stay strong, right?"

That got a laugh. He leaned up. I'd never seen him look so hot, so handsome. "Yeah, kiddo... that's right. Stay strong." He leaned in for another kiss, softer this time. It felt right. Righter than right.

Then he started working his way down, kissing my chest and abs, feeling me up some, telling me he was going to take his time.

I got my dick sucked for the first time. I got my balls licked. Then Daddy urged me to pull back my legs and proceeded to give me my first rim job.

I decided then and there that two months here wasn't going to be enough. I hoped my Dad would keep me here the whole damn summer.

"Oh fuck!" I hissed. It was stimulating and naughty and tickling at the same time. I loved getting eaten out. I didn't have anyone to compare it to, but Daddy was a pro. Eager, intense yet also working in some finesse to keep it intersting.

I slowly relaxed my hole. My whole body was relaxed, in fact, lying back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling as I kept my legs pulled back for Daddy.

The first finger entry caught me by surprise. I looked down to see Daddy's brown eyes fixed on me, as he worked his finger in and out.

"Stay strong, buddy," he urged softly.

"Fuck yeah, Daddy," I replied. Trying to be his good soldier. Daddy was gonna make me a man that night, and I wanted to be all man for him.

He finally pulled back and reached over. I didn't even notice the little jar there before, but Daddy unscrewed the lid and dug in. There was some liquidy grease that coated his fingers.

And now my asshole. Damn, it made his two fingers feel incredible going in. And out. And in again.

"Yeah, you're hungry, kiddo."

I grunted. Those fingers were feeling intense in a great way, but short circuiting my thought. I flashed to think of Dave, imagining Mike Connell doing this to him.

A third finger now breached my relaxed ring. It gave a few gentle prods then pulled out.

"You're ready."

The man scooted in place, his hard dick standing straight up from his hairy crotch that was still darker brown than his chest hair. I had felt but not gotten a real good look at his cock, but Daddy was real thick and maybe 6.5 inches in length. The guy was horned up, too, judging by how rigid his meat was. He slathered some of that grease on his boner and pushed it down to line himself up.

"The entry might be tough," he warned. "Or not."

"You better not say, 'Stay strong,'" I joked.

That got a laugh out of the man. "You're all man, Carter," he said.

And like that his cock was breaching my hole.

"Unnfg!" I let out, before I caught myself. The sting surprised me. It didn't hurt too bad, but the unfamiliarity of it freaked me out some.

Daddy's hands rand along my abs, gently, coaxing me silently to relax. I tried, until I was successful. More dick slid into me. The man was patient, but I could tell he was really turned on.

I was getting my cherry taken away, and I was thrilled, particularly when Daddy's cock bored deeper. Weirdly, the deeper the man went the better it felt. Daddy felt bigger than 6.5 inches. Maybe I'd underestimated his size, maybe it was just the psychological effect of having him buried inside me.

"Fuck yeah, kiddo," Daddy growled. "Take it."

I looked up at him. The man was a stud who knew what he was doing. "You done this before?" I asked. "Taken a guy's virginity?"

The question caught him off guard. It was almost like he didn't want to answer me. But he looked down with those soulful brown eyes and replied, "I have, Carter. Many times." He pulled his hips back and thrust in. THAT felt fricking amazing and I held onto his meaty arms. Then again. "But I care about each and every one," he added. His thrusts got faster, as Daddy intuited I was receptive. "I care about you, kiddo."

Daddy was taking me there. Physically and psychologically, he was showing me how amazing getting fucked could be. The man wasn't rough, but he pumped faster and harder. He was teaching me I loved it that way. I held on and looked up at him and felt my prick quiver.

"Fuck me, Daddy!" I hissed.

"Yeah, kiddo. Daddy's got ya." His body seemed in control but his breath was ragged and heavy. The man was turned on like hell.

That thick cock seemed a blur inside me now, its way in my tunnel greased up and the heavy hard rod punching some spot inside me.

I dind't realize I was so close to cumming until Daddy's greased fist wrapped around my bone. Not even needing to stroke it, just touching me made me fire off. I saw white, and my body felt hot and tense, then it all got released with a series of cum shots firing out of my young jock body.

I tried to keep my vision, to look up at Daddy in gratitude. To watch his own O face take over form the calm, collected surety of his experience. That got tossed out the window when Daddy came. He was as lost in pleasure as me. That made me happy.

We crashed together. Holding onto one another's hot sweaty bodies, them our lips meeting to kiss again.

"Oh buddy," he hissed finally. Like I was the one who'd done him a favor. Maybe I had.

We didn't talk after, we didn't need to. Instead, Daddy held me in a spoon position and we drifted off to sleep. At least for a few hours before we had sex again.

***

The next week, Daddy had me pack my backpack, and he led me back to main compound. I would have been sad our alone time was over, but I knew it wasn't going to be our last. Daddy didn't have to tell me. I just knew he'd be in my life from now on and me in his.

Punk dude Pete was back. His hair had grown out and was in a military buzz and his snarl was gone. Dave though was the one who welcomed me first with a bro hug. The other guys followed suit.

I wondered how many of them had a Daddy.

***

I was part of the Program now. Welcoming the newcomers. Bonding with the cynical ones. I'd been where they were and knew what they were going through. I'd been a fuck up, too.

Two months went by quickly. My Dad was there to pick me up. He had an apprehensive look on his face. Connell told me that Dad had been updated on my progress, but after what my father had been through maybe he was nervous I'd not been truly changed.

I had my mobile phone back, and I'd already looked at the last messages multiple times. "Stay strong, kiddo - Daddy." Then "You better stay in touch. Love ya, Carter."

I took one last look and tucked my phone into my pocket before running over to give my Dad a big hug.

"Damn, Sport."

Dad hadn't called me Sport in ages.

"Thank you, Dad," I said. There would be more to say later. But the look on his face was a huge reward. His fingers grazed behind my ear as he held my head steady and looked into my eyes. Like he was reunited with a son he'd lost for real.

"OK if we break up the journey home?" he asked, snapping out of his spell and grabbing my bag from me. "It's a long drive."

"Of course," I said.

We got settled into the front seat and Dad started the car. We made some small talk, and Dad caught me up on life back home. Though I didn't miss much, other than maybe Dad re-treating the wood on the back deck.

We were winding down the mountain and re-entering civilization. At least if these small, one-traffic-light towns counted as civilization.

Dad shifted from the small talk. "So... you survived OK, Son?"

I nodded. "More than survived, Dad. Thrived." I had bought into the whole Program now.

He seemed pleased. "I, um... heard from an old Army buddy of mine," he said. Something in his tone seemed laden with meaning. "He said he got to know you real well."

I blushed. I knew damn well my father was talking about Daddy.

"Yes, sir. We got real tight."

Dad had a good idea of what I meant. He gave a gentle nod and glanced over at me. "I'm glad to hear."

I was chubbing up in my jeans now thinking about Daddy. "OK if I go visit him sometime, Dad?" I asked.

Dad's voice got quiet. "That can probably be arranged."

I thought maybe I freaked my dad out. But we were quiet for a lot of that drive. It had been around 3PM when I'd checked out of the Compound, and it was getting dinner time.

I loved diner food and after two months of Outward Bound meals, I was ready for a real restaurant meal. I scarfed down my food, which amused Dad. "Looks like they haven't been feeding you, Sport," he said.

"They definitely don't believe in creature comforts," I said. I pulled out my phone. "This might have been the hardest thing to live without." I mostly was checking to see if Daddy sent me another message.

Dad laughed. Then he got serious. "So... no hard feelings, Carter?"

I sighed. "God, Dad. After what I did to you? What I put your through? I don't know how to make it up to you."

"You don't have to make anything up to me, Son. Just stay on the straight and narrow. At least till you find yourself."

I took that in. "I'm finding myself, Dad. For real."

"That's all a father can ask," he said.

Dad was normally not great at expressing emotion, and already he was itching to get the check and pay for the meal.

We drove a little bit more. Dad had me find an available hotel that wasn't too expensive. I don't think I realized until we checked in how long of a day it had been. Emotionally as much as anything.

I decided not to check my phone again. Daddy and I would find a groove to correspond and to meet again. I trusted him.

After I brushed my teeth, Dad was in one of the beds, watching TV on low volume. He wasn't build quite as strong as Daddy but his upper body was solid, and he had the same soft furry chest. As I stripped down to my briefs, Dad's eyes watched me furtively. Probing me with soft expectation.

I took the initiative this time. Just feeling Dad's eyes on my half-naked body was all the signal I needed. Pausing at my own bed, I turned back to him. "Ok if I join you instead?" I asked.

Dad was too scared to reply. But he nodded and slid over.

Only when I got into bed with him did I realize that Dad's bod was more solid than I initially thought. His clothes always hid the hard tone of his muscle and he had some love handles that stopped shy of a beer belly.

Our kiss was soft and taboo as fuck. Dad's hands clung to my body, like eagle talons. I pushed my tongue into my father's mouth and felt him plunge his back. Dad didn't kiss like Daddy did. It was hard and needy.

Just as impetuously he and I stripped down our underwear. Our dicks were a lot alike. Longer, regular thickness, with a gentle curve to the right, heaving leaking. Like twins. Dad looked down at mine, like I did at his.

"You're all grown up, Carter."

"Yeah, Dad." I reached down and touched his cock. My dad's cock. He wasn't Daddy, he wasn't my first man, but the forbidden aspect made it off the charts. "I gotta learn to be your son again, though."

Dad gulped. His eyes grew misty wet. "You never stopped, sport. Not even this last year."

We kissed. Dad was responding to my soft approach, like I'd responded to Daddy's. My hand ran along his strong chest and his softer middle as we made out. I felt every bit of guilt for how I'd treated Dad and it was coming out in the only way I knew. Like Dad, I wasn't good at expressing emotion.

But I was good at this.

I broke off the kiss with a playful smile. Dad seemed to be trying to read what I was thinking. I let him wonder a minute longer.

I scooted down, kind of kneeling on the bed, till I was face to face with the dick that made me. I touched it again, feeling its poker hot heat and its steel rigidity. I could smell his masculine scent.

"Sport..." he urged, as if telling me something.

His next words caught in his throat as I took his dick into my mouth. I paused a second. Daddy had instructed me in this, but my father's cock felt particularly dry until I summoned up some extra saliva. Then I went down on him, slowly, teasingly.

I was going to make things up to Dad in the way I knew how.

He placed his hand on my head, softly cradling it as I lovingly blew him to completion.

***

The next morning when Dad was in the shower I sent a text.

"Daddy, you didn't tell me you knew my father."

He was up and the reply was quick. "You had to find out for yourself." Then, "I hope you can be a junior counselor next summer."

I thought of what next year would mean. Being off at college, enjoying some independence. Making new friends.

But I knew that meant nothing. "You know I will," I wrote.

"Stay strong," Daddy replied.

"Stay strong," I wrote back, then set down my phone.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: oral (f receiving), handjob, sub Loki, edging & overstimulation, forced submission kinda, hair pulling, a lil choking, I hope that's everything lol

Genre: smut and I guess fluff

Summary: You make Loki realize something about himself that he was not expecting to learn.

***

You plop down on the couch with your bowl of chips, getting comfortable to watch TV.

"Are you out here by yourself?" Loki's voice surprises you. You hadn't heard him come down the hall.

"Yeah." You glance at him over your shoulder with a shrug.

"Why?" His eyes narrow.

"I'm watching TV. You are familiar with that particular activity aren't you?"

"Yes I am, but why out here alone?" Loki rolls his eyes before sticking his head into the fridge.

"I wanted to leave my room. You're welcome to join me." You shrug.

"Why would I do that?" He scoffs.

"Believe it or not, some people enjoy doing things with other people in different spaces, you awkward little hermit." You roll your eyes. You walk over to the kitchen for a drink, realizing you forgot one.

"I am not a hermit." Loki crosses his arms. You grab a soda and walk over to Loki, leaning in close enough that he leans back suspiciously.

"This is the first time you've been out your room in like a week." You tell him.

"That is not true!" He steps away from you indignantly.

"It is, and that's fine. If that's how you like to live, I'm not judging you for it. But for me anyway, a change of scenery is good for the mind." You shrug walking back over to the couch.

"That doesn't make an ounce of sense."

"To each their own." You hum.

"You are a strange woman."

"Because I'm watching TV?" You tilt your head curiously.

"You spend your time so differently from everyone else here." He says.

"Yeah believe it or not I am an individual."

"That's not what I meant."

"No?"

"I just meant that most of the tower is left unoccupied from day to day, except you, you seem to- be everywhere." He frowns.

"If you're content never leaving your room that's fine, like I said I prefer a change of scenery. Helps mark the passage of time when we're not off saving the world." You shrug.

"There is next to nothing worth doing on this miserable planet."

"You are ridiculously negative." You chuckle, pressing play on your movie of choice for tonight. Clearly, this conversation with Loki is over, you have no interest in going back and forth about his cynicism. You hear him take a sharp breath, if you had to guess it's like one of those breaths you take before speaking but he doesn't say anything and eventually you hear his shoes along the floor and you smirk as you check that he is indeed gone.

It's not necessarily that you enjoy getting under Loki's skin the way you so obviously do, but it is rather easy and no one else speaks to him, which is kind of sad. To be clear you don't pity him, in fact this back and forth he reluctantly engages in is you refusing to treat him any different than you would anyone else on the team. It just so happens that he's easy to rile up and you find it funny but really this is just you being inclusive.

"You know y/n I don't get how you do it." Tony drunkenly says. It's supposed to be game night but after an hour Tony's of course too drunk to play so now you're all just talking.

"How I do what, Stark?" You ask.

"Deal with reindeer games the way you do."

"Reindeer ga- do you mean Loki?" You blink at him. You're not even sure how the group ended up on the subject, he's not here. How long were you checked out of the conversation?

"Yes obviously." He scoffs.

"It would be obvious if you used his name. Why are we talking about him, anyway?"

"Tony decided the next topic of conversation would be the team and somehow we got to how Loki is pretty much a recluse." Natasha explains to you.

"Exceeeept he talks to you. How does that work?" Tony asks.

"I dunno man I just poke fun at him like I do the rest of you and wait til he gets red in the face." You shrug.

"You mess with him on purpose?" Thor frowns.

"No, no! Not- really? He just, okay I don't try to get under his skin exactly, it's just when he engages with me, it seems like he expects hostility. I just give him back what I get from him and I don't think he knows how to handle that. But he keeps talking to me so I guess something about it gets through to him."

"That's very weird." Tony says.

"You're really in no place to judge Tony, we all know your list of idiosyncrasies is practically never ending." You roll your eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Is idiosyncrasies too big a word for our resident mad scientist?" You ask.

"I know what the word idiotsinkities means." He scoffs.

"Right." You hum. The others burst into laughter at Tony's slurred attempt at defending himself. It seems to be enough to change the subject and the rest of the night proceeds without another weird interrogation- especially once Tony passes out.

