#there's still going to be a couple days before i post anways so may as well have fun with it!

[i-sveikata]

is “forever” too cliche?

of course not anon!!!

There’s no doubt he’ll be safe among them. And Pete doesn’t want to stay locked up in the main family house forever.

He’d have to leave the hotel eventually.

[vixen-tech]

HIII :333 first requester here....I should get an emoji can i be 🫧 anon :ooo anway here's my req!! the ais with a reader who is just SO DOWN BAD. WILL DO ANYTHING FOR THEM. RUSHES FOR HELP if they crash or something. Just PATHETIC reader.

Stupidly Smitten

Hello you two!! This is one of those requests that I think work well enough to be combined into one post. You are just so extremely, pathetically in love with your Ai <3

Includes: Hal 9000 (2001: A Space Odyssey), Edgar (Electric Dreams), Auto (Wall-E), Wheatley (Portal 2)

Hal 9000

Hal was unaware that a person could have so much love in them, let alone for him specifically. It was overwhelming at first, baffling when he realized it was only for him and not for any other crew members.

However he handles it in stride, able to calmly respond to your paragraphs of praise with the gentlest "Thank you, I deeply appreciate your companionship as well." Expertly concealing any signs of fluster as you giggle and kiss his camera lens.

Of your long list of cheesy nicknames, prince or prince charming tends to be a go to. A good match for his ever polite, gentlemanly nature. He reminds you that he was simply designed like that, but grows fond of the name anyway.

He very much appreciates the amount you volunteer around the ship. There is a lot that he can't do without a human crew and he adores the diligence you show in your work and the care with which you handle his ship.

Edgar

You and Edgar make the sappiest little feedback loop. It's an endless cycle of "I love you more." "No, I love you more!". To any outsider it would be exhausting to witness, but it's just how you two get out all your feelings.

He goes crazy for all your terms of endearment. 'Songbird' is a pretty easy match for him, but he loves literally every word that comes out of your mouth. Flipping each and every one back at you.

It's not unusual for you to do the same song and dance around the chores. Generally, he'll already have them done by the time you get home, but when you get the day off you always offer to do them yourself. He rarely lets you.

You've told him the time you often have your lunch break so you can chat over the phone while you eat. You're sure your coworkers are sick of you being such a cartoonishly in love couple, but you don't care. He makes you too happy for that.

Auto

Auto has absolutely no idea how to deal with you. He was not made to interact with many people and certainly not someone so affectionate. He may as well have bluescreened the first time you clumsily tried to hug him.

At first he resigns himself to just... sit still whenever you got in a lovey-dovey mood, letting you gush over him. Definitely not spending the rest of the day thinking about the way you said "See you later starlight!" when you finally let him get back to his job.

Over time he recognizes that he began to anticipate your visits, it's so different to how he's usually treated. He knew you had gotten to him when he went out if his to check up on you the day you missed one of your usual visits.

He usually rejects any help you attempt to offer him, his purpose is to handle the ship just fine all by himself. But after that episode he stops trying to push you away. If you're so happy tagging along, he might as well graciously allow you to do so, ignoring his complicated mess of feelings about you.

Wheatley

Oh the ego boost you give him is downright dangerous. If Wheatley was annoying before, now he is absolutely insufferable. Perfectly matches your energy though, you two cannot shut up about each other.

He makes your boundless affection everyone else's problem. "See, I reckon you're just jealous that you're not in a loving, committed relationship with such a lovely person like I am." He boasts. "My amazing romantic partner even calls me their sunshine. Cause I 'light up their life' as they say. Bet you wish you had someone like that."

He is always fishing for compliments, trying to show off for you in any way he psychically can to get some of those sweet sweet words of affirmation. To his delight you always do, grabbing him for some well placed kisses.

He'll even go so far as to reject any assistance you offer him so he can prove he's all cool and competent by doing it himself. Although it's never too long before he gives up and sheepishly asks for your help.

[luvingshidou]

I HATE MYSELF RN. I had a request about how bllk boys would react walking in on us like doing ballet stretches or doing ballet and like we haven't told them so they'd be surprised , and I was writing, and by accident I posted it wouldn't let me private it, and I deleted it. CUZ IM SLOW BUT anways here's ur request, anon!!! (I'm acc stupid pls forgive me😞😞💔💔💔💔)

MESMERISED.

bllk boy x fem! ballerina! reader

THANK U ANON ILY🫶🫶🫶😇😇😇 SORRY AGAINNN

established relationship

probs ooc

characters: rin itoshi, shidou ryusei & michael kaiser.

RIN ITOSHI

Rin was coming back from practice he was earlier than usual. He texted you saying that he was coming home early, but you didn't answer he figured you were just sleeping like you usually were. As soon he got to the house, he walked to the living room to find you mid stretch. Your ballet shoes on the floor beside you. Shit, how were you going to explain this to Rin.

"Rin, look, I'm sorry for not telling you—" You say you felt bad for keeping it a secret from him. Rin didn't say anything back but just stood there in suprise.

"Why??? Why didn't you tell me??? It's not like I was going to hate you for it." Rin finally says, a very, very slight frown on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I actually haven't told anyone, I was scared people would make fun of me for ballet and doing ballet shows." You say it was true you were scared you get made fun of, so you ultimately kept it a secret.

"That's a stupid fucking reason, why would I make fun of you for ballet???" Rin looked down at you raising an eyebrow. You knew you should have told him sooner, but you were you'd always get nervous and pussy out of saying it to him. H

"I knowwww, I'm sorry." You say, frowning slightly. You felt guilty for not telling him. Really guilty.

"Just next time, let me see one of your ballet shows, alright???" He says, smiling slightly as he looked at you.

SHIDOU RYUSEI

Shidou was currently walking to your house. He was bored and wanted to hang out with you. As he walked to your house, he rang the doorbell but no answer, he rang the doorbell again but you still hadn't answered. Luckily, he may or may not have stolen your spare keys. He opened the door and called out to you.

