#its beyond infuriating. its degrading. its a little ����.

[samarecharm]

People who really like shuake also seem to write themselves into a corner wrt Akechi and his relationship to Akiras team. Contrary to popular belief, the team, including Haru, does not hate Akechi. At worst, they tolerate him and deal with his attitude. Hes a good teammate and respectable fighter and the team recognizes that at the end of the day, he was a teenager who was manipulated and abused by a man who saw him as disposable. Just about every thief understands this intimately. They have the same mindset wrt adults who take advantage of the people beneath them. Under different circumstances they wouldve been friends. And if u approach it from that angle, it becomes less about Akechi being the sole person who ‘gets’ Akira, and more about the thieves being the only people in the world who ‘get’ Akechi.

When you expand your thoughts to include the thieves as members of his Team and not roadblocks that get in the way of your ideal shipping dynamic, you allow urself to give Akechi and Akira more depth and nuance to their own relationship.

Akira and Akechi are wildcards; both of them struggle with the face they choose to display to the world. Its the first time Akira interacts with someone who is, at a literal, technical level, his ‘equal’. But Akechi is one of many firsts for Akira yeah? Every thief has their bond with Akira thats completely unique and personal. Akechi will never be the person who witnesses Akiras Awakening, hes never the person who watches Akira have his restless nights alone in the attic, and hes never the person who realizes in real time that the teenager hes housing is just Some Kid, not the delinquent hes been warned about. Hes not Ann or Yusuke, or any of the thieves; he doesnt have the time or experience that they have with Akira, and I think its interesting to explore that part of their relationship, shippy or not.

Akechi is someone who is incredibly lonely and self depreciating despite his cockiness and attitude. He has no positive bonds to speak of save for his connection with Sae. To have him see a team that works together and cares for each other, how do you think he would feel? Out of place? Inferior in some way? Angry about how hes been alone for so long in this single minded quest for revenge? Wouldnt that be a point of struggle between the two of them? I think what makes shuake good for me is knowing that Akechi needs alot of time to heal, and the thieves would want to help with that process. They do it bc they care, bc Akira cares, and bc they trust Akiras opinion (and he trusts theirs in return); if Akira feels like Akechi is someone who can be trusted Now after everything thats happened, then the thieves would do their best to help. And how would Akechi feel about that? Angry about the show of pity? That even now, he has no real say in what happens to him? Or begrudgingly grateful that they are cordial with him? Because they do care, he KNOWS they care, they care TOO MUCH actually; but the one thing he values over brawn and wits is honesty- fighting for what you believe in without having to use soft words to justify it.

[hyunsuks-beanie]

Nice One

Pairing: Hard dom! Taehyun x afab! reader x soft dom! Jay

Genre: Smut

Content Warnings: Threesome; fellatio; anal sex; reverse cowgirl; exhibitionism/voyeurism; punishment; overstimulatiom; butt slapping; deepthroating; degradation; use of filthy nicknames (princess, doll, slut, bitch, darling whore, daddy and sweetheart); swearing

Word Count: 2k words (I don't blame myself, I blame Taehyun and Jay)

Mellow speaks: Taehyun brat-tamer era it seems!! And this time, my man is taming not one, but two idiotic brats who can't seem to confess!! Hope you guys like it!

Tagging: @sweethyuka @yedamology @enhacolor @axartia @hyunsuksmygod  @duolingofanaccount @zurimochi @blue-last-page-514

You never could have imagined your online gaming session would lead to this, but when you look back on your actions from earlier that night, it's no surprise that you ended up in such a......compromising situation. Looking up at Jay, you can't help but bite down on your lip at how good he looks, sweat dripping down his brow as he gently caresses your cheek, a soft smile coming into focus. 

But that focus breaks away the very next moment as you feel a sharp pain spread through your body, a gasp escaping you a second before you turn your head back a little, a growl to be heard from the man standing behind you, sneer evident on his face. You're in for a ride, you can tell as much from the way you can practically hear the blood rushing to your ear. And the fact that you're almost positive the people on the other end, er, ends can hear it too, thanks to the headphone you're still stuck with, sends goosebumps covering every inch of your skin. 

You should've known better though. Should've known better than to indulge in your flirty interactions with your best friend, during the game, should've known better than to be shameless in front of a group of young guys. And most of all, you should've known better than to get on the wrong side of Kang Taehyun, should've known better than to pass your limits when he could clearly hear you. 

"You sure know how to play, huh?," Jay had asked you through the mic, smirk evident in his voice as you had rolled your eyes. "Better than your sorry ass, I do," had been your reply, your annoyance getting the better of you as you had killed off another one of his characters. "Oh really?," you could hear him retort not two seconds later, "That wasn't what you were saying when I was massaging your back yesterday." 

His words were enough to catch you off-guard, leaving your eyes blinking and your mouth opening and closing as your mind wandered back to the events that had transpired the previous day. That "massage" was anything but, having had been more sensual than comforting. It had been under the pretext of getting him to help you release a bit of the stress you had been feeling lately, but as soon as his hands had come in contact with your bare skin, you had found yourself nearly giving in to the pent-up sexual tension between the two of you. 

Somehow pulling yourself back out from your thoughts, you had managed to respond with the same annoyed tone, saying something along the lines of "Fine then, enjou sleeping by yourself on the couch tonight," a satisfied look making its way to your face upon hearing the gasp the he let out. The entire server was silent except for the sounds of the game by now, the rest of the boys simply listening in to your not-so-friendly banter. "Let's see how you fare without burying your face in my neck." 

It was a tiny detail, one that didn't hold much consequence in your head. But in reality, it was just another infuriating hint to the obviously heated equation you shared with your best friend. And while it might have seemed like the others were done with your shit already, there was one who was beyond done. Yeah, he had had enough of your stupid flirting and sexual innuendos, and he knew he was going to take matters into his own hands. 

So that's why the very next moment, he had found himself letting the game be damned, his hand reaching for the phone resting next to his keyboard, his fingers dialing a certain fellow '02 liner. Picking up on the second ring, said '02 liner was greeted with nine words. That's it, nothing more, nothing less. But those nine words were more than enough to send a shiver down his spine, scaring him to the core. 

Come over, right now. And bring that bitch along. 

Long story short, you know find yourself on all fours, stripped naked to your skin and completely at Taehyun's mercy, his palm coming into contact with the flesh of your butt for the third time in five minutes before he begins kneading away it at. "Such a pretty slut," he muses aloud, pinching you just a little, "Soaking to take two cocks together." Another slap. "You've got yourself a nice one, Jay."

His words are pure filth, but as you hear Jay chuckle lightly at them, you can't help but let a moan escape, jutting your hips out in the hopes of getting something. "So damn eager, huh? Wanna be railed good by two guys at the same time?" You feel pathetic doing it, and yet all you can do is let out another whine, sounding more and more desperate by the second. "Don't worry doll, you'll get what you want....now."

And with that, he motions for Jay to shove his member into your mouth, something that makes the younger bite his bottom lip as he lifts your face up to look at him, your eyes going red from the desperation you feel. "I'll take care of you, sweetheart," he mumbles gently, the otherwise sweet petname sounding dirty to your ears as he places his lips to yours, pecking you. The peck, however, lasts less than a second, your mouth being opened forcefully before you know it, your lips getting wrapped around a thick cock. 

"Suck," you hear Taehyun growl, your butt cheeks flushed by now as he tugs and pulls at them, goosebumps coming alive on your skin as the cold air comes into contact with your heat. You oblige to the orders, beginning to move your head up and down to a rhythm that leaves Jay gasping for air, his hands quick to make their way to your head, guiding you. You let your tongue roll along his girth, tasting his flesh and the precum coating it as you hollow your cheeks out, taking him harder and deeper till he hits the back of your throat. 

The feeling makes Jay groan into his mic, the filthy sounds filtering out for everyone else to hear as Taehyun enjoys the view firsthand, a smirk on his face as he preps his own self to join in on the fun. Your pussy is dripping by now, the sensation of having your best friend in your mouth making you want to squeeze your thighs together to prevent your wetness from seeping to the floor, but as luck would have it, a rather muscular hand stops you from doing just that, raking along the inside of your thigh before a slap is placed there as well. 

"Open up darling," you hear him whisper in your ear, his touch hot against your back as he pushes into you, hilt deep without so much as a warning. You're a mess by now, tears streaming down your cheeks as you continue to deepthroat Jay, tiny kisses being placed to the base of his shaft as you coat him with your saliva, dragging him closer and closer to his climax. 

He's seeing stars under your effect, his hands still resting by your head as you take him all out before going back in once more. As you keep up with your efforts, your clit too, keeps up with the assault that Taehyun subjects it to, his palms your buttcheeks red and raw while his fat tip enters your depths, pushing your walls open with grunts and groan escaping his lips. "So fucking tight," he moans, feeling your walls stretch around him as he hits the very back of your pussy, leaving no part untouched. 

It's a sight of pure filth, the sound of skin slapping against skin breaking through your constant moans and whines that slip past your lips. As you continue to give head to your best friend, and as your best friend's friend continues to stuff his member inside you, the other guys have no option but to keep listening in to the dirty sounds coming through their headphones. But it's not like they're complaining, enjoying the prospect of you being degraded to a cockslut too irresistible to pass up on. Don't get them wrong, they've never seen you as a cockslut for real, but it's always fun to have someone as strong as fierce as you breaking down into a pathetic, begging whore. Or at least, that's what they're thinking at the moment, their own pants growing tighter with every second that passes, all thanks to your pretty sounds. 

And that tightness knows no bounds when you come undone, the loudest moan you've ever let out racking through your whole body as you ride out your orgasm, your juices spilling out your hole and coating all over the condom Taehyun's wearing as he continues his thrusts, chasing his own high. Jay, meanwhile, comes undone under the vibrations of your whines, his hot seed hitting the back of your throat as you struggle to swallow it all up. 

Your legs shaking, the torture on your pussy and butt doesn't cease for another two minutes, Taehyun's hips rolling against yours until he finally cums into his condom, staying inside you for a while before before pulling out at last, a loud smack to be heard as his tip moves out. The feeling makes your whole body go limp, your form collapsing to the mattress as you let one last whine out. 

For a second, it feels like your ordeal is over, but then you feel your face being lifted up once more, a soft smile greeting you as your eyes meet Jay's, your lips caught in a soft kiss not long after. It's much more gentle than you remember, making you smile as you begin to sit back up, on your knees. Closing your eyes, your arms snake around Jay's shoulders while his own get wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. And its because of these closed eyes that you fail to notice the way his gaze lands on Taehyun, yet another unsaid agreement brewing. 

And then, you're suddenly flying, a yelp escaping you as you find yourself being perched atop his thighs, his member prodding at your other lips as he lies down under you, your face towards Taehyun. He's smirking again, the condom nowhere to be seen as his hand ghosts over his dick. "One last time princess, give daddy a good show," is all he says before your folds as ripped open again, Jay's length filling you up as you reverse-cowgirl him, your back getting arched and a loud cry reverberating along the walls. 

He's relentless this time, bouncing your hips along as he begins pushing and pulling through your hole as you feel hot tears well up for the second time that night. Taehyun simply chooses to watch, stroking his length and jerking off to the sight of you being ducked senseless. "Show Jay how much of a dumb whore you are, maybe that'll get him to confess his stupid feelings," he sneers, picking up his pace just as the younger does too, your walls now failing to clench from all the fatigue. You're more sensitive than you've ever been, already nearing your high as you begin rocking your hips, desperate for more. 

Everything blurs away, your thoughts a mangled mess and your entire being shaking as you reach your climax, crying by now. Jay takes a while longer, his own hands moving you along because you find yourself incapable of doing so, the whole situation soon making Taehyun release into his palm. Riding out his orgasm, your friend fills his condom with his seed, groaning as his nails dig into your hips, his breath as shaky as yours. 

Through the tears, you see Taehyun get up from his place, shutting his computer off and cutting you away from the game at last, since he was the one handling the server. And as he walks out of the room, the last thing you hear is him say, "I hope that got your hormones out of the picture. Now get fucking done with your emotions."

[keilemlucent]

a nice break

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~3k

keigo really is just such a good boy for you, isn't he?

warnings: peggings, strap ons, wing kink, praise kink, spit kink, sub hawks, soft hawks, light religious imagery in the literal imagery, aftercare

enjoy some subby hawks pegging ;^))) 

||||||||||||||

Keigo had the prettiest voice.

Fuck whatever ‘bird of prey’ act he put on, the man was a songbird like no other. Perhaps not always, but it wasn’t particularly hard to get him to sing either. Unabashed pleasure would send Keigo into fits of cries and lamentations.

“Oh fuck, please—!” Keigo’s voice broke above you. He was straining so hard to keep any semblance of usual composure despite his wrecked state. It wasn’t like it was doing him much good with how beyond fucked out he was, but you appreciated the effort.

How long had you had him bouncing on your strap? Long enough that he had begged you to let him rest, his wobbly legs growing weak despite their tone and muscle. Yet, not long enough to award him a moment of respite. You had rolled your hips up, jamming your metaphorical thick cock against his prostate as his eyes rolled back in pleasure.

Keigo’s face had grown bright red, freckles dimming with the flush of his cheeks. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, drool escaping from the corners of his lips. He occasionally tried to wipe up the bodily filth on his face, but the action only served to make him even more of a mess. Keigo didn’t mean to, but his subtle, cute actions just debauched him more.

Keigo had a tendency to be a brat. That was just his private personality. Effortlessly laid back charm was a face he wore incredibly well for the public, but in the solace of his penthouse apartment, the man was a raging devil.

He typically took the lead on things. Throwing you up over tables and counters with the help of his wings, fucking you stupid without a second thought.

You loved it. Immensely.

Nothing made you soak yourself more than being on your knees for Keigo just before he would fuck your face in earnest, cooing and praising about how well you took his cock. He loved to see you sloppy for him, demanding and pushing and pulling you whatever way suited his pleasure (and yours as well, of course.)

But you also loved seeing Keigo sloppy. You relished getting to break him down, picking at his crafted facade with personal pleasures you made all for him, and you made sure to tell him so.

Keigo loved to praise you, any time, not just in bed. He’d tell you what a good girl you were while spanking his hand on your backside for the umpteenth time, you teary-eyed and half-sobbing. He’d coo about how beautiful you were while he fucked you into yet another orgasm with his crooked fingers. He’d smooth you over and tell you how proud he was of you, how good you were for him, as you cuddled into each other, fucked out, boneless and brainless. He’d come up behind you while you cooked dinner, kissing at your neck and whispering about how kind of partner you were. He’d grab your hand in public to lay gentle kisses over your knuckles, speaking lowly about how he cherished you and the time you were able to spend together.

It took you a while into your relationship to realize that Keigo also fed off praise. He showered you with love and compliments and craved receiving similar affections.

And, you weren’t one to deny him.

“Come on, Kei’, you can do it, you’re such a good boy,” You crooned, pushing your hips to press the thick dildo deeper in him.

Keigo sputtered, his hands flying to your chest for purchase, lip wobbling. His eyes flicked to meet your own, widened and pleading.

You just smirked.

“Keep going if you want to come.”

He cried out, lowering his head and wiping at the different smears of fluid that wetted his face. Slowly, he raised himself up, thighs trembling with exertion and exhaustion.

You tucked your arms behind your head, truly getting off on the beautiful sight before you.

Keigo looked god-like most of the time, all feathered and blood-colored. He was sculpted like a marble statue; sometimes, you felt unfit of touching him. Yet, you debauching him was one of your favorite acts. Turning Keigo into some defiled deity riding the silicone cock of a mortal, divine, crimson wings a backdrop to ambrosian pleasures that only the two of you knew. Despite how bratty he was, he loved falling apart while you fucked his cute little hole numb.

Keigo rode your cock so well, he knew it, you told him so. Despite how much his body ached and how he was chasing orgasm but never catching it, he tried really, really hard to make you happy. You could see it in the way how each of his actions was followed by an expectant look, delivered to you with puffy, kiss-bruised lips.

Who would’ve thought Hawks was a crybaby when getting fucked so well?

Below him, you smiled, languidly playing with your own sex while drowning in Keigo’s image. Your own slick coated your thighs, wetting your puffy clit as you stroked yourself slowly to Keigo’s display.

His cock was swollen, bright red, and weeping preek. The ring at its base was wet with lube, tightly holding Keigo back from any sort of proper satisfaction. All the while, his cock was so much more sensitive, not to mention how you’d been teasing him for what felt like hours. You wondered if Keigo felt edged or overstimulated. You could only hope that it was both.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock, moaning with Keigo in tandem. He wailed, voice shattering into pleads and begs for “more, please, more!” as you fucked his cock with your hand. He was so slicked and hot, weeping for release in more ways than one.

You removed your fingers from your own sex, frowning.

The slick covered fingers pressed at Keigo’s parted lips. He opened his mouth for you, letting you fuck his mouth with the digits, pressing gently on his tongue and the back of his throat. You felt the vibrations of his suppressed cries so well, it made your cunt ache. 

“Good boys don’t talk with their mouths full, do they?” You taunted, pressing harder and pumping your hand faster around Keigo’s cock.

Keigo screamed against your fingers, sweaty locks falling over his eyes as he shook his head. With all of his hero-refined skills, his thin hips couldn’t figure out how to both fuck down on the strap and fuck into your hand. The infuriating amount of stimulation without a thread of relief made tears leak from Keigo’s eyes anew, running rivers down his cheeks and drip onto your torso.

“Aw, baby, why are you crying?” You loved teasing Keigo like this. He’d never let you do this shit to him unless he was this fucked out. You knew he liked it too, based on how the degradation made his cock throb in your grip.

You squeezed, rubbing a thumb at its leaky head. Keigo sobbed around your fingers, “Pweaze! ”

“Pweaze’? ‘Pweaze’ what, baby? Use your words.” You sneered, watching spittle drip from his mouth onto your lap. To taunt him even more, you pressed your drenched fingers onto the back of his tongue as he tried to speak. Unintelligible, garbled syllables were all he could produce beyond chest sobs.

He just looked at you helplessly, nails digging into your sides.

You relented, removing your fingers and wiping them onto Keigo’s swollen dick, still pumping it slowly.

“Please, let me come, please!” Keigo’s voice curled so well when he begged. You fucked up into him sharply, Keigo’s hands clawing into your ribs as he screamed in white-hot pleasure. His spent thighs trembled around your own, wet with sweat and shaking with exhaustion.

You ran a hand through his hair, feeling the layer of thin sweat and boiling heat. He leaned into your touch immediately, doughy and glassy-eyed.

Keigo was art, sculpted all for you. Any bits of his public, bastardseque persona had been ground away with pleasure and coaxing. He had fallen apart for you, gently pleading for release like it was a hymn to his god.

You crooked a smile.

“I don’t know, baby. Have been good enough to come?” You hummed, grinning smugly as Keigo’s expression fell. His lips moved in horror as he began blubbering, fucking himself again on the strap, harder, faster, and with more vigor than before.

“I have b-been, I’ve been good!” Keigo sobbed, rubbed at his eyes as one of his legs gave out no a particularly rough thrust. Your hand slid up to support the spent muscles, knowing he was beginning to reach his limits.

“Tell me how and you can come, Keigo,” You said his name so sweetly, you felt another flood of pre dribbled sticky from his cock, “Tell me how you’re such a good boy, for me, Keigo.”