You lean against the wall as you listen to this guy, Jack, talk. He's close enough for you to smell his cologne, mostly to be heard over the music and the crowd of partygoers. You laugh at some silly joke of his, because he's cute and you'll probably end up making out with him in a quiet corner of the tower later if he doesn't say something stupid before you make that decision. The sound of someone clearing their throat pulls your attention from your conversation. Loki is standing there with his arms crossed and faced squeezed.

"Oh? Look who's come out to play." You muse.

"Do you know this guy?" Jack frowns.

"Jack, this is Loki, he's on the team. Loki this is my new friend Jack. Don't be rude, say hello." You nod your head towards Jack. Loki narrows his eyes as if sizing Jack up.

"Hey man. Nice to meet you." Jack puts his hand out to Loki.

"I don't shake hands." Loki says.

"Right- did you need something? We were, kind of talking."  Jack says.

"I don't care what you were doing." Loki rolls his eyes.

"Play nice Loki." You say, practically singing the warning.

"I'm not a dog." Loki glares at you.

"Well don't go around snarling like one." You snap.

"Is something- going on between you two?" Jack frowns.

"No." You say firmly.

"Alright well I'm going to get another drink, do you want anything?" He asks.

"Just you back here soon." You wink at him.

"I'll be as quick as I can." Jack kisses your cheek and walks off while Loki breathes incredibly noticeably agitated as he rolls his eyes ago.

"Alright Loki, what is your problem?" You scoff.

"He looks like a jungle cat."

"Really? I don't see jungle cat honestly, he kind of looks like a deer to me." You hum.

"Not in his appearance I mean the way he was closing in on you, like a lion waiting to attack a gazelle." He frowns.

"What? You don't think I can handle the big scary man Loki? Don't insult me, I've killed things that would eat him for an afternoon snack." You scoff.

"It's not that I think you can't handle him. Something about him was just- off. Didn't like his energy."

"Something was off? You didn't like his energy? Really that's what we're going with?" With a hand on his chest you press Loki against the wall.

"What else could I possibly be going with?" Loki tries to keep his voice steady, but with your hand now trailing down his abdomen you can feel muscles tensing under your touch.

"Truthfully I think somebody didn't quite enjoy seeing me pay so much attention to Jack. Don't worry Loki, he couldn't possibly replace you." You hum.

"Don't be ridiculous." He scoffs. You smirk as your hand dances lower and you watch him go stock still when your fingers trace along the waistband of his pants.

"You won't get anywhere by lying to me you know." You say. His mouth drops open slightly as you curl your fingers for your nails to gently caress his skin. "Do you want me to stop Loki?" You whisper in his ear teasingly. As if a bucket of ice water was dumped on him you watch Loki jump back out of your reach and clear his throat before walking off with a glare. You frown as you watch him go, perhaps you pushed too far this time. You think you need to apologize. You start to make your way through the crowd and somehow get caught by Jack.

"Hey, where are you off to?" He asks.

"Looking for you actually, I need a bathroom but I didn't want you to think I was leaving you hanging. If you go back to our little corner I will find you again shortly, alright?" You tap his chest and bat your eyelashes before spinning away from him to continue your task of tracking Loki down. You pop into the nearest empty room.

"Friday, where the hell did Loki go?" You ask her. The tower is huge and since you lost sight of him while talking to Jack it could take you forever to find him on your own.

"He's on the Balcony lounge at the end of the hall upstairs." Friday tells you.

"Thank you!" You tell her, heading for the stairs. Sure enough, there's Loki brooding on the balcony by himself. You slide open the door and Loki's head whips around. When his eyes settle on you, they narrow.

"I've had it with your games tonight." He says.

"No games. I actually wanted to apologize." You say.

"For what?" He regards you suspiciously.

"If I went too far just now. I'm never trying to make you uncomfortable with the teasing. If I crossed a line I want you to know I wasn't trying to and I respect your boundaries." You say gently.

"You think that made me uncomfortable?" He scoffs.

"Well you did quite literally run away."

"You do realize I'm a god, don't you?"

"So what?" You shrug.

"People worship me y/n."

"People worship me too Loki. Shall I start calling myself a goddess?" You cross your arms.

"Of course not." Loki looks at you incredulously.

"Well I'm just saying darling if you're quantifying your power here by being worshiped there are people who would tell you I am the path to heaven. Or, I suppose for you it would be Valhalla, right?" You tilt your head.

"That's rather presumptuous."

"Don't misunderstand here. I never asked them to deify me but who am I to deny those who believe I know the entrance heaven's gate?"

"And where is that?"

"Heaven's gate?" You chuckle, quirking an eyebrow up at him. "I don't think you can handle the answer to that question Loki, truthfully."

"You have no idea what I can handle." He frowns.

"I'm sure you're very capable honey but you've made it clear that you and I have... very different types." You say.

"What's that supposed to mean?" The frown deepens.

"Why did you run off? If you weren't uncomfortable, what made you run and hide?" You ask.

"How does this pertain to my question?" Loki shakes his head.

"My question is the answer to yours."

"I don't follow."

"Answer the question, and I'll offer an explanation." You say. Loki lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

"Your behavior, is disarming."

"And you don't like being disarmed?" You tilt your head.

"It's not something I'm used to."

"Right." You hum.

"So?"

"So?"

"You said if I answered you'd explain the connection." Loki says.

"I like disarming people. It's something I do quite well, and often. You don't seem too fond of that. Which- obviously wouldn't work."

"It's something you do well with mortals. I'll remind you I'm a god."

"So you've said but I did it pretty well to you like five minutes ago." You shrug.

"You caught me off guard." He frowns.

"It's not like I couldn't do it again."

"That's a rather bold assumption. One that I'm inclined to disagree with." His brow furrows.

"That's cute." You chuckle.

"I'm not so easily frazzled as your pathetic midgardian males." Loki insists.

"What just happened does not support that claim, but your insistence is exactly what I'm talking about when I say you're not my type. Putting you in your place would be so much trouble." You shrug.

"Putting me in my place?! On the contrary darling I would have you begging me. You'd call me king."

"What do I care for a king when there people who call me their god?" You scoff tugging at Loki's shirt to bring his face closer to yours. "Do you get it yet Loki? You want control and I'm unwilling to give it. You think too small to ever command me."

"You don't know that." His eyes narrow.

"Your breathing stuttered when I grabbed your shirt. Plus there's not a creature in all the nine realms thinking big enough to command me darling. Don't worry it's not just you." You wink at him pulling back and turning away from him to leave.

"Your attitude is insufferable." Loki growls grabbing your wrist and pinning you against the building with a hand around your throat.

"Is it?" You smile trailing your fingers from his wrist up his arm. You watch his jaw tense as his eyes snap between your face and your hand a couple of times before his gaze settles on you. His grip on your neck tightens as your fingers reach his shoulder. There, you shoot your hand quickly into his hair, fisting a handful of it and yanking, hard. Loki's head snaps back and his knees almost buckle as a strangled moan escapes from him. Your other hand grabs his wrist attached to the hand on your neck, his grip has loosened to practically nothing from your sudden hair pull but this is about power and control and if he's determined to convince you he's got some here you're determined to ensure he knows that's not true. "Let go Loki." You say in that sultry commanding tone you usually reserve for submissives. Slowly, his fingers unfurl until they no longer hold you and you finally release his hair, only to knock his ankle in such a way that he drops to his knees. He snaps his head up towards you with a glare in his eyes but all you do is smirk at him. "Shame you're such a brat, you look so good on your knees for me." You hum tilting his chin slightly. You lean forward, close enough to feel his heavy breaths against your face. "Goodnight Loki." You whisper. You drag your finger from his chin up his cheek and then turn away, leaving him on his knees on the balcony with more questions than he can answer as you return to the party.

The loud knock on your bedroom door pulls your attention from the show you're watching. You almost don't want to get up but whoever is looking for you seems rather incesent so you roll out of bed and swing open the door to find Loki in the hall.

"Loki? What are you doing here?" You cross your arms and lean against your doorframe.

"I need to talk to you about something."

"Look whatever Tony said to upset you, you can always get him back by calling out that he's a spoiled brat with daddy issues and a lack of self control so embarrassingly pathetic it's a miracle Pepper wants to be within 10 feet of him let alone spend the rest of her life with him." You sigh.

"That was- scathing and rather immediate, do you just spend your free time thinking of nasty things to say?" Loki blinks at you.

"No but I do have an arsenal of harsh comments if ever I need to hurt someone's feelings." You shrug.

"I'll- keep that in mind but this isn't about Anthony Stark." He shakes his head.

"Well, what is it then?"

"Could I- do you mind if come in?" He asks. You poke your head into your room checking for anything you don't want him to see.

"Fine." You say after confirming your room is clean. You open the door fully and let him through the doorway. "What's this about Loki?"

"The party the other night. Do you, remember what we talked about?" Loki asks.

"Well yes but you'll need to be more specific on where this is going."

"I just, I've been thinking about it and I think you're wrong and I'd like to prove it to you."

"Oh this should be good. Wrong about what exactly? Because I think I made myself quite clear. You'll never get the control from me that you seem to think you want." You shrug.

"No that much is obvious. But you said I wasn't your type and I think that's- not true." Loki's brow furrows as he speaks.

"What a shocking turn of events." You hum.

"Do not mock me." He sighs.

"I'm not. You were so insistent you couldn't possibly fit the bill I'm surprised by the turn around."

"Believe me so am I but, I haven't been able to stop thinking about that night. Something about you forcing me to my knees I just- something happened."

"Something happened?" You quirk an eyebrow at him.

"You disarmed me again but- I liked it. I think. And I'd like to try and understand that."

"Say it Loki."

"You said your partners worship you, show me how to do the same." Loki says.

"And you're sure you want this? If you misbehave I can be very mean."

"I'm sure." He nods.

"Then we'll have to discuss some things first. I won't touch you until I've asked some questions." You shake your head.

"Ask me anything."

"How do you feel about restraints?"

"No handcuffs. Ropes are fine."

"How are you with pain?"

"I don't know my limits but I'm not- opposed." He says.

"I'm not going to paddle you or anything darling it's much too soon for any of that but we'll use a stoplight system anyway. I'll check in frequently but at any point you can say yellow if you realize you're reaching a limit or red if you need something to stop. You'll also need a safeword."

"I don't need a safewor-"

"I don't know your limits, you don't even know your limits. It's a nonnegotiable Loki, you need a safeword. Pick one." You say.

"If I must, I'll use another color. Gold."

"Gold?"

"It's easy to say, I wear it a lot, do you think it'll get confusing?"

"Nope. As long as it's something you can remember." You shrug.

"I can remember gold." He says.

"Then gold it is. And Loki?"

"Yes?"

"You must promise me you will use it if you need to." You say.

"I won't need to."

"Don't start with that nonsense." You roll your eyes. "I need to know you'll use it if it comes to that."

"Fine. If it comes to that, I'll use it." He nods.

"Good. Couple more components. Overstimulation and or edging. Where do you fall?"

"I think you underestimate my resilience." He frowns.

"These are things I ask all of my submissives Loki you are not exempt. Not everyone likes the same things. You're lucky I'm not making you fill out my entire questionaire right now. You'll have to do that later." You scoff.

"I have homework already?"

"If you want this to continue after today you will. For now, overstimulation and edging."

"That's fine with me."

"Toys?"

"Can we- hold off on those until we have a longer conversation about it?"

"Absolutely. How do you feel about names? Do you like being called mean things? Are there certain pet names you don't like?"

"When you say mean things-" Loki trails.

"Mean names like slut or whore, I might scold you for 'making a mess', or tease you for being responsive."

"If- you say something that strikes a nerve I'll say so. Otherwise proceed whatever way feels natural." He says.

"Do you have any questions?" You ask.

"No." He shakes his head.

"Well that's the end of the preliminaries."

"So we can start now?"

"You think you're ready?"

"Yes."

"Kneel."

Loki drops to his knees hesitently, looking at you with wide eyes.

"From here on you'll address me as mistress, is that understood?"

"Yes... mistress." Loki says. You can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to decide how he feels about it.

"I know I said this the other night but you really do look so perfect on your knees for me." You hum grabbing his chin. You wrap your fingers around his throat and bend over to kiss him. Loki reacts eagerly to your kiss, leaning up into you as much as you'll allow given your hand still holding his neck. When you pull away his mouth tries to follow yours but you hold him in place. Part of you just wants to look at Loki on his knees for a couple of hours, one day you'll tie him up real pretty and take pictures of him kneeling for you. "You want to learn how to worship me do you?"

"Please mistress." Loki breathes out. God that was hot. You're already thinking of ways to make him beg. You pull your shorts off and Loki's gaze falls to the apex of your thighs, still covered by your underwear, but his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

"Take my underwear off, with your teeth. Just your teeth." You tell him. Loki leans forward and latches onto a corner of your panties with his teeth. It takes him a moment to get the hang of it but you watch as Loki works them over your hips slowly. Once they're off, you thread your fingers through his hair, using the leverage to angle his gaze back up to yours. "Let's see if that silver tongue of yours is good for anything other than those silly retorts of yours hm?" You hum shoving Loki's face towards your pussy. He reacts quickly, tongue lapping at your center with fervor. You tug at his hair, arching towards his mouth, as he works you.

"That's it Loki, keep going." You moan. Loki looks up at you while he seemingly tries out a few patterns, trying to work out what you like best. You pull his hair when he does something you like, enjoying the way he groans when you do. "Wrap your lips around my clit and suck." You tell him. Loki is quick to follow your instructions and it doesn't take long for you to coat his mouth in evidence of your orgasm. You pull his head away from you, petting his head affectionately. "That was a good start. Up. Lay on the bed and take off your shirt." You instruct stepping back. Unsteadily, Loki stands up and walks over to your bed, stripping his shirt before he lays down. His body is stiff, probably since your instruction was vauge.

"Relax Loki. You look so- rigid." You chuckle sitting next to him on the bed. You allow yourself to simply admire his exposed chest, using your fingers to trace the plains and valleys of lean muscle that tense up at your touch. Eventually, you drag your hand down, dancing along the edge of his pants allowing the anticipation to build before you slip your hand beneath his jeans. Over his boxers, you stroke his dick, tracing veins and feeling it's size through his underwear.

"Uh... M-mistress?" He says breathily.

"What is it Loki?" You hum, with your free hand you work his jeans down his legs enough to see what you're doing to him. His grey boxers are already a bit darkened from pre-cum.

"If, if you keep doing that I'm- I'm afraid I'll make a mess of myself rather early." Loki frowns.

"So what?"

"W-well it's it's embarrassing mistress." He says, though little grunts interrupt his words.

"Embarrassing? So you don't want me to touch you?" You ask slowing your movements.

"N-no mistress that's not what, I do, want you to touch me. If that's what you want to do." He scrambles.