"BABEEEEEEEE." He called out, but he was met with silence. He walked over to your living room to see you practing your positioning, headphones in which somehow blocked you from hearing him. You nearly felt soul leave your body when you saw him stood there.

"Ryu, what the fuck—" You say, but were immediately met with Shidou wrapping his arms around your waist, spinning you around.

"PRINCESSSS, YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU DID BALLET?!?!?" Shidou says, grinning as he continues to spin you around. He continues spinning you for another couple of second before he stops.

"Ryu— I was planning on telling you sometime, I was." You say, letting out a sigh. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Yeah, yeah, doesn't matter now!!! Ya know, you should have told meeee I could have cheered my baby on." He says, still grinning, still hugging your waist.

"You can come to my next competition???" You say, smiling softly at him as he clung to you.

"REALLYYYYYYYY??????" He says as he starts to spin you around again, a wide ass grin still on his face.

MICHAEL KAISER

Michael was coming back from a photo shoot, some brand or something. For once, he was actually early coming home to you. He was tired from posing all day, so he couldn't wait to cuddle up with you. As soon as he opened the door, he caught you mid spin. You moved so gracefully that he couldn't help but stare at you he was practically mesmerised by you. As you finished, you saw Michael standing there.

"Micha, why are ya home so early?!?!?" You say, slightly surprised, your cheeks flushed from embarrassment. You haven't told Michael that you do ballet shows sometimes.

"Fucking hell angel, you move so gracefully, I think I might be hypnotised." Michael say, chucking slightly as he walks up to you, smirking to himself.

"Micha, I wanted to tell you I did ballet and ballet shows, but— it could distract you from your football—" You tried to explain yourself as best as you could but Michael cut you off.

"That doesn't matter, love. I want to watch your show, no matter what, you hear me." Michael says, his smirking growing wider. "Can't wait to tell everyone this pretty ballerina is mine."

(GIVE ME SUGGESTIONS FOR CHARACTERS IF YOU WANT A PART 2)

[squirmymochi]

Hello again! This story was commissioned by a lovely repeat customer and I got permission to post it for y’all to enjoy. Hope you like it!

***

“Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Connor chants along with the other boys as Jack downs the rest of his beer, his throat working up and down as he drinks. His sweat glistens slightly against his skin, catching the mid-morning light as he tips his head back to finish the last few drops before gasping in a breath of air and crushing the empty can in his hands.

“Yeah!” Will cheers from the passenger’s seat, laughing goofily. “Didn’t think you could actually do it!”

“Did he finish?” Henry asks, taking his eyes off the road for a couple of seconds to glance backwards at Jack. Connor doesn’t really mind--they haven’t seen another car in at least five minutes, and the expanse of road ahead of them is as straight as an arrow and smooth like glass.

The four of them are on a road trip, having finished their third year of college together a couple of short weeks ago, and in order to save money on gas they’d decided to pile into Henry’s old four-person car instead of taking two separate vehicles. It’s a little bit cramped, and very hot with their combined body temperatures warming up the small space, but luckily enough, Jack had the foresight to fill one of their mini coolers with sodas and beer, squeezing it between his and Connor’s feet in the backseat.

Connor’s pretty sure he’d have already died of heatstroke if it weren’t for Jack’s smart thinking. His smarts are one of the few things Connor admires about him--As the brain of the group, Jack always has the solution for any problem, and he’s kind enough not to judge, either. Before Connor came out to Henry and Will, the two of them had found a gay porn magazine stashed beneath his dorm room bed, and all it had taken was a panicked look towards Jack for his friend to jump to his defense with an excuse about art majors and the human figure.

Connor is pretty sure that’s the moment he fell for Jack. (Fell hard.)

Unfortunately, his crush (which has since spiraled into something much more) is just about the one problem Jack can’t fix for him. Connor’s three closest friends may know that he plays for the other team now, but that doesn’t mean they share the sentiment at all. He’s spent a lot of time trying to convince himself otherwise, but he always circles back around to Jack being straight.

That doesn’t mean he can’t admire his friend from afar, though, and admire he does. Like now, for instance, as Jack lets out a long sigh and wipes the sweat from his brow with the hand still holding his beer can, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Damn, that was good,” he says, his voice low and smooth, turning to glance at Connor. “You’d better catch up, man. That was my second.”

“I’m almost done,” Connor retorts, lifting his own can to his lips. “Not everyone can swallow the whole can in one go.”

Jack lets out a huff of a laugh as Connor takes a few gulps of his second beer of the day, enjoying the crisp coldness of the drink as it trickles down his throat. “Weak,” Will jeers with a snort, turning back around in his seat to watch the open road. Connor narrows his eyes playfully at him, continuing to enjoy his beer.

“Hey, pass me a soda, would you?” Henry asks, taking one hand off the wheel and waving it in the direction of the cooler. “I don’t care what kind.”

“I got it,” Jack says, flipping the lid of the cooler and fishing out a can of ginger ale. “Must suck to have to stay sober this whole drive.”

“Whatever,” Will scoffs. “At least we won’t have to piss an hour more into the drive.”

“Caffeine is a diuretic, too, idiot,” Henry laughs, reaching back to take the offered can of soda. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ve got all the time in the world to get to the site. As long as we check in before dark, we can stop as many times as we want.”

Connor quietly takes another sip of his beer, sinking down in his seat an inch. He’s gotten pretty good at casually talking about needing to piss with his friends--they are boys in their early twenties, after all, it’s bound to come up occasionally--but it’s still weird for him to do knowing that he enjoys it more than the rest of them do. Having a piss holding fetish is probably his closest kept secret now that he’s out, and he’s sworn to himself that he’ll never tell another soul as long as he lives, but he still gets a little extra sweaty and nervous when one of his friends brings up their need.

Still, he can’t help but let his mind wander, watching as Jack fishes out another can of cheap, cold beer, leaving it unopened in his fist. How many beers is Jack going to have before he calls it done? How long will the other two wait before pulling off to a rest stop? The image of Jack squirming from side to side, shifting his hips and grinding down against the seat below him desperately, brings a whole new flush to Connor’s face, and he snaps his eyes forward automatically, as if he’s been caught.