He shook his head, breathing harshly, but still managing to fuck himself half-heartedly. He bit his lip as he looked at you with red-rimmed eyes, wings fluttering at his back.

It gave you an idea.

You’d pay for it later, but that was a future problem.

All contact with Keigo’s cock and body went away, holding your hands on your chest, slowly rolling your hips and strap into Keigo’s tight hole.

You stilled for just a moment, drinking him in.

Your hands shot out, just brushing against Keigo’s sides before burying themselves at the tender roots of his wings.

“F-Fuck!” Keigo wailed, bowing his back and falling against your chest, unable to hold himself upright.

You adjusted your legs, allowing yourself to still fuck into Keigo. Even better, this position perfectly allowed you to ram his most sensitive spot, sobs and cries muffled into the skin of your chest. He pawed at one of your tits half-heartedly, but you knew he didn’t really have it in him.

Pleads and cries for mercy spilled from his lips as you massaged at the base of his wings. The downy feathers were petal-soft, all the betters for rubbing deep into as Keigo twitched and wailed.

“Just tell me why you’re a good boy, Keigo, you’re so close,” You encouraged him, shifting so that his head was pressed into your neck. You felt his cock, hard and hot against your stomach. With this position, Keigo could rest his body to some degree. But, it provided an absolutely obscene amount of friction that would be damn-near brutal mentally.

His wings splayed out above the two of you, cocooning you in vibrant reds and scarlets as you thumbed at individual feathers. Keigo finally found his voice as you dragged the strap back from his hole.

“I-I ate your pussy really good,” Keigo’s voice was high, stumbling on his words.

You hummed appreciatively, scrapping your nails down thin bones of his wings. He arched against you, hands flying your hair and pulling. He broke into bawling, tears wetting your neck and the sheets beneath you.

You fucking loved it.

“I l-let you sit on my face, and let you fuck- ME!” Keigo howled as you dug into his feathers, tsking lightly.

“Up, baby. Sit up for me,” You commanded, though softly. Keigo slowly righted himself, shaking like a leaf. You could tell by the way he shifted his hips that he was more than a bit sore and overworked. Not to mention that his cock was turning darker red and bulging hotly by the minute.

“Those are all good things you did, but that’s not why you’re a good boy,” You trailed one of your hands down one of the lovely curves of his lower back, cupping his ass and squeezing.

He sputtered, shaking his head, rubbing at his eyes, “Please, I’m sorry, just let me—”

You’d done this song and dance enough with Keigo to know the way to really get to his cock. After so much mental conditioning and training, parts of him were still left raw. To touch and stroke them just right was an art you had taken upon yourself to master and perfect. You’d do anything for Keigo, anything to help him chase pleasures that could be too fragile or fear-filled to voice.

“Keigo, you’re a good boy because you’re you,” You massaged at his aching, sore parts with warm hands. “You’re such a good boy for me, Kei’. You ride me so well. Can you just a little more?”

If Keigo hadn’t been fully crying, he was now.

He tearfully nodded, bouncing himself on the strap again, sending loud moans far and wide.

You helped him along, rolling your hips, “You’re such a sweet boy, Kei’. You sound so pretty when you wreck yourself for me.”

He keened.

The hand that wasn’t helping to hold him up went to palm at the head of his cock, “You are so sweet and so beautiful when you’re fucked out like this. All stupid for me, right, Kei’?”

You trailed a finger up his shaft as he drooled, eyes struggling to focus, “So good at listening and following my rules. Do you like being a good boy?”

He was fucked too silly to manage anything other than a nod.

“Do you want to come, baby?” You pumped his cock with your slick hand, almost mockingly.

“PLEASE!” Keigo screamed, nails breaking the skin of your breasts, but you could hardly care. His head bent forward as a mix of his tears, snot, and spit dripped between the two of you.

Keigo really did deserve it. You relented.

Your fingers dipped slipped the cock ring off in one motion, grabbing his face by the cheeks with the other hand, “Then, come for me, baby.”

And he did.

Keigo fucked himself down on the strap one final time before screaming in divine rapture.

He collapsed on top of you, crying out and curling into you as his cock sprayed your chests and thighs. Thick spurts of creamy cum dripped between the two of your bodies as Keigo rode out his orgasm, your hand still on his cock, milking him for all he had. Any words he tried to babble out were broken and meaningless, only serving to help Keigo release his pent up need for relief now that it was finally squashed.

You kept your hand wrapped around his cock, rolling your wrist from base to hip as Keigo rattled on top of your own sweaty frame.

He sniffled, pressing into your neck and weakly pushing your hand, “T-too much.”

You released him easily, shushing Keigo when he tried to move or assist you. You carefully slipped from his tight, lube-slicked hole and undid the harness of the strap on. Your own hips ached from exertion, skin bruised by the biting of the straps, but you were sure it was nothing compared to Keigo’s full-body ache. You’d had him every which way throughout the course of the night, you were sure he wouldn’t be standing correctly for a few days. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

You fell back with Keigo, pulling him to your chest. His head fell against you as his wings spread haphazardly and unsupported. For a moment, you worried he’d passed out, but a short groan and gentle squeeze proved you otherwise.

You set upon his trembling form with all the love you could show him.

“Oh, Keigo,” You peppered his forehead and hair with kisses as he hid his face at your sternum. “You did so well, you took me so, so well, baby. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much, 'Kei.”

He nuzzled into you, making small noises with not much sense to them. You gave him a sympathetic smile, rubbing circles into his lower back, “Would you like some water, baby? Or do you want to wait a little longer?”

Keigo shook his head, weakly kissing the top of your breasts, “N-now, please.”

You grabbed a bottle on the nightstand, pre-chilled in preparation for the inevitable outcome. Keigo slowly rose when you offered the bottle to him, hardly going far before downing mo of the liquid in a few gulps. It was obvious he needed it with the harsh flush of his face and the sweat growing cold on his skin.

He passed the bottle back to you, nestling back into you as he did. His wings quivered as they covered your forms, plumage soft and twitching as Keigo sweetly came down from his overstimulation and mushy mental state.

You set upon him with more sweet kisses and enough praise to drown a man with an ego smaller than Keigo’s. It was all gentle, coaxing him from his mental fog with lots of obvious love and attention. Keigo didn’t fall into submissive headspaces easily and that made it all the more imperative to be deliberate and ginger with helping him out.

You started blowing and leaving kisses around his ears, making him jolt and giggle at you. It was something high and airy, a side only you got to see. You loved how it sounded and felt so close to you.

Keigo gently cupped your face, returning your affections, albeit weaker. With his sagging eyelids, he was clearly spent.

“Was all that okay? I know it was intense,” You asked, pressing into Keigo’s gesture. You needed a bit of extra attention too, and Keigo was more than willing to lavish you the best he could in his state.

All gooey himself, Keigo shook his head, wrapping his arms and legs around you in a tight embrace, “Very good. Still kinda fucked out though.”

“I can tell,” You laughed. You kissed into his honeyed hair, tangling your fingers to the scalp to massage and work any tension out of his neck. “Take all the time you need. I’m right here.”

Keigo purred around you, breaths evening out and slowing.

You silently slipped from the bed, running to the bathroom to wet a washcloth to clean him. When you re-entered the dimly lit room, Keigo was sitting up, rubbing at his eyes and finishing his water.

Keigo cracked you a smile, as you came back to kneel on the bed. His voice was hoarse with its prior activities and expletives, “You know, I’m gonna get you back for all of that. Even worse.”

You rolled your eyes, “I look forward to it.”

You pressed a kiss to the corner of Keigo’s mouth, urging him down to the sheets.

He didn’t fight you, but you were sure he would.

[bakusquad-assemble]

The Conference room

Genre: enemies to “lovers”, but they’re both emotionally stunted and don’t know how to express themselves.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x bratty fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, degradation, hate sex, Bakugou catching feelings

Word count: 4.7k

Description: Reader is a pro-hero tasked with working with her worst nightmare; Bakugou Katsuki. The two of them have never seen eye to eye, making it impossible to get anything accomplished. But when Bakugou jumps at her from across the table, things take an unexpected turn.

A/N: had an idea and ran with it! I’m a total sucker for enemies to lovers so I had to indulge! While this can be read as a one shot, I also wouldn’t be opposed to making it a series? Lemme know what you guys think! This is my first time writing anything like this, so please be kind.



“God, you’re insufferable, you know that?” You rolled your eyes, falling back into your chair with an exasperated huff. There were a few things that you didn’t enjoy about being a Pro hero, like the long hours and the lack of privacy, but this absolutely took the cake.

Bakugou Katsuki, or Dynamight as he was known to the public, sat in front of you clad in simple business attire with the nastiest scowl plastered on his dumb face. The two of your agencies had found themselves working together due to an influx in connected crime, and it had been the absolute worst thing you had ever experienced. The two of you had never seen eye to eye in the best of times, constantly teasing and bickering whenever you were in each other's presence, but having to work side by side with the explosive hero was like pulling teeth without any numbing agent. The two of you just didn’t mesh well together, constantly fighting for dominance of the situation, and it made for a very tense working environment for everyone involved. You were currently in the middle of coming up with an infiltration plan for a big villain hide-out, and Bakugou kept fighting you at every turn. He shot down every single one of your ideas, but had not yet made one himself. He was infuriating, and you wanted nothing more than to just walk out of the conference room and never speak to him again. You knew that was impossible though. People's lives were at stake and you weren’t selfish enough to let your discomfort affect your hero work.

Bakugou clicked his tongue at you, only adding to your frustration.

“You’re one to fucking talk!” He snarled in your direction, his hands balled into fists on top of the white marble table placed between you two.

“You haven’t come up with one usuable fucking plan all day!” His words were like venom, corroding your patience with every syllable. He had to be joking.

“Do you really have your head shoved so far up your own ass?” You started, the prominent look of detest written on your features.

“If my ideas are such shit, i'd like to see you come up with a better one! Or is that outside your levels of expertise? Does that brain of yours even have a rational mode or is it all just explosions and violence.” You could see his eyebrow twitching in anger at your words, and for some reason that excited you beyond belief. You loved getting under his skin, giving him a taste of his own medicine. It was cathartic in a way, watching him squirm.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” He spat viciously from across the table, his fists banging on the surface like an overgrown toddler throwing a tantrum. This time it was you clicking your tongue.

“I rest my case. I should have known working with you was going to be nothing but hell. Some pro hero you are, can’t even make a simple infiltration plan without throwing a fit.” Bakugou growled loudly, and you couldn’t help but akin his behavior to that of a feral animal.

“Will you shut the fuck up!” He seethed, but you were unfazed. You simply leaned back in your seat with an excited grin, crossing your arms over your chest as you did so. You weren't sure why arguing with the explosive man gave you such a rush of adrenaline, but you needed more. It was as if his words of resentment were a highly addictive drug, and you were itching for your next fix.

“Aww what's wrong, can’t handle a little bit of criticism?” Your confidence rang through the air like gun fire, piercing and tearing at Bakugou's skin. He was heated, you could tell by the way his pale skin flushed and how the faint smell of caramel assaulted your senses as he let off a few pops of his quirk in his fists. If you hadn’t known the man in front of you, perhaps you would have been intimidated by his crude actions, but you knew Bakugou would never lay a hand on you. No matter how heated your arguments got.

This certainly wasn’t the first time you had argued like this, it happened to be a recurring theme for the both of you whenever you were in the same room, but today something felt different. The tension laid heavy between you two, tangible, but it was laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint; A warmth pooling in your stomach.

“I said shut the hell up!” He screamed, standing up from his chair in a huff. You had pushed him too far, letting your teasing nature get the better of you as it had been known to do. Yet, instead of dropping it, moving on with your work, you persisted. You poked the bear once more, but this time in a way that surprised even you. You locked eyes with his piercing crimson ones, rising from your chair with formidable authority. Your chin tilting up ever so slightly as you spoke, letting the warmth in your stomach take over.

“Why don’t you come over here and make me, Dynamight”

Bakugou froze, and you couldn’t help but smirk victoriously. You knew the teasing tone would be enough to fluster him, to shut him down and win the argument so you could get back to working in silence. What you weren’t expecting was the way his breath caught in his throat, or the fervent blush that crept up his neck and consumed his features. And you certainly were not expecting the way your face reciprocated immediately upon sight. The palpable tension consuming the two of you, and the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. It was not the feeling of complete and utter disdain that always lingered there, but instead something far worse. The warmth that had been bubbling in your lower abdomen was now yelling at you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that feeling had always been there, simply lurking under the guise of hatred. Your eyes took in his features with a new glazed expression, subconsciously nibbling at your lower lip as you did so. The way you could see his heart hammer in his chest made you question if he was feeling the same sensation you currently were.

Your mind didn’t have much time to process that thought however, because within an instant Bakugou was throwing himself at you from across the table. His mouth on yours in seconds and his hands gripped at the back of your head to hold you tightly into the kiss, as if trying to relish in a fleeting moment. It was like a shock wave of intensity took over you, throwing all caution to the wind, and you found yourself kissing back with unexpected heat before you even had time to think. He slammed your smaller frame against the cold concrete of the office wall and you couldn't control the small yelp that slipped into his mouth. He had no idea why he was doing this. Why did your words have such an impact on him? Whatever had possessed him in the moment seemed to have taken hold of you as well. He wasn’t expecting you to kiss back with such fervor, in fact, he was fully convinced he was going to earn himself a solid punch to the mouth. But that wasn’t the case, and it made him question if those flirtatious and subtle sexual nuances had always littered your vocabulary, or if it had been a heat of the moment thing for you as well. One thing he knew for certain was that he had always found you enticing. The way you quipped back at him with ease, moving through his words as if you were bullet proof. His insults never penetrating your perfect complexion. And the way you would smirk at him, it was intoxicating. The way you knew just how to get under his skin. He hated it, and even though he’d hate to admit it, he loved it so much more.

His rough and calloused hands kept a firm grip on you, finally getting a chance to enjoy that perfect frame up close and personal. Your hands tangled up in his ash blonde locks, pulling at them roughly and putting space between your mouths so that your lips were just barely hovering above his lower one. Even still he could feel the delicious grin that overtook your features at the involuntary whimper that escaped his lips from the lack of contact. It wasn’t long before he was pulling against you to initiate the kiss again, and you did nothing to stop him, allowing him to dive back in and devour those sweet and supple bruised lips of yours once more. God, how he had always wanted this. He let his pelvis grind into yours, his hand finding its home on your hip to pull you in closer, forcing a moan to creep its way out of your throat. He wasn’t sure what had come over him; repression, pent up sexual tension, pure feral instinct, but he just couldn’t control himself. Especially not when such a lewd and sweet sounding moan cascaded from your lips like that. He had to have you now.

The faint noise of the lock clicking behind him rang in his ears like one of his explosions, and he found his head whipping in this direction of the noise as if expecting to see someone witnessing something they weren’t supposed to. Instead he saw the faint golden glow of your quirk, and upon rounding his eyes back to you, saw everything that he needed to know written on your features. You had locked it over his shoulders using your psychokinetic quirk. He chuckled darkly above your lips, before swooping back in hungrily, taking your actions as a nonverbal cue to continue. You couldn’t get enough of his taste. The sickly-sweet sensation taking over your senses, and by the way he kissed you, you could only guess you were just as intoxicating to him. Your hips moved on their own accord, desperate to feel his hard cock rubbing against you through the slack of his pants, but you could feel the resistance from the blondes firm grip on your hips. You needed more of him, wanted to get rid of this disgusting heat inside of you. You knew he noticed how much you ached for him too, you could sense it in the way his ego grew in his chest with every movement. He was always so perceptive, and you hated that about him. How dare he be able to control you like this. Have this domineering hold around you that you most certainly did not allow in your daily life. You never took his shit. Never put up with his bitching. Yet here you were, horny and writhing in his grasp, desperate for his twitching cock to fill you up.

“What’s the matter, princess?” His husky voice cut through the room. The teasing nickname you detested grating at your senses and finding a new feeling bubbling up deep inside your abdomen. God, you fucking hated him.

“Don’t have anything else to fucking say?” He ground his hips against yours again, eliciting the same noise of wanting to come crashing around the two of you. You tried your best to suppress it this time, not wanting to give him the sheer satisfaction of knowing just how much he had you under his spell right now, but the noise forced its way out as a high pitched whimper. You felt the way his cock twitched against your heat, only adding to your sheer desire. Your head fell back against the wall as you bit harshly at your lip. How could you be so weak for this man that not even ten minutes ago you absolutely despised with everything in your being. He took that as an answer.

“Did I finally find a fucking way to shut you up, dumbass?” He whispered into your ear, the soft wetness overtaking your senses and filling you with pure adrenaline. His hand gripped at the hair on the back of your head like you had done to his only moments before, exposing your neck so that he could trail rough kisses down to your collarbone. Biting and nipping at the soft skin.

“If you want my cock so bad, beg for it. “ It was like a light switch had gone off in your brain at that very moment. You couldn’t let him win, Let him talk to you like this. No matter how much it made your juices pool in your panties like some kind of whore in heat, you couldn’t let him embarrass you like this.

“In your dreams, you fucking pervert.” you spat viciously, a salacious smile biting at your features. Bakugou's head rounded to meet your eyes, an interested smirk over taking his features.

“Huh? What did you say to me?” The venom was tangible, but it did nothing to deter you from spitting back again. This time the smirk on your lips growing into a confident one, even through your ragged pants of need.

“I said...in your fucking dreams. “ putting emphasis on each word He growled into your skin, vibrating your body with his raw and feral rage.

“You fuckin’ brat.”

You knew you had just signed your death warrant but you didn’t care, in fact, it only aroused you more. You needed to feel him inside of you. You needed the release. It was as if the room was spinning and the only thing that was keeping you grounded was the aching between your legs. The desperate need to feel something. You felt his grip grow tighter on you and before you knew it your face was pressed up against the cold wall in an instant. Bakugou's hand laid on the back of your head, gripping at your hair and pushing your face against the concrete, the other tightly locked on your hip, keeping your soaking cunt up against the hard bulge in his pants. You felt your body buck against it subconsciously, sending another shockwave of pleasure pulsing through your body, and his.

“You’re gonna pay for that.” He hissed into your ear. The hand that laid in your hair coiled itself around your neck, squeezing ever so slightly as he brought your head closer to his. You let out a slight gasp, but still a smirk laid ever present on your face.

“Good.”

His free hand made quick work of your soaking panties, pushing them to the side under the hem of your pencil skirt. One of his thick digits slipping against your wet folds before situating itself inside without much warning. Even with just his finger you felt so full. The warmth from his hand radiating inside of you and only aiding in your pleasure. Bakugou couldn’t help the noises that escaped his mouth as he worked your pussy with his fingers. The way your walls clamped around them and left them completely soaked only made his need for you grow.

“God, youre so fucking wet for me.” His breathing was erratic, greedy. He had been overcome with lust that he was barely registering what he was saying. Normally situations like this would absolutely fluster Bakugou, or just straight up never happen. Bakugou was always so focused on his hero work that hookups were few and far between, and certainly never quite this passionate. A quick fuck with no return call and that was it. There was just something about you that made his head spin. You were always a challenge, never backing down no matter how brutal his berating and instead firing back at him with such confidence that it caught him off guard more often than not. Sure, it was so infuriating, but he had a thing for strong women. So everytime you spit back with that ungodly sexy smirk of yours, the fire in Bakugou only grew. He never thought he’d see you like this though, never imagining that he would be able to make that pretty little mouth of yours moan out for him, but he had certainly spent countless nights alone with his hand gripped around himself at the very thought. He quickly added another finger as he pounded them into you, causing you to gasp out in pleasure.