"See that's what I thought." You say speeding up again. Loki jerks against your hand low moans filling the room as you watch him react to your touch. You continue to stroke him over his boxers, watching the darkened spot of pre-cum grow ever so slightly bigger. You notice immediately when Loki's hands grip your sheets tightly. He must be getting close. It prompts you to increase your ministrations.

"M-mistress wa-wait stop I, I'm too close- I'll ruin my-" Loki doesn't finish his sentence. A shuddering moan accompanies the visual of his orgasm darkening most of the front of his boxers, wet streaks ruining much of the light grey fabric. There's something you quite enjoy about the sight even as Loki's cheeks tinge pink with shame. "I'm sorry." He mutters.

"Don't apologize. I wanted that to happen. As for the rest of your orgasms you'll have to earn them. You must ask for my permission to cum for the rest of the session. If you cum without my permission there will be consequences. Am I understood?" You grab his chin to make him look at you.

"Yes mistress." Loki says, eyes wide, searching your face, for what you're not sure.

"Good." You say pulling his dick out of his soiled boxers. You lick along the length once, reveling in the hiss Loki lets out no doubt from sensitivity. His previous orgasm makes for plenty of lubricant as you begin stroking him again, slowly. Loki's breaths come out in shudders and you lean over to place kisses and hickeys along his throat. Each bloom of red along his neck and chest pulls sweet moans from him until the sensitivity wears off. Soon, surprisingly soon, you see him grab the sheets again.

"Mistress I, I'm close-"

"So soon? Wow." You taunt.

"Can I cum mistress?"

"But before you didn't want to. Remember? You even asked me to stop." You slow down, almost stopping.

"No nonono that was- that was different I didn't mean it that way-" he seems to give up on his defense in favor of a groan at the sudden decrease in stimulation.

"Well, I was so kind in giving you the first one and you didn't even thank me. So you'll have to really convince me you want another." You shrug when his harsh breathing slows a bit you pick up the pace of your strokes again. When Loki grips the sheets you slow down again and when the tension dissipates you pick up. You do this three or four more times before Loki's moans start to transform in to pathetic sounding whines, his chest is red, his knuckles are white, and his dick is throbbing in your hand.

"Please- mistress." Loki pants.

"Please what baby boy?"

"I can't- I can't do it. I need to cum, I need to, please. Please mistress."

"You need to?"

"Please! Please mistress. Please let me cum. Oh god I need you to. Please." Loki's begging is boarderline hysteric, he's trembling and half of his words come out as moans.

"I do love to hear you beg."

"Please!" He whines out.

"Oo that was a good one. Very well, go ahead and let go for me sweetheart." You say sweetly, stroking faster to help him along. A few pumps later and he's spilling onto himself and your hand with a cry that makes your walls clench around nothing. You continue stroking him through it and even after he's coming down. You wonder if you can't pull one more from him. Loki jolts against your touch, scrambling as if to escape it but unable to go anywhere really.

"G-g-gold! Gold. I can't. Please." Loki pants out.

"Hands up." You say as you do exactly that. "Sorry Lo I- guess I got carried away. I'll get a towel for you." You get off the bed and grab a towel, wetting one side to clean him off and using the other to dry him after. You hand him an extra blanket after. "Give yourself some time to recoup okay?"

"You're cruel."

"I wasn't trying to be. You just- fell into your role so well. I told you I'm not easy. But I'll remember you're still new to this and be sure to treat you gently in the future. Mr. you underestimate my resillience."

"I can handle it."

"With time I'm sure. No rush now." You shrug.

"Wait- don't go anywhere please." Loki grabs your wrist.

"You need water honey."

"Later." Loki tugs hard enough to pull you into the bed next to him. You sigh and wrap your arms around him, playing with his hair gently. Loki will make for one interesting submissive if he decides this is something he wants long term. You'll have your work cut out for you, but maybe he's better suited for this than you think. Only time will tell I suppose.

***

[hvnyrt]

Voice in the Wind - ALTERNATE ENDING

JASON TODD X READER

I have never really written angst before, and I was really happy with the way my last work came out, but I couldn't help but want the reader and Jason to end up together in the end ;’) So I wrote a quick alternate ending to the same work, a happy ending this time, enjoy!

SUMMARY: Jason has been struggling with the idea of a relationship, fighting inner battles with himself constantly, you convince him to open up.

The rooftop of a Gotham skyscraper was cold beneath Jason Todd’s boots. His breath formed small clouds in the air, the city’s ever-present hum a background noise to his thoughts. He stood facing the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning the streets below. It was late — or early, depending on how you looked at it — and the city was bathed in a sickly orange glow from the streetlights. Gotham was always awake, like a predator that never rested, and Jason… Jason was just another hunter in its maze of shadows.

He was trying to focus. ‘Focus, Todd,’ he told himself. ‘Don’t be weak. Stay sharp.’ But there was a problem. Your face kept slipping into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, there you were again, with that crooked smile and those damn eyes that could cut straight through his walls.

Your voice rang in his ears. He hated your voice because it followed him everywhere, like an earworm he couldn’t get rid of. And your name. He hated your name because it made him feel like he could say it, like he could speak it aloud and claim it, and he didn’t want to claim anything. Not You. 

"She’s just a distraction," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the wind. "Just a damn distraction." 

Except you werent. He knew it. 

He didn’t know how you had got under his skin, but you had. It had started innocently enough: a few random meetings while he was on patrol, a conversation here and there. But then something shifted. Something he couldn’t control, couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that he wanted to care about you; he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he knew better, when he was haunted by the ghosts of his past mistakes. People like him didn’t get to have things like that. People like him didn’t get to have… normal.

It was so fucking frustrating. 

"Stupid." Jason spat the word out as if it could wash away the thoughts, the feelings he didn’t want to deal with. There was no place for feelings in the world he lived in. It was all blood and violence, adrenaline and fear, and you… you were none of that. You were calm. Grounded. Real. You made him feel like he wasn’t constantly running from something.

Nope. Not happening.

"Jason?"

The voice broke through his internal tirade, familiar and warm, cutting through the cold like a blade. Jason didn’t turn around. Didn’t even flinch. But his heart did a strange little lurch. He hated that it did, but it did.

There you were, standing a few feet away, your arms wrapped around yourself to shield against the Gotham night. You didn’t even seem to notice how out of place you were up here — on this rooftop, so far above the city you loved but could never truly understand. You weren't like him. Never would be.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, his tone as dismissive as he could manage. "Go home, It’s dangerous up here."

Your eyes flickered with that same mixture of concern and defiance he was growing all too familiar with. "And I’m guessing you’re worried about me?" you said, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

Jason’s lip curled slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a reflex. “I worry about everyone, you're no different.” He said flatly, his back still turned.

But even as he said it, the doubt crept in. You had a way of doing that — making him second-guess every cynical, hardened part of himself that wanted to pretend he didn’t care. But he didn’t let it show. He never did.

"I’m not helpless." you said softly, stepping a little closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you. "You don’t need to protect me. You don't have to worry me. Just please, tell me what's on your mind. Talk to me. Let me in." You wanted him so bad to just admit that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You tried too hard to get him to open up to you, to get him to see what your relationship could be. He never listened.

The words hit him harder than they should have. He wanted to argue, to push you away again. You didn’t understand. You didn’t get what the world was really like, what it could do to someone like him. Someone who had already been destroyed once, who didn’t want to give it a second chance.

Instead, he just shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "I’m not your protector. Just someone who knows better."

You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be out here, too, but you’re not protecting me?" 

Jason didn’t answer. His gaze drifted away from her, back to the city lights, to the shadows below. But he didn’t walk away. He never did.

"You really think I can’t handle myself?" Your voice was quieter now, and for a moment, it almost sounded like you were teasing. Almost. 

Jason let out a breath, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "You think you’re the only one who can handle themselves?" He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "This place doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you smarter. And if you’re not smart enough to get the hell out of it, you’ll get crushed. And that’s not something I’m willing to let happen."

The words left his mouth sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t stop them now. He never could when it came to you. 

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with those damn eyes that felt like they saw straight through his bullshit. Then, slowly, you took a step closer, not intimidated, but calm.

"Jason, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not going anywhere."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he’d never admit it. "I’m not pretending," he muttered, too quickly, and too defensively. 

The city stretched out beneath them, vast and indifferent, like a black sea dotted with the flickering lights of a thousand lives he would never touch. Jason stood there, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. You were still beside him, too close for comfort, your presence a constant reminder of everything he couldn’t afford to feel. 

Focus, he told himself. Don’t let her in. Don’t let her do this to you.

But it was already too late.

You were right. He was pretending. 

Jason’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he could feel the familiar coldness creeping in — the walls he had built so carefully around himself, the ones that were starting to crack and crumble under your quiet, persistent gaze. The feeling of wanting to reach for you, of wanting to say the things that scared him more than anything else in this broken city, gnawed at him like a sickness. 

But no. He couldn’t do it. Not to you. Not again.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel you staring at him, that soft gaze that always seemed to see straight through him. "This isn’t… this isn’t some fairy tale. You can’t just waltz in here and fix me. I’m not… I’m not someone you can save. You don’t know what it’s like, and you never will."

He finally turned to face you, his eyes burning with something he couldn’t even name. "I’m dangerous. And you think you can handle me? You think you can be around me and still come out unscathed? You have no idea what this world does to people like us."

You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "I know enough, Jason. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to push me away—"

"Stop," Jason cut you off, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He took a step back, as if your proximity was suffocating him. "Stop pretending like you know me. Like you understand anything about me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Jason, I—"

"I’m not the guy you think I am!" He didn’t shout, but his voice trembled with the raw emotion he refused to show. "I’m not the guy you can fix. You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t—" He stopped himself, the words lodged in his throat like broken glass. He could already feel the heat in his chest, the thumping of his heart, the same damn pain that had been there since he came back from the dead. 

His fists clenched tighter. "I’m not your fucking hero. I’m a killer. A broken, fucked-up, damaged thing, and you don’t want to get close to that."

The words came out in a rush, desperate, but also… final. His eyes were wild now, the storm inside him too strong to ignore, the war he’d been fighting with himself spilling out in a way he hadn’t intended. 

You stood there, silent for a moment, your face unreadable. Then your expression softened, a mixture of hurt and understanding flickering behind your eyes.

"I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between them. "I’m just trying to be here. I’m trying to be someone you don’t have to push away."

Jason didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. The words felt too raw, too close to something real. And that scared him more than anything. 

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t understand. I can’t let you in. Not like this. Not after everything."

He took another step back, further into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct in him screamed to get away from you, to run, to push you out of his life before you were swallowed up by the darkness he carried with him.

"Jason," your voice was quiet now, soft, like you were trying to reach him through the thick walls he had built. "Please."

But he couldn’t do it. Not for you.

Jason shook his head, more to himself than to you. He turned his back on you, the weight of his decision heavy in the pit of his stomach. His feet moved automatically, the thought of staying with you—of letting you see him, really see him—was too much to bear. 

Before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, he heard your voice again, fragile but clear.

"You don’t have to do this alone."

He froze. For a second, everything inside him wanted to turn around, to reach for you, to tell you how much he wanted to believe that. How much he wanted to let you in. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone in.

Jason's gaze lingered on the skyline, the weight of the city pressing down on him. His fists were still clenched, his jaw set tight, but inside, a storm was brewing, one that was just as chaotic as the one in the streets below. His heart was a mess of confusion and fear, and even though he wanted to push you away — needed to push you away — something about your quiet presence beside him made it feel impossible.

When you spoke again, your voice was gentle, almost like a whisper, yet it cut through the thick air between you with the clarity of truth. "You don't have to do this alone, Jason."

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, he could barely breathe. He’d heard those words before, but never with the kind of sincerity that made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the universe. That maybe, just maybe, there was someone who saw through his walls, someone who wasn’t afraid of the darkness he carried.

He shook his head, his voice rough, trying to hold onto the hardness that kept him safe. "I told you, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like."

"I don’t need to," you replied softly. "I just need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. Not if you let me stay."

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the words stirring something deep inside of him, something that scared him more than anything. He wanted to say something — push you away, explain why this couldn’t happen, why he couldn’t let you in.

But the words stuck in his throat.

You took a step closer, not backing down, but not rushing him either. And for the first time, in the midst of all the noise inside his head, he realized that you weren’t asking him to fix himself. You were just asking him to be real. To stop pretending. To let you in.

Without thinking, without even fully knowing what he was doing, Jason reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. The proximity felt like a tug, a pull he couldn’t ignore. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you stood there, looking at him with those eyes that had always been so damn patient, so damn sure.

And in that moment, something inside Jason broke open — a crack in the walls that had kept him safe for so long. He didn’t need to pretend anymore.

He moved before he could stop himself.

One step, then two, and suddenly, he was close enough to feel your breath against his skin, close enough that he could see the way your lips parted slightly, as though you were holding your own breath, waiting for him to make the next move.

And then, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, Jason closed the gap.

His lips brushed against yours in a slow, tentative kiss, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he pressed any harder. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, your hand reached up, cupping the side of his face, and you kissed him back, steady and sure.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The tension that had held him captive for so long unraveled, piece by piece, until all that was left was this — you, here with him, unafraid.

He kissed you deeper this time, a soft but desperate need in the way his mouth met yours. The world felt a little less heavy, like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry the weight of it all on his own anymore.

When the kiss finally broke, Jason’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing in the same air, your hearts syncing in a way that made everything else fade into the background. He didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t. But the words he didn’t have to speak were already there — in the way his hands found your waist, in the way his body relaxed against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice rough with the admission. "Scared I’m not… enough. That I’m too broken for anyone to be here. To be what you need."

You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around him, grounding him with the warmth of your touch. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s enough for me, Jason. That’s more than enough.”

His chest tightened at your words, the sincerity of them striking deep. He wasn’t used to hearing that — wasn’t used to anyone seeing him for who he really was, not the mask he wore to survive, not the monster he sometimes thought he was.

But you did.

He let out a breath, the weight of everything in him finally beginning to lift. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Jason closed his eyes, his heart a little lighter than before. Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers. Maybe he didn’t have to be the hero, or the villain, or the broken man he always saw in the mirror.

Maybe he just needed to be someone who didn’t have to face the world alone.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jason realized that he wasn’t as lost as he thought. Not anymore.

For the first time in a long time, he was ready to face whatever came next.

And he was ready to face it with you.

[yetanotherexhaustedalchemist]

Found this tiermaker assigning the twst boys with the seven deadly sins, here's my rankings

Explainations:

Ace was difficult to place, but he is prone to overestimating/boasting about his prowess with magic or intelligence (often without evidence behind him 😒) He also thought he was a match for RIDDLE one week into school, yikes.

Jack was also difficult to place, since he's generally one of the more upstanding students. But he does rely on himself more than he probably should on occasion, such as when he wanted to confront Leona alone in Book 2, without the support of others.