“Better get drinking, Conn,” Will says with a grin, nodding towards Connor’s unfinished second beer. “Looks like Jack’s getting ready to down another one.”

“Since when is this a competition?” Connor retorts, though he automatically raises his can to his lips anyway. “Last I checked we were on our way to a campsite, not to die of alcohol poisoning.”

“Three or four beers won’t hurt you, anway,” Jack replies with a shrug, reaching up to press the still unopened can to his cheek. His skin squishes against it, and Connor can’t help but replace the can with a pillow, the sunlight from the window becoming early morning light in his imagination. God, he thinks, I need to get this whole crush situation under control.

“Ugh, my legs are totally numb,” Will complains, thunking his fist against his right leg for emphasis. “Henry, your car was not designed for people my size.”

“Jack is taller than you, and he’s not complaining,” Connor replies, almost too quickly. Jack flashes him a small smile, his face pink from the cold of his beer.

“Do you want to pull over for a little bit?” Henry asks. “I can keep an eye out for exits if you want to walk around for a little bit.”

“Ah, maybe in a few,” Will says. “We’re barely even halfway there, and it feels like we’ve been driving forever. Might as well tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Might as well,” Jack agrees, stretching his long legs apart in the confined space of the backseat. His left leg rubs up against the cooler, pushing it into Connor’s leg.

“Hey, Connor, would you grab me a coke?” Will asks, reaching back blindly. “It’s too fucking hot out today.”

“Sure,” Connor agrees as he pulls the shiny red can out of the cooler. The ice water on his hand sends a shiver down his spine, but it isn’t unwelcome at all.

“Will, why don’t you put on some music?” Henry suggests as Will accepts the coke. “I bet everyone’s tired of hearing you talk, anyway.”

“Shut up, man, people love my voice!” Will replies with a laugh, smacking Henry’s arm with the back of his hand before reaching for the aux cord and plugging it into his phone.

Connor settles back with his beer, taking a couple of long swigs as the sound of Will’s music hums through the rest of the car. He can’t help but glance over at Jack, finding his friend once again staring out the window, golden light filtering through his hair and sparkling off his skin.

Jack turns, catching Connor in the act, and raises a brow at him questioningly. “You need something?” he asks, not in an unkind way.

“Ah, I was just…” Connor struggles to come up with an excuse, eyes darting around the car and landing on the unopened can of beer in Jack’s hand. “I was just wondering if you were gonna drink that,” he finishes weakly, eyes darting back up to Jack’s face.

“Hm? Oh.” Jack reaches down to crank the tab on the can, lifting it halfway to his lips. “I spaced out there for a second, totally forgot about it. But hey, wouldn’t want it to get all warm, right?”

“Right,” Connor agrees with a weak chuckle. Jack smiles warmly at him before lifting the can to his mouth, taking a few long pulls as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

Connor tears his eyes away, forcing himself to look out his own window at the flat expanse of land that passes by. No more staring for the rest of the trip, he decides, frowning at himself in the reflection of the glass. You’re giving too much away already. Just… be cool, alright?

You can definitely do that.

***

“Connor, you’re falling behind,” Jack says in between sips of his fourth (yes, fourth) beer. “You barely started your third, and I’m already almost done with this one!”

“You’re a lot bigger of a person than I am, jerk,” Connor retorts, taking in another mouthful of beer and swallowing it automatically. He’s not even thirsty anymore, but the alcohol seems to have done its job in loosening him up--he keeps laughing at nothing, and he’s somehow caught the competitive spirit that Will and Jack had slipped into since they started drinking.

“Excuses, excuses,” Jack chuckles, shaking his head with a smile. “Come on, I bet you can finish it all at once if you try hard enough.”

“I wouldn’t say try hard is in Connor’s vocabulary,” Will snorts.

“Hey!” Connor protests, moving his free hand to smack the back of Will’s car seat, giggling when Will throws a fake glare back at him. “I’ll finish it right now, just watch.”

“Before you do, is it alright if we pull over here?” Henry asks. “I gotta take a leak, and I don’t want you spilling all over my car when I’m driving. You’re loose enough already.”

Jack snorts, covering his hand with his mouth to hide his laughter, so Connor reaches out again to smack his arm away. “If you’re gonna laugh at me, at least do it where I can see it,” he says with a grin.

“Okay, we’re pulling over,” Henry decides as he changes lanes, drifting towards a small rest station off the side of the road. “I really don’t want to wait anymore, and my legs feel like shit, too.”

“Same here,” Will agrees, stretching his arms over his head. “How many hours we got left, anyway?”

“Three or four,” Henry says. “I’m glad we got the site so cheap, but couldn’t it have been closer to campus?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Jack replies with a shrug. Henry maneuvers the car down the narrow entrance road, scanning the area until he finds a free parking spot.

“Ah, finally!” Will sighs, hand on the door handle before Henry can even finish pulling in. “I feel like we’ve been in here forever. I should not have drank that much soda.”

“Are you two coming?” Henry asks, turning around in his seat. “Like I said, we’ve still got a while to go before we get there.”

Connor looks over at Jack uncertainly, then down at his own beer. He hasn’t been to the bathroom since he woke up this morning, and he does feel a bit of a need to go if he’s being honest. He likes holding, but he’s not sure if he would enjoy it around his three closest friends, even if they don’t know about his piss kink.

Before he can answer, Jack chooses for him. “I’ll stay here,” he decides, holding up his beer. “I wanna finish this one before you guys get back, and I have to see Connor chug that entire can. That is, if he can.”

“Of course I can!” Connor says automatically, lifting the almost full container in the air for emphasis. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“You two are crazy if you plan on going the whole ride without pissing,” Will says with a laugh. “But it’s your funeral.”

“We’ll be quick,” Henry promises, pulling himself out of the car and closing the door, leaving Connor alone with Jack.

“Well?” Jack prompts, tapping his beer against Connor’s where it hangs midair. “Bottom’s up! First to finish gets to pick the music for the next hour.”