“ Yeah, you like that? You little slut.” You shut your eyes tightly, feeling the embarrassment overtake you as your head nodded against his hand like the greedy slut you were. Normally you would never accept words like that to come out of a man's mouth toward you, but there was just something about the way Bakugou said them that had you reeling with anticipation.

He curled his fingers inside of you, toying with your sensitive spot ever so slightly. Did you really think a simple nod was going to satiate his need for praise? He was going to tease you until he got what he wanted.

“What was that?” He smirked against the skin of your neck, nibbling roughly at the sensitive skin. You felt your body jerk against him, sending his fingers deeper into you. You bit your lip hard to suppress the moan that overtook you.

“Just fuck me already, Katsuki! ” you whimpered, his first name feeling foreign in your mouth. You were growing impatient, and even though your words came out as a command, you knew deep down it was desperation. The embarrassment rampantly flooded through your body, turning you a deep shade of pink, but you pushed through it. You couldn’t keep letting him play with you like you were some toy, you had to take what you wanted any way you could. You needed to cum, and you certainly weren’t going to do it on his fingers, no matter how good they felt. You needed the real thing.

“I can’t take it anymore, just fuck me!” You reluctantly begged, trying to look anywhere but at the man behind you. You could feel the shock rush through Bakugou's body at your words, clearly taken aback for a second at your bluntness and hearing his name spill from your lips like that. A wave of determination flooded through his system. He was going to make you scream his name so everyone in the office could hear it, even from the confines of the soundproof meeting room. He quickly let go of you to fiddle with his belt buckle, but you didn’t dare move to look at him. Instead you found solace in rubbing your thighs together. The friction keeping you high, keeping you blind to what was really happening. To the fact that you had just begged Bakugou Katsuki, the biggest piece of shit you have ever met, to fuck you.

You felt the tip of his cock trace your sweet hole for a second, and you braced yourself for agony. You thought he was going to relentlessly tease you, break you, find some way to have you squirming in his grasp and begging again, but instead the feeling of him bottoming out in you quickly overtook all of your senses. He was surprised he had even lasted this long in the foreplay if he was honest. He needed you, needed to feel the way you felt around him. He had fantasized about this for years, what it would feel like to finally have you in such a compromising position, but he was in no way ready for the sheer bliss your walls brought him. You had him reeling. He grunted aggressively against your skin, not moving inside of you as if to take in this sensation. Who knew when it would happen again, or If it would happen again.

“Fuckkk” he whined, and somehow his words alone had you aching for more. If you thought his finger had you feeling full, it was no match for the size of his cock. You couldn’t help but rock back onto him, rotating your hips in a way that had the both of you moaning.

“Katsuki” His name dripped from your lips again like the words sweetest song. There was something about the way you said his first name that had him teetering on the edge. It was so sweet, like honey trickling down the curves of your lips, begging to be savoured, and like hell he was going to deny himself that sweetness. Even if he knew he would probably never get the chance to taste it again. He wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to pound you into oblivion. He pulled back for a second, his dick sliding out of your entrance and leaving you with a longing and empty feeling after being so full only a second ago. Your eyes widened, about to whimper out in distress at the loss, until the fullness came back to you forcefully. The roughness of his thrust sending your body bumping into the wall in front of you and causing a loud moan to escape your lips. Your hand quickly shot up to your mouth, covering it quickly in the hopes that no one had heard you. You felt Bakugou snicker in your ear, pulling your hand roughly away from its place over your mouth, his hot breath panting heavily onto your skin.

“Let them hear you. Let them hear so they know who you belong to.” He spat out in between thrusts, head clearly spinning from the pure ecstasy you brought him.

“You wish.” you hissed, sending your ass into him to meet his thrusts. Bakugou grit his teeth in pleasure, cursing out under his breath. You were definitely right about that. You were the one person Bakugou knew he would never be able to truly control, but honestly, he didn’t want to. You were a force to be reckoned with, and an absolute powerhouse of a Pro Hero, and he admired you. Just as you did him, in your own little way.

Bakugou brought his open palm down onto your exposed ass with a grin, the pain of his warm hand mixing with the pure ecstasy of his cock and eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, spinning from the sensation. Bakugou found himself groaning with every thrust, unable to force them down. You just felt too good, too addicting, and he needed more; needed to cum. His hand gripped at the back of your hair, pulling your head to the side so that his face was flush up against yours, his mouth inches from your ear. The sound of his erratic breathing and raw grunts of pleasure filled your senses immediately, making the warmth in your stomach bubble with excitement. You weren’t going to last much longer like this.

“Fuck” Your voice came out in a choked whimper, laced with blatant wanton lust.

“Like that, don’t stop.” You commanded, and Bakugou groaned in response. The grip on your hair tightened ever so slightly and you felt his teeth snarl against your ear, nipping at the exposed skin. He could tell you were close by the way your walls clamped around him, making it almost impossible to hold out any longer.

“Yeah” He panted in agreement, his thrusts becoming more unpredictable as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. It didn’t take much before you completely came undone around Bakugou. It was as if your body was floating weightlessly in space, a beautiful expanse of stars and colors blurring your vision, before gravity was quickly pulling you back down to earth abruptly, leaving your legs trembling from the impact.

Your hands subconsciously gripped Bakugou's, savoring in his warmth as you rode out your high around his thrusts, your head spinning with pure ecstasy and adrenaline. Bakugou buried his face into the crook of your neck, as if to hide the flush that had spread across his face from nonexistent eyes. Watching your body tense and shake around him had to be the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen in his life, and that was exactly what sent him over the edge.

“F-Fuck” His voice quivered against your skin and you felt his grip grow tighter on your hips, pulling you back into his pelvis to burry himself deeper within you. If you weren’t currently trembling from your own climax, perhaps you would’ve stopped Bakugou from coating your insides, but in the moment you didn’t seem to care. You felt your walls clamp down around him once more, desperately taking everything in without any fear of the consequences it might hold. Bakugou didn’t pull away from you, instead leaving his body flushed up against yours as the two of you attempted to regain your composure.

The room was silent, aside from the panting that still hung close to your ear. The primal lust that had just engulfed the two of you was quickly replaced with confusion, and the room was suddenly too silent. Bakugou pulled away from you at last, and his warmth that had enveloped you just two seconds ago now completely dissipated. You weren’t sure why, but you missed it immediately. It just felt so right, brought you so much comfort, and that very thought alone scared you. You quickly pulled yourself off the wall and rounded to look at the blonde man behind you as he fixed himself up. His face seemed to mimic yours, and you weren’t sure whether or not that was a good or a bad thing, but for the moment it brought you solace. You let out a shaky sigh before straightening the hem of your skirt against your reddened thighs. You could feel his eyes on you, like lasers burning your skin. You quirked an eyebrow up at him, trying your best to muster a smirk while your fingers worked tirelessly at untangling your hair that Bakugou had made a mess of.

Bakugou felt his voice rise in his throat as his eyes finally met with yours once more, he had so many questions; what was that all about? What does this mean for us? Can I take you out for dinner? but all of those questions died in his throat before they made it to his lips. The shake of your head deterring him from letting them out. You didn’t want him to say something he was going to regret, something stupid you say after the high of an orgasm. You weren’t sure what exactly that would’ve been, but you liked it better this way.

“Don’t, your stupid voice is what got us into this mess in the first place.” You tried your best to keep your voice even, calm, as if none of this had shaken you to your core. As if he wasn’t still lingering inside of you. As if you felt absolutely nothing from that encounter. Just another meaningless hook up, that was all. Or at least that was what you tried to tell yourself. You watched as Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed, as they did whenever you spoke, but this time it felt off. Laced with something different. It would take you a while to pinpoint that exact feeling, but it would come to you nonetheless. When you were alone in your bed late at night, thinking about the way his eyes glistened, and his body tried to stay steady. Hurt.

You moved towards the tall blonde with a false sense of confidence, though to the unsuspecting eye you never faltered. Your delicate hand moving up to the tall blondes cheek and patting it roughly. The curves of your lips forming into that smirk that Bakugou loved detested so much.

“Leave the planning to me, I don’t really need your help anyway.” Your eyes locked with his for a moment, before you felt the need to break away. To slam the cover shut on those feelings that threatened to spill over the top of Pandora’s box. You sauntered past his form nonchalantly, your hips moving in a hypnotizing form that had Bakugou unable to peel his eyes away.

“Just remember...” You started, turning your head to look at him from over your shoulder.

“Meetings in the conference room are confidential.” And with a wink, you quickly turned the handle of the door and made your exit, needing to get away as quickly as possibly so that you could breathe once again. Bakugou still stood at the center of the room, confused and finally at a loss for words. He had no idea how any of that had just happened, or why he felt a heavy pang in his chest as he watched you leave the room seemingly unfazed. But there was one thing he knew for certain, one thing he was determined to do now more than ever; he was going to make you his.

[silkenstarlight]

body is a temple

Summary: Bucky and reader are training when she finds him staring at her ass. She tries to rile him up, but quickly learns that he doesn’t tolerate teasing.

Pairing: Personal trainer!Bucky x reader

Warning/s (18+ only, minors dni): enemies to lovers, dirty talk, degradation, spanking, multiple orgasms

Word count: 2.8k

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Author’s note: i wrote this while wine-drunk, so if it’s extra horny, you know why

“Fuck!”

You tumbled onto the mat, back slamming against cool polyethylene. The breath whooshed from your body in a dramatic, crushing exhale, your lungs desperately trying to pull in air but failing beyond shallow, raspy puffs. Bucky looked down at you, the fluorescent lights of the gym feathering behind his head in a blinding halo, smirking as he drank in the image of you sprawled on the mat below him, completely at his mercy. He let you lie there for one, two, three seconds, before holding out his hand for you to grab onto. It was a kind gesture, something that completely contrasted with his previous rough treatment. You squinted and firmly grasped his hand, feeling your back leave the mat as he propped you upright again.

“Is that the best that you can do, (Y/N)?” He stepped back, walking to the edge of the mat and retrieving your water bottle for you.

You huffed, raspy breathing slowly returning to normal. “Is this really necessary?”

He handed you your water bottle, frowning. “Of course it’s necessary.”

“I was told that you would be my personal trainer. Nowhere in the program description did it say that you were going to beat my ass all day,” you shook your head, slightly incredulous, and took a few grateful gulps from the water bottle. You felt more comfortable talking back to him because you were the last ones left in the gym today, with no one but him to overhear your complaining. You had expected some light cardio, maybe some weight training, when you had signed up for individual sessions with a personal trainer at your new gym. You didn’t think you would be paired right away with Bucky, who seemed to exclusively work with experienced heavy lifters, and you definitely didn’t think he would take it upon himself to teach you self-defense, a skill which he was surprisingly extremely well-versed in. Every day for the past week, you had ended up in a similar supine position on the mat, beaten and scrambling for air, accumulating a mottled collection of nasty bruises and scrapes on your knees and elbows. The most frustrating part was that he remained unscathed through it all. Every time, it was you on your ass, and him helping you up. It made you want to scream.

Well, that actually wasn’t the only thing about this whole situation that made you want to scream. He was incredibly good-looking, exactly your type, all brooding looks and dark eyes. You actually had to pick your jaw up off of the floor when he walked in to your first session last week. But, the worst part was, he was a cocky bastard. He had to know the effect he had on you, and yet, he chose to do nothing about it.

“Well, you’ll just have to do better if you want me to stop crushin’ you every time.” He dabbed at his forehead with the hem of his shirt, and even though he frustrated you to no end, it took everything you had in you not to let your eyes drift down to look at his toned stomach.

“Now I think you’re just trying to make me mad.” You huffed, walking to the edge of the mat and returning your water bottle to its perch, preparing for another round.

“Well, if I’m pissing you off, why don’t you use that anger? Beat me. Just once,” he smirked, as if firmly believing that you couldn’t, that you didn’t have it in you. But, you were just stubborn enough to take the challenge.

“Fine.” You cocked your head and gritted your teeth, digging your heels into the mat and crouching in a ready position. 

“3… 2… 1… start.” The ghost of a smirk still graced his face, but he was concentrating on your movements now, eyes darting as you approached.

Jab, cross, jab. Knee, high kick, and--

“Damn you, Barnes.” 

One quick sweep, and he had you pinned. You wanted to scream, to thrash in frustration, but his body pressing against your back limited any movement on your part. Wonder if he likes having me pinned like this. You tried not to let that thought develop further, lest the heat you had worked up from sparring travelled up your neck for him to see, or worse, somewhere farther south--

“Why are you still panting, (Y/N)?” You could feel a puff of hot breath against your ear as he chuckled.

Fuck. “My, uh… my asthma must be acting up again.” 

“Didn’t think you had asthma.” He flipped off of you, arching a brow as you slowly stood.

“Forgot to tell you, then,” you fibbed, trying at all costs to avoid spilling the truth, that your panting was the effect of an illicit fantasy that you had thought about in bed, alone, on more than one occasion.

“Uh huh,” he said, unconvinced. You both got into a ready position again.

“3… 2… 1… start.”

This time, you took more of a defensive strategy, evaluating him before striking. Maybe, if you weren’t so focused on completing the flourishing movements, on hitting with perfect precision and strength, you could anticipate his attack instead. You circled around each other like sharks, his eyes glinting almost hungrily, but doing nothing to bely his next move. It was like trying to size up a brick wall.

Suddenly, he darted forward with a speed that no man his size should have, and he swept your legs from under you, flipping you with ease. You fell ungracefully in a prone position, cheek smacking the mat, eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. You groaned, aching muscles begging for you to stop and rest instead of getting up and accepting his challenge. You pressed your forehead into the mat, weighing whether it was worth the hassle of asking him to cut your session short today, when you noticed that he was completely silent.

You furrowed your brows, eyes flying open. Every time he had defeated you in previous rounds, he had uttered some sarcastic, infuriating quip, trying to rub in his victory even more. But he hadn’t said anything yet.

You pushed your chest up off the mat, craning your neck to look back at him. He was obviously looking at your body, eyes transfixed on your lower half, but when he sensed your sudden movement, he broke out of his trance. He quickly got up from his kneeling position, clearing his throat and walking to the water jug on the far wall. A smile slowly grew on your face as you realized that he had been staring at your ass.

You stood up, slowly walking toward him, assessing him with a sly expression on your face. “Were-- were you doing what I think you were doing just then?”

His back was to you as he filled a little paper cup with water. “If you mean pummelling your sorry ass into the mat yet again, then yes.” His voice still carried its usual snarky tone, but it shook slightly, as if he were just caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Not exactly what I meant.” You stepped closer until a foot separated you, and he turned around to face you.

“Then what do you mean, doll?” He smiled smugly, but you noticed the pink blush that was creeping its way up his neck.

You hummed a laugh. “What I mean, Barnes,” you cocked your head, relishing how your sudden onset confidence wiped the smirk from his face, “is that you were enjoying the view back there. Isn’t that right?”

Now it was his turn to huff a laugh. “Well, what can I say? You’ve got a nice ass. Gotta get something out of these sparring sessions.”

You scoffed. “Fucking pervert.”

“Call me that again.” His tone was more serious, suddenly bereft of the saccharine sarcasm you were so used to.

You paused, weighing his tone against the risqué direction the conversation was heading, and you smirked, deciding to provoke him further. “You’re a fucking pervert. Beatin’ girls up, just so you have a chance to get a good, long look at their bodies. What the fuck is up with that? Can’t get some like a normal person, can you?”

He let that sink in, head dipped, eyebrows raised. But then, a thought seemed to cross his mind, and a wicked smile crept onto his face. He looked at you with hooded eyes, and your stomach flipped, unsure if you were extremely turned on by your sudden proximity to him, or if you were preparing to balk.

“You’re going to regret saying that.” His voice was low, rasping with something you’ve never heard from him. Your mind was telling you to back up, to leave this encounter before it got messy, but your feet stayed rooted in position as he bridged the gap between your bodies. He grabbed your shoulders and turned you around before pinning you roughly against the wall.

“You know,” he said, breath hot against your ear, “you really shouldn’t be calling me a perv, when I know exactly what goes on in that head of yours during our training.”

“Wh- what do you mean?” You decided to play dumb, hoping that he wasn’t astute enough to deduce your secret, licentious desires.

“Oh, you know. Whenever I pin you, you’re always blushing.” He laughed mockingly. “It’s cute. It’s like you secretly want to be dominated.”

You huffed a breath as his hands traveled down your waist, before settling gently on your hips. His lips dragged across the shell of your ear and down your neck, pressing against your pulse point. You arched your back, grinding against the hard bulge that was forming in his shorts.

“Is that right, (Y/N)? You want me to pin you down and fuck you dumb?” He mumbled against your neck.

A wanton moan tumbled from your lips in response, but it wasn’t good enough for him. His fingers dug harshly into your hips. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes, p-please.” You hated how breathy your voice was, but you were too overtaken by desire to care whether he was just doing this to get a reaction from you.

“Please what?” You could feel his mouth curl into a smile as he reattached his lips to your neck, sucking lightly.

“Please, please, please, fuck me, Bucky.” Another moan slipped from your mouth.

“That’s better, baby.” His fingers relaxed against your hips, tracing upwards to the hem of your leggings. He tugged them down with your underwear so that they settled just below your ass, and he pulled back slightly to look at your bare backside.

“Goddamn,” he said, voice gravelly and low. He squeezed one cheek with his hand, kneading it slightly before letting it go and slapping it. “Been dreaming of this ass. It’s just as good as I imagined.”

You gasped, giggling. “So, I was right.”

“Right about what?” He asked, pulling down his shorts and freeing his cock before pressing it against your backside, hot length already dripping with precum.

“You’re a fucking perv, Bucky Barnes.” You smiled coquettishly.

He stilled behind you, and you could feel his glare burning a hole through the back of your neck. You kept smiling anyways-- this was the exact reaction you had hoped for.

He guided the tip of his member down to your slit, dragging it from your perineum to your clit and back again to gather your wetness, before completely sheathing himself inside of you in one motion. You moaned loudly in response to the harsh intrusion, body struggling to accommodate his size.

“Thought you learned not to call me that,” he said, voice level, unbothered by the fact that you were throbbing around him.

“Guess I n-never learn.” Your voice was barely a whisper as he began to move, slowly thrusting to allow your body a chance to adapt to the thrilling ache of being so completely full. It was a harsh sensation, but it felt good, each stroke dragging pleasantly against your tight walls.

“Oh, you’ll learn.” His left hand travelled up your body, drawing under your shirt and flipping the band of your sports bra up. Your breasts bounced free, full and heavy. “Let’s see those pretty little tits, huh?”

He pinched one nipple, rolling its rosy, peaked bud between his cool metal fingers and making you squeal in delight. You ground back against him, encouraging him to move faster inside of you.

“You like that?” He switched to the other nipple, kneading your breast gently in his hand, and you arched into the motion. “That feel good?”

You bit your lip and shook your head, trying to swallow your moans, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing you fall apart so quickly and completely at his hands. “N-no.”