I mean what's not for Vil to be proud of Pride is often defined as being full of yourself to the point that you won't acknowledge your faults; this doesn't apply to Vil. Still, it could be argued that his pride led him to be unable to acknowledge Neige winning against him.

Sebek thinks very highly of being fae. IDK what else

It's Azul. He's a capitalist. What do you want from me?

Floyd wasn't assigned lust from a sexual viewpoint (necessarily), but he does live hedonistically. He only really does things if he thinks they'll bring him enjoyment or pleasure of some form.

Same for Rook. I guess you could say he lusts for beauty?

And same for Malleus. His need to keep the things he cherishes close prompts his overblot, and that's a kind of possessiveness I associate with lust.

Cater is shown in his Halloween SSR to envy Lilia's understanding family relationships. Social media also tends to make people compare their lives to others and lead to envy.

Jamil envies people - a lot of people - to the point that it affects his relationships and distorts how he views people. For example, his envy of Kalim's (perceived) easy life stops him from seeing Kalim objectively.

Epel is a minor example, but he's prone to being jealous of other's strength (physical like Jack and Leona, or magical like Vil).

It makes sense that someone who grew up in the slums, needing to fight and steal to get food to eat, would be kind of obsessed with having food and money. Ruggie is under gluttony rather than greed because he actually uses the money and eats the food (or gives it to the people back home) instead of hoarding it.

Besides having a large appetite, I'd say that Jade is a bit of a 'glutton' for amusement in a similar way to Floyd. I put him under gluttony instead of lust because it just felt right.

He angy

Deuce is under wrath because of delinquent mode, that's it

Ortho chooses violence with alarming frequency. not much to say.

Trey himself admits that he let Riddle's mental state get worse by not dealing with the hard truth and letting it fester. He says he knows he should have done something to stop Riddle, but he didn't, and it hurt Riddle and others.

Leona is lazy (sleeping all the time), but his cynicism also makes him extremely unmotivated and uninterested in putting effort into anything.

Like Leona, Idia is extremely uninterested in doing things outside his interests, even when they demand his attention (housewarden and STYX duties). Also, like Leona, he almost certainly has depression, which would help explain this.

Lilia also didn't fit into any of the catagories well, but I put him under sloth for the sole reason that his suddenly leaving NRC for the East could be seen as him trying to to avoid the hard goodbyes of a farewell, in a (failed) attempt to spare his boys' from pain.

Kalim's just a sweetheart!! none of the categories fit him well

Same with Silver

--

A few specifications: here are the definitions I used for the sins

Wrath: Anger taken to unhealthy extremes; misdirected anger; causing harm by hurting innocents

Sloth: Causing harm by inaction; leaving others to suffer when you could/should do something to help

Greed: When the desire to have resources (money, land, ect) deprives others of what they need

Envy: Seeing others' fortune as wrong; dumbing people down into targets of jealousy

Pride: Believing you are superior to others

Gluttony: Hunger (for food, luxury, ect) taken to unhealthy extremes; anything in excess is poison

Lust: Reducing others as objects/pawns for your desire (sexual, power, wealth, ect); desiring something so strongly that becomes a sole motivator

--

Putting someone in a category doesn't mean that they fit all the criteria/interpretations

I also included despair/melancholy under sloth (choosing to wallow in your own pain and ignoring what could be done to help, yourself or others)

The difference between greed and gluttony is hard to define, but it's best described by greed being the desire to have material things for the sake of having them, while gluttony is the desire to have material things for the pleasure of consuming/using them.

[matan4il]

Today's update post will be dedicated to the lawsuit that South Africa (SA) submitted to the International Court of Justice (ICJ, the UN's judicial arm), with the discussion held this coming Thursday. I first wrote about it here.

Why is SA suing Israel specifically for the crime of genocide, and not for the easier to prove ('coz it doesn't involve intent) charge of committing war crimes? Well, because Israel has signed the international convention for the prevention of genocide. It actually signed it pretty early on, in 1949. Just 4 years after the end of the Holocaust (it applies to Israel since 1951). What signing this convention means, is that even if Israel isn't committing a genocide, and SA knows it isn't, SA also knows the only way to drag Israel to the ICJ is to accuse it of this crime, so... surprise! SA did.

Curiously, it turns out that the Palestinian Authority (PA) has secretly been helping SA with filing this lawsuit (as reported on Jan 6, on Kan News, source in Hebrew). The PA has a right to sue Israel at the ICJ, but it might be using SA as a proxy, because it is afraid of being sued itself (it can, as an idea, be sued for financially supporting the genocidally motivated actions of Hamas, due to its "pay for slay" program, where the PA pays Palestinians salaries for their terrorist activities, and the pay is greater the more lethal the attack. Because yes, the PA will be paying salaries for the Oct 7 massacre, despite it being carried out by Hamas, the Palestinian Islamic Jihad and other terrorists), and I guess they think the best defense is an offense. Also, by having SA file the lawsuit for them, the PA is making sure another country will be drawing all of the fire for it, such as the condemnation from the US, calling the lawsuit "counterproductive" and "not based on facts," which was issued against SA, not against the PA.

Also, weirdly it seems that the issue of intent, which should make the lawsuit more difficult to prove, is actually what most of the case is based on!? The lawsuit is less about what Israel has been doing, and more about quotes from Israeli officials, that supposedly expose genocidal intent. Many of these quotes are presented in a misleading way, stuff like omitting that the quotes were clearly in reference to obliterating Hamas, presented them instead as if these Israeli officials were talking about obliterating the Palestinians.

So basically, SA is guilty of precisely the first point I was making in this post, conflating Hamas with the Palestinians, but only when it can be used to attack the Jewish state.

I watched an interesting panel held about this subject, and one legal expert said the right thing to do, would be for the ICJ to point out that SA is abusing the court for cynical political purposes, that its lawsuit doesn't meet the minimal requirements to be filed, making it very obvious that they're just weaponizing the court and abusing its power to hound Israel, and for this, the lawsuit should be thrown out immediately, without even getting to trial. Another participant, a former Israeli diplomat to the UN, said that yes, that's what should be done. But this lawsuit will allow the judges to rule on the most burning subject on the global agenda these days, so they won't throw the case out and condemn SA for filing this frivolous lawsuit.

Another panelist suggested that Israel should go on the offense, and point out at the ICJ, that by virtue of SA being financially supported and invested in by Iran, and thus unsurprisingly supporting the Islamist Iranian regime, which is the one that financed Hamas' activity (including the massacre of Oct 7, and the recently exposed attempts to target Jewish institutes in Europe), it's actually SA that is supporting the genocide of the Jews. I doubt this is the line of defense Israel will take, but it's an interesting point to keep in mind.

In conclusion, regarding what this false lawsuit really means:

SA's lawsuit basically seeks to rob the Jewish state of the right to defend its population against a genocidal threat. That is INSANE. It is, in practice, pro-genocide, and insane that it's even entertained.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[danieyells]

I don't know if you've done it yet but I would like to request Ren lines? I'm having tokyo debunker Ren brainrot bro 😭.

@otomelover23

You're all very welcome! I love you guys too, so far! Sorry you've been deprived of lazy boi lolol HOPEFULLY THESE SATISFY YOU A LITTLE BIT.

He's a little tsundere I think. He's one of those characters who just wants to be normal but he can't just pretend to be normal because he lives surrounded by chaos so he just complains a lot lolol. . .but i think he's a good guy. Aside from that he does not help his mother captain at all.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Great, shift change. I'm gonna head out then... What? Do I really need to be here for that?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"I think you've got a notification... Aren't you going to look at it?"

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"Who did I disappoint in a past life to end up in Jabberwock... There's no general students or even a single other sane person, and these jumpsuits are a crime..."

"Why do I have to look after all these weird-ass animals? This is forced labor...  Ugh, they're so gross..."

"If you're just gonna stand there, could you go feed the animals in the aquatic zone?  I'm too busy."

"Ugh, why is that clown calling me... ... Whatever, I'll just let it ring out."

you know damn well that if you don't answer the phone you're gonna have to deal with Haru in person. Better to just answer it.

"Oh, hey... Could you open the link I sent you? No, you don't have to sign up or anything. Thanks."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh... Tell me how I'm supposed to sit through classes when I've been up since 4 AM? (yawn) I'm exhausted..."

well if you didn't stay up until 4am--oh who am i kidding i stayed up til like 3 watching a stream and reading datamine stuff and then I got up at like 6:30 to get ready for work I'm no better kekw.

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Ugh... I can't believe I'm hiding right now... Why the hell does that clown have to chase me around at lunch time too?"

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Preach about doing it for the sake of your friends or the animals or whatever all you want— I really don't give a shit. People who say that stuff are just deluding themselves."

i've known people with this kind of cynicism before. once he finds people care about him and a little more stability he'll come around a little more.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Huh? I can't see that clown anywhere... Hell yes. Gonna get through my watch list. I hope he never comes back."

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I'm grinding this game on my phone, so could you not talk to me for a while? Crap, I think my RSI is flaring up..."

in Japanese he specifies tendonitis haha

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Don't people get embarrassed calling out those words when they use their stigmas? It makes them look like LARPers..."

in japanese he says they sound like they have chuunibyou which is much funnier imo lmao. also i guess that means he can say his in his head? since he'd feel embarrassed doing it aloud, maybe he's practiced already lol

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"You think I sigh a lot? Got a problem with that? You realize trying to take away people's freedom of speech is power harrassment, right?"

you're starting to sound like ritsu. gonna hurt yourself reaching like that.

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm so done... I'm out of HP... Shouldn't I be exempt from missions and classes since I'm looking after all those animals?"

well based on one of Haku's chats, you can just do missions if you don't go to class, and based on Kaito you can just go to class instead of doing missions. . .but I'm sure Haru forces him on missions anyway lol. . . .

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Pfft... The video of that clown getting attacked by that hawk thing is getting so many interacts. This editing thing's actually pretty fun."

does editing count as a creative effort? i wouldn't be surprised if he switched to Hotarubi next year if so, assuming he doesn't get used to Jabberwock and the animals. Also why didn't he get stopped by Sophy for uploading a video with an anomaly? Unless he uploaded it to an Institute social media site like WickHive or something. . . .

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Gotta change the locks so that clown can't get in again. I've bought enough padlocks to start my own business by now..."

life haru finds a way. sometimes that way is "towa, break down the door" if he runs out of lockpicking equipment.

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"My head's killing me... This is the worst... Rise and shine! my ass... It's basically still the middle of the night. Guess I should padlock my windows..."

5-6am I can understand being 'basically the middle of the night' but after that you're pushing it lmao

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"The cafeteria's way over capacity... The assholes who save seats before its even noon are ruining it for everyone else..."

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Why's my pay so low... huh? What's this deduction for? "Consultation Fee: Ritsu Shinjo..." He's seriously charging me for complaining...?"

Ritsu charges for looking at him too long. i'd try venting on wickhive over complaining to Ritsu.

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"That rabbit sure has it good. All it has to do is breathe and everyone fawns over it. Doesn't even have to feed itself. Just wait till it grows up and learns what the world's really like."

WELL BASED ON THAT THE ADULT PEEKABOO WAS STILL BEING FAWNED OVER AND HARU HAD TO STOP PEOPLE FROM PETTING IT BECAUSE IT BITES. . .IT'LL PROBABLY STILL HAVE IT GOOD. Haru takes good care of the animals.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Sup... Huh? I'm alone today. I just got up on my own since if I don't that clown'll wake me up anyway."

yeah? it's because of haru? not because of your affinity with the pc being more than half so you wanna be up earlier to spend more time with them? sure.

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Oof, nearly missed the noon raid...  Not like I'll have any time to myself once I get back to the dorm, so I guess I should do it now..."

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"No, I'm not going to sleep yet. I'm gonna watch a horror B-movie. You don't have to think, so they're the perfect thing to watch before bed."

i used to watch/listen to mts3k to go to sleep so. i feel this.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Well done me for surviving another day... Oh, same to you too, {PC}. I don't how you can do this stuff voluntarily."

SOME PEOPLE JUST LIKE ANIMALS DAWG.

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Huh? I'm going to the campus store to buy some stuff, where are you going? Well, I'm going that way, so...bye."

not sure if shy or asocial lmao. could be both!

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"You're being forced to help out again? Wow, a doormat out in the wild. So? Where do you want me to carry all this food?"

he's helping you even though he doesn't wanna work. HE'S GOT IT BAD.

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"This? It's a video I uploaded. People seem really into it. It's of that clown getting chased by a dog and flailing around like one of those inflatable air dancers."

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"What am I doing today? Working at the diner. Oh, if you want to keep me company, feel free to come by. As long as you serve yourself."

it's not a date or anything since he's at work but like. . .he is inviting you to hang out. . . .

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Huh? You were waiting for me to get off work? Oh... Thanks. Wait, that clown put you up to this?! I'm gonna kill him..."

NO NO WE CAME HERE WILLINGLY probably. although it does seem like Haru to be like "oh hey Ren really really likes you, you should go pick him up from work! he'd love that!!" like a real nosy mom who's trying to get his son together with his crush.

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"When did it get this late? That was horrifyingly fast... I'll walk part of the way back with you. I was gonna go buy something to drink anyway..."

excuses, excuses. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Every day here is a fresh hell, sure, but... You're suffering through it with me, so I guess I'll stick it out a little longer..."

'this sucks but you make it suck a little(a lot) less so i can keep going'. yep, that's our tsundere alright!

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"That clown's even more slap-happy than usual lately—it's horrible. Has he got spring fever or something?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Otonashi keeps trying to make me drink some kind of rice porridge with weird flowers in it... It's actual porridge harassment."

considering the flower Towa associates with Ren is poisonous, i think it's safe to assume he is literally trying to poison him to death lmao. also wtf is porridge harassment--i even tried looking it up in japanese and the first thing that came up was someone screenshotting it and saying "what is porridge harassment" lolol

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"All this farm labor's bad enough without all the caterpillars and weird plants that are out there now...This is harassment."

what's harassing you, nature? as someone who just had to kill a huge mosquito that came into my room, nature is harassing me too.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I hate cherry blossoms. They're like the flower version of being a legacy kid— all they have to do is bloom once a year and everyone claps."

in japanese what he says is something like 'i hate them just like people born with silver spoons in their mouths'. basically he hates people born into privilege lol i bet he'd have the potential to get along well with haku until he learns he'll be inheriting a shrine. . .then again he's getting along with Ritsu in their own little way

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"This is the worst... It's not even noon yet, how is it so hot? Summer is for extroverts and party animals, I wish it could just be over already..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"A group trip to the beach? I'd rather die. No decent person would ever go there of their own free will."

butbutbut. think of the summer skins!!!

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Summer was our busy period back home, so I always had to kill myself helping out. Now I'm here though... nothing's changed."

. . .did Ren's family run some sort of seaside shop??? And he happened to end up afraid of the ocean and hating aquatic creatures and such?