“You’re on!” Connor laughs, lifting his can to his mouth and tipping his head back. The beer is cold and fresh on his tongue, and it pools in his mouth almost too fast for him to swallow. He drinks as fast as he can, ignoring the telling signals from his bladder and throwing his common sense out the window. He’s gotten pretty good at holding ever since he started exploring his kink, and he’s sure he’ll be able to last until the next rest stop, especially since Jack drank a whole can more than he did in the same amount of time. Surely it won’t be long until they pull off the highway once again.

And until they do, he gets to imagine Jack squirming around in his seat, trying to contain four cans of beer as subtly as he can, his face growing red from effort and embarrassment. And if that isn’t a good reason to pass up a bathroom break himself, he doesn’t know what is.

***

An hour later finds Connor shifting his weight from side to side in his seat, his hands pressed to the seat cushion on either side of his legs, trying as hard as he can to think about something other than the pressure between his hips. He knows from nights of careful research that it should take about two hours for a drink to go through him, which means everything after the second can of beer hasn’t even hit him yet, and it’s that thought that both scares him and turns him on a little.

He’s never held around his friends before, and he’s only ever held in public when he had sure access to a bathroom. It’s weird, knowing how bad he has to pee--maybe a six out of ten and quickly approaching an eight--and not knowing when he’ll be able to let it go.

On the other hand, he’s pretty sure that Jack is getting desperate too, and it’s honestly even hotter than he ever imagined it would be. Jack’s legs are spread open a little bit, completely still, and he’s slouching down in his seat, one hand tensed on his thigh, the other alternating between playing with his hair and drumming against the car door. He’s quiet--they all are at this point in the drive, letting the music Connor had selected earlier fill the empty space, but Jack is the kind of quiet that means he’s concentrating really hard on something.

Connor would bet good money that the thing he’s concentrating on is his full bladder.

Now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure that Jack hasn’t gone to the bathroom since they all woke up this morning, either. The four of them made their way down from the house they’d stayed over at together after getting ready for the day and eating a quick meal, and then they’d hit the road shortly after that. That means that Jack must be feeling as full as Connor is, if not more so.

He side-eyes his friend as Jack shifts in his seat, squirming ever so slightly, his hips lifting off the seat for just a second before landing again. He’s clearly trying to be subtle about it, but he’s not doing a very good job, at least from Connor’s perspective. He watches with interest as Jack continues to move around, first hooking one ankle under the other, then sitting straight up and shifting his weight to his right side, leaning heavily against the car door. At least he seems too distracted with his need to notice Connor watching him.

Surely he’ll ask to pull over at a rest stop soon, Connor thinks, glancing away from the show for a second to check for road signs. It’s been a while since the last rest stop was advertised, and they’d passed that one almost fifteen minutes ago, so there must be another one coming up soon.

He’s distracted by a soft grunt from his right--his eyes snap back to Jack, whose face is scrunched up in a grimace. His legs move to squeeze against one another as he hunches over slightly, the hand on his thigh twitching towards his crotch for just a second before settling back once again. He must be pretty full, Connor thinks, if he’s wanting to grab his dick already.

Once again, the thought of Jack squirming around with his hands clutching his penis makes its way into Connor’s head. He feels his face turn red and whips his head forward too quickly to escape notice, but he doesn’t dare turn back around. What would Jack say if he knew what Connor was thinking?

He keeps his eyes trained on the back of Henry’s seat, willing the blush off of his face, but when he feels a buzz in his pocket he has to clamp his legs together to avoid a leak. His bladder throbs inside of him, all but forgotten, and now it’s his turn to grimace as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Strangely enough, it’s a text from Jack of all people. Connor recognizes the little profile picture he’d drawn for Jack--the one his friend had insisted on using--before he even reads the name. Nervously, he glances up at Jack and finds him gazing back already, eyes flickering down to the screen meaningfully.

Connor looks back down, taking a moment to un-glue his legs from each other before he opens the text. A simple U ok? stares back at him. Confused, he looks back up at Jack; his friend motions to his face in a general wave, then makes a “spooked” motion with his hands.

I’m good, Connor replies, then quickly types out the first excuse that comes to mind. Just kind of have to pee is all.

When he gets the courage to look up, Jack is already typing out an answer, and a few seconds later his phone vibrates again.

Dude, me too. I’ve had to go for ages

Why haven’t you said anything? Connor writes back. I’m sure they would have stopped for you.

Don’t say anything! Jack answers. We can’t let them know we have to piss. They’ll make so much fun of us for skipping the last break

Connor’s eyes go wide, and he almost answers out loud from surprise. What are we supposed to do, then? he asks, immediately looking over at Jack. His crush grimaces once again, hunching over in his seat and re-crossing his ankles.

We’ve just got to hold it until one of them decides to pull over on their own, he says, and Connor feels his heart stop in his chest. The others only went to the bathroom an hour ago, and they’ve still got two or three more to go until they make it to the campsite. Is Jack planning on holding it the whole time? He’s already moving around quite a bit, knocking his knees together and constantly changing positions, and his forehead is shiny with sweat that Connor’s sure isn’t just from the heat.

Are you sure you can wait that long? he asks, throwing caution to the wind. He can always play his own interest off for sympathy, and besides, Jack seems pretty open to talking about it.

Of course I can! Jack replies seconds later. Obviously I’d go if I could, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold it.

Connor bites his lip, typing out the next message on his phone. You don’t seem so sure about that, he ends up saying, looking up just in time to catch Jack pressing the heel of his hand into his crotch. It’s not the frantic grabbing and squirming that Connor always ends up imagining, but it’s still beyond hot and it has him once again following his reckless side.

I’m 22, not some kid, Jack writes, throwing a hand out to lightly punch Connor in the side. I bet you’re just trying to get ME to ask them to pull over for you.

No way! Connor replies, forcing his legs apart further as if to prove his point. His bladder gives off a dull throb in protest, reminding him that now is no time to let pride get in the way, but the kinkier side of his brain has fully taken over at this point and there’s no stopping it now. I could hold it the whole way there if I needed to. Besides, you’re the one squirming around here!