“You know,” he said, driving into you harder and harder with each thrust, but remaining frustratingly unperturbed and casual, “you don’t have to lie to me. I feel how drenched you are. You can admit how good it feels, baby.” His feigned affectionate tone, paired with the way that the tip of his cock was starting to brush against your g-spot, made you cry out. His permission to let go just made you want to disobey him even more, but the pleasure was slowly overtaking your body, overriding your sense of shame. You rocked on your heels, trying to take back some semblance of control, but when his left hand dragged from your breast to your neck, squeezing slightly, you were a goner. You shattered around him, your muscles fluttering around him and coaxing a gruff moan from his throat. But, he kept his focus, fucking you through your orgasm and watching your face as he did, your eyes scrunched shut and your lips dropped open in a soft “o.” He let go of your throat and you gasped. 

As the waves of your orgasm subsided, he refused to slow down, his unrelenting pace repeatedly hitting your deepest point. You could feel him grinning stupidly at you, proud that he had already coaxed an orgasm out of you despite not cumming yet himself.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, your body limp against his. Though your first orgasm had abated, you quickly felt tension building again inside of you.

“Not so cocky now, are you, (Y/N)?” He said between heavy breaths. You knew he was close, just by the sound, but you also knew that he wouldn’t leave this room without teasing another orgasm from your body. “So docile once I put my dick in you.” He panted, laughing at the way you mewled and gasped around him.

His hand drifted down to where your bodies met, finding your clit in the slippery mess of your combined arousal. He pressed his fingers against it in erratic little circles, your body keening for him, completely at his mercy. 

“Look at that, makin’ you gush around me again,” he said, almost to himself, reveling in your neediness. “Looks like I win at this, too.” And, with that, you were done for.

Your muscles squeezed around him in a sweet, warm vice, and he groaned at the sensation of you cumming around him a second time. You mewled pathetically, body spent with unabashed pleasure. He followed closely behind you, losing himself inside of you and spilling his arousal in hot, vulgar stripes. His head was thrown back, claiming your body as his in sweet, silent throes. Once his hips finally stilled, his body slumped against yours, completely and utterly spent. You stayed like that for a moment, leaning up against the wall, the battle between you clearly over. And then, he grasped your hips, his cock slipping out of you with a vulgar sucking sound.

You bent down, pulling up your pants, when you heard him clear his throat. You looked back, reaching underneath your shirt to pull your sports bra back down over your tits, when he chuckled. You arched a brow, but he just shook his head slightly. “That was… much more fun than beating you up.”

You frowned slightly, but when you saw his goofy smile and suddenly relaxed demeanor, you couldn’t help but mirror his expression. “Does that mean that we get to do that, instead of my training?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” he said sternly, crossing his arms but smiling slyly nonetheless. “But, we can do it outside of training. As long as I get to take you to dinner first,” he added quickly, his voice almost shy as he averted your gaze.

You smiled, laughing, and he looked up, expression nervous. Now, you shook your head. “Considering how good you just fucked me, I should be the one buying you dinner.”

He smirked, grabbing your water bottle and handing it to you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Now, that’s an offer that I can’t refuse.”

[castee-yel]

Hello! I’m not trying to bash you or anything I am just curious. Do you not like the CW because Destiel wasn’t end game? The CW is just a network, they have very little say as to how the show goes. The CW has LGBTQ+ representation on their other shows as well so it’s not as if to say that they are just homophobic and wouldn’t allow it. From my perspective, they had no bearing on what happened. So, I am just a little confused as to where your anger is coming from. Can you please clarify?

yeah sure thing, the cw does have other shows with lgbt rep, my issue is with the fact that they chose one of their biggest shows and decided to kill off all the representation for shock value.

theres no arguing that it was a marketing target to attract a certain audience towards walker, walkers main demographic is bronlies/wincest shippers and the overall cishet male side of the fandom that have hated every female/poc/lgbt character that has stepped on the show, especially cas.

they chose to kill off all the rep somely for shock value and to attract the demographic they wanted for cw (going through the walker tag makes this beyond obvious)

its less about destiel to me personally (not going to talk about people who are angry just because of that) but the fact they killed off their disabled/poc/lgbt+ characters as soon as they felt they had been a good enough assist for the storyline, ie charlie, eileen, every gay character introduced, kaia, charlies gf etc.

i can tell you from years and years of hyperfixating on shows like supernatural that the ending was cut up, probably censored and the aim wasnt to wrap up a final satisfactory creative piece, the really insulted the shows worth to many many people and thats what infuriated me mainly.

the treatment of the shows value, and characters was appalling to me; sam winchester was degraded into a secondary character, dean winchester was given the moral of "if your suicidal the only peace you'll get is when youre dead", claire/jody/everyone around the boys were disregarded as their family telling us "in the end its just the boys, and always will be" (bronlie statement).

its just using tragedy and shock value to cover up bad writing on a show that meant a lot to many, and then choosing to air that episode and get actors to try praising it (feel free to check my cw censorship post for more detail on that)

[brokenxfragments]

Rosalia, the Rebirth

Icon Use: FFXIV model

Theme Song(s)

Legends Never Die - League of Legends (ft. Against The Current)

Sacred - Citizen Soldier

Verses:

Final Fantasy XIV

Basic Information

Age: N/A (ageless;god)

Gender: Female

Height: 5′9

Weight: 158 Ibs

Species: Deity

Orientation/Sexuality: Demiromantic/Pansexual

Relationship: Single(?) (ship verse dependent; not actively seeking)

Occupation: Leader, Advisor

Brief Personality: Quiet — Cautiously Warm — Honest

Brief Bio: While quite a knowledgeable & inquisitive woman due to her travels from world to world as well as simply being immortal, it takes some time for her to open up to most friends - though there are parts of her life she would rather not talk about. Though she is a deity, she has no want for it to be public knowledge, & will often choose to allow others to think she was an immortal, an auspice or even a spirit if they realized she was not human/mortal. It’s clear that she holds onto a deep, personal mingle of regret, sadness & guilt of something, though for why or what will not be said easily, as it is exceptionally painful for her to talk about it. She would rather put on a smile if she’s able to & help others rather than be helped, taking on as much work as she can to escape those thoughts even for a short amount of time. Anyone that would come across her either traveling or sheltering in a remote location well outside of any civilization would be greeted formally & at least civilly. Beware of actually threatening anyone that she is close to, however, for her calm demeanor is too brittle to keep back an explosive anger - she had lost too many loved ones & will not hesitate to protect the few she allowed herself to be close to.

Full Biography

     A goddess created for the specific purpose of the ‘rebirth’ aspect of the universe, Rosalia was brought into existence by a being that would be known as Lady Salri into the realm that was once Seraphine, the universe itself known as Eldria. She had been originally a very bright-eyed, naïve woman who would often observe those perceived as mortal after she had learned much from her mentor, Eva, who was the ‘essence’ aspect - things related to souls & states of consciousness including natural magic. She found them charming in their own way as well as admirable, accomplishing things in such a very short amount of time that they were given. These observations would lead her to start mingling among them after learning to change her appearance, to appear more like them, learning from them from first-hand experience rather than afar, though it would open her eyes to many sides of mortals - the varying shades of gray morals. 

     Like most beings, even of those immortal, there are instincts to seek companionship, whether for a mate or for mere friends, to which led her to one that was of the same realm as herself. Another of Lady Salri’s creations, the aspect for ‘extinction’ that would name himself Aridem, would have that tug on her, especially when they would often work closely with one another when they would bring a stagnant world through its cycle to begin anew. What was first amiable friendship developed to love as time went on for the both of them, a relationship that certainly brought chuckles at the irony that ‘rebirth’ & ‘extinction’ would come to be hand-in-hand beyond the fact that one cannot be without the other, which didn’t escape the couple’s notice either but were able to laugh about it.

     In time, they would become a family with two children — Ziva, their daughter & eldest child, & Malshano, their son. These two were born with greater capabilities because of their heritage, both welcomed additions to the realm. The daughter was capable of manipulation of more than one mere element, in fact was able to master many more, making her such a vital addition with Rosalia when time came to heal a world to be ready for new life. Malshano had something quite different, being able to ‘recycle’ organic materials of once-living creatures to create new lifeforms. This gave him a mentor with Amilla, who’s aspect was ‘atrophy’ - anything to do with organic matter, including the degradation of it, which made her opposing to those who would practice necromancy or similar magic to serve purposes that they wouldn’t do themselves.

     Time passed, the two grew to their full potential, & much seemed well with the realm, though down along the line when there were a great lull of action on their parts when there weren’t any worlds to help wipe clean, Aridem would seem to dive deeply into research that he wouldn’t share with her. It wasn’t that unusual, given that he often would take these interludes to do research of one thing or another, yet he was not usually so secretive with them. The only one that would be allowed to help him was Malshano, after much pestering on his part to be allowed to help at least his father in something worthwhile. Rosalia ultimately decided that perhaps this was the bonding the two really needed & would leave them to it — a decision that she would fully regret when it led to ultimate devastation when it came.

     It’s uncertain what precisely happened to the two when they went on a long-absent trip outside of Seraphine, but Aridem & Malshano returned completely warped & changed, announcing that the universe was beyond repair & was needed to be fully wiped clean so that they would all begin anew - the damage done onto the universe by the Elder Gods made Eldria beyond saving by his reasoning. Lady Salri was only applying bandages to a growing wound that was festering, in his words. And the first to pay the price of their announcement was Ziva, whom was struck down viciously by her own brother when she tried to reason with their father that this crusade was utterly mad. Gods were not easily killed, yet with the powers the two gained through the the force that was only known as the Void, not only was Ziva killed but was also made to become nothing but scattered atoms that even then were consumed entirely. And Rosalia had been there to bear witness to her entire family being torn apart by this new madness.

     Because she had little experience in the pain of loss, Rosalia was not at all prepared for the kind of state she was put in even when Aridem & Malshano retreated before the force of Seraphine could reach them, falling into a extremely depressive state of being. The wide-eyed innocent aspect of ‘rebirth’ was replaced with a far more solemn woman that still desired to help others but with a heavy burden on her shoulders to help find a way to stop both her mate as well as her son from bringing their Great Cleanse to the entirety of their universe. Once it was found that killing them, while possible, would not be the end of their existence & only seemed to make the pair stronger with each revival along with their gathered allies, Rosalia was tasked to seek out more knowledge outside of their own. Whether to put the two down permanently or to seal them away for the rest of eternity, Rosalia sought to gather this information wherever she could. Secretly, she was relieved even though it riddled her with absolute guilt - she didn’t have to fight Aridem or Malshano at least on the front lines, though she was trying to bring an end to them. But with each encounter with either or both when they learned of her task, she would grow more resilient & even vengeful with the two that were once her closest family. This was how she’d learn to fight whereas she never had to before, especially when some of these encounters left her in a bad way. 

     The task led to years, many more years than she would ever count, & there were many more encounters with both her foes as well as new friends & allies. Because of the weight of her task, she never stayed much longer than necessary, chipping away at her mentality when she’d return just to find that those she knew had long since passed on or were killed through other means. There were very few brief relationships all through the years, though only one had brought a set of twins into existence - Tobias & Silvia, she would name them. The fear of what Malshano would do with them when he had been entirely unremorseful about killing his sister would ultimately make Rosalia choose to leave these new lives to their father Deimos, who was more than thrilled to have them even though the brief relationship between himself & Rosalia didn’t work out, yet thankfully they remained on good terms since that realization.

     There had been only one exception to the rule of not being close to others that came near the end of her hunt for such knowledge, a young hume girl with her by the name Hikaru that she’d virtually adopt her as her own daughter when other means to finding her a family proved impossible due to circumstances outside the girl’s control. The adoption would infuriate at least one Harbinger (as Aridem would call himself & his allies), though at this point in time Rosalia was able to keep the child well protected. She had a sense of duty as well as mingled happiness & guilt in wanting to keep the girl safe.

     Unfortunately though, the Harbingers were always at work with increasing their numbers as well as figuring out ways to spread the Void without being consumed by it. Rosalia was unable to find an answer to their dilemma, hitting nothing more than dead-ends or information that could not be used, by the time the war came to full flare once the Harbingers were ready. All the years she spent seeking this knowledge, & none proved useful - yet another heavy burden of knowledge she would carry even as she rejoined her realm to help hold back the inevitable. What she would do was to try to protect those that were closest to her. Thus, given the unusual circumstances, she would bring not only her adopted daughter that was nearly 17, but also the twins that she had borne, Tobias & Silvia, along with their father to the realm with her.

     During the final confrontation, when all but Seraphine & Infernam had fallen & been consumed, Rosalia had been separated from her fellow fragment gods from a devastating blow from an attack that destroyed one of the many floating islands. As she would come to & rush off to check on her island where she had left those that were not going to be part of the fight, she came to find that Malshano had found them all first. This was perhaps the moment that Rosalia had just wanted to stop living at all, even with fury & grief raging through her chest, as she stared down at the remains of those dearest. Letting the anger take over, she would only hunt savagely through the abominations that were of Malshano’s creations, looking for Aridem & Malshano in particular.

     But that rage also blinded her. Being too focused on her hunt, she was brought down from behind in flight & would lose half of her left wing by Malshano’s personal pet he kept with him at the time before he left with a cold sneer. While the pain shocked her, it did not overshadow the rest of what she felt, nor did it block out the screams all around her. When her gaze locked onto Aridem’s form as he was setting flame to Lady Salri’s form as she snarled from her position where she protected the sealing of the Elder Gods, Rosalia picked up her weapon & flung herself upwards at him, severing his right wing in passing before falling towards the encroaching Void while it was still consuming all in its path, Aridem falling with her. She had intended to sacrifice herself in at least bringing this MADNESS that was once her mate, yet her hand was caught & was brought to a painful halt in her fall by the very man that had dedicated his entire being to essentially erase their home from existence. She was beyond reasoning & was determined to bring him with her, yet there was a glimmer of something far more familiar in those once-vibrant orange eyes before Aridem launched her back upwards onto the island he was clinging to, before his hold slipped. Perhaps his final act as the real Aridem that was otherwise consumed by the Void.

     Lady Salri made the choice to save what few survivors remained by sending them well beyond Eldria through the Rift, to another world & universe, as her final act as their goddess, Rosalia being one of them though never knowing who else had been sent through except for Thornara that had been with her right at that moment. For weeks, months, perhaps even well over a year, during which she was recovering, the deity of rebirth was little more than a husk of a person except during points where rage took hold. She had no intention to live - she felt too broken & ached with so much hurt that it felt impossible to even breath. She had nothing. Yet, there was something that would eventually draw at least a small portion of the true Rosalia out, the day that Thornara figured out something that had to do with a pendant that was entrusted to the fragment of ‘rebirth’. The day that the unknown aspect of ‘creation’ was released from the pendant would become Rosalia’s new purpose — to at least protect Lady Salri’s final creation who just might have the key to at least shape her own home.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Dismantled: Karen and Dex

CW: Caning for discipline, serious blood, cuts, wounds, bruises, all the stuff you an imagine. Dehumanizing and degrading language, references to dubcon, pet whump, dehumanization, broken bones, head wounds, suicidal ideation (brief, at the end) as a way to escape torture... look, the gang’s all here.

Takes place sometime after Like Love. Henry and Wright Farling (referenced) belong to @spiffythespook.

He walked into the trap before he understood what it was - later he would be able to see the way she had been lying in wait for him to slip, but in the moment all he understood was that, once again, Karen had said no.

"I will not be allowing you to see him."

Why? Dex signed, an angry slash of movement through the air with his hands.

That very first question had been the first mistake. They were never to ask Madam why, her word was law, she would explain or not as she saw fit. He should never have asked.

He’d done so well, for twenty years, but then he’d had to wait for Wright in perfect silence - five fucking years of silence - wearing his mask. He'd done it, in the end. He had played his part.

He'd stood behind her at prison visits, looking at Wright through glass pretending to be empty. He'd listened to their surreptitious phone conversations, unable to so much as greet him. He'd waited and waited and waited. When Wright had left prison he'd been sent to him, lived for a week in that hotel under assumed names and spent every day wrapped in him, under him, around him…

Since then, nothing. She was using him, feeding him to Wright or denying him for her own purposes and at her own whims. She always had been, but it grated on him more than ever.

He was tired of being a chess piece, a bit of control Karen could exert over someone who she was supposed to care about.

The only person she supposedly cared about.

She watched him, for just a moment, with silent regard. “Because I said no, Dex. He will ask again. Besides.” She smirked, sitting slowly back. “He’s gotten too dependent on having you as it is, and I’d like him to focus on dealing with his true passion, his projects, not… you.”

That had been the red flag, the warning sign he should have seen.

“I am given to understand, Dex, darling, that Wright has gathered his lost sheep together. I’m sure he keeps himself busy dipping his pen in that variety of ink.” The amusement on her face infuriated him, and Dex struggled to keep it buried as far as he always had, the anger in him a simmering pool beneath an unbroken placid surface. “Does that bother you?”

Dex swallowed, hard, and he could barely unclench his fists enough to sign his response. I am Wright’s bed toy, nothing else. I don’t care what he does with others.

“Ah, is that true? Is it?” Karen smiled and folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “Wonderful. So you don’t mind if you never see him again.”

Never? His hands shook forming the word. His heart went cold, not with fear but anger.

He had been at Karen’s side since he was nineteen years old, forced into the mold she had made for him, silent and obedient, her perfect masterpiece. His life belonged to her, had always belonged to her. She had taken it from him, and the only thing he had found for himself within it had been Wright Farling helping him remember who he was, how to speak, giving him a safe place to think.

He should have known that if she found out about Wright, she would take him, too. 

“Never.” Her voice was smooth, a glossy as oil, and he should have known better.

I have to see him again, he signed before he could think about it, and stepped closer to her desk. I want to see him again. She didn’t lean back, or flinch, or show any sign of intimidation. All she did was slowly push herself to her feet, leaning forward with her weight on her hands on the swirls and grains in her large wooden desk, and looked up at him, to meet his gaze. 

I have to.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Karen said softly. “Not a single thing I do not tell you to do, command you to do. But you run to him with your ears up and your tail wagging, don’t you, little dog? You spent five years all but tap dancing out your impatience. You’ve gone to him with eagerness, again and again and again, and I think… I think you are hiding something from me, Ten.”

The old number.

Dex took a step back from her, his back straightening instinctively - perfect posture sometimes got you mercy, sometimes they don’t hurt you so badly - and realized too late how deftly she had maneuvered him into the trap.

“You are,” She breathed. “I have not had to discipline you in so long, darling.” A flush had begun to find its way into her cheeks, giving her the sparkling look of a much-younger woman, and Dex couldn’t remember how old he was, how long he’d been here, because Karen had always been the same. “What are you hiding, my sweet first boy? What does he tell you that you don’t tell me?”

She suspected Wright of hiding something, and it was true, he was - Wright was hiding Dex.

Dex’s eyes flared, and his hands stutter-skipped, fingertips beginning and dismissing different ways he could reply, before he pressed his lips together firmly and signed, He tells me nothing you do not know. I tell you everything he says to me.

He had lied to her for twenty years. He wasn’t about to stop now.

“You say you do, but I don’t know…” She opened a desk drawer, and he swallowed hard, knowing what she kept in there. The disciplinary tools she never used on the others, except sometimes Peter, and then only once or twice. No, the discipline in that drawer was always kept for Dex alone. “Perhaps it isn’t that he is telling you things you aren’t telling me… perhaps it is only that you feel things you don’t tell me. Why do you run to him, Dex?”