(between 8pm and 5am)

"How can the A/C be banned in the dorm...? Who gives a shit what temperature some anomalous animal that sneaks in prefers, humans should come first..."

okay i agree with him here though what the fuck kind of rule is that. can we talk to hyde about that, that's insane haru.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Now it's getting colder, I nearly found myself feeling grateful for this tragic jumpsuit... Am I being brainwashed...?"

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Fall, the season of the harvest—I'll stick with cup noodles, thanks. "Fall, the season to enjoy the outdoors"—screw that. I'm gonna make it the season of naps."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Look—I got bitten by some weird bug anomaly. To hell with the stupid bug spray ban, I'm buying some."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I feel like the mountains are rowdier when there's a full moon. Pretty sure my enemy encounter rate goes up when I'm on patrol too... Maybe I'm just imagining it."

is 'enemy encounter rate' here referring to people or anomalies. . .because if it's people then that's just because of tsukimi. . .although I wouldn't be surprised if there were a lot of anomalies or anomalies were more active on full moons.

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"There's less patrols in winter but anything involving water like washing up gets even worse... Ugh, I wish I could hibernate too..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Since the climate in Jabberwock's so messed up, sometimes it's actually warm in winter. The blizzards are way stronger though..."

have you tried pissing towa off less?

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Oh god, I just saw what's in the diner's new Mystery Hot Pot... It's gotta be a matter of time before this place goes bust..."

i mean if they had ordinary health inspectors maybe lolol

(between 8pm and 5am)

"That clown broke my window so my room's like a freezer... Oh, don't worry. I just took his room instead."

lmao imagine Ren invites you to hang out and takes you to Haru's room instead of his like nah he broke my window so i'm using his room and he can freeze.

His birthday: (July 25th)

"You got this for me? That clown's been spreading my personal info around... No, it's fine, I'll still take it. Thanks."

i guess he doesn't really tell people his birthday, huh.

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday, {PC}. ...Isn't it kind of rude to look so surprised I'd celebrate your birthday? That came from the heart, you know."

I MEAN YOU NORMALLY DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYTHING. . .it's happy surprise!!!

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. My resolution? Escaping the hell hole that is Jabberwock, for starters."

well you got here in like September or something so. you've got a while befor eyou can switch houses lmao but you can do it this year!

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"You got me chocolates? You're the type who does all this kind of stuff, huh? No, it's fine, you went to the trouble and everything so I'll take them."

i love when characters kinda mock you for doing getting them something but then they're like "nonono i want it gimme--" lolol from Ren especially it's very tsundere. poor guy wouldn't be straightforward about his feelings unless a damn life was on the line.

White Day: (March 14th)

"{PC}... Here, if you want them. I just bought the first thing I saw, so don't read into it..."

i bet it's actually really nice lolol

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Guess what? I got special permission to switch houses. That nightmare is now behind me! I wish..."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"I hope everyone who gets excited about Halloween lives in misery for the rest of their lives. Why the hell do I have to help out with this stupid themed tour?"

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Can I ask you a question, {PC}? You don't still believe in Santa Claus, do you? Never mind, it doesn't matter. Have a good Christmas."

i mean. . .after coming here santa is a plausible entity to believe in. . .if there's gonna be a santa i don't wanna be caught not believing and missing out on gifts. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Where'd she go...? Whatever. Guess I'll catch up on some of my games."

(13 affinity and above)

"Pfft... This edit's awesome. I'm a genius. I'll show {PC} when she gets back."

true bonding is sharing the funny memes you worked hard on. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"It's not like I was waiting for you or anything. It's just this hell hole is even more unbearable when you're not around..."

YEP THAT'S OUR UNFORTUNATE CUSTOMER SERVICE EMPLOYEE TSUNDERE ALRIGHT. His lines don't really get super affectionate but. They still have a charm to them when you realize how much he hides his feelings in the usual tsundere way. He likes you a lot but like. . .it's a bother and it's embarrassing. . .and what're the chances you're into him? He'll just invite you over to watch movies and play games with him and stuff. . .and tell himself it's fine to just be friends until it eats away at him. . .or until Haru spills the beans for him--

this took way too long because i got distracted like three times in the middle and my laptop started freaking out and i had to figure out why and close and reopen everything about 8 times hahaha. . . . OKAY TIME FOR ME TO GO TO BED! I hope this satisfies you a little bit!!

[thoughtlessthinkythoughts]

I think the key to understanding show!Aziraphale is in some lines that are in the book but not the show. Because these lines represent a place that our show Aziraphale hasn't hit yet.

Before I get into this, let me explain why I think things that aren't in the show can be so important to understanding where the show will go.

For another example, let's look at the ending of the book/s1. In the book, Adam is not impressed with Aziraphale and Crowley. There is no pep talk. He actually has a pretty stern message to them about "not messing people around."

A lot of s2 might not have worked the same way if they had gotten that message. It would have cut off room for growth. The whole plotline with Nina and Maggie for one would have been much less likely. So by holding off the stop messing with people message to the end of s2 (and then only giving it to Crowley), it provides more room for the characters to change at a pace befitting a multi-season show.

So what else do I think will end up working this way?

Well, there's a scene I love in the book that hasn't made it into the show yet. It happens after Aziraphale is discorporated. In the show, he goes to heaven, then to Madame Tracy. In the book, he bounces around possible hosts first, including a televangelist. The televangelist is going on about the rapture and such, and Aziraphale cuts in with this:

"Well, nice try...only it won't be like that at all. Not really.

"I mean, you're right about the fire and war, all that. but that Rapture stuff well, if you could see them all in Heaven - serried ranks of them as far as the mind can follow and beyond, league after league of us, flaming swords, all that, well, what I'm trying to say is who has time to go round picking people out and popping them up in the air to sneer at the people dying of radiation sickness on the parched and burning earth below them? If that's your idea of a morally acceptable time, I might add.

"And as for that stuff about Heaven inevitably winning...Well, to be honest, if it were that cut and dried, there wouldn't be a Celestial War in the first place, would there? It's propaganda. Pure and simple. We've got no more than a fifty percent chance of coming out on top. You might as well send money to a Satanist hotline to cover your bets, although to be frank when the fire falls and the seas of blood rise you lot are all going to be civilian casualties either way. Between our war and your war, they're going to kill everyone and let God sort it out-right?

"Anyway, sorry to stand here wittering, I've just a quick question-where am I?"

Because even this more cynical version of Aziraphale is adorable, the scene ends with "Gosh," he said, "am I on television?"

We didn't get this in the show, but I can't help feeling that it might be in season 3, assuming we get a season 3. It might even fit in better there, assuming we are going with a "second coming" plot. In the show, Aziraphale hasn't reached this level of cynicism (yet). I can't picture s1 or s2 Aziraphale giving this speech. Sure, he's seen what a mess the archangels are, he was willing to go against heaven to stop them from starting the end of the world, but I'm pretty sure show Aziraphale still believes in the goodness of God if not the goodness of the way heaven is run. It makes sense that show Aziraphale sees heaven as a fixable mess, an organization that isn't living up to what it should be. Because the show is taking Aziraphale's struggle with morally complex situations and questioning God and making it a longer arc.

My guess it that, as his tenure as archangel is likely to go terribly and not give him any more answers (or at least not answers he likes), he will get to the point where he could give this speech in season 3. My guess is that he's likely to also end up in a horrendous mental state once he reaches these conclusions (a perfect opportunity for some hurt/comfort). He's likely to build himself back up after that, but with a clearer look at the world.

End conclusion: if you are telling a longer story, sometimes you need to hold some things back to give your characters room to grow. So, it isn't a sign something is wrong with a story when partway through a character hasn't hit upon an obvious point.

"

[gilverrwrites]

Quick and Dirty

Pairing: Captain Boomerang/Reader

Digger has an idea, it involves highly inappropriate usage of the Speed Force Gauntlet. (Please ignore the fact that the gauntlet doesn't actually extend to the fingers - at least i'm pretty sure it doesn't)

You're currently reading the AFAB version

>[Please click here for the AMAB version]<

Rating: 18+

Words: >800

Content: Established relationship, coercion (kinda), clitoral stimulation, vibrations, dirty talk, spit, swearing.

Please remember: to do the things that make you happy.

“No. Fucking. Way.” You warn, leaning back against the wall and crossing your arms defensively. “You keep that thing away from me.”

“Oh, come on, Darlin’.” Digger is still smiling, crooked, confident, casual. He gestures to the speed gauntlet strapped to his other arm. “It’s perfectly safe. You’ve seen me usin’ it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You examine the glove in question. It would be a lie to say you weren’t intrigued. You didn’t know much about the speed force beyond whatever half-truths Digger rambled on about, it seemed intricate, and unsafe. But Boomerang was a good lay, and he’d used that thing to save your skin in the field more than once, so you were willing to tentatively hear him out. “If that thing goes off midway, I don’t want my bits going with it.”

“That won’t happen… Probably.” Concern did flash across his face briefly, but it was quickly hidden by his usual bravado. He stepped closer to you, not quite close enough to touch, but enough that you could smell him, that you could feel the high energy radiating from him. Or maybe that was the gauntlet. “Have a little faith in ol’ Boomer, aye. I’ll treat you right, make you feel real good.”

“Okay… but if anything happens to mine.” You point to your crotch before gesturing to the growing erection in Digger's trousers. “I’m using yours as target practice.”

That might have been a boner killer for other men, but Digger's enthusiasm when it comes to sex or showing off knows no bounds, and this is a perfect opportunity for both. His eyes glint with mischief, with victory. He licks his lips, and you know there’s no backing out now, you’re fucked.

Digger maintains eye contact as he reaches out, there’s no pleasantries. He makes quick work undoing your trousers, hooking his gloved fingers in your panties, and pulling them both down until they’re positioned halfway down your thighs.

“What, no foreplay?” You challenge, raising your brows at him.

“You’re not gonna need it.” The look he gives you is so coy, so amused. It should fuel your cynicism, but it looks hot on him. “But, since ya asked so nicely, I guess I can spare a lil somethin’.”

He rests his unarmed hand on the wall beside you and leans in, occupying your lips with his. You’re only allowed a moment to enjoy it before you feel the brisk metal finger plates of the gauntlet slide between your slit. You hiss at the contact, and Digger pulls his hand back immediately.

“Sorry bout that. Shoulda warmed it up first.” His expression flips to sheepish as he brushes his fingers against his scarf. He blows on it a few times before spitting on his index finger and continuing. “Right, let’s try that again.”

He resumes the position, one hand on the wall, one hand slinking back between your legs, and his face just inches from yours. The temperature has barely improved, but he’s able to sink his fingers back in without causing you to flinch this time.

You’re still unprepared and admittedly unimpressed thus far as he starts circling your clit. To give him a fighting chance, you close your eyes, hoping it will help you focus on the feeling.

“Aye, no no no. Keep your eyes open.” As you follow his instruction, you hear a quiet whizzing from below, a lesser sound than the gauntlet's normal powering up. “I wanna watch your reaction.”

Then it hits you, an intense pulsing pressed against your most sensitive area, like every vibrator ever invented is being utilised on you in that single moment. The wall prevents you from being able to roll your head back, so you stare at Digger, wide-eyed as your body tingles and burns.

“Shhhhiiiiit, you like that.” His voice is dripping with fervour, and it only serves to add an extra level of throbbing to your cunt. Already approaching your climax, you’re unable to find the words to respond, instead fisting your hands around Digger's leather lapels in anticipation. “You reallllly like that, don’t ya?”

A nod is all you can manage as you begin to jerk and quiver, hitting your climax in record time. It’s hot and searing, like lightning is running through your whole body.

The tips of your fingers and toes, among other things, are still twitching as you start to catch your breath moments later. You can barely comprehend whatever Digger is prattling on about. He’s waving the gauntlet around, his arm moving so fast you can’t make it out. There’s lots of brash laughter and ‘I told ya so’s. You’re finally able to fully tune in as he muses, “How many rounds of that can handle, I wonder?”

[wheredafandomat]

Shrink - P1 | You need to get laid

Random short thing I thought of. It’ll probably only be a few parts.

Avenger! Loki x therapist! Reader

18+ | there will be some bad language and probably mentions of sex throughout etc. Also, this is a lil unethical

Next

With a long exhale, Loki rolled his eyes as he settled back against his chair, slouching as you continued to speak. He didn’t like being here, judged, therapized, forced to confront his feelings or whatever other taradiddles Thor had conjured up to get him here. He tried to look interested, gaze meeting yours as you paused before continuing when you had his attention.

“I personally feel your hostility and aggression towards the other members of your team may be rooted into something else.” You concluded as Loki narrowed his gaze questioningly at you. “Loki, I’m going to ask you a very personal question and I want you to answer truthfully.”

“Go ahead.” He nodded.

“Remember in here” you started, gesturing around the room “is a safe space.”

“Get on with it.”

“When is the last time you’ve had sex?” You questioned.

Inhaling and exhaling, Loki’s gaze began wandering around the room as he nervously scratched the back of his neck.

“Well there was—and— and I can’t forget—” he began mumbling to himself as you took a sip of water before he was looking at you again “if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say around a century ago.”

Gasping, you almost spat out your water.

“Relax, only a midgardian century, time moves very slowly here I’ve gathered.” He tried to console.

“I thought it moved faster here?”

“Perhaps” Loki shrugged “I don’t know, I was just trying to quell your shock and distress.”

“I wouldn’t say I was distressed, just” you swallowed thickly “surprised.”

“Well, I’ve not found anyone I want to be intimate with.” He spoke matter of factly.

“No one?” You queried incredulously.

“I don’t spend much time out. I’m usually helping my brother and his team of delinquents.” Loki explained.

“They’re the Avengers, Earth’s defenders Loki.” You countered.

“Well I hope your planet musters up a more capable team, sooner rather than later.” He mocked.

Instead of defending the organisation further, you kept your professionalism.

“Look, Loki, if I’m being honest with you, I don’t think you’re angry, I think you're sexually frustrated” you proposed. “it’d explain the irritability, the edginess and the dreams we spoke about last week.”

“Sexually frustrated.” He repeated, mulling over the words. “And how would one go abouts curing this sexual frustration?” He asked, earning a cynical look from you. “Right.” He realised.

“For you, this week's homework is to go out and get laid, safely.”

“Get laid?”

“Have some sex, do I have to spell everything out for you?” You huffed exaggeratedly.

“Right.” He smiled.

“So, same time next week?”

“Yes.” He agreed, making his next appointment before leaving.

Making his way back to the compound, Loki thought about your words. Could you quite possibly be correct? He didn’t want to admit it but he thought that there was potential for you to be right but then that’d mean that the whole concept of therapy wasn’t as useless as he had previously argued and he didn’t like being wrong. He despised it. Huffing to himself, he thought there was probably no harm in testing your hypothesis. Once he reached back, he was greeted by Thor.

“How was therapy?” Thor asked.

“Do you and Jane have sex?” Loki questioned causing Thor to swallow thickly, clearly taken aback.