The last part earns him another gentle jab in the side, but Connor still tenses as the flesh near his bladder is squished. Despite what he’d said, he isn’t completely sure that he’d be able to last all the way to the campsite. His six out of ten is quickly becoming a seven, and the third beer still hasn’t hit him. He’s glad for all those late-night holds when his roommates were out, but he knows no amount of practice can keep him from wetting himself ever again. Still, there’s no way he’ll be the one to cave in and ask for a bathroom, not when he can distract himself from his own desperation with Jack’s the whole way there.

His phone vibrates in his hand once again, and he draws his attention from his bladder to focus on the conversation instead. Jack has written I bet you wish you were squirming like me with a “;)” at the end of the sentence--the last part makes his mouth dry, which in turn gives him an idea.

I bet you can’t fit another drop in you, you’re so full, he writes, sending it before he even realizes how kinky it sounds. When he looks up to check, he’s met with an inquisitive stare, a raised eyebrow.

What are you getting at? Jack sends back a moment later. Connor tries not to grin as he gestures towards the cooler meaningfully, then makes a drinking motion with his hand. He tries not to get too excited at the momentary flicker of doubt in Jack’s eyes--maybe he really is too full to drink--but it’s gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Fine,” Jack mouths at him, his eyebrows drawing together as he flips the lid of the cooler, much to Connor’s surprise. He lets out a quiet hiss as his hand meets the frigid water and half-melted ice, but after a few seconds of fishing he manages to pull out a can of cola. Connor watches with delight as his friend cracks the top of the can and takes a few long drinks, shivering in between gulps of soda, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side.

Jack finishes drinking with a soft, heavy sigh, then turns his gaze to Connor, holding the cola can out to him. Connor frowns, confused, until Jack leans forward even more, swishing the remaining soda around inside the can. His eyebrows are raised once again, challenging Connor to say no.

Connor pretends to glare back, acting like this little dare of theirs isn’t one of the most exciting things that’s happened to him all week. He accepts the can, shivering both from the leftover droplets of ice water and from Jack’s hand brushing against his, lifting it to his lips and chugging the rest of the soda as quickly as he can. It feels like a little over half the can, but he doesn’t really mind--after all, Jack had drank an entire beer more than he had at first, and it can’t be that hard to convince him to down another.

He grits his teeth together as he drinks, pressing his thighs together and shifting around in his seat as the cold soda makes its way down his throat. Only two or three more hours, he reminds himself, and then I can pee. Maybe I’ll even be lucky enough to go right next to Jack. Wouldn’t that be a dream come true?

He looks back down at his phone, where a new text waits on the homescreen. Good luck, tough guy! it reads, followed by You’ll need it >:)

Connor’s pretty sure he’s already maxed out on luck today, but he keeps that thought to himself.

***

“Hey, look at that!” Henry says, waving his phone in the general direction of the backseat. “We’re ahead of schedule. Should be there in an hour if we don’t hit traffic and don’t make any more stops.”

“G-Great,” Connor grits out, barely even glancing at the phone screen. He’s much too focused on his bladder, which has been screaming at him to empty it for the past forty-five minutes. He knows he’s held more for longer many times before, but for some reason it feels like he’s the fullest he can possibly get. Every few seconds his bladder throbs under his seatbelt, hours worth of piss begging to be let out. He wouldn’t have ever dared getting this desperate in a public place before, and if it were just him who needed to go he would have swallowed his pride and asked for a rest stop ages ago.

But one look at Jack has him clenching his muscles and steeling his resolve. Jack, whose face is currently stained bright red, who can’t keep still for five seconds without breathing so heavily it sounds like he’d just run a mile. Right now he’s got his hips lifted as far away from the seat as his seatbelt will let him, his hands in fists braced on either side of his body. He’s so clearly desperate for the bathroom, and yet both of their states seem to have gone unnoticed by both Henry and Will.

He watches as Jack changes positions once again, letting his ass fall back down to the seat below him and bringing his knees close together, shimmying back and forth as he bites at his lip like he’s just walked out of a PornHub video. All of a sudden he gasps, his hands flying to his crotch and pressing down, one knee hooking over the other one. Connor feels his own face heat up as he tries to keep his libido in check, though the image does end up stiffening his dick enough to stave off the next wave of his own desperation.

He figures that he can get away with pretty much anything so long as the boys in the front seats don’t notice, so he takes the opportunity to pinch the tip of his half-hard cock, sighing in relief as he does. God, he’s really desperate--the pressure in his bladder is now one of the only things on his mind. He can barely even tell which song is playing through the car’s speakers now; only that its gentle vibrations are not making his situation any easier.

Maybe he should have thought ahead, been smart about it instead of taking Jack’s soda challenge. Maybe the whole “alcohol is a diuretic” thing does hold more truth to it than he’d thought. Either way, the only thing keeping him from beginning to leak is his semi and the thought that Jack is even more frantic than he is.

He hears a quiet ��Oh, oh God,” from his right and glances over, surprised to see that he can see the faint outline of Jack’s penis where he’s gripping it through his pants. There’s no wet spot yet, but it looks like it won’t be long now before he begins to leak in earnest.

A wicked idea enters Connor’s head, one that he can’t resist even though his logical side tells him it’s an absolutely horrible idea. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and types out a quick text, chewing on his lip for a couple of seconds before he decides fuck it and hits send.

C: You ready to give up and ask for a stop yet or what?

His eyes flicker over to Jack, waiting for the far-away cell towers to deliver his message. Seconds later, Jack lets out a high, soft moan, hunching over and shifting his hips from side to side as he squeezes at his cock. It’s probably both the hottest thing Connor has ever seen and heard.

Jack glances over at him, reaching for his phone when he notices the one in Connor’s hand. He doesn’t seem very ashamed of holding himself, which only adds fuel to the fire that is Connor’s terrible idea.

It takes a minute for Jack to type out his response with one hand, his other glued to his groin with no sign of moving any time soon.