Back to Dex. He could handle being Dex.

He swallowed, and shrugged, trying to think fast enough to get ahead of her. Karen didn’t understand emotions, she didn’t understand physicality, and if you could think around her fast enough you could hide them, could understand how to use what she could not see-

“Do you love him, Dex? Is that what this is?”

The world froze.

He could have sworn the ticking clock on her bookshelf went silent in the breath between seconds, the space carved out by the fear. He had given something away, somehow… maybe in how quickly he had gone to see Wright when he escaped, how eager he had been to visit him again.

He’d thought he’d covered it up well enough, but-

“Oh, you do." She clicked her tongue against her teeth in a mocking imitation of sympathy. "Oh, darling. You poor, poor dear. And I suppose you think he can love you back? Have any feeling for you beyond a physical appreciation for how he’s no doubt trained you to please him?” She pulled a small black box from the desk drawer, laying it out on the table. Each movement slow and deliberate, and if he were less broken he could have tried to fight her, he could have turned and run out the door. But she had taken and twisted every part of him too long ago.

I don’t know how he feels, Dex signed, shaking, but he did.

Wright called his name in bed, had done so for years, had never said anything to declare love but he didn’t have to. It was in every question and careful concern for his well-being, in every time he took him outside to feel sun on his face and the way he asked him about the books he was reading and gave him choices… It was in the way that Wright sometimes had him hide his special collar, the one he wore for Wright, under a turtleneck and took him out to dinner, like they were real, like he was a person.

It was in the way, with Wright Farling, he was human again.

“I can tell you exactly how he feels.” Karen chuckled to herself. The sound was dry and cold, even as her voice kept that hint of deceptive warmth that only barely fooled the world outside her front door. “All he thinks of you is that you have a nice face and he likes to look at it when he's fucking you. That’s all you are - a body he can thrust himself into. Wright Farling is the light of my life, Dex, but he has always allowed himself to be led by his dick and not by greater matters. To my friend you are little more than a hard-on and a couple of convenient holes.”

He felt his teeth grind together, face flaring red at the humiliation of it.

“Don’t be mad, darling, and don’t get your hopes up. We both know that he’d kill you if I asked him to.”

That’s a lie, he signed before he could stop himself, and she paused with her hands resting on the edges of the box. He met her curiosity with his own blazing anger.

“And how would you know?” She asked, softly.

Because I know, he signed, viciously. His usual quick, efficient signs were lost to the anger that had his hands lingering over signs that they normally barely registered. You don’t know him at all.

“Oh? I don't know him?” She raised an eyebrow. “You have allowed yourself to be deceived. He is using you to watch me, I’m sure of it. Are you carrying stories to him? Does he use you as a spy, sweet boy?” He has been a grown man the entire time she has known him. She has always called him boy.

“No, I won't have that. You are mine. You need to be reminded, I think, of where your loyalties lie.”

With him.

Her eyes flared with a burst of true, real anger, the whites showing all around them. Dex realized only a moment too late that he didn’t think the words - he signed them.

Karen inhaled audibly, and he saw the change in her expression. "You do think he feels for you. You think he loves you."

Dex felt real panic - not for himself, but for Wright. If he'd given too much away, she'd have a weapon to wield against her oldest friend, and Dex would be the one who gave it to her.

I don't know, he signed, letting his shoulders slump, as though perhaps he knew Wright felt nothing.

“You are a piss-poor liar.”

He didn’t tell her that she had believed his lies for twenty years, so he couldn’t be that bad at it. He managed, this time, to stay still.

“Well.” The word left her as a slow sigh, and he saw the anger begin to fade, replaced by an emotion he knew well in her, one that is so much worse. Anticipation. “Don’t worry, darling. You’ve been misled, all right, if you think he will return your loyalty. But I can fix that, can’t I? I’ll show you how loyal he is to you. Oh, Dex, my love. You were always my favorite toy to break, weren’t you?”

She took out a pair of bright blue plastic gloves. When she snapped them on, Dex flinched at the sound. He knew exactly what they would smell and feel like shoved against his mouth to quiet his screams.

The sight of the gloves was worse than the bare, vulnerable feeling around his neck.

She moved to pick up an object from the box. He knew what was on the inside - a soft, deep red lining with a hint of brown to the color, like clotting blood. Syringes inside little plastic bags, sterilized one-time-use needles he had seen a thousand times before. The little vials of liquid, color-coded not because of their chemicals but to help her remember which vial would do what.

Dex’s eyes dropped from her face and instead caught, fixated and terrified, on her hands as she pulled out a needle and opened it, discarding the little clear plastic bag, crinkling the only sound he could hear beyond his own heartbeat. She picked up the light blue vial, and Dex took an unconscious step back.

He shook his head, and she looked up at him as she carefully drew back the plunger, pulling a precise amount of the blue drug into the little canister.

“Darling, you know you don’t get to say no. Not to me. Not after that disgraceful display of emotion. Now take your collar off.”

He had expected it from the moment he saw the box, but still his hands shook as he slowly lifted them to undo the buckle that rested just under the short dark hair, felt the ever-present weight of safety drop from his neck. With his collar on, he was safe. She never hurt him more than a caning for discipline as long as his collar was on.

It was when she ordered him to remove it that he knew - that they all knew - that they were not safe any longer.

He laid the collar carefully on her desk, staring down at it, the stamped-in letters of the name she had given him after ensuring he would never remember having any other.

DEX

“Good boy. Not good enough, it seems, but that doesn't matter." She looked him over. "Right arm this time."

He did not hesitate, or try to defy her. He simply held out his right arm, the inside of his elbow facing the ceiling, and curved his fingers into a tight fist to help the veins show more clearly under his pale skin. She smiled at him, pleased by the quick obedience even as she pulled out a small plastic square and tore it open, taking out the tiny white square of alcohol-dampened cloth inside. She wiped the inside of his arm, leaving a hint of dry cold there, as always, the syringe held between her teeth as she held his arm still with plastic fingers gripped tightly, until she pushed deep divots into the skin.

Dex raised his eyes to the ceiling. He heard the sound of her taking the syringe in hand, and when she slid the needle in, he was so used to the sensation he barely felt the pinch at all.

Instead of stepping away and letting go, she kept her tight grip on him, simply dropping the empty syringe to the floor. Her fingertips slid down the inside of his arm, and he shivered, more frightened of the simple fact that Karen was touching him than of the feeling of cold he felt slowly spreading from the injection site, the way his knees began to feel suddenly, horribly weak.

He braced himself still standing, blinking, as she took his hand and unwrapped it from the fist, until his palm and fingers were totally flat, and turned it so his palm faced the floor.

“What secret is he keeping from me, Dex? Does he love you, is that it?” She asked, softly, looking up at him.

Dex swallowed, hard. The room began to shift and move around him, an unsettling instability, as his veins carried the contents of the blue liquid through his body, pumped by a heart that didn’t know not to send it right to his fingertips. His heart rate began to speed up, spurred on by a sudden artificial fear.

He shook his head.

She sighed, softly, disappointed. “I had hoped you would be more forthcoming,” She said, with quiet certainty. “But I suppose this will do.”

She took his ring finger and snapped it backwards and up until he felt the break. 

Dex let out a hoarse, surprised cry of pain, jerking forwards only to have her slam her hand into his chest and force him back upright. “Don’t move, Ten.”

He swallowed hard, breathing harsh and uneven, and braced his feet shoulder-width apart, waiting.

The room moved but he stayed still. Things crawled up the walls along the edges of his vision, shadows that prickled around him, and if he did not do exactly as she said, she would let the shadows devour him. He had been eaten by shadows before.

His eyes welled with tears he couldn’t control, he spun wildly around the emotions he didn’t consent to feel. Familiar and always horribly new, all at once.

She took another finger, the middle finger, and held it. “Tell me what secret Wright Farling is keeping from me, darling, and I will stop. What does he have you do that you haven’t told me?”

He looked at her, at the cold inhuman monster that stared at him from Karen’s very human face, and took a breath. Things moved under her skin - the drug, he knew it was the drug, but he couldn’t stop seeing it.

He steeled himself and shook his head again. 

She snapped the next finger as easily as she had the first, and at the new flash of agony he cried out again, louder this time. She held tightly to the broken finger, pushing it back and back and back, and he groaned out loud, fighting the way his body tried so hard to pull back and away, but he was too well-conditioned to move.

“Speak, Dex,” She said loudly, over the whining sounds he had started to make. “That’s what you do for him, isn’t it? Twenty years ago he swore he had made you speak for him when he was fucking you, and that he would get you to do it again… then he tells me he couldn’t replicate it, you were too well broken. So sad, Wright said to me, and I should have known… He lied, didn’t he? Wright Farling has been lying to me for twenty goddamn years, hasn’t he, Dex? Speak for me!”

He nearly told her it wasn’t Wright who lied, but him, his lips moving to mouth the words, but he made no sound to shape them.

She snapped a third finger, his forefinger, and bent all three fingers back as far as they would go simultaneously. Dex whimpered, trying helplessly to jerk his arm back and away from her, his knees giving out. He dropped with an audible crack to the floor.

Dex only stopped whimpering when he ran out of air, and still she was pushing his broken fingers back, until they nearly touched the back of his hand. He couldn’t breathe, the pain was too much, he made gasping animal sounds with every attempt to inhale.

“That’s not speaking,” Karen said calmly, as though nothing had happened at all. She dropped his hand and stepped back and away, turning away from him. He pulled it in tightly against his chest. Twice, now, she had taken his voice, in two different ways. “Dex, you’re fighting me, and that isn’t allowed. Not even for Wright. He is my friend, and I adore him, but your loyalty should always lie with me. And if I cannot have that loyalty through my decades of keeping you clothed, and fed, and cared for… then I will keep your loyalty through fear and pain.”

Dex tried to push back to his feet, and Karen glanced back at him over her shoulder as she stepped up to the wall behind her desk and took from a special set of hooks in the wall her favorite disciplinary cane, smooth shining black with silver on each end. “Stay down, Dex.”

He dropped back onto his knees, into Position Two, his head bowed. If he stared only at a small part of the floor, it didn’t spin like everything else. He waited for her to tell him how many strikes it would be, for this.

“Look up, Dex.”

He obeyed, and her arm was already swinging the cane. There was no time to register it before the blow connected.

Dex’s head snapped to the right so hard the rest of him went with it, slamming bonelessly into the floor, the left side of his face a sudden wet burst of horrible pain. Dex screamed, helplessly, in a voice like hoarse gravel, bouncing around the room and echoing down the stairs through the open door, writhing on the floor, raising his good hand to feel at the open wound.

“That’s more like it,” Karen breathed out, her voice thick with the closest emotion she felt to lust. Her cheeks blazed bright red and her eyes sparkled with it, as she pulled her arm back for the next strike.

Dex dropped his hand and curled up, as small as he could make himself, feeling warm blood running down his face. He would have begged her, but he couldn’t remember the signs, he couldn’t remember how to beg any longer, all he could do was pray it would end before - or after - he died.

He didn’t care which any longer.

“Do you speak for him? Does he care about you? Do you tell him things that aren’t yours to tell? Speak for me, Ten!” She shouted the last words, spit flying from her mouth with a loss of control he’d never seen before, her eyes white-rimmed and he saw the madness in her, that lay always just under the cool, collected surface.

He cried out as the next blow rained down, and the next, and the blow after that. She never pulled her strength, and he felt his clothing rip and his skin tear with the impacts. He was sliced by the sharp edge of the silver at the end of the cane, ripping his skin open in new flashes of agony he could not escape.

She would not stop hitting him, and he could do nothing but curl tighter and tighter and try to survive.

“I won’t have disloyalty!” The cane came down once more and slammed into the side of his head in a burst of terrible light. Dex went limp, feeling blood that had begun to pool beneath him on the floor soaking into his clothes, warm and cold all at once. The world spun lazily around his pain, and he couldn’t remember if the shadows that kept him here were real or not.

She raised her arm again, and he watched with dull eyes as the blood spattered onto the wall with the speed.

It went on and on and on.

He didn’t know how long. He couldn’t remember what time was, or how to count seconds. Dex existed in a place he had not lived in since he’d left the Facility, an eternal place in which he hurt and hurt and he would never stop hurting.

But he never spoke for her, and he never answered a single question about Wright. She asked and promised and threatened and cajoled and he never said a word. He clung to that fact, as he spun inside the world made of his failure to be loyal to her, the punishment, his discipline.

He protected Wright.

At some point, it stopped. There was a sudden lack of blows, where before they had been the beginning and ending of his awareness. He laid there, still curled into a ball, and listened to his own blood rush in his veins, pushing and pushing to escape through the places she had ripped him open. His left cheek throbbed worse than anything else.

One of Wright’s projects was disfigured, wasn’t he? Dex blinked, blearily, and when he tried to look up the world spun once more, the shadowy fingers started to move to grip onto his chin, to whisper to him.

Isaac…

No one was named Isaac, here.

Isaac... wake up, sweetheart, you’re late for school again...

She walked away - or didn’t, he wasn’t sure what sounds were real and what weren’t any longer - and then he heard the click of her heels moving back. She came to a stop just in front of him, and he stared at the place where the red soles of her heels met the warm hardwood floor.

Isaac, honey, this won’t work unless you get some help.

“Lick them clean,” Karen said in a cold voice, and Dex nodded, eyes unfocused as the world swirled and spun around him, the shadows in all the corners had hands grasping. He could feel the shivery brush of their fingers, like twigs drawn slowly, lightly, across his skin. He forced himself forward, dragging himself by the fingernails of the hand she had not broken.

Just sign right here, on the dotted line. And here, and here, too.

He managed to pull himself up onto his knees, swaying there, and leaned over to lick his own blood from Karen Renford’s perfect black heel with its eternal red soles, a mockery of the color he was nearly drowning in.

Isaac, baby, what time is it?

Salt-copper-sweet-sick. Swipe after swipe of his tongue, stomach flipping and lurching, until the blood he had made burst from him was gone, and only the leather remained. His head spun, and he had to catch himself with both hands, moaning low in his throat in pain as his broken fingers could not quite straighten themselves against the floor. 

“Good boy,” She said softly. “Now look up at me.”

Look up, Mr. Thompson! Smile!

When he looked up, light-colored eyes nearly all black pupil by now, he couldn’t focus on her face. Her head was in front of the light, and she was a halo of bright auburn around a fuzzy black center, the goddess that owned him, the monster.

She leaned slowly down and slid a blue-gloved hand through his hair, then gripped on tight. He couldn’t remember the last time she had touched his hair, and it sent a terror into him that no other action she had taken ever could.

He had wasted too much adrenaline during the beating, he had none left to find the energy to do anything more than stare into her eyes, his own wide and unfocused and frightened, and watch her smile to see his fear.

Oh my God, Isaac, please, don’t leave! We can fix this!

Tears ran openly from his eyes, stinging into the cut she’d torn wide open along the left side of his face, and he winced in pain just as she held up her phone with the other hand.

She took a few pictures, a smile twitching along the corner of her mouth. “Perfect, Dex. Let’s just see what he has to say about this, hm?”

Dex let his forehead drop back to the floor when she let go, groaning as he could feel spiderlegs all over his skin, the distinct sense that something was crawling on him, and he cried helplessly into a smear of his own blood, his tears watering the stain until it seemed faded, nearly gone.

Just like him.

When I am done with you, Number Ten, you’ll never speak again.

“Here we go… let’s see, add attachment..” Karen hummed to herself a bit as she typed, with the slow and careful motions of someone who had only adopted texting when she absolutely had to. “Perfect. ‘Someone had a silly crush on you, Wright,’” She murmured out loud to herself, reading along as she wrote. “‘I took care of that.’ Add a smiley-face emoji. No, wait. Winky-face. There. If he led you to think he felt for any part of you except your… apparently quite talented and, granted, fairly well-endowed dick… well. He won’t like this, will he?”

There was a pause, and all he could do was try to keep breathing.

Isaac...

He didn’t know who that was. The name spun around his mind and it meant nothing.

Karen’s phone dinged and she slowly dropped into a crouch, resting her weight on the balls of her feet, and held out the phone. “Look up.”

Dex slowly looked up at her, obediently, and something inside of him shattered at the words he could see on the screen.

He broke.

Lovely work, darling.

That was it.

Dex began to sob, hoarsely, hopelessly, on the floor.

“Look at that.” Karen sighed happily. “That is all he has to say about what I’ve done to you. No anger. No enjoyment, even. Just… dismissal. You’re a toy to him. You’re nothing. You belong to me, and your life is mine to end as I see fit. He won’t want you, Dex, even if he did before. Look at you, I have disfigured you. No pretty face for him to admire now, hm? You are nothing to Wright Farling. Do you understand that now?"

Dex slowly nodded, his eyes still locked on the tiny photo of Wright next to his text, the way it wavered and pulsed with the drug running through his system. Wright’s mouth kept seeming to move, to echo her words. Dismissed. Disfigured. Pretty. Isaac.

"He doesn’t care about you. Wright Farling is my friend, mine. I won't have your little hard-on for him ruin all my years of hard work to ensure he won't walk away from our friendship. I will ask you one more time, Dex. Did you speak for Wright Farling, and lie to me?”

He raised his eyes to meet hers, and slowly shook his head.

He would not give her a weapon.

He would not turn on Wright.

Even if Wright had never seen him as a person at all.

“Good. I can’t trust you, Dex… not with him. I understand that now. So you will never be alone with him again. Ever." She leaned in closely, running a bloody blue-gloved hand through his hair.

"And my darling Wright… he won't care. Do you get that, love? No one cares about you. You’re a pet. You are a pet to me. You are even less than that to him."

Then she stood, and he listened to the click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she walked out the door and down the stairs.

He waited. He didn’t know how long.

He heard a gasp when she brought Henry upstairs and the boy saw the sprays of blood on the wall, the puddle of it Dex was lying in, the wounds still weeping with the thrum of his pulse. Karen stood next to Henry, not quite touching him, and the boy was taller than her but infinitely powerless, now.

"M-Ms.-..." Henry caught himself, crossing his arms defensively. "Madam… wh-what-... why-"

"He disobeyed me, Henry," Karen said softly. "He felt things that I did not allow him to feel. He felt love for someone other than me. I have allowed you to keep your name. I have allowed you to keep your memories and your mind. I want you to look at my Dex and understand, darling… I can take that all away from you. I took it from him, all of it, everything that mattered."

She turned to look at him, head tilted up, and slowly ran a bloody gloved finger down the side of Henry's face. He swallowed, hard, but he didn’t pull away.

"If you try to have thoughts - or feelings - that I did not allow in you… I will do this to you. And worse. You love playing the piano, don't you, Henry?" Karen's voice was soft. "That's what I adored about you, how I knew I would keep you. You are so… talented with your voice, with your piano playing. Disobey the way Dex has disobeyed, darling, and I will take your voice the way I have taken his. As for your fingers… Dex. Show him your hands."

Dex laid his palms flat on the floor. Henry gasped at the sight of his mangled right hand, the broken fingers bent at so many wrong angles.

"Continue to make moon eyes at Peter and you will lose the things you love that I have allowed you to keep. Your loyalty is to your owner and not to another pet. Am I understood?"

Henry's eyes were locked on Dex's fingers, but his voice stayed even as he slowly said, "Yes, Madam. I understand. I’ll obey."

“What am I, Henry?”