“Yes, yes we do.” He answered. “Why?”

“Well Doctor y/l/n recons that I’ll be all better if I have some of the sex.” Loki explained, causing Thor to stand straighter.

“Well we must settle this at dawn, whoever survives will be the one Jane—” Thor began before Loki interrupted.

“What on Midgard are you going on about?”

“What on Midgard are you going on about?” Thor narrowed his gaze.

“I have to find someone in which I can have the sex with and then I’ll be all better. Don’t fret, I don’t want Jane.” Loki insisted.

“Oh splendid.” Thor clapped happily.

Meanwhile, you had just finished up with your last client before you heard a knock at your door, looking up, you smiled as you gestured Natasha inside who was holding food. Once she entered, she sat down as you both tucked into the meal.

“So, how’s your week been, any good client stories?” Natasha asked.

“Natasha” you exclaimed “if I were to share information about my patients with you, I’d be at risk of losing my license.”

“I won’t tell” she baited you “besides, I’m not asking you to be specific and use names, just give me the rundown, we used to share everything with each other.”

You couldn’t disagree with her, you became best friends when your office was based at SHIELD headquarters and she was a trainee agent.

“You’re a terrible influence, pour me a glass of that wine.” You relented.

“Soo, banging anyone?” She asked, both of you with glasses in hand.

“No, no one rocks my boat.” You sighed.

“What about that accounting guy?”

“We were at my apartment and let’s just say an encounter with a spider left one of us almost in tears and the other completely turned off.” You cringed at the memory causing Natasha to laugh. “I want a man Nat, he was always just so—”

“Weak?” She finished.

“I was going to say submissive and not in the sexy way. I guess I’m just done with always being the one making decisions, always being the one in control.” You rationalized.

“You wanna be dominated.” She figured.

“Yes.” You agreed.

“You should have just asked.” She teased.

“Very funny” you smiled “but yes, I think that’s it. Like if we’re having sex, I want him to hold me down and fuck me you know, not just cuddle and dry hump me until his boners gone down.”

“Accounting done that?” She interrupted you, aghast.

“He said he only wanted to have sex romantically.”

“What does that even mean?” She laughed.

“Who knows?” You shrugged. “Maybe it means after a date?”

“So then what did he do the times he was just at your apartment?”

“Not get rid of spiders” you laughed “he was more of a friend really. We just watched films together and hung out.”

“Wow, that’s crazy.”

“I know.”

“Girl you need to get laid.”

“I knowww.”

“So, what’s the plan?” She grinned.

“I’m looking for a man that can remove spiders from the home and pin me against the wall.” You giggled.

Next

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @thenotoriouserg @chantsdemarins @donaweasley @xorpsbane @mcufan72 @loz-3 @evelyn-kingsley @sailorholly @lovingchoices14 @lokiedokiee @noideakitten @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokiprompts @lulubelle814 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958 @gigglingtiggerv2 @tmilover1993 @lyds247 @dustychinchilla74 @lokis-dark-queen

[lightwise]

WHY MAYDAY IS A MIRROR OF REX (AND ALL OF CROSSHAIR’S BROTHERS)

AKA How Crosshair predicted his own redemption arc.

There have been many comparisons made between Mayday and Rex/The Bad Batch, but I have kept myself from ranting about The Outpost for too long and I figured I should get this out there before this week’s new episode hits. 

Crosshair is cynical and snarky when we meet him in The Clone Wars (as is the norm for his personality, but there’s a special edge to it in S7 E1). The first words out of his mouth are “we don’t usually work with regs.”

(I am not sure who first posted this image set, so if you know who to credit please reach out).

Now in TBB E12, the episode opens with Crosshair watching regular clones being told about the retirement bill by an imperial officer. His helmet is off and they have no armor on. He’s face to face with them. He seems interested in their conversation but is still removed, separate. He still thinks this doesn't affect him.

Once he ships out to Barton 4, we meet Mayday by hearing his voice before he rounds the corner into our view. The immediate thought that flew into my mind was, “that’s Rex’s voice.” Other than Rex himself, we as the audience and especially Crosshair as a character have not heard that warm, snarky, calm tone that signifies that commanding officer’s “regular clone voice” much this season. Mayday’s voice is a little deeper than Rex’s, but he has the same commanding yet casual tone and demeanor. As weary and frustrated as he is at the lack of support from the Empire, Mayday chooses to express it with a level of snarkiness that would have made Tech, Echo, or Rex himself proud. 

Or as Rex once said, "It's Captain, sir."

"Experience outranks everything."

Mayday and his squad are wrapped in mummified cloth strips, and he states that his men are all “dead. We’re all that’s left.” Three of them, to mimic the three troopers being forced into retirement that Crosshair had seen before arriving. They are dead men walking. And so are the rest of the clones. 

Mayday brings the light to Crosshair. And starts talking to him, man to man, like a friend. Like a brother. He asks him his name. Crosshair’s first encounters with Rex were Rex going after Echo, pulling him free from mindless programming and reminding him what his name really was. 

“What brought you here.” “Just lucky, I guess.” Luck isn’t a word that Crosshair typically uses to describe his experiences. He usually relies on and points out his superiority, his skills, his uniqueness. He knows he hasn’t engineered this meeting, and yet Mayday’s mannerisms are already starting to find the chinks in his metaphorical armor. 

“I’ll give you the lay of the land.” Like Hunter would. “Conditions have degraded our equipment.” Like Tech could have helped with. “I’m not an explosives expert.” Wrecker is. 

Mayday lays out the helmets of his fallen squad in a memorial, the same way Rex and Ahsoka do after order 66. Reverence and respect for the dead, even when it seems meaningless. Crosshair has let himself be deadened by the Empire, yet Mayday treats him with interest and respect, drawing him back out of himself. Mayday even shows the same respect for the raider who had been attacking his base, saying that he was bothered that his men had left him there to die. 

Crosshair is still throwing up his shields, like he did at the end of season 1 when he tried to convince his brothers to join him. “We’re not like the regs, we never have been. We’re superior.” 

And all of a sudden, Crosshair will die if Mayday doesn’t save him. If he doesn’t fully trust him to disarm the pressure mine he has gotten himself into. He has continued to choose to step in places that are a pressure mine waiting to go off, waiting to swallow him whole. And until now he has made enemies of anyone who has tried to help him.

Mayday saves his life, and now they’re working as a team, silently and in unison. They realize that all this effort and loss of life has been for mere equipment (that’s for their replacements, no less). Their lives really are worth even less than the epithet "used equipment" that Nolan spits in Crosshair’s face when they first meet. 

Hunter had tried to tell him on Kamino: “Can’t you see they’re using you? We’re loyal to each other, not some empire.”

Crosshair: “YOU weren’t loyal to me. I was one of you. You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. I’m going to give you what you never gave me–a chance.” Only now, after Mayday gave him that chance, is he willing to admit that Hunter was right.

How many times have those words haunted Crosshair’s thoughts?

Now this was interesting to me. Crosshair incidentally causes an avalanche by targeting a group of explosives in order to end their shootout, cracks fissuring up the mountainside. Once before he was maneuvered into a situation not of his own free will (when his chip is enhanced on Kamino), yet he stubbornly pursued that scenario when he chose to stay on the platform at the end of season 1. Once again, he is put into a situation against his will by being brought to Barton 4, but this time, he ends up creating a scenario where his choices from this moment will now have the opposite effect.

Mayday shoves Crosshair out of the way, saving his life once again. A pile of snow rips Crosshair’s helmet off of his face, and as Mayday is buried, Crosshair re-emerges his true self. 

“We have to move.” Rex’s words throughout almost all of their Clone Wars arc. Rex is selfless, telling Echo to go with the Batch if that was the best place for him. Letting Echo leave him behind, essentially. Mayday begs Crosshair to leave him behind and save himself. They both want what’s best for others. And their examples rub off on the men they save. Echo constantly does what he can to help his brothers escape the Empire. Crosshair’s sheer stubbornness that up until now has kept him tethered to the Empire, refuses to leave Mayday behind. He can’t watch another brother die in front of him. Not anymore. 

"You're still their brother, Crosshair. You're my brother too." Omega's plea to him.

So Crosshair risks his life to carry Mayday back. A REG. He refuses to let go of him the whole journey. He lets him use his sniper rifle as a crutch. All of his defenses are finally down, and he not only cares, but is willing to show he cares, BEGS ON HIS KNEES to his commanding officer for help, to show that he DOES CARE.

Finally, this struck me. We almost never see Crosshair using a hand blaster. He’s a sniper. Yet both in his encounter with his brothers on Kamino in season 1, and his confrontation with Nolan here, Crosshair picks up a regular blaster. He’s not being the sniper, distant and removed, making a kill from afar with his own rifle. This is up close, personal, a messy choice. With a hand blaster, a regular clone’s weapon. 

Crosshair’s conversation with Hunter on Kamino reads back as though he is pleading with himself to not make the same mistake twice, to stop running from his fears, to finally embrace who he is–a clone. To embrace his real purpose–protecting his brothers.  He’s made his choice. He doesn’t expect to survive. The vultures are circling both of them. In season 1 Hunter stuns him and he falls to his knees and then to the floor, passing out. Here, he snarls “Lieutenant,” in a sarcastic tribute to how Mayday had first addressed Nolan, and becomes an Angel of Death. He avenges Mayday and redeems himself, and once again falls forward and passes out with the last of his strength gone.

[billthedrake]

HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS (PART THREE)

"Wow, you went all out, Coach," I said as I helped him set out the food on the table.

He gave a grin and replied, "Just my bachelor holiday dinner... thanks for sharing it with me, Russ."

"My pleasure," I said.

Ed had in his hand a bigger sized bottle of beer, which he opened. "Feel like sharing my Christmas present?"

I nodded. "Just a half glass," I said. "Gotta drive back." I wasn't a big beer guy, but I didn't want to turn down Coach S's offer. "Who's the gift from?" I asked.

"Matt Reynolds," he replied as he poured my glass half full then set to give himself some. "He and I are both into beer." Coach Reynolds was the high school's head football coach.

I held up my glass. "It makes sense, but I guess I never thought of teachers hanging out together outside of school."

He held up his glass and gave a silent toast. Then he replied with a smirk, "I'll admit get along better with some of the teachers more than others. Matt's my closest friend." Ed got a little shy as he added, "He's the only one who I've come out to, actually."

"Coach Reynolds?" I responded, incredulously.

That made Ed laugh. "Um, yeah. You surprised?"

I nodded. "The guy's a total meathead. Yeah, I'm surprised."

My former teacher shrugged. God, he was so handsome and adorable. I was glad we'd gotten the sex out of the way, so I could actually carry on a conversation with the man. "People have a way of surprising you, Russ."

"Sometimes not for the better," I said. Then realizing I might have come across as snotty or cynical, I added. "Sorry... I guess I'm still a little bitter from the way Zach Martin treated me." Zach and I had been friends since 6th grade, but he stopped talking to me when I came out.

I saw a look of real empathy on Coach S's face. "Sorry, Russ," he said. "I didn't know the full story, but I know you went through a lot."

"You do learn who your real friends are," I said, my tone less bitter than my words now. "I realize now that Zach is just crazy insecure, and I just got caught up in that."

Ed nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised if Zach is gay himself."

I don't know why that didn't occur to me. "You think?"

He nodded. "Don't take it to the bank. It's just a hunch. But I know when I was that age, I was so freaked out someone would figure out... I may have been an asshole to a few guys just so I could fit in."

"Damn, Coach," I said.

He seemed embarrassed now. "I never had a friend come out to me, and I don't know what I would have done if I had. I'd like to think I'd do the right thing, but you never know." He took a sip. "I just know I was MAJORLY fucked up about the gay thing. Playing sports didn't help." I knew Ed Stanley was opening himself up to me, maybe in a way that wasn't easy for him. "I always admired how you handled things, Russ."

That surprised me. "In what way?"

He looked at his beer glass as he reflected on my question. "I don't know. You seemed confident in yourself." He looked back up at me. "Whatever... I know being a teenager isn't easy and probably wasn't for you either. Teachers don't know all that's going on, but we have more of an idea than our students realize."

I laugh. "Probably, yeah." Then, "truth be told, being an adult isn't always easy either."

That made Ed smile. I loved his smile. "You got that right," he said. "There's one big consolation prize, though," he said. "What we did just now," Ed added with an impish grin.

"You mean the fucking?" I clarified.

His blue eyes twinkled. "Yeah, the fucking. Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but that was the hottest sex of my life."

Damn, this man knew how to push my buttons. "I'm honored," I said. "So maybe I shouldn't admit it was the hottest sex of my life, too."

"Well, here's to hot sex," Ed toasted.

I laughed and matched his toast.

We talked a little less as we dug into the food. I don't think I realized how much the sex had worked up my appetite, and Ed seemed to be in the same boat.

But as our eating pace slowed, I had to ask the question on my mind. "So, Ed..." I started. "Why did you let this happen... You know, between us?"

He seemed to anticipate my question. "I got tired of putting my life on hold. I broke things off with Jessica two years ago," he explained about his former fiancee. "It was around the holidays, actually, and I guess I realize I'm still not happy." He gave me a little wince of a smile. "Seriously, having you keep me company has made my year."

My heart pounded. "Damn, Coach. I'm having a blast. Not only the sex, but all of it."

"You know, for a college kid, you're pretty damn mature."

"Hardly," I laughed. "I know this sounds cheesy, Coach, but for me, being gay... well, I just love other guys. Love spending time with them, in whatever way clicks." I found myself the one being embarrassed. "I guess I craved the male bonding I didn't always have."

"Remind me to punch Zach Martin's lights out next time I see him," Coach said. And it took me a second to realize he was joking.

I laughed. "Please do. The fucker."

Ed pushed his chair back. "Let me clear the dishes. I have some dessert if you have room."

"I have room," I said. "But I'm helping you."

I got up and started picking up out dinner plates. As I brought them into the kitchen, I could see out the window, into Ed Stanley's back yard.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed.

"What?" Ed asked, concerned.

"It's a blizzard out there," I said. I set down the dishes by the sink and walked over to the sliding glass door.

I was exaggerating, but it was really coming down now, and several inches of white stuff lay on the ground, the reflected light making the dusk seem less dim.

I felt his presence behind me, his hand touching my waist. It was a simple gesture, and a welcome. "Jesus," he said. "Is it supposed to let up?"

I laughed. "Man, I don't know." I turned to him. "I should check in with my folks."

He patted my side before stepping back. "Yeah," he said. Maybe a little disappointment in his face that I'd be leaving, but possibly I was flattering myself.

I pulled out my phone and indeed I had a couple of worried texts from my mom. She was staying over at her friend's and was concerned I'd be driving in the winter mess. I told her I could stay over at my friend's and that I'd check in with Dad.

My father isn't a big texter, so I called him.

"Hey," he said when he answered. "Some storm, huh?" Dad could get right to the point sometimes. I think I inherited that from him.