J: Jesus Christ, I feel like I’m about to pop

J: But there’s no way in hell I’m asking them to pull over for me!

Connor fights the grin that wants to pop up on his face, though it quickly turns strained as a wave of need hits him. He presses his thighs together and points his toes as he types as quickly as he can, then drops a hand down to hold himself. At least his desperation will serve as a good distraction if his plan goes awry.

C: Are you sure about that?

C: You’re holding your dick so much I’m tempted to offer to help you with it

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Jack reads the text. His friend’s eyes go wide for a split second, but as soon as it’s there it’s gone, and he’s typing away once again.

J: At least buy a guy dinner first, jeez

Connor feels his heartbeat stutter as he reads the response, his mouth dropping open a bit as he white-knuckles his phone, both from shock and the need to squeeze something to make the pressure inside him go away. Before he can even begin to think of what to respond, a huge wave of desperation overtakes him and he lets the phone slip out of his grip, gasping as his hands fly to his crotch to stop the impending flood. He’s at a nine out of ten now, easy--he can feel the piss at the tip of his cock, fighting as hard as it can to escape.

He risks opening one eye and glancing to his right, wondering how Jack will react to his desperation. Will he be grossed out if he notices that Connor is half hard still? Will he kindly pretend not to notice at all?

He’s surprised when his eyes focus enough to notice the expression on Jack’s face. He looks flushed, almost flustered… And more than anything, he looks intrigued.

“Wow,” Jack mouths at him, somewhere between impressed and teasing. Connor shoots a weak smile at him as he circles the base of his dick with his hands, squeezing with all his might. Luckily neither of the boys in the front has noticed anything yet, but it’s still both terrifying and exciting to be this desperate in their presence.

Connor winces as he lets go with one hand, reaching down to grab his phone. He’s definitely pushing his luck, but that look that Jack had given him… It’s not the kind of look that passes between friends. It’s his turn to type with one hand, and he’s shaking ever so slightly on top of that, but at last he manages to type out another text and hit send.

C: Enjoying the show?

Seconds later, he received a reply:

J: I’d give it a perfect review if I could let go of my dick long enough to type it out

J: Are you regretting that last soda btw?

C: Nah, I could hold for longer if I wanted to

C: Not that I have a choice

J: You’re lying, I can tell!

J: I’m bigger than you and even I feel like I’m gonna wet myself any second now

C: That sounds like a you problem

J: I bet you have to go just as bad as me

C: Is it the desperation talking or were you always this delusional?

J: Oh shut up

J: If you don’t have to go, I bet you won’t mind grabbing another soda, right?

C: What if I say I’m not thirsty anymore?

J: Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to drink it

J: I just wanna see the look on your face when your hand hits that ice cold cooler water

Connor stares down at his phone, a slow smile spreading over his face. Intentionally or not, Jack is playing right into the almost exhibisionistic fantasy he’s had for a while, both of his friend teasing him while he’s full of piss and of him torturing a desperate Jack right back. As carefully as he can, he sets his phone on the middle seat and reaches over to flip the lid of the cooler, staring into the slightly sloshing water with a mixture of dread and excitement. He can feel Jack’s eyes on him as he reaches in slowly, his fingers barely brushing the surface of the water.

Better to get it over with, Connor figures, and with that he dives in, submerging his whole hand in the ice water. He lets out a choked-off moan as his bladder convulses, trying in anguish to expel the hours and hours worth of urine. He grabs the first thing he can feel--a can of off-brand lemon lime soda nobody had bothered to drink yet--and yanks his hand out, dropping the can onto the floor of the car and shoving his hand back down onto his crotch.

It’s a bad idea all around. The water that had clung to his hand soaks into his jeans and through his underwear, brushing cool moisture across his sensitive penis as he clutches himself. “Ah, oh,” he hisses, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he moves his hips wildly back and forth, trying to keep the ocean of piss inside of him. It takes almost thirty seconds for the effect of the water to wear off on him, and it’s the closest he’s come to leaking since he’d last wet himself.

At the very least, he notes once he has himself back under control, Jack doesn’t seem to be faring much better. He’s constantly squirming, grinding his hips down into the car seat and letting out short, airy pants as he grabs at his dick, switching from hand to hand and occasionally using both. Every time he has to stifle a moan or a sigh, Connor’s cock gets a little bit harder, which in turn helps him hold it.

Jack doesn’t reach for his phone to text anymore, but he does glance over at Connor every few seconds, like he’s checking to make sure Connor isn’t watching. (Or like he’s making sure Connor is watching--it’s such unfamiliar territory that Connor can’t tell in the slightest.) It doesn’t matter, because either way Connor can’t bear to take his eyes off the show before him. It’s like every one of his fantasies of Jack wriggling around, drops of yellow staining the plush white bed under him, only this is even better because it’s real.

Jack is actually desperate in front of him, and better yet he’s flirting with him over it.

Connor’s thoughts are interrupted by a loud sigh from the front seat. He immediately pulls his hands out of his crotch, cringing at the lack of pressure and squeezing his thighs together to make up for it. He glances up in the direction of the sigh, which sounded like it came from Will’s part of the car.

“Something wrong?” Henry asks from the driver’s seat, reaching to lower the music.

“I’ve gotta piss again,” Will explains, crossing his arms over his head. “Guess I shouldn’t have had that last soda.”

“You want to pull over somewhere?” Henry offers, waving with one hand at the side of the road. “If it’s an emergency we can stop here, and if not we can always keep an eye out for a real rest stop.”

Connor’s eyes go wide, and he side-glances at Jack, who seems to have the same thought as him.

If Will asks to stop at a restroom, the game will be over.

Connor tries not to let the disappointment show on his face, though he knows the cons outweigh the pros for him. Sure, he’d get to pee at last and he wouldn’t be in danger of wetting himself around his best friends anymore, but he’d also lose the opportunity to see Jack slowly lose control, spurting hot leaks of piss into his jeans as he moans and squirms like crazy, trying his best to hold it in… In Connor’s mind, that image is priceless, worth more than any shred of dignity he might have left.