Henry’s jaw set, just a little. “My owner, Madam. You own me.”

“For how long do I own you, Henry?”

“... for… f-for the rest of my life.” His voice had dropped nearly to a whisper by the end.

“Good boy.”

He didn’t know what else she said - whispering in Henry’s ear, sounds like snake whispers, a forked tongue flickering in and out of her mouth… Dex hated the drugs, hated seeing the forked tongue that he knew was not real and knew was real all at once…

He must have lost himself for a second, because when Henry touched his shoulder, he jerked in surprise and had to shift and look up.

Henry was barely eighteen, and looked younger.

Shock of red hair, frightened eyes, the black leather collar he’d worn for so long now, still too tight and constricting - Karen wanted him to feel it every time he swallowed. Dex had watched her put the collar on Henry, watched her force him to sign the postdated contract, the polite fiction that allowed her to pretend she hadn’t broken the law.

He’d stood by while she gave Henry no choice, no escape, no way out. He’d watched her respond to his protests by threatening Peter, and seen the look the two youngest of Karen's boys had exchanged before Henry slowly nodded, picked up the pen, and carefully signed his name.

He’d watched her take Henry to the car for his surgery, waited a week with his heart in his throat, and seen the angry red skin over Henry's collarbone around the small, shining metal circles set with what looked like sparkling green stones when he returned. He could see those green circles shining now, glinting in the light that came in the window, shown off by the series of low-cut boatneck shirts she forced him wear now, shirts he hated.

Dex had stood with the others while she showed them what those little circles could do, watched Henry collapse in agony, screaming as the shock ran through his nerves. He'd watched Peter hold Henry while he cried, as his life was taken away from him, to be given to Karen’s next of kin when she died. Henry had stopped being a person before he was ever an adult, and Dex...

Dex had stood by, and done nothing, because he didn’t want to risk what he had left, the sense of himself Wright had helped him to steal back, piece by secret piece. And it had all been pointless.

I’m sorry, he tried to sign, and his broken fingers screamed in pain. He wept into the bloody floor.

“H-hold on, Dex,” Henry whispered, shaking all over like a leaf, his face flat white, swallowing reflexively, again and again. His eyes were wide and horrified, and his hands hovered over Dex as though he didn’t know what he could touch that would not make it worse. “Hold on, hold on, I just need to go get Peter, I don’t, I don’t know-”

The house phone was ringing, somewhere, and it echoed strangely in Dex’s mind. Ring, ring, ring… then it stopped, when someone picked up.

“I don’t know what to do,” Henry said, softly.

Me neither, Dex thought, laid his head down, and closed his eyes. 

She was right, wasn't she? It had all been a game to Wright, to see if he could bring the person Dex used to be out from the careful shell of his training. It had been a game Wright and Karen were playing with Dex as the pawn, and it was Dex, in the end, who lost.

He was silent.

He spoke for Wright. For twenty years, he had been dreaming about him, kneeling to him, he would have done anything for him. It had been stupid, to speak at all, to imagine to himself he might matter to Wright as much as Wright mattered to him.

He was nothing. He was brainless. He was a pet, a Box Boy no matter his age, an empty void with skin stretched over it in the shape of a broken man.

She would never let him die. Or maybe one day she would.

Wright wouldn't care.

[wordynerdygurl]

Who's Sorry Now?

Summary: You and Loki have a disagreement, but it's nothing an apology can't fix.

Loki x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, a little size play, and dom/sub noncon

----------

"No, Loki. Not happening." Crossing your arms over your chest, you glared at The God of Mischief.

Plastering on his best salesman grin, Loki answered, "Darling! I think it's a very reasonable request. Won't you even consider it? For me?"

You lowered your arms and worried your bottom lip as you considered his words. Locking your eyes on his, you nod yes as you move towards him. When he wraps his arm around you, confident in his powers of persuasion, you rise up on your tip toes and huskily purr, "No fucking way, darlin'!" And you punctuate your displeasure with a hard shove against his ribs before storming out of the room.

That was three days ago and in front of half of The Avengers. Since then you'd done your best to keep clear of Loki and, really, anyone else. It wasn't your best moment since joining the team but you also knew that you weren't in the wrong, not about this.

Your rightness wasn't keeping your bed warm at night, however. You had the whole mattress to yourself and for the first time cursed it's king size. It was too big without a long, lean son of Odin under the covers. You didn't even want to sleep here without him.

Growling with frustration, you snatched up your pillow. With that and the throw blanket with Loki's face on it, a birthday gift from the Trickster himself, you resigned yourself to a night on the couch. At least those cushions would cuddle up to you. You could snuggle into thier softness and pretend it was the warm body of Loki.

To the living room, you thought glumly. Your hand was on the bedroom door's knob when it turned on its own. "What the..." you started but then Loki pushed passed you, "We have to talk."

No knock, no permission granted. Just strolling into your room like it was his, like you were his, a thing under his control. But he was nice to look at, you had to admit that.

Damn him. He was too handsome to be walking around here with barefeet. The grey sweat pants barely holding onto to his trim hips, a black tank top doing nothing to hide his wide shoulders, and that hair cascading down his back made your throat go bone dry.

"Talk?" You squeaked. After days of missing his physical presence, Loki was making up for lost time. He seemed to fill your room, sucking up all the air, making it hard for your lungs to work correctly.

Turning to face you, Loki repeated, "Yes, we have to talk."

His gaze flayed you raw. You had on one of his t-shirt, the hem dragging across your upper thighs, barely covering your boy short panties. And you were wearing those fluffy bunny slippers with the sagging ears, you were so adult and so childish all at once. Loki felt a familiar stirring low in his belly but forced himself to ignore it and you until he had his say.

Turning his back on you, Loki began, "About your tantrum..."

You were blinded by a flash of red hot anger. Your tantrum? "No. Nope. No fucking way. You aren't coming in here, uninvited by the way, and lecturing me about anything." Standing toe to toe with Loki, you weren't going to hold back.

Annoyance flashed through Loki's blue eyes, "I will lecture you and I will advise you and you would do well to listen."

Glaring at Loki with a growl you continue, "Ya know what your problem is? You always get what you want. It's bullshit and you know it."

Loki lifted his eyebrow, it was his only discernible movement. "Bullshit? Really? And your behavior? What is the word for that, darling?"

You didn't have a ready answer for that. Loki knew it too.

"Uh huh. I thought so." Taking a deep breath Loki forged on, "Look, I know you think my asking Thor to keep an eye on you when I'm away is... degrading? But I need to know that you're safe and honestly I don't trust anyone on this planet except for you. However, Thor is my brother... and his feelings about my past aside, he would never allow harm to come to you."

You twisted out of Loki's space wanting to put some distance between you two so that you could think straight. You realized why you were so pissed in a burst of clarity and felt your shoulders sag. Loki thought you weren't capable of handling yourself.

Turning your back to him, your voice low, you say, "I can take care of myself, Loki. I've been doing it for years. Since before I ever met you, I somehow managed to keep myself alive."

Reaching for you, Loki captured your wrist and held you firm. "I know, you foolish, head strong woman. Can't you see that's why I want someone looking after you if I am not able to?"

When you turn, facing him fully, Loki can see the shine of unshed tears in your eyes. Shifting his tone, he chides you, "Darling, you are no longer on your own. People around here rely you. They need you! I need you!"

"Ha!" It's a mirthless sound and you hear Loki sigh. After years on your own being with The Avengers was welcome but you had found it hard to shake your lone wolf mentality. The idea of leaning on someone instead of yourself was the scariest thing you could think of, and entirely out of the question.

"What will it take for you to believe me? How can I make you see just how much I worry when I can't touch you, or hold you? And what would I do if something happened to you? Have you ever considered that, my darling? Did you ever think of me when you were pouting and pushing, angry that I offered you my love and protection?"

Advancing on you like a hungry wolf during your dressing down, Loki had cornered you and you were normally smarter than that. You were trapped against the wall by Loki's smoldering anger and his imposing presence. And still you wanted to push back. Your hands balled into fists, ready to fight Loki if you had to, refusing to back down from his challenge, unwilling to give in to The God of Mischief.

Your wide legged stance and squared shoulders gave you away. Loki wasn't expecting you to submit, not without some sort of explanation, but he hadn't considered how hard you'd hold out. And here you were waiting to strike, ready to battle him if it meant you didn't have to bend to his one request.

"Loki... don't." Like a rattlesnake vibrating, you warned him that you were ready to strike.

"ENOUGH!" Slamming his hand into the wall beside you, Loki bellowed his frustration and you flinched at the ferocity of it. You thought you were battling smarmy Loki, sweet talker, silver tongued persuasion master. Furious Loki was another animal all together and truthfully, it shook you. Loki took advantage of your moment of doubt and grabbed your hands, forcing them over your head.

You snapped and squirmed like a fox in a snare. "Let go, Loki!!! Let me fucking go!!"

"Not a chance, love." Loki's strength was more than you were used to, him being a God and all, but this wasn't fair. You were rarely at a disadvantage with an opponent, much less one who'd seen you naked so many times, and you found it infuriating.

"God dammit, Loki! What do you want from me? What?" Loki was so close now that shouting wasn't necessary, but you did it anyway. Even as you jerked and twisted in his solid grip, you knew the only way out was through, but you weren't ready to concede just now. All your struggling had managed to do, beyond provoke Loki, was cause your shirt to ride up, exposing your soft belly. Loki longed to stroke that silky skin once more but not when you were gnashing your teeth like a shark on a hook.

"What I want, dear one, is to be with you forever. And I won't be able to do that if you're dead." Pausing dramatically to press his hips into yours, Loki observed, "Since I have certain responsibilities on planets other than this, I simply want you to allow any other person you know to check in on you until I can get back to you. Back to the toughest, angriest, meanest Midgardian woman I happen to love."

"What?" You froze in place, physically stunned by Loki's words. Then Loki crushed his lips to yours, sealing your squeals between your mouths. He licked your lips, eager to slide his tongue down your throat, but you refused his entry. So Loki did what any mischievous man might, he pulled your earlobe with his teeth and whispered in your ear, "Open up to me, little one. Please just let me love you the way I know you need me to."

His free hand brushed up your bare tummy not stopping until it cupped around your breast. Under your night shirt Loki rolled your hardening nipple, pinching it tighter and tighter while pulling it away from your body. The stretching burn you felt made your knees buckle and you were almost glad that Loki was holding you up because otherwise you'd be on the floor.

Your body flushed with heat, lower lips flooded with arousal, slick with your desire. It had been three days without Loki and your libido was making up for lost time. When Loki nipped at that spot where your collar bone dipped you couldn't help the sigh that escaped you.

Ever watchful, your God seized the moment. He pushed into your mouth with his tongue at the same time his hand began rubbing your mound over your panties. Head spinning, moans bubbling out of you like water out of a fountain, your body responded to every stroke of Loki's. In a part of your mind that was getting harder to hear you knew you should be mad but Loki had just tugged down the waistband of your boy shorts and oh my God! His deft fingers were ghosting over your clit.

Loki traced the line of your slit with his slim digits breaking your kiss to tease, "My, my... did my pet miss me?" You answered, "yes..." so softly that Loki almost didn't believe you had said it.

He released your hands in that second. One arm behind your neck, the other under your knees, Loki swept you off the floor and swung you towards your waiting bed. Laying you down easy, Loki wasn't too far behind, and you felt the mattress dip under his weight.

Dragging your shirt up by the hem, Loki pulled it off you with little effort. You felt the chill night air on your soaked skin and knew your panties were gone. Loki even ripped your bunny slippers off, and finally having you bare before him, smiled down at you. "My fierce warrior queen. So beautiful, so angry, so mine."

His kiss was hungry and you arched into it, meeting his need with your own. Your hands yanked his tank top over his head, ruffling his hair, as your desperate mouth took more and more from him. Rising off the bed, your hips sought out his stiffening steel, anxious to have Loki inside you.

Wasting no time, Loki shimmied out of his sweats, and you gulped at the sight of him hard and unyielding in front of you. "Loki... I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry." A sob hitched in your throat. You didn't want to ruin the moment but you also wouldn't be able to enjoy Loki's attention without making amends.

"I know you are, dove. Now, on your knees, and count."

Loki's open palm connected with your naked rump in a loud smack! "One!" Your eyes burned with hot tears and your core contracted. Two and three were close together, the sting making you moan out thier numbers. By seven your ass was hot to the touch, your voice raw and your pussy was aching with emptiness. Loki swiped his hand across your drenched folds causing you to jump. "You are so wet. I think you like it when I spank your bottom. Do you?"

"Uhh... yes... Yes!" Loki plunged two fingers inside of your tight canal, coaxing you closer to your orgasm. You shuddered when Loki curled his fingers against your sensitive walls. You groaned when he removed them from you entirely, leaving you empty and wanting.

"Not so fast, dearest. Open." Loki pushed those same fingers over your parted lips. "Taste yourself, taste just how much you want me. Aren't you delicious? Do you see why you're precious to me?"

Between Loki's wicked words and the flavor of your nectar filling your mouth, you were starting to feel the building charge of electricity in your core. That humming of power which signaled your climax was slowly growing in volume.

"You cum when I tell you, is that understood, little one?" Loki always seemed to know when your body was sending out sexy signals but you are disappointed. You huff around his fingers, cross at his denial but you understand that playing this game will pay off in the end.

"Understood?" Loki's free hand grips your chin and forces your head up.

"Yes." You drool. His fingers now free of your juices, Loki holds your head still, his thumb pressing your tongue down. Flashing your wide eyes up to his as he brushes your full bottom lip with his heavy thumb, you hear Loki's silken murmur, "You look unbelievably sexy, kitten." And you practically purr like one at his praise.

Loki presents his hardened cock for you to enjoy and you mewl with pleasure. He's thick and long, already beaded with precum. You reach forward tongue first, licking the sweet release from his sensitive head before swirling your tongue around him. Loki bucks his hips forward and suddenly you're taking him deeper, hollowing your cheeks to accommodate his size and using your fist to keep up the friction where your mouth can't reach.

Loki controls his pleasure by wrapping his hands in your hair. A tug this way, a tug back, holding you still as he pumps into you, not settling on any rhythm, just using you as he sees fit.

"On your back." Growling Loki pulls out of your mouth with a pop and shoves hard on your shoulder. He's between your legs, his quick hands coasting over your milky thighs, his thumbs spreading your lips, exposing your secret skin to the cool air.

"You cum when I tell you." Loki reconfirms your directive as he positions himself at your tight cunt. You're so wet and waiting that he enters you further and faster than he'd intended.

"Loki!" You almost shout at the fullness of him inside of you. He laughs roughly, "I know, you're such a slut for me. It's one of the things I love about you!" Without wasting any time Loki is slamming himself hard into your molten center. You realize this fuck is about his pleasure first, yours second. The pace he sets is fast and firm, your breasts bouncing with each inward drive, wetness running between your ass cheeks with every withdrawal.

"Say it again!" Loki commands. "Wha... what? Say what?" You're confused and fuzzy brained from lust.

"Tell me how sorry you are... make me believe you!" Loki never lets up even as he's giving you orders.

Pitifully you whimper, "Loki! I'm so sorry baby! I was wrong! I... I know you're trying to keep me safe... I'm sorry, so so sorry!"

"You are? You seemed pretty angry earlier." His hips stutter, changing his angle just enough to draw a squeak from you. "I was... but I apologize. I'm sorry baby, so sorry that I messed up."

"Cum for me. Do it! Right now kitten, cum on my cock!" Your body clenches tight around Loki who is buried to the hilt inside of you. Spasms of satisfaction shake you both as you come apart around each other.

You pull Loki down for a kiss, fucking his mouth with your tongue, as you both ride out your climaxes. Flopping down next to you, Loki pulls you into his chest. Pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, his breathing heavy still, Loki says, "I do love you, you little brat.", a smirk playing over his lips.

"I know. I love you, you big bully." You pant against his ribs, "Just make sure Thor knows that I can handle myself. I don't need him to babysit me."

"Babysit you? Of course not. I want him to make sure you have those little cookies you like so much and that you're not watching Stranger Things without me." You realize then just how off the mark you've been about this Thor situation.

Loki laughs, "Babysit you... Ha! You could take him in a fair fight, no question... But if trouble does come, he'll have your back." Searching your eyes with his blue ones, Loki adds, somber now, "That's all the comfort I'm taking with me on this mission, you know. The idea that you'll be safe and warm and waiting for me here when I get back. Without that... well, I don't know why I'd even bother."

You pull him into your arms, eager to ease his worries. "I'll be here. I'll be waiting." You tuck a strand of black hair behind his ear and kiss his cheek.

"Next time, let's try using our words first." Loki teases you sweetly.

"Maybe next time explain yourself instead of ordering me around?" You counter.

"Ok. I can try that." Nodding Loki agrees.

"Ok. Me too." You mirror his movement, a shy smile playing over your lips. Sitting up with a grunt, you add, "But if you think I'm not watching Stranger Things while you're gone, you're crazy."

"Do it, darling, and you'll be sorry."

[ghostmartyr]

Hi Immi. I'm new to the fandom--joined around the drop of ch107. Since then there's been a big buzz about historia, regarding her sexuality, her character regressing and her relationship with ymir. i'd seen snk s2 and honestly never occurred to me to ship yumikuri because i hate ships but being on tumblr, well, it's everywhere. I see people get hate on shipping her with males but i'm not sure where i stand. Is she explicitly lesbian? If not then why is it so bad? Is the tumblr fandom just toxic?

Hi.

Uh.

Hell, dude, you pretty much summarized all the reasons I stopped checking the tags. I’m not exactly in the fandom anymore. I do my stuff, but I am actively avoiding mostly everyone, and that’s just because of the immediate aftermath of the chapter. So uh, welcome, I guess, I’m not here.

I answered–well. No, I covered a bit of what I’m going to go over here in my chapter post, aka the unfun section of it. Making this a bit of a rehash, but most things I type are anyway.

The most obvious thing is that people should not be getting hate. That is a general statement, disconnected from anything that’s going on. It is applicable in every fandom, in every situation. Even in the cases where someone is doing something that poses a very real danger, the solution is not sending hate. Sending hate is exactly what it sounds like, and people should behave themselves better.

Where you end up standing on any of this does not make the behavior magically okay.

And again, I basically left the fandom. I have no idea what’s going on, and frankly, I do not want to, so none of this is based on anything that’s happened in the past three weeks.

My perspective on fiction is that it is entirely selfish. People want what they want from it. While I don’t like most of what other people like, the fact that they’re capable of enjoying things should be celebrated. Go them.

That doesn’t mean I think stories are beyond reproach, or what happens in fiction can’t be offensive or damaging.

Fandom is not the same as canon. A personal pet project is very different from something being consumed by millions of people. Fandom currently has a very black and white style of thinking, and so it neglects that difference.

For an easy and relevant example, Kurt and Rachel from Glee getting it on in a fanfic is not equal to it happening in the show. One is someone’s random fantasy, the other, unless it’s handled with the kind of respect Glee has never dealt in, is going to be very inflammatory.

(See: Blaine and Rachel (for different–-but still relevant!-–reasons))

A lot of people do not agree that the difference between fanon and canon is relevant to some of the things people end up enjoying. The reason being that stories never feel that different to the individual experiencing them. Who creates it, or how wide its reach is, is not automatically something that matters to the emotional experience. It will hurt in roughly the same way, so often the argument that one is excusable and the other isn’t is done before it starts.