"Yeah, Mom's freaking out about me. I told her I could stay over at Jason's tonight."

"Sounds good, Russ," Dad said. Then with a quiet tone, asked. "You're not at Jason's are you?"

I paused, a little freaked out I was caught in a lie. Though knowing Dad, he hadn't actually caught me at anything. The man just had a good sixth sense. I figured I was 21 and had no reason to lie to my parents. "No, Dad, I'm not. Sorry."

"I'll cover for you with your mom. Just be safe, OK?"

"I will," I said. "Promise. And again, Sorry." I was feeling like a heel now.

"I was 21 once," Dad said. "You need your space. If you need anything, a ride or something, just me a call."

"Will do."

I shook my head after I hung up. Coach S was right. Sometimes people can surprise you, in a good way.

He was just finishing cleaning up when I walked back in. "Everything OK?" he asked.

"Yep," I said. "If I'm not imposing too much, Coach, could I crash here tonight? I can sleep on the couch or whatever." I didn't want to make it seem like I was just trying to be clingy with him. "My parents just don't want me driving."

He laughed. "I damn well hope you're not taking the couch, buddy," he said. Then with a worried hesitation, he added, "I mean if you do, I'll respect that... but I wouldn't mind a little bonus time with you."

"I wouldn't mind either, Coach."

That made him smile. He set down his towel and faced me fully. "You know, I never was your coach."

"You prefer Mr. Stanley?" I teased.

"No, not really," he laughed. He stepped up and wrapped up his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "You know, I didn't ever think I'd enjoy being with a taller guy," he said.

"Yeah?" I asked. I'd spent my teen years self conscious about my height but now enjoyed it. Ed Stanley was bigger and hunkier than me, but I was able to look down some at him as we stood toe to toe.

He nodded. "Guess I liked being the man."

"Ed, that's about the dumbest thing I've ever heard," I said with a laugh.

"Yeah, it is. Guess I got some hang ups. But I like this," he said. "You're a tall drink of water, Russ." He now ran his hands up my back, over the fabric of my T-shirt. "When did you bulk up?"

"Started hitting the weights freshman year," I explained. "Guess I had hangups of my own, you know, about my body...."

"You got a porn body, stud," Stanley said with a sexy grin.

"Look who's talking," I said.

We kissed. It was gentle and magical. Just a hint of tongue and I could sense our breath was synching up.

"Hmmm, I like snow days," the man said in a low voice.

"I'm liking them now," I replied.

I felt his hands come around my friend, openly feeling up my chest. I was so into his ex-jock build that I was enjoying seeing him clearly turned on by me. His hands traveling lower until his left knuckle grazed the crotch of my jeans.

"You're hard," he said, as he looked up into my eyes.

"Pretty much. Yeah," I nodded.

We kissed again, and now I took the occasion to feel up Ed's body. I undid a couple of his shirt buttons and felt him moan into my mouth.

The man seemed to be keeping his self-control as he stepped back. I could tell he had a boner in his sweats now, and I was proud I'd given that to him. "OK if we just enjoy a little time in the living room before hitting the bedroom? We got all night, Russ."

"Sounds good."

"I'll light a fire in the fireplace," he said. "Sometimes it doesn't seem worth the bother just for myself."

"I wish I'd brought something more comfortable to wear," I said. Even in his button-down, Ed looked relaxed with his sweats on.

"Feel free to dig through my drawers to see if something will fit you." His eyes swept up my body. "Not sure if there will be."

"Thanks," I said. I went back to his bedroom and looked through his casual clothes, all folded neatly in his drawers. Indeed his sweatpants and pajama bottoms were way too short, but I decided on a pair of gym shorts with a drawstring that helped them hold to a waist that was two inches smaller than his size. I could have stuck with my T-shirt, but I saw an old shirt with a baseball team logo. Something about wearing Ed Stanley's clothes excited me, so I grabbed the shirt, too. I slipped the shorts on without anything on underneath, then tried on the shirt. It was loose, but it came down below my waist, which was good.

He was done fiddling with the fire when I walked in.

"You found my old team shirt," he observed, walking over to join me on the couch.

"The Captains?" I asked, referencing the logo.

"Yep, my minor league team. Played with them for two years before I called it quits." He seemed nostalgic.

"Is that when you decided to go into teaching?" I asked. I didn't really know how any of this worked.

"No, I got my Ed degree in college. I knew the majors was a long shot."

"Well, you're a great teacher," I said, then blushed as soon as I did. "I guess this is weird to talk about, huh?"

"A little," he admitted. "But you're really hot, Russ... you've become a really hot young man. So if I have to deal with the weirdness, it's worth it."

He placed his arm around my shoulder again, and I leaned into his warm build some. I knew if he started something sexual, I'd be ready for it, but our session earlier that afternoon had taken away the urgency.

"I know this isn't my place to say, Ed, but you deserve to be happy." I couldn't look at him as I said this, but after seeing a certain loneliness in the guy, I felt I had to speak to it.

"Thanks, Russ," he replied softly. Almost sadly. "Are you happy?"

"More or less," I said.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I dunno," I said. I realized no one but Ed Stanley had ever asked me that question. "I mean, I'm enjoying college, and I guess I've dated a couple of guys. But like, I don't know, part of me wants a real relationship, something serious, to see what that's like. I mean, I'm not gonna rush it or anything, you know?"

His hand squeezed my shoulder. "Yeah, I know, Russ," he said.

I turned to him and his eyes were on me. Coach Stanley wanted another kiss. I wanted to kiss him. This time, I did my best to copy the man's soft approach. Something about our connection made me rock hard now as I kiss him and he kissed me back.

We made out some, a lot even. But we weren't rushing anything. It was around 7 and it was Christmas and the snow was coming down. We could enjoy this.

"What about you, Ed?" I finally asked as we parted, goofy expression on our face. "Any boyfriends?"

He shook his head. "I've tried the app thing. And this may sound old fashioned, Russ, but... I don't know, I think I need some other connection than coming in and taking off my clothes."

I nodded. "In all fairness Ed, you look REALLY fucking good without your clothes on."

He smirked. "Thanks. But you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," I said. "I've done the hookup thing some, and I've enjoyed it. But... I don't know, earlier..."

I stopped mid sentence. Stanley picked up on it. "What?" he asked.

I gulped. "I'm afraid of saying something real stupid, Ed."

He put his hand beneath my chin and turned me toward him. "I want you to trust me, Russ. I may not agree with what you say but I'm not going to judge you. Promise."

I nodded. My body shook a little, which made me embarrassed because I knew Stanley could tell. "When you were in me earlier...."

"Yeah...?" he prompted.

"It felt incredible. It was incredible."

"It was incredible for me, too," he said.

"Yeah, but... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I think for me half of it was I wanted to make you happy. Like, I wanted to give that experience to you."

"Oh buddy," he muttered, his eyes a little moist.

"Maybe you think that's fucked up, but I think that's what made the fuck so good for me."

He took a deep breath, like he was trying to choose his words carefully. "That's what sex is, giving as well as receiving pleasure."

"It's not always," I corrected. I thought back to some of my hookups. "At least not emotionally."

"Yeah, not always," he agreed.

We kissed again. A little more eagerly this time. Part of me wanted to talk more with Ed, but this felt better. Being held by him, him pull me down on top of him as we reclined on the couch. He was warm, and the fireplace was heating up the room, too. Maybe this wasn't too different from time with my boyfriends of the past, but Ed Stanley brought a seriousness that wore down my defenses.

Slowly we humped on the couch and explored each other's bodies as we made out. He had me take off his minor league T-shirt and I unbuttoned his dress shirt once more. Ed Stanley was hard once more, I could feel his boner against mine, even if we hadn't stripped from the waist down.

But as we kissed Ed ran his hands down my back and under the waist of my shorts, which were his shorts really. His broad palms felt nice and warm against my bare buns.

He grunted into my mouth as I pulled up.

"Think I could press my luck, Russ?" he asked, horny as he could be.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one, Coach... are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

He looked into my eyes, his blue eyes clearly hungry. "I'd love to fuck you again, buddy." He put a slight emphasis on the "fuck" making it sound more naughty. "Maybe try some different positions."

I grinned. "You liked the barebacking, didn't you?"

He bit his lips and nodded. "And how. But if you're not up for it..."

"Oh, I'm up for it," I assured him. "I should be a little more relaxed from earlier."

"Is that how it works?" Ed asked, his fingers now dipping deeper into my crack.

"Can't speak for other guys, but a good fuck stretches me open a little. It's a nice feeling actually."

His nostrils flared as he took that in. "Bedroom?" he asked hoarsely.

"Lead the way, Coach," I said, then slid up off his body before standing in his living room, an erection evident in the shorts, matching his own clear boner.

Things felt smoother and slower now that we were working up for our second round. Yet our eyes ate each other up as we stripped down completely and got in on opposite sides of Ed's bed.

"Damn," he hissed as I moved in to nestle up against his naked furry build. "I'm glad you're staying over, Russ."

I could feel his hard dick against mine. "Funny... all of this happened because I ran into you."

"Glad I got that Christmas tree," he said. "I almost didn't."

"Glad I had the guts to hit on you," I replied.

He smirked. "I knew you wanted to."

"Yeah, I know," I said.

We kissed again. I was starting to worry about whisker burn or chapped lips, but it was like neither of us could get enough. The more we did, the more Ed seemed to get worked up. I was, too, sure, but I think my normal MO was to be a horndog when I was with a guy, so it was like I was waiting for the signal from him to amp things up.

I now used the element of surprise to push him on his back while I got up on top. His hands were greedily gripping my ass muscle as we got into it.

"Damn, you have a great ass," Ed said in a soft low voice.

"I realized at some point tall guys have to hit leg day twice as hard," I said, joking but not entirely.

He laughed. "I hope you don't mind me focusing only on your body... you know I think more of you, Russ."

I didn't know what Coach thought of me, actually, beyond this strange chemistry that had erupted between this week. I leaned up, flexing my bod a little and showing off for the man, even as my own hands were on his strong pecs. "I'll let you in on a secret, Coach. It's kind of a kick when you treat me like a piece of meat. I didn't think that would ever happen."

"Noted, buddy," he said, his own hands coming up to touch my smoother build.

I reached over to where the lube was still out.

"You, um... ?" Coach started to ask.

I nodded, reaching back to slick up his boner. Ed Stanley was rock hard now and I enjoyed the broad grin on his face as I slicked him up then leaned back against his cock.

"Twice in one day... fuck," he muttered.

I misunderstood what he meant. "You want it, right?"

"God, yeah," he muttered. His eyes were on my body some but mostly watched my face as I sank back onto him. The penetration indeed was easier this time. I was horny and Ed's prior fuck had loosened me just enough.

"Amazing," my ex teacher grunted.

I sat further down in his lap. I felt full in a good way, but it was the psychological part of this mating that got me going. "I didn't ask... what's your favorite position?"

"I gotta choose?" he chuckled.

"No," I replied. "Just curious."

His hands now openly caressed my front, his eyes clearly excited. "I love it all. But maybe doggy."

I nodded. "Hot. But let me ride you like this, and you can pick the positions you wanna try."

"Sounds amazing, buddy," Ed grunted. I could tell he was still in thrall with the feeling of condom-less sex. "Only it should be good for you, too."

"It will be," I assured him. "Maybe let me cum missionary," I added. "Last time was crazy hot."

"Will do."

Ed watched me work up and down in his lap, his hands now gently gripping my waist to guide me. Then not so gently he held me steady while he pumped up into me. "Feel good, buddy?" he asked.

It wasn't a question, though. Stanley could read the pleasure in my face. "Fuck me, Ed."

He got an almost serious scowl on his face as he got into fuck mode, thrusting up deeper into me. "All right..." he finally urged. "Climb off."

I didn't know what he had in store, but as I knelt on the mattress, Coach S's thick body scrambled out from beneath me and moved to come from behind. I felt his hand on the middle of my back, pushing me forward. "All fours, buddy," he urged, a new horniness in his voice.

I felt his lube-slick prick nudge back into place and once again his hands gripped my waist to almost pull me back on to him.

The thrusts were urgent and hard now. Not rough, but I was being nailed by a very horny and very athletic man. "Tell me if it gets too rough," he instructed.

"Feels amazing," I replied. It did, too. I wouldn't say Ed Stanley was making me any less vers in my sexual inclination, but he was revealing to me that when I did bottom, I wanted a top like this. That girthy cock of his was riding hard and heavy over my prostate. I braced myself on the bed and felt my prick drip onto his bedsheets while my former teacher used my hole.

"Goddamn... my last load is frothing up on my cock," he said excitedly. Like he was living out some nasty porn video. Which in a way I guess we both were. "Fuuuuck!" His thursts jackhammered into me in rapid succession, until I felt them pause.

The hands on my waist now let go and ran up and down my sweaty back. "Don't wanna cum just yet," he said softly. Then he pulled out and gave my ass a light smack. "Why don't you lie on your stomach and pull one leg up."

I did as asked, turning back to look at his hungry eyes and sweaty body as I did. "You've been thinking a lot about this, haven't you."

His wet dick pulsed. "I have," he grunted. "I watch a hell of a lot of porn, and now I have my own Corbin Fisher guy in bed with me."

I pulled my left leg up toward my chest, feeling my ass crack and hole exposed to his gaze. "Just remember I'm not actually a professional at this, Coach."

He had an apologetic look on his face. "Got it," he said, then scooshed forward to line up his prick to my now-wet ring.

I was half turned on my side, half face down, in a scissor position. The entry was easier this time, aided by the limits the angle put on Coach's thrusts. He was taking it slow, too. Only I got to feel the extra depth of penetration as his cock bore deeper. All the while, those blue eyes were on me. Watching.

"I love seeing your hardon while I fuck you," he muttered.

"I told you, Coach... it's good for me, too."

It was like my words made him focus on me, and the pleasure I was getting from my insides. Slowly, he sawed in and out, eyes locked on me the whole time.

"I feel like I could come any minute," he said after a few minutes.

"Why don't you?" I asked. I was so turned on but also knew my relatively inexperienced ass would probably tire out within a couple more minutes of this.

"Don't want it to end," he said simply.

"You know I'm gonna let you fuck me again, Coach," I replied. "That is, if you want."

"Yeah?" he said a real sense of hope in his voice.

I nodded.

"Fuck... I'm so close, buddy," he said, now very slowly working in and out of me. "Ok if we try this on your stomach?"

I didn't reply. I just moved my legs down and stretched out on the bed. Coach Stanley stretched out on top of me, covering my back closely with his hairy bulk and his beard tickling the back of my neck. Already he was thrusting into me, not fast but hard, while his hands felt up my arms.

"This OK, Russ?" he asked.

"Feels great, Ed," I grunted. It did, too. I'd tried this with a couple of guys before, including my frat boy boyfriend, but Ed Stanley was bigger and furrier and meatier in his build. I loved the full contact and the weight of him on me. And I loved the thickness of his dick plowing me steadily. "You can go harder if you want."