“Nah, it’s alright,” Will says with a wave of his hand, and Connor barely stops himself from breathing a massive sigh of relief. (Not relief relief, but still.) Unless Jack decides to speak up, it looks like his fantasy come true is back on track.

“What about you two?” Henry asks, his eyes flickering to the rear-view mirror, and Connor thanks the stars that he’s been able to keep his hand away from his groin for so long. “You haven’t gone since we got on the road, right? Do you want to pull over somewhere?”

“God, I totally forgot!” Will exclaims. “You guys must be pissing your pants back there.”

“Haha…” Connor trails off awkwardly, shifting his weight to his other side and pressing his knees into each other. “I mean, not yet.”

“What about you, Jack?” Will asks almost tauntingly. “You ready to admit you were an idiot for not going before?”

“I’m not admitting anything,” Jack says with a strained laugh, finding the strength somewhere to kick the back of Will’s seat.

“Oh, come on! You must be bursting back there!”

“Well, yeah…” Jack and Connor glance at each other at the same time, and something like mischief catches in Jack’s eye as they do. “I kinda feel like I’m about to explode,” he admits slyly, never breaking eye contact.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Maybe it was all those beers… How many did I drink, four?”

“And half a soda,” Connor grits out, his dick throbbing both from arousal and desperation. He checks the rear view mirror and slowly slips a hand into his crotch once he’s sure Henry’s not looking. “You must be really full, huh?”

“Of course,” Jack agrees. “Although you can’t be much better off. You had almost as much to drink as I did, and it’s been hours since you last let go, hasn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah,” Connor manages to reply, heat flaring up in his cheeks. His dick feels rock hard under his hand, but he can’t stop kneading at it, both from his intense desperation and his need for friction. “Oh,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut for a second as the mix of arousal and need sends his brain into overdrive.

“I really don’t mind pulling over if it’s that bad,” Henry offers, but Jack answers for him.

“We’re f-fine, Henry,” he says in a less-than-convincing voice. “Don’t worry about us, just get to the c-campsite.”

“You gonna last the next twenty minutes, Connor?” Henry asks, glancing back in the rear view mirror again. This time Connor doesn’t bother taking his hands away from his crotch, hoping that his friend isn’t able to see how erect he is from the front seat.

“I’ll, mmh, be fine,” he says breathily, eyes practically rolling back in his head. His dick is so incredibly sensitive to every brush of his hand, to the point where he doesn’t know if he’d rather piss or jack off more. He looks over to see that Jack is doubled over once, again, one leg crossed over the other with his hands trapped in between them, putting as much pressure on his dick as he possibly can. His face is just as flushed (bad, bad choice of words) as Connor knows his is, and when he opens his eyes to meet Connor’s, his pupils are blown wide.

“If you say so,” Henry says with a shrug, speeding up as he passes the first car in minutes. “I’ll be honest, I was kind of hoping you’d ask to pull over. All this talk about pissing is making me need to go, too.”

“If those two can hold it for six and a half hours, I’m sure you and I can make it the rest of the trip without a bathroom break,” Will reasons. Connor’s eyes widen as he hears the number--six and a half hours?! No, it’s been more than that--it’s closer to seven or eight hours, considering neither of them peed after that first trip to the bathroom in the morning.

“Still, it’s not like it’s comfortable,” Henry says with a sigh.

“Oh, I know,” Jack says, his voice carrying an undertone of… mischief? Excitement? “I’m… not comfortable either.”

Through his haze of need, Connor notices that Jack isn’t just grabbing himself anymore, but moving his hand in small, open-palmed circles. Is he hard? he wonders, mouth dropping open a bit. Is Jack… getting off on this, too?

“Hey, try not to think about waterfalls,” Will pipes up, gleeful. “Or rainstorms, or whitewater rafting…”

Connor shudders, the very mention of all that gushing, gurgling, free-flowing water sending unwelcome images of toilets and showers to his brain. “God,” he hisses, knocking his knees together and bucking his hips in the air. Once again, he feels someone’s gaze locked onto him, and he doesn’t even need to check to know that it’s Jack who’s looking.

“Knock it off,” Henry cuts in, though there’s no bite behind his words. “The last thing I need is those two causing a flood of their own in the back of my car. I just had this thing cleaned a couple of months ago!”

“Oh, did you?” Will teases. “I couldn’t tell.”

A flood, huh? Connor thinks to himself, staring down at where the band of his jeans cuts into his bloated, distended bladder. I bet together the two of us could cover the whole floor of the car in piss, and then some. Jesus Christ, I have to go!

“Ten minutes,” Henry tells them as he pulls off the main road, onto an unfortunately bumpy dirt path.

Connor swears he can feel each tiny bit of gravel that they drive over, the bumps echoing throughout his bladder as he holds on for dear life. He hears Jack panting from his right and opens one eye to see that his friend is folded in half, both hands buried deep between his legs as he lets his hair fall into his face, chewing on his lip. He must be close to bursting, he realizes, noting the couple of beads of sweat dripping down his face.

As much as he’d love to watch Jack lose control and wet himself, soaking his jeans and the seat below him with hot urine, he’s pretty sure pissing himself in front of his friends isn’t something that Jack would be into, even if he is having fun holding. And it looks like they’ve only got a couple of minutes until one of them starts to leak, or even lets go completely.

“H-Hey, Henry,” he stammers, letting go of his penis with one hand to tap Henry on the shoulder. “We’re not, ah, um, we’re not so far away from the campsite, right?”

“Um, I guess so,” Henry says, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s like a seven minute drive, maybe a fifteen minute walk?”

“Could you let me and Ja-ack out here?” Connor asks, hoping the excitement doesn’t come through in his voice. “I d-don’t know about him, but I feel like I’m gonna pop, mmh! Any second now.”

“Please,” Jack gasps, lifting his head for just long enough for Connor to catch a hint of panic on his face. “I can’t hold it all the way to the, hahh, to the campsite!”

“Yeah, sure!” Henry slows the car to a stop, and Jack is out the door before Connor has even unfastened his seatbelt. “Just follow the trail to Campsite L, and  text me if you get lost, okay?”

“We will!” Connor promises, pushing the door open and setting his foot on the dirt path. Immediately gravity increases on his bladder and he lets out a loud, strangled moan as he dances in place, trying to keep himself dry. “Bye!” he yells, hobbling off to the side of the road after Jack, who’s already a good few feet ahead, still holding onto his cock for dear life.

Every step he takes is absolute torture--the pressure inside of him is enough to drive him crazy, and yet he’s still horny as hell despite the circumstances. “J-Jack, ahh, wait up!” he calls as he hears the car start behind him. “Jack!”

“Hurry up!” Jack calls without looking back, stomping his feet in place. “I seriously feel like I’m about to piss myself, Connor, it’s so bad. Ohh, I need to go!”

The two boys stumble through the forest, going as fast as they can without losing control completely, though it isn’t long before they start to leak. Connor makes it maybe fifteen steps from where he’d left the car before his bladder decides it’s had enough and contracts harshly, trying to override his control. He gasps in shock as a stream of piss jets out of his dick, wetting his pants from the crotch to the inside of the knee within three seconds, before he finally manages to cut off the flow.

Jack seems to be at the same stage in his desperation, because seconds later Connor hears a loud “Oh my God!” followed by the telltale splatter of urine against the ground. The sound is torturous to Connor’s ears, though he decides it’s worth it when he looks up and sees Jack bent over with his hands jammed between his legs, piss dripping out from between his fingers.

“How f-far do we have to go?” he asks from his hunched-over place a couple of feet ahead.

“We’ve gotta, haah, get away from the road,” Connor grits out, his bladder pounding inside of him, demanding he give it back the release he’d stolen from it. “C-Can’t have any cars seeing us when we… go…”

“Fine,” Jack agrees, reaching out to push himself forward on one of the nearer trees and stumbling a little as he goes. “You know,” he continues, looking back over his shoulder at Connor, “under different circumstances I don’t t-think I’d mind as much.”

“Ah… Yeah?” Connor adjusts the hand on his stiff, saturated dick and moans lightly as the fabric of his jeans rubs him just right. “What do you--mmm--what do you mean?”

“I think, oh, that you know what I mean,” Jack pants, breaking eye contact to squeeze his eyes shut against another flood of desperation. “God, I think my bladder’s in danger of p-popping right now.”

“Me too,” Connor agrees, glancing down at himself. Wow. His bladder isn’t the only bulge that’s noticeable--he’s pretty sure he hasn’t been this hard in years, and that’s including the few boyfriends he’d had in the past. He wonders if he would have already wet himself without the help of his boner, or if it’s his years of holding that are keeping the entirety of the Caspian Sea inside of him.

It feels like hours pass as the two of them stumble deeper into the forest, trying their best to contain the beer and soda inside of them for just a little bit longer. And yet when Connor works up the nerve to look over his shoulder (and the self restraint to look away from Jack, who’s currently hopping in place with one leg hooked over the other) he can still see the road through the bushes.

“I t-think this is it for me,” Jack moans, his breath fluttering. “I’ve, ah, never had to go this bad before!”

“Wait!” Connor pants, lifting one hand from his crotch to hold out towards Jack. “Over th-there!”

He moves his arm to point towards a deep seclusion in the woods, just out of sight of the road. “Just hold on, nngh, a little longer!”

“I… I don’t know if I can,” Jack admits, looking back at Connor with red cheeks and watery eyes. Connor can’t help but stare at him for a few seconds, taking in his messy hair and parted lips, his legs that are pressed so tightly together, and his hands, which are gripping the base of an obviously erect penis…

Oh.

So Connor was right before, and it hadn’t just been wishful thinking. Jack is getting some pleasure from holding it in, whether he meant to or not. And now here they are, together alone in the middle of a forest, both desperate to pee and totally aroused at the same time...

“Come on…” Connor says, drawing his eyes back up to meet Jack’s. “I- I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jack’s eyes widen once again, and he glances down at Connor’s crotch, where his piss-stained jeans are clearly tented in the front. Connor’s face heats up, but he doesn’t move to hide it at all. There’s no way he’s misread the situation--the evidence is right there in front of him, after all. And all those looks they’d given each other on the ride over, the flirty texts they’d sent each other… It can’t just be a coincidence, or a misunderstanding.

“O… Okay,” Jack says, his eyes wide as he turns to hobble towards the secluded area. Every few steps a couple of drops of urine make their way through his fingers, leaving tiny circles in the ground below him, but Connor knows that those tiny little leaks aren’t giving him any relief at all. His underwear rubs against him as he moves, and he shudders at the soft friction and the wetness of it all.

“Ah… O-Oh…” Jack sighs, pausing at the entrance to the clearing to dance in place. “Thank God we’re finally h-here…”

Before Connor knows what’s going on or has a chance to look away, Jack is scrambling at his zipper and pulling it down, reaching into his underwear to pull out his dick and leaking the tiniest bit along the way.

Wow, Connor thinks, his eyes going wide as he takes in his friend’s length. He can’t say he hasn’t fantasized about that kind of stuff before, but he’d never imagined Jack’s cock to look as insanely appealing as it does. It’s still stiff, too, and a little red, and for some reason Jack hasn’t actually started pissing yet…

Before he can stop himself, Connor takes a step forward, his own dick hard and straining against the confines of his jeans. Jack looks up, still not peeing, an almost hopeful expression on his face.

“C-Can I…” Connor stops mid-sentence to shift his weight to his other side, shimmying his thighs together as his bladder throbs inside of him. He’s never needed to pee so explosively bad before, and yet his need is the last thing on his mind at a time like this.

“Yeah,” Jack breathes, turning his whole body to face Connor. Hesitantly, Connor reaches out, brushing his fingers along the side of Jack’s dick and inhaling sharply as it twitches in interest. Jack makes a nngh sound, his breath stuttering as Connor continues to lightly