I’m meandering a little because I do not really know how to handle this delicately. So far this is all just foundational. stuff.

I guess I’ll go with blunt.

yumikuri is a canon romantic bond. Ymir is implied to be a lesbian because one character says she looks like one, Historia is a complete blank slate outside of that relationship because Ymir is her sole love interest.

The status of Historia’s sexuality is that she is romantically interested in Ymir, a girl. That is the entire sum of what the manga’s covered.

107 heavily indicates that Historia is coerced into having sex.

That should never have opened up a discussion into what her sexuality is. Someone being forced into sexual intercourse is indicative of nothing except that they are being forced into it. That is the exact opposite of desire.

Yet it opened the door to people reminding everyone that it is absolutely okay for a character to be bisexual.

That is a true statement.

(Editing in emphasis, because it really is.)

I do not know how to adequately describe why the context makes that statement so tone deaf and infuriating.

The manga has been running for almost ten years. In that time, there has been no indication of Historia having interest in anyone outside of Ymir, a girl. That could cover a lot of different sexualities, and there’s nothing wrong with someone wanting any of them.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t incredibly insulting ways of going about introducing them.

Historia’s first major appearance after her girlfriend is killed off-screen (if you believe that, which all but three people reading this and the person writing this do) is all about forcing her to fuck a guy to make babies.

Even in some hypothetical where her pregnancy is the result of a happy relationship, it would be insulting. As far as we know, it isn’t, so we are dealing with the full brunt of how disrespectful that summation is.

There is this common thing that happens in stories, where you have the gay relationship, one dies, the other lives on to go have a happy life with someone of the opposite sex. The subtext is that this weird one-off sexual thing may have happened, but don’t worry, they’re still normal.

I don’t know how to say that convincingly, because it’s a subtext that I’ve picked up on throughout hundreds of different stories. I don’t know how to cram that history into one post.

Girls liking girls is seen as an aberration, even in stories about liking girls. The relationship will be an exception. The more femme character won’t really like girls, just this one. The concept of a girl liking another girl as a normal facet of her sexuality, which exists outside this relationship, is commonly disregarded, or given to the non-POV partner.

This should be a problem that it’s easy to agree on. Lesbians like girls as a rule. Bisexuals like girls as a rule. Not exclusively, but Likes Girls is still very much a part of the identity (unless we get into discussions of bi covering multiple genders but not necessarily binary ones).

Then there’s fandom.

I can’t count the number of times I have seen the argument that Historia only sees Ymir as a friend. I have been invested in her character and that relationship for five years. Barring the last month, which I don’t want to know about, probably at least once a week, someone would make the case that okay, maybe Ymir likes Historia, but Historia doesn’t like her back.

Many, many times before I left the tags last month, people were saying that Historia’s pregnancy isn’t an LGBT issue, because Historia’s interest in Ymir was never canon.

I get twitchy when people are staunch supporters of her being bisexual. Because as much as I want to trust people, and as much as I know that every marginalized identity is desperate for scraps, the conversation about Historia has always felt like, “it’s important to remember you can’t prove she doesn’t like men.”

When it’s not full on, “it’s important to remember her liking a girl is in your imagination.”

Because she’s the pretty one in the girl on girl couple.

I want her to be gay or ace. Nothing disproves that, but I feel like an idiot for wanting that, because the classically pretty one isn’t going to be a lesbian, and years of consuming anime and manga should have taught me that. Beyond the first sentence, none of that perspective is particularly healthy.

Queer fandom can be really complicated to navigate, because some of the things people want to see–-which are fundamental to their identities, and that’s why they want to see them–-run exactly counter to what other people want to see.

There’s a post from Yuri on Ice fandom that I think encapsulates this. I don’t know the background, or what has been shouted back and forth since I saw it, but here’s the gist. Someone suggests that one of the figure skating gays could be ace. Dozens of people go, “bad post op,” and it’s treated humorously.

Asexual representation sucks. An episode of House, noteworthy for using the word and having someone quote the statistic occurrence of asexuality, ends with one half of an asexual couple having a hormone imbalance, and the other lying about her interest in sex so she could date him.

Yeah.

Gay guys also have a hard time with their sexuality being policed. Holding hands is okay (sometimes), but kissing? Sex? The dirty homosexuals are depraved for enjoying such things. Gay women can have degrading sex because it’s hot.

People want their identities respected.

That is not an unreasonable thing.

What tends to happen on Tumblr is that people forget that they aren’t the only ones being treated like crap. There are layers of pain and anger they bring to every fight, and over and over again, people who should know what that pain is like, and help each other through it, sharpen theirs until they can use it to chop off someone’s head.

107 is insulting in a lot of ways. The aftermath was worse for me. From what little I saw, many people were very eager to say that the part where a queer woman was dealing with a coercive pregnancy shouldn’t be judged for the queer part. Because there are people issues, like war and tragedy, and then social justice issues, which aren’t about people. They don’t really matter in a war story with internment camps and genocide.

I’m being glib, but… that’s what it felt like. That’s what a lot of people I liked shrugged and agreed with.

I want Historia to be a lesbian (or ace), but for right now, we do know she’s queer. That is a part of her character, and it is one that people have been talking over for years. Having post after post reminding everyone that her being queer does not matter to the story? That her being queer is not a lens worthy of being looked through when it’s clearly not about that?

I don’t agree with… basically any of the fandom behavior I’ve seen touching this. I think people should behave themselves better, and treat each other more kindly, and pain is no excuse for bleeding all over everyone.

But where that pain comes from has been repeatedly dismissed, and where it comes from is not insignificant, no matter what route you want canon to go.

…And as far as Historia’s character goes, this is a regression, and the writing should be ashamed of itself. It violates the themes of her arc with such direct intent that it’s painfully easy to believe there’s a twist to it, but for now it’s just infuriating, because the girl who fights fate has been made its tool, and Ymir, aka her love interest, is very relevant to the whole arc where we covered this. 107 is bad and should feel bad, and I am extremely not happy that I think that is exactly the feeling I am intended to have, because being emotionally manipulated is much more annoying when it works.

Hopefully that gives your questions an answer.

[thebackloggamer]

Castlevania: Lords of Shadow

I love Castlevania. I’ve recently played most of the games in the series and have enjoyed them greatly. Lords of Shadow has always intrigued me, but now that I have actual real experience with the series, I knew I had to move it up my backlog.

Here is a game sporting the name of one of the most legendary and long lived video game franchises and yet it has very little to do with the games that came before it. Instead of the series’ now classic 2D-platformer-action-adventure-RPG style, this one is straight up a 3D action-adventure hack and slash game à la God of War or Devil May Cry.

Also, there’s a completely original story that reboots the series and has nothing to do with the lore and events that have transpired during the series’ history. There are certain nods to the old games for sure. We sill play as a Belmont; and the theme for enemies and locations is similar. We still have demons, vampires, werewolves and all manner of creatures of the night. Other than that, however, this is a completely new world with new characters, lore and plot.

Well, it may not be classic Castlevania but that doesn’t mean it can’t be a good game... Well I think that’s true and, overall, I found this to be a pretty good, albeit flawed, game. Let’s get the bad stuff out of the way first.

The bad stuff

This game has many flaws gameplay wise. I think the most egregious one is the extensive use of invisible walls. At the earlier parts of the game, if felt like almost everywhere I tried to go there was an invisible wall. There was so much restriction of movement. That was beyond frustrating to me. And I never care too much, let alone complain, about things like these in games. But here, I felt it was just too much.

The worst part is that most of them are located in places where there’s no visual cue whatsoever that would tell you you can’t walk or jump  through. I would go as far as to say that some places were even inviting until you tried to go through and hit the damn wall. Anyway, the good thing is that this problem gets so much less severe as the game progresses. I don’t know if it was just me getting used to it but later in the game these issues were basically all but gone. Those early levels though... Ugh. Not a fan.

In this corridor, you can only walk over the blue area :(

The invisible walls problem is part of a bigger issue of the game not effectively communicating what actions the player can and can’t do at any given moment. This is specifically apparent with the rappel mechanic, where you are always able to climb up and down the rope but only sometimes you can and run along the wall to the left or right in a sort of swinging motion. The game never tells you or lets you know when you can and when you can not.

Also, another part that I really found troublesome was the camera work. This game is a 3rd person action game but you can’t freely control the camera. The camera is always fixed and, as you move from scene to scene it moves around. Sort of like classic Resident Evil (1, 2, 3 and Code Veronica) where the camera changes as you traverse corridors and rooms. The difference is that Resident Evil had pre-rendered backgrounds and system limitations that the developers had to deal with. I don’t understand why a 3D action game from last generation would decide to go with a camera design like that. Anyway, that’s beside the point. To be fair, games like Devil May Cry and God of War (games from which Lords of Shadow borrows a lot in terms of game design) also use this style of camera. The problem here was that sometimes I felt it was disorienting, prompting one to get lost in some of the more intricate levels. I don’t want to make this sound like it’s a big deal though, because it’s not. It’s nevertheless, something that bothered me from time to time.

The good stuff

Despite its (sometimes infuriating) flaws, I ended up greatly enjoying this game. I think the aspect where this game excels the most is in its overall presentation. The game looks truly great with gorgeous vistas and flashy special effects. There’s also great variety in environments: we’ve got swamps, towers, lost cities, caves and everything in between. The overall art direction is incredible, from the characters to the enemies to the levels. Everything looks beautiful.

Oh yeah take it all in.

Even the menus look great. The menus in this game are stylized as a book that you use to look up things like attack combos, enemies descriptions and weaknesses, weapons, sub-weapons and other collectibles. Everything is accompanied with some beautiful hand drawn art. For the combos, there are even small hand drawn animations that show Gabriel (the protagonist, who you play as) performing them. An overall a great execution.

The art in these menus is beautiful.

I specially like how much care was put into building the world. Not only are the characters expertly designed, but there’s also lore that further enhances both the world and the game’s plot by shedding light into how things are and how they used to be in this universe. It certainly looks like the developers put a ton of effort in building a strong foundation for a new series mythos. I think they succeeded in that.

Also the game’s plot itself is pretty enjoyable. With fun characters and situations and good twists and turns.

In terms of game mechanics, the game is your typical God of War-esque, action affair. There are weak and heavy attack buttons that when pushed repeatedly chain together into various combos that you unlock as you progress trough the game and get stronger. There are two types of magic: blue and red. Using the red one makes you hit harder while the blue one replenishes your health with each hit. These are expendable resources, so managing them smartly is in your best interest. Also, there’s a focus mechanic that kicks in if you fight without getting hit for a while. This makes enemies drop magic replenishing items which you need to chose if it goes to the blue or the red magic. 

There are also your usual dodge, block and counter mechanics. Counters are interesting. They are performed by blocking at the last minute before getting hit. Successful counters are rewarded by a boost in focus, but getting hit makes one lose all of their focus. This introduces a nice risk vs reward mechanic because you need to decide if you want to risk getting hit by trying to counter instead of just dodging.

All of these together make for a level of strategy that results in a game that rewards finesse, preventing the battles to degrading into mindless button mashing.

The combat system is pretty interesting overall. Just complex enough to have a good time but not be overwhelmed. It truly shines with some of the game’s most inventive bosses and enemies that put your skills to the test. Not everything is flawless here though as some of the bosses are just plain cheap making for some frustrating difficulty spikes. Other are just plain boring. Luckily most of them are pretty fun and unique.

At the end of the day, in spite of its flaws, I really enjoyed Castlevania: Lords of Shadow. It’s a beautiful looking game with some pretty cool environments and a fun combat style. It even got me interested in playing the sequel.

[digitalhovel]

Celeste is a fantastic game, and a great metaphor for mental illness

Celeste is a brutal, unrelenting game. It is also one of the most heartwarming gaming experiences I’ve ever had. I suppose that’s not a terribly high bar: I simply haven’t played many games with a good deal of emotional development, and even fewer with an outright focus on mental health. What results from the combination of those heartwarming moments and the (sometimes infuriating) platforming puzzles is one of the most satisfying gaming experiences I’ve had, both mechanically and in its message.

Celeste was created by a small team of independent artists and programmers, headed by Matt Makes Games. The game feels carefully crafted; every dialogue line is realistic, every screen is a unique challenge, and every stage is delightful in its unique obstacles and design elements. Want to fly through a pastel skyscape? Celeste has your back. Want to explore a lost jungle? Celeste has that too. Want to investigate abandoned, ancient ruins of castles and occult sites? Yep, that’s also an option. There’s a bit of everything on the eponymous mountain, and that alone makes the journey worth it, even if that journey is a tough one.

I am a masochistic gamer. I enjoy games that taunt the player with the promise that every jump, every dash, every challenge is possible. Not easy, not even worthwhile, just possible. Celeste does have an assist mode that can be toggled on, allowing players to complete the game with less punishment for dying and less stress on the difficult sections. It’s a glorious feature that marks (hopefully) a change in how we define playing and beating videogames. This only supports the reasoning behind the difficult design: everything is possible. If things seem impossible, there’s an option to even the playing field back out. Celeste isn’t about doing the impossible; it’s about doing something difficult in the face of internal (and external obstacles).

The game takes its name from the biggest obstacle: Celeste Mountain. The player controls Madeline, a woman dead-set on reaching the mountain’s summit, no matter what. But Madeline doesn’t have a backstory-heavy, lore-filled reason for doing this. Sometimes, you just need to climb a mountain. Madeline also has depression, and the game does great work of representing some of the symptoms of this: self-doubt, unintended hostility, anxiety, and panic attacks, to name a few. That’s the beauty of the possibilities Celeste dangles in front of the player. When living with mental illness (disclaimer: I cannot speak for everyone, and I only speak from my particular experiences), tasks can seem overwhelmingly daunting, even when you know they remain completely feasible.

I most often deal with obsessive intrusive thoughts, and sometimes dealing with symptoms of mental illness feels like being stuck on a stage in Celeste. I can see the end goal, and I have an idea of how to get to it. I then try to brute force my way there, using the same tactic every time, waiting until it works out. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I have to change my plans. But at the end of the day, I get to decide when I give up or move on. There is no mockery for this. The game never degrades the player for giving up. Instead, the game offers acceptance and the knowledge that if I feel like it, if I learn more, I can come back later and finish what I was doing. In this way, Celeste trains its players to forgive themselves for their shortcomings.

The levels remind the player there’s always another chance. You don’t lose anything when you die in Celeste; you simply respawn at the front of the screen, exactly where you were twenty seconds ago. This breaks something insurmountable into tiny, achievable pieces. While on their own they can be frustrating, looking back at them, I can only feel pride and remember the difficulty fondly because I surpassed it. While I may not review life challenges with a similar plucky nostalgia, I can be happy that I have persisted beyond them and that they don’t define me. It’s one of the main reasons videogames are an excellent art medium for exploring issues like mental illness in a gentle, yet direct, way. There is a safety in the world of the game that reality does not often allow.

I would be remiss to talk about this game and its relation to mental health without mentioning dynamics of support. Celeste is not a dialogue-heavy game; it’s a platformer. There aren’t NPCs to barter with, there’s no merchant for upgrades, and there certainly aren’t social mechanics like in Stardew Valley or Harvest Moon. Instead, the game offers optional discussions. Knowing this, I entered Celeste Mountain with only one personal goal: to complete every conversation with every NPC possible. The characters Madeline meets are all unique, humorous characters who all have a reason for being there. Whenever the player meets one of them, Madeline’s first dialogue is usually skeptical and suspicious, but after that, the player can leave. The player is under no obligation to continue speaking with the other characters. Making these conversations optional is one of the most rewarding choices I’ve seen in game design. It feels like the player is a willing participant. Characters don’t just monologue at you; they want to talk with you (even if all the responses are scripted). Because of this, the developing relationships feel far more real than many of the triple-A titles where characters fight and die for each other after little more than a few words spoken in the shadows. Taking the time to get to know these characters also allows Madeline to open up and grow in a way many game protagonists don’t. Her struggles and motivations become more clear, and the player gains a sense of the self-acceptance Madeline needs to build in order to accomplish the feat of climbing Celeste Mountain. I know I wouldn’t be where I am without the support of friends. Those relationships are crucial to figuring out oneself, and nothing makes facing the hardships more worthwhile than knowing there’ll be someone to talk to on the other side. Those conversations are maybe one of the most rewarding sequences in any game I’ve played, and they make the incredible experience of Celeste even more worthwhile,

Celeste is a game about self-discovery and self-acceptance. It’s about recognizing limits and working within them to achieve great things. It’s about seeing the near-impossible as doable. It’s about living with mental illness and persisting. More than anything, it’s about growth and accomplishment. Whatever mountains we may face, we will surmount them, one step at a time, with our friends there to help us.

(Special thanks to Harley Harris/Heckadoodles, who helped me edit this piece)

[hayleydalmeida-blog]

Essay I: Madness on Madness; The Pennhurst Asylum, Pennsylvania

In choosing a haunted place in America, I decided to focus on the specific space of mental asylums, even more specifically the “most haunted” asylum in the US, The Pennhurst Asylum in Pennsylvania. The significance of this space goes very deep and exposes a lot about western culture as well as embodies the true meaning of a haunting. The things that took place here, the mistreatment, torture, and degrading behavior received by the patients who were supposed to be in care, all ties into the big picture/message this asylum delivers. In Foucault’s “Birth of the Asylum”, he writes “Fear appears as an essential presence in the asylum” and “the asylum reduces differences, represses vice, eliminates irregularities. It denounces everything that opposes the essential virtues of society”. (Foucault) It is extremely scary and unsettling to think of how and why asylums came about. Originally to be a place of care and healing to the mentally ill, it very quickly turned into an overcrowded, hell on earth. 

To further expand on Foucault’s comments, this absolutely was a western minded attempt to control, and dominate. Small, closed minded thinking. Admitting thousands of people, and mistreating them for not conforming to the western standards is how I essentially view these spaces. Narrowing out the diversity of the people by grouping the people into groups where they are just surrounded by the same types of behaviors. Creating lives for these people, not allowing them to live their own.  No diversity creates terrible weakness, and no positive progression and understanding. Declaring and choosing which type of people they believe fit western society best, and all the rest who do not filter into those standards, not only get put to the wayside but also are punished on top of that. Labeling and separating the people, making the individuals in these asylums feel like outcasts, offending their dignity and self-respect, the harm and action done here completely failed its moral duty. 

Bill Baldini, a channel 10 reporter set out to report on this institution, and after going there he says he saw things he will never forget for as long as he lives and that his camera crew almost couldn’t work because they were so sick over what they were witnessing. There they reported “images of naked, emancipated residents, swaying back and forth to their own rhythms, or curled up in a balls. Children were tied to their beds, basically kept in metal cages.” (Tarabay) Completely astonishing and inhumane treatment. Jim Conroy, a medical sociologist, arrived at Pennhurst to research developmental disabilities. Upon his visit, he “saw a place with 3700 people in it that was built for far, far less” (Tarabay) Both Conroy and Baldini saw things they never imagined they would, for the treatment of these patients was something that was so well hidden, and blinded to the people outside the walls of that asylum. No one knew the terrible things that took place in there. 