I swear he growled, let out a real bear growl, when I said that. His hands now held my arms down and he just went for it. Hard deep shoves into my ass as he eagerly went for his nut.

"Oh my fuck..." he grunted. Then I heard a deep series of whimpers as the man came, deep in my ass for a second time, his body twitching and jerking on top of me. I didn't think I could come in this position, but I felt a pressure in my prostate that made me feel the urgent need. I reached down and touched my prick. I had enough lube left in my right palm to make it work. Just two strokes back and forth and I was entering my own deep orgasm.

"Oh shit," I hissed as I regained some consciousness. I'd never had a bottoming orgasm quite like that. My first with Coach Stanley had been about fantasy buttons and the way he pressed every one. This second nut was more purely physical, the way Coach's topping practically fucked the cum out of me.

Ed was already rolling off me and lying down to get face to face as I turned on my side. "I guess that was good for you, too, huh, Russ?" he asked.

"Jesus, Ed. I can barely think right now," I muttered, still catching my breath. "But yeah...."

His own chest was rising and falling and I could even sense his heart beat as he smiled at me. "I think you telling me I could do it again sometime... that was the trigger for me."

I looked down on the bedsheets, where my cum had soaked the fabric. "I'm afraid I left a big wet spot."

He smiled. "Well you gotta sleep in it... just kidding. We'll change the sheets," he said. "But I'm glad you liked that, because... goddamn...."

"Yeah," I agreed. I slid off the bed. "Can I get some water?" I asked.

"Help yourself in the kitchen," he replied.

I slid Ed's shorts back on and made my way to rehydrate. When I returned, he'd stripped the sheets and was putting on a new set. I helped him. He was bare chested in his sweat pants. If I hadn't just had two rounds of intensely incredible sex, I would have boned up just looking at him. As I watched him tuck one side in, he looked up, catching me staring. He winked, which made me blush.

He picked up the bundle of soiled sheets and turned back to. "Don't worry, Russ, I'm in the same boat," he said. "Like I said, it's like when I wanted to play with my new toy all Christmas day."

I laughed. "You mean I can't play with mine tomorrow morning?" I joked.

He smirked. "I didn't say that, buddy," he said. "I'll throw these in the wash. You feel like having another beer in front of the fire place? I have some scotch too, if that sounds better."

I'd never had scotch but I figured what the hell. This evening was about new experiences and getting to know Ed Stanley. "Scotch sounds good."

He nodded. "Put another log on the fire, if there's still embers. I'll tend to it in a minute."

"Yep," I said.

Coach S wasn't making a move to put a shirt on, so I didn't either. Maybe we'd need to fire to keep warm, but I enjoyed the half nakedness together.

Coach offered me a small glass filled with the brown liquor and went to get the fireplace roaring again. He settled back on the couch next to me. It was my turn to place my arm over his bare shoulder, feeling the hardness and the heat of his body.

He had a quiet content look on his face. "You know, Russ, I don't want this day to end."

My heart pounded. "It doesn't have to, Ed," I said. "Well, it does, but you know what I mean."

He nodded. "You're a special young man, Russ. You know that?"

I ran my fingers along his delt muscle. "You give me too much credit, Coach, but thanks." I tried to calm my breathing. It was just the sound of the fire and the snow had made everything outside dead quiet. "A while ago, you said I could say anything and you wouldn't just me." It was a question as much as a statement.

"I meant it, Russ."

I squeezed his shoulder. "I guess I'm pretty young still... but I've never felt things click with another guy like they have with you."

"Not even with your boyfriends?" Ed asked quietly.

"Not even with my boyfriends," I said. "Listen, I know that probably came off weird and clingy and..."

"Russ..." Ed interrupted me. "Will you go on a date with me?" I could hear the tension and anxiety in his voice and when he turned to me I could see it in his eyes, too. "Sometime this week, before you go back..."

"I don't want to get you in trouble, Ed," I said. "You know, with your job or anything."

"We'll figure that out," he said. "But you didn't answer my question."

I realized I'd been afraid not of my answer but how much I wanted to give it. "Yes, I'd love that, Ed."

"Good," he said, patting my leg.

We kissed, softly. I pushed my tongue into his mouth first this time.

When we parted we had goofy grins on our faces.

"You know..." Coach S said as he traced his hand up my pectoral muscle and over my neck. "Even if people do find out or there's any gossip... it'll be so fucking worth it."

I laughed, only to have Coach cut me off with another kiss, guiding me back down to a reclining position on his couch.

THE END?

[chrkrose]

I mean I am all for girls sticking together, especially against someone like Joe Jonas who I have side-eye since forever, but if that means fawning over Taylor Swift I guess I'll pass. Especially when she did something very very similar to someone with waaaaay less power than she has in the industry. She has much more in common with Joe Jonas than with Sophie Turner. Obviously, the situations vary in terms of Sophie being a woman (so misogyny adds an awful layer to what she's going through, which Joe Alwyn doesn't have to face) and the mother of Joe's kids, which makes Joe Jonas' actions even worse, but how is it that people are forgetting how Taylor went on her own "smear campaign" against Joe Alwyn just because he dared to break up with her and /or not be willing to marry her? She painted the guy as if he was insecure and jealous of her success, implied he was holding her back, went on pap walks to drive the point home that he was keeping her "hidden" and preventing her from being her own self, made all of her friends unfollow him on social media, all of this knowing exactly how that would look like, and how that would weaponize her fans against him. The dude can't do as much as take a subway without his name going trending on Twitter with her insane fan base calling him all kinds of names. There were fans even wishing for him to kill himself, and the tweet had tons of likes. Never mind the fact she made a point of dating a racist misogynistic right after and weaponized that relationship too (because you can't tell me part of her motivation to state in public she had been the happiest she has ever been, to have the guy in all of her concerts singing along her songs when she built the narrative that Joe was unsupportive of her success wasn't a way of getting back at him). And according to her own lyrics, Joe Alwyn has a history of dealing with mental health issues, like anxiety and depression. And yet, Taylor did all of that to the person she dated for six years. It wasn't a marriage with kids, but the relationship lasted longer than Joe Jonas and Sophie's marriage and almost the entirety of Joe Jonas and Sophie's relationship. I see no difference between Joe Jonas and Taylor Swift, she just gets away with being an awful person. And unfortunately for Joe Alwyn, people bought the narrative that Taylor sold out there about him. Luckily, Joe Jonas wasn't able to stick the "Sophie is a bad mother and unfit partner" narrative to her. I also can't help but think this outing is much more PR Taylor swift seeing an opportunity to come out as a “girl’s girl” than Taylor Swift reaching out to a friend. Afterall, where was this attitude when people were calling her out for dating a racist misogynistic? Hmm yeah, she can fuck off. I also am going to be super cynical here, and it's something I've noticed about her for ages now. To me, she feels a certain validation in other women's failed relationships. Especially with a woman who got something Taylor wished had had herself.

[junhuiste]

experi-meant to be ⋆ park wonbin

pairing: wonbin x gn reader

tags/warnings: fluff, cursing, college au, laboratory environment, one mention of baking, 1600 words

a/n: i meant to publish this on valentine’s day since i had lab that day but i never finished it lol. there’s some microbio lab procedure jargon so like this is what streaking plates is if you want a visual lmfaoao. this is my first published work in like three years it feels weird haha + i might change my layout/header for fics but for now i’ll keep the same layout i've had for past fics

wonbin believes U are the uracil to his adenine—you should always be paired together.

| seunghan: dude 

| seunghan: lowkey i can’t come to lab bc my car won’t fucking start so i’ll have to make it up next week :\ but taehyun and his partner would probably be willing to help you out with calculations and clean up hopefully

Wonbin pants heading up the stairs into the classroom lab, cheeks immediately pink as he’s made a spectacle amongst everyone already sitting and tuned into the TA’s pre-lab lesson. Sighing as he processes Seunghan’s text, Wonbin turns to the drawing of bacterial growth curves on the whiteboard but is soon after preoccupied with the fact that there is no Taehyun on a stool. There’s just your backside entirely in front of him. 

Taehyun is one to set up all his materials before the TA even steps foot through the lab door so if he isn’t here now then that means—

“Guess you’re stuck with me for today.” 

Wonbin tries to swallow but it gets stuck halfway down his throat and is about to go into a choke type cough frenzy when he surprises himself and softly clears his throat instead. His thoughts are all just stuck there—in the middle of his esophagus, begging for them to travel back up to his brain so he has enough stamina to stick it through the four hour class. 

“No hate to him because Taehyunnie’s a tad faster at getting through the steps, so you know, we’re usually out thirty minutes early, but I can promise you I’m better at calculations. And I’m more precise with measurements,” you let out a small giggle before setting your backpack on the floor next to Wonbin’s.

The commotion of pipettes being thrown onto the surface, glass tubes clinking, and sneakers squeaking rushing to obtain their samples is right away drowned out in Wonbin’s ears by the sight of you perched atop the stool a mere few inches away from him. He tries to keep his chest from heaving at bay by taking his notebook out of his backpack and reviewing the method for today’s class. The solution is only short lived though, promptly taking notice of how you gather materials from the drawer while simultaneously reading through your own notebook. 

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Wonbin assumes his seat in the third to last row of his Virology lecture, close enough to the door that he can be among the first to leave as soon as “see you guys next time” leaves Professor Choi’s lips. He longs for the day (ideally it would be quite before the last week of classes but realistically that’s the best he has to offer for now) that he musters up just the slightest bit of courage to join you and Taehyun in the second row, where Seunghan also occasionally accompanies you two. It’s only the third week of this semester, but perhaps the sixth course of his over the past three years Wonbin’s seen you in. From Biochemistry to Rhetoric 2, he has never taken place at a desk next to yours. 

Wonbin’s always aching to know how you’d answer everything he could ever ask you, be it the attendance quiz question or your weekend plans—what time you usually roll out of bed, whether or not you stroll to the local farmer’s market near campus, if you’re spending Saturday with a special someone. He needs to hear you laugh at Taehyun’s cynicism about college. He needs to hear it up close, not having to strain his ear when he’s fifteen rows behind when you crack up at your friend during the five minute break Professor Choi gives the class. 

But Wonbin will take what he can get for now, and if that’s helping you fulfill your wish of completing the lab procedure as quickly as possible, he’ll do it. 

“I can do the calculations for us,” you begin, “would you mind getting our mutant strains at the front of the class and streak the Petri dishes?” 

Wonbin nods almost too enthusiastically and curses at himself for seeming embarrassingly desperate in front of you. Sure, he’d like to muster up the courage to ask you out, but today he’ll try to take it one step at a time.

When Wonbin returns with new plates to grow your bacteria on and two tubes filled with your bacterial strains, you scoot your chair closer to his to later show the finished calculations. He catches a whiff of your light perfume and almost falls out of his own chair. 

As he’s setting up the Bunsen burner for sterilization, you chuckle, “you know the real reason Taehyun’s not here today is because he left town last night to get a head start on the extravagant romantic weekend he has planned with Gaeul.”

“If there’s one way to use our one free unexcused absence, that’ll do it,” Wonbin replies. 

“Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Wonbin? I mean if you did I just hope you wouldn’t leave me early like Taehyun did,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before flitting back to your notebook.

Wonbin’s grip on the matchstick to light the burner loosens. He just barely catches himself before the match could fall from his hand onto the lab bench. What he needed to get a grip on was his fucking sanity—he almost set the classroom on fire because his heart instead is aflame for yours. 

Taking a breath, Wonbin exhales when the flame turns to blue, finally lighting the Bunsen burner. 

“Nope, no plans,” he briefly turns to you. There’s a beat and he considers that asking you back would seem too forward, but he does it anyway. 

Upon seeing your grin before you open your mouth, he turns his attention right back to the tubes and plates in front of him. 

It’s so over. 

For a second Wonbin’s relieved, because he thinks he can actually get through the next two hours without overthinking his micro movements in front of you. Now that it’s over for him, maybe he can actually pay attention to the way the metal loop he’s holding makes contact with the jelly-like agar inside the plastic plate and not disappoint Seunghan with the results. However, it’s not realistic because even still, Wonbin takes note of all your beauty and remains completely bewitched.

“Honestly I wish...I mean Minjeong, Yunjin and I are gonna do a rom-com binge and bake desserts…but you know…not any plans with someone like that…” 

Your temporary lab partner tries to hide his smile and nods silently as he continues switching between spreading bacteria on the plate with the metal loop and then sterilizing the loop in the blue flame. 

The rest of lab goes smoothly as Wonbin tries to quell the embers within him for the time remaining. There’s forty minutes left but technically to you Wonbin knows time is dashing away and it should feel like there’s what but only ten minutes left to do everything. Your pair was a few steps ahead of the others, just like how it would be when Taehyun accompanied you every week. 

Wonbin has been psyching himself up the past two hours to finally ask you out but currently he’s stuck in his head and just can’t seem to get it out. Does he chase you after you’ve stepped foot out of the lab or should he leave you be? Or maybe he can try next week. He’ll keep telling himself that until there’s one day of instruction left and then he won’t see you for three months and then he’ll lament the entire summer to Seunghan that he didn’t say shit. 

He can do that…or just rip the bandage off at an agonizing speed. 

The last Petri dish that Wonbin holds is being wrapped in parafilm to prevent contamination. He’d been going through the motions of the procedure while simultaneously not paying attention to his surroundings, at his own self’s behest. You’ve already cleaned the entire lab bench and he doesn’t notice until he hears “see you in Virology,” and suddenly you’re slinging your backpack over your shoulder. 

It’s now or next week…or never—wait you know that Wonbin’s in your Virology class? What you said is ringing in his ears and it hits him all at once.

Petri dishes in hand and turning around, Wonbin freezes in his tracks.

“Um…”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” his own mouth betrays him and suddenly it’s all coming out much too quickly for his liking. 

You’re about to answer but before you can even get a word in, “I-I don’t mean to interfere with your plans with your friends but uh, if you wanted to do something like that I’m down.”

Your lips press into a line and Wonbin is about to pass out from the threatening fluorescent classroom lights. 

“Park Wonbin…are you asking me out on a date?” He can practically feel his sweat melting the parafilm tape off and a vision of him dropping the Petri dishes in front of you, cracking open and shattering, exposing E.coli to everyone in the room flashes before him. He blinks once and calms his vice grip on the plates. 

“Yes. Yes I am asking you out on a date,” Wonbin looks down at your sneakers, not knowing where else to shift his gaze to. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you smirk, slinging the other strap of your backpack over your other shoulder and saluting.

Park Wonbin swears his heart is on fire and does a backflip off a fifty foot cliff. A curve forming on his lips, he smiles slightly waving with the plates still in his hand, “see ya…”

You halt your forward movement and turn back around, “Wonbin?” he perks up again, “you should sit next to me in lecture on Tuesday.”