In such a place of terror and torture it is no surprise such a place would be considered one of the most haunted in the world, never mind America. It is heartbreaking to think of these people that already had a foundation of unsteadiness and mental struggle, were just further put through hurt. These people were seen as problems, and the answer or solution to this problem was to separate and put them away from society. Absolute worst answer. By locking them up, suppressing them, overmedicating and degrading these people who can’t defend themselves, the people who ran this asylum had created an even greater problem, and even more madness. It enrages me to think that people honestly could think they are better and have the power over others, to hurt them and punish them for doing absolutely nothing. This was a building of hell and torture, of hurt and mistreated souls. The western man has a history of stomping over the people. By declaring power and that they are the normal ones, and all others are outcasts, and savages. The native Americans, the African Americans and now their very own people with “mental illnesses” get treated with such disrespect. It is truly unbelievable that this happened to people, by people. The only way that one could really mistreat fellow humans is because they don’t see them as fellow humans. This is such a majorly deep issue. Not seeing us all as one. Asylums were so problematic and created such a space of fear and negativity. No love, no respect, equality or care.  The Pennhurst asylum is truly a place of deep rooted pain and suffering. That energy so greatly resides there and to all that was known.

I would’ve liked to think that our society would progress from this and never disrespect the people in such a way again. I was infuriated upon my research to find that this asylum is now a legitimate haunted house attraction where people will pay up to $50 a ticket to attend. “The dungeon of lost souls” and “Containment” are a couple of names of the attractions they hold within the space. (About) They have props and people acting as the patients and doctors. This is so extremely disrespectful to the people who suffered and died there. Here is the website to view this new “attractions” : www.pennhurstasylum.com/attractions 

The things that took place in that space was so horrific and inhumane, that it should absolutely be a place that is put to rest, and if anything a memorial to pay respects to the ones who were mistreated and in pain there. To create entertainment out of this is ignorant and mortifying. Pennsylvania should be so beyond ashamed. It hurts my heart to know that these people who suffered here still do not get the proper respects. This haunted space reveals so much about our country and people. How numb we can be to the things that take place not only literally and physically but psychologically. These little subliminal and subconscious ways of controlling the way our society thinks and lives. Hauntings really show the things that should never be forgotten or put to rest. Hopefully one day, as a collective, the people will understand this is not something to be feared, this is not something to get entertainment out of. These stories and places represent something far deeper than that, and gives the opportunity to learn something very profound.  

Work Cited:

Tarabay, Jamie. “Haunted House Has Painful Past As Asylum.” NPR, NPR, 30 Oct. 2010, www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130840594.

“About Pennhurst Asylum - Pennsylvanias Scariest Haunt.” Pennhurst Asylum, pennhurstasylum.com/attractions/.

Foucault, Michel. “The Birth of the Asylum.” Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason. Trans. Richard Howard. Vintage: 1965.

[nancyedimick]

The inaugural address

My contacts deep inside the Russian intelligence agencies have obtained for me a draft version of Donald Trump’s inaugural address, and it’s a beauty. I didn’t think he had it in him.  It hits all the right notes:

National reconciliation after a truly brutal and bruising electoral battle:

[E]very difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans, we are all Democrats. … Let us, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things. And let us reflect that, having banished from our land that religious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and suffered, we have yet gained little if we countenance a political intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions.

Respect for the rights of all:

All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle: that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression.

Modesty and humility in the face of the awesome responsibilities of the presidency:

I shall often go wrong through defect of judgment. When right, shall often be thought wrong by those whose positions will not command a view of the whole ground. I ask your indulgence for my own errors, which will never be intentional, and your support against the errors of others, who may condemn what they would not condemn if seen in all its parts. The approbation implied by your suffrage is a great consolation to me for the past, and my future solicitude will be to retain the good opinion of those who have bestowed it in advance, to conciliate that of others by doing them all the good in my power, and to be instrumental to the happiness and freedom of all.

Here is the text, in full; particularly felicitous phrases and noble ideas are italicized.

FRIENDS AND FELLOW-CITIZENS,

Called upon to undertake the duties of the first executive office of our country, I avail myself of the presence of that portion of my fellow-citizens which is here reassembled to express my grateful thanks for the favor with which they have been pleased to look toward me, to declare a sincere consciousness that the task is above my talents, and that I approach it with those anxious and awful presentiments which the greatness of the charge and the weakness of my powers so justly inspire.

A rising nation, spread over a wide and fruitful land, traversing all the seas with the rich productions of their industry, engaged in commerce with nations who feel power and forget right, advancing rapidly to destinies beyond the reach of mortal eye — when I contemplate these transcendent objects, and see the honor, the happiness, and the hopes of this beloved country committed to the issue and the auspices of this day, I shrink from the contemplation, and humble myself before the magnitude of the undertaking.

Utterly, indeed, should I despair did not the presence of many whom I here see remind me that in the other high authorities provided by our Constitution I shall find resources of wisdom, of virtue, and of zeal on which to rely under all difficulties. To you, then, who are charged with the sovereign functions of legislation, and to those associated with you, I look with encouragement for that guidance and support which may enable us to steer with safety the vessel in which we are all embarked amidst the conflicting elements of a troubled world.

During the contest of opinion through which we have passed the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to think freely and to speak and to write what they think; but this being now decided by the voice of the nation, announced according to the rules of the Constitution, all will, of course, arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the common good. All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression.

Let us, then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things. And let us reflect that, having banished from our land that religious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and suffered, we have yet gained little if we countenance a political intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions. During the throes and convulsions of the ancient world, during the agonizing spasms of infuriated man, seeking through blood and slaughter his long-lost liberty, it was not wonderful that the agitation of the billows should reach even this distant and peaceful shore; that this should be more felt and feared by some and less by others, and should divide opinions as to measures of safety.

But every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans, we are all [Democrats]. And if there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed, as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it.

I know, indeed, that some honest men fear that a republican government can not be strong, that this Government is not strong enough; but would the honest patriot, in the full tide of successful experiment, abandon a government which has so far kept us free and firm on the theoretic and visionary fear that this Government, the world’s best hope, may by possibility want energy to preserve itself?

I trust not. I believe this, on the contrary, the strongest Government on earth. I believe it the only one where every man, at the call of the law, would fly to the standard of the law, and would meet invasions of the public order as his own personal concern. Sometimes it is said that man cannot be trusted with the government of himself. Can he, then, be trusted with the government of others? Or have we found angels in the forms of kings to govern him? Let history answer this question.

Let us, then, with courage and confidence pursue our own Democratic and Republican principles, our attachment to union and representative government. Kindly separated by nature and a wide ocean from the exterminating havoc of one quarter of the globe; too high-minded to endure the degradations of the others; possessing a chosen country, with room enough for our descendants to the thousandth and thousandth generation; entertaining a due sense of our equal right to the use of our own faculties, to the acquisitions of our own industry, to honor and confidence from our fellow-citizens, resulting not from birth, but from our actions and their sense of them; enlightened by a benign religion, professed, indeed,and practiced in various forms, yet all of them inculcating honesty, truth, temperance, gratitude, and the love of man; acknowledging and adoring an overruling Providence, which by all its dispensations proves that it delights in the happiness of man here and his greater happiness hereafter — with all these blessings, what more is necessary to make us a happy and a prosperous people?

Still one thing more, fellow-citizens — a wise and frugal Government, which shall restrain men from injuring one another, shall leave them otherwise free to regulate their own pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned. This is the sum of good government, and this is necessary to close the circle of our felicities.

About to enter, fellow-citizens, on the exercise of duties which comprehend everything dear and valuable to you, it is proper you should understand what I deem the essential principles of our Government, and consequently those which ought to shape its Administration. I will compress them within the narrowest compass they will bear, stating the general principle, but not all its limitations.

Equal and exact justice to all men, of whatever state or persuasion, religious or political;

peace, commerce, and honest friendship with all nations, entangling alliances with none;

the support of the State governments in all their rights, as the most competent administrations for our domestic concerns and the surest bulwarks against anti republican tendencies;

the preservation of the General Government in its whole constitutional vigor, as the sheet anchor of our peace at home and safety abroad; a jealous care of the right of election by the people — a mild and safe corrective of abuses which are lopped by the sword of revolution where peaceable remedies are unprovided;

absolute acquiescence in the decisions of the majority, the vital principle of republics, from which is no appeal but to force, the vital principle and immediate parent of despotism;

a well-disciplined militia, our best reliance in peace and for the first moments of war till regulars may relieve them; the supremacy of the civil over the military authority;

economy in the public expense,that labor may be lightly burthened;

the honest payment of our debts and sacred preservation of the public faith;

encouragement of agriculture, and of commerce as its handmaid;

the diffusion of information and arraignment of all abuses at the bar of the public reason;

freedom of religion;

freedom of the press, and freedom of person under the protection of the habeas corpus, and trial by juries impartially selected.

These principles form the bright constellation which has gone before us and guided our steps through an age of revolution and reformation. The wisdom of our sages and blood of our heroes have been devoted to their attainment. They should be the creed of our political faith, the text of civic instruction, the touchstone by which to try the services of those we trust; and should we wander from them in moments of error or of alarm, let us hasten to retrace our steps and to regain the road which alone leads to peace, liberty, and safety.

I repair, then, fellow-citizens, to the post you have assigned me. With experience enough in subordinate offices to have seen the difficulties of this the greatest of all, I have learnt to expect that it will rarely fall to the lot of imperfect man to retire from this station with the reputation and the favor which bring him into it. Without pretensions to that high confidence you reposed in our first and greatest revolutionary character, whose preeminent services had entitled him to the first place in his country’s love and destined for him the fairest page in the volume of faithful history, I ask so much confidence only as may give firmness and effect to the legal administration of your affairs.

I shall often go wrong through defect of judgment. When right, shall often be thought wrong by those whose positions will not command a view of the whole ground. I ask your indulgence for my own errors, which will never be intentional, and your support against the errors of others, who may condemn what they would not if seen in all its parts. The approbation implied by your suffrage is a great consolation to me for the past, and my future solicitude will be to retain the good opinion of those who have bestowed it in advance, to conciliate that of others by doing them all the good in my power, and to be instrumental to the happiness and freedom of all.

Relying, then, on the patronage of your good will, advance with obedience to the work, ready to retire from it whenever you become sensible how much better choice it is in your power to make. And may that Infinite Power which rules the destinies of the universe lead our councils to what is best, and give them a favorable issue for your peace and prosperity.

******************

Alert readers will no doubt have surmised that this is not really a draft of Trump’s speech; we should be so lucky.  It is, though, a reminder that inaugural addresses can invoke great and nation-healing themes, and that Trump has an opportunity, which I hope (though I doubt) he will seize, to put aside some of the rancor that has infected our politics and bring us together as Americans.

Originally Found On: http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/volokh-conspiracy/wp/2017/01/17/the-inaugural-address/

[wolfandpravato]

The inaugural address

My contacts deep inside the Russian intelligence agencies have obtained for me a draft version of Donald Trump’s inaugural address, and it’s a beauty. I didn’t think he had it in him.  It hits all the right notes:

National reconciliation after a truly brutal and bruising electoral battle:

[E]very difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans, we are all Democrats. … Let us, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things. And let us reflect that, having banished from our land that religious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and suffered, we have yet gained little if we countenance a political intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions.

Respect for the rights of all:

All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle: that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression.

Modesty and humility in the face of the awesome responsibilities of the presidency:

I shall often go wrong through defect of judgment. When right, shall often be thought wrong by those whose positions will not command a view of the whole ground. I ask your indulgence for my own errors, which will never be intentional, and your support against the errors of others, who may condemn what they would not condemn if seen in all its parts. The approbation implied by your suffrage is a great consolation to me for the past, and my future solicitude will be to retain the good opinion of those who have bestowed it in advance, to conciliate that of others by doing them all the good in my power, and to be instrumental to the happiness and freedom of all.

Here is the text, in full; particularly felicitous phrases and noble ideas are italicized.

FRIENDS AND FELLOW-CITIZENS,

Called upon to undertake the duties of the first executive office of our country, I avail myself of the presence of that portion of my fellow-citizens which is here reassembled to express my grateful thanks for the favor with which they have been pleased to look toward me, to declare a sincere consciousness that the task is above my talents, and that I approach it with those anxious and awful presentiments which the greatness of the charge and the weakness of my powers so justly inspire.

A rising nation, spread over a wide and fruitful land, traversing all the seas with the rich productions of their industry, engaged in commerce with nations who feel power and forget right, advancing rapidly to destinies beyond the reach of mortal eye — when I contemplate these transcendent objects, and see the honor, the happiness, and the hopes of this beloved country committed to the issue and the auspices of this day, I shrink from the contemplation, and humble myself before the magnitude of the undertaking.

Utterly, indeed, should I despair did not the presence of many whom I here see remind me that in the other high authorities provided by our Constitution I shall find resources of wisdom, of virtue, and of zeal on which to rely under all difficulties. To you, then, who are charged with the sovereign functions of legislation, and to those associated with you, I look with encouragement for that guidance and support which may enable us to steer with safety the vessel in which we are all embarked amidst the conflicting elements of a troubled world.

During the contest of opinion through which we have passed the animation of discussions and of exertions has sometimes worn an aspect which might impose on strangers unused to think freely and to speak and to write what they think; but this being now decided by the voice of the nation, announced according to the rules of the Constitution, all will, of course, arrange themselves under the will of the law, and unite in common efforts for the common good. All, too, will bear in mind this sacred principle, that though the will of the majority is in all cases to prevail, that will to be rightful must be reasonable; that the minority possess their equal rights, which equal law must protect, and to violate would be oppression.

Let us, then, fellow-citizens, unite with one heart and one mind. Let us restore to social intercourse that harmony and affection without which liberty and even life itself are but dreary things. And let us reflect that, having banished from our land that religious intolerance under which mankind so long bled and suffered, we have yet gained little if we countenance a political intolerance as despotic, as wicked, and capable of as bitter and bloody persecutions. During the throes and convulsions of the ancient world, during the agonizing spasms of infuriated man, seeking through blood and slaughter his long-lost liberty, it was not wonderful that the agitation of the billows should reach even this distant and peaceful shore; that this should be more felt and feared by some and less by others, and should divide opinions as to measures of safety.

But every difference of opinion is not a difference of principle. We have called by different names brethren of the same principle. We are all Republicans, we are all [Democrats]. And if there be any among us who would wish to dissolve this Union or to change its republican form, let them stand undisturbed, as monuments of the safety with which error of opinion may be tolerated where reason is left free to combat it.

I know, indeed, that some honest men fear that a republican government can not be strong, that this Government is not strong enough; but would the honest patriot, in the full tide of successful experiment, abandon a government which has so far kept us free and firm on the theoretic and visionary fear that this Government, the world’s best hope, may by possibility want energy to preserve itself?

I trust not. I believe this, on the contrary, the strongest Government on earth. I believe it the only one where every man, at the call of the law, would fly to the standard of the law, and would meet invasions of the public order as his own personal concern. Sometimes it is said that man cannot be trusted with the government of himself. Can he, then, be trusted with the government of others? Or have we found angels in the forms of kings to govern him? Let history answer this question.

Let us, then, with courage and confidence pursue our own Democratic and Republican principles, our attachment to union and representative government. Kindly separated by nature and a wide ocean from the exterminating havoc of one quarter of the globe; too high-minded to endure the degradations of the others; possessing a chosen country, with room enough for our descendants to the thousandth and thousandth generation; entertaining a due sense of our equal right to the use of our own faculties, to the acquisitions of our own industry, to honor and confidence from our fellow-citizens, resulting not from birth, but from our actions and their sense of them; enlightened by a benign religion, professed, indeed,and practiced in various forms, yet all of them inculcating honesty, truth, temperance, gratitude, and the love of man; acknowledging and adoring an overruling Providence, which by all its dispensations proves that it delights in the happiness of man here and his greater happiness hereafter — with all these blessings, what more is necessary to make us a happy and a prosperous people?

Still one thing more, fellow-citizens — a wise and frugal Government, which shall restrain men from injuring one another, shall leave them otherwise free to regulate their own pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned. This is the sum of good government, and this is necessary to close the circle of our felicities.

About to enter, fellow-citizens, on the exercise of duties which comprehend everything dear and valuable to you, it is proper you should understand what I deem the essential principles of our Government, and consequently those which ought to shape its Administration. I will compress them within the narrowest compass they will bear, stating the general principle, but not all its limitations.

Equal and exact justice to all men, of whatever state or persuasion, religious or political;

peace, commerce, and honest friendship with all nations, entangling alliances with none;

the support of the State governments in all their rights, as the most competent administrations for our domestic concerns and the surest bulwarks against anti republican tendencies;

the preservation of the General Government in its whole constitutional vigor, as the sheet anchor of our peace at home and safety abroad; a jealous care of the right of election by the people — a mild and safe corrective of abuses which are lopped by the sword of revolution where peaceable remedies are unprovided;

absolute acquiescence in the decisions of the majority, the vital principle of republics, from which is no appeal but to force, the vital principle and immediate parent of despotism;

a well-disciplined militia, our best reliance in peace and for the first moments of war till regulars may relieve them; the supremacy of the civil over the military authority;

economy in the public expense,that labor may be lightly burthened;

the honest payment of our debts and sacred preservation of the public faith;

encouragement of agriculture, and of commerce as its handmaid;

the diffusion of information and arraignment of all abuses at the bar of the public reason;

freedom of religion;

freedom of the press, and freedom of person under the protection of the habeas corpus, and trial by juries impartially selected.

These principles form the bright constellation which has gone before us and guided our steps through an age of revolution and reformation. The wisdom of our sages and blood of our heroes have been devoted to their attainment. They should be the creed of our political faith, the text of civic instruction, the touchstone by which to try the services of those we trust; and should we wander from them in moments of error or of alarm, let us hasten to retrace our steps and to regain the road which alone leads to peace, liberty, and safety.

I repair, then, fellow-citizens, to the post you have assigned me. With experience enough in subordinate offices to have seen the difficulties of this the greatest of all, I have learnt to expect that it will rarely fall to the lot of imperfect man to retire from this station with the reputation and the favor which bring him into it. Without pretensions to that high confidence you reposed in our first and greatest revolutionary character, whose preeminent services had entitled him to the first place in his country’s love and destined for him the fairest page in the volume of faithful history, I ask so much confidence only as may give firmness and effect to the legal administration of your affairs.

I shall often go wrong through defect of judgment. When right, shall often be thought wrong by those whose positions will not command a view of the whole ground. I ask your indulgence for my own errors, which will never be intentional, and your support against the errors of others, who may condemn what they would not if seen in all its parts. The approbation implied by your suffrage is a great consolation to me for the past, and my future solicitude will be to retain the good opinion of those who have bestowed it in advance, to conciliate that of others by doing them all the good in my power, and to be instrumental to the happiness and freedom of all.

Relying, then, on the patronage of your good will, advance with obedience to the work, ready to retire from it whenever you become sensible how much better choice it is in your power to make. And may that Infinite Power which rules the destinies of the universe lead our councils to what is best, and give them a favorable issue for your peace and prosperity.

******************

Alert readers will no doubt have surmised that this is not really a draft of Trump’s speech; we should be so lucky.  It is, though, a reminder that inaugural addresses can invoke great and nation-healing themes, and that Trump has an opportunity, which I hope (though I doubt) he will seize, to put aside some of the rancor that has infected our politics and bring us together as Americans.

Originally Found On: http://www.washingtonpost.com/news/volokh-conspiracy/wp/2017/01/17/the-inaugural-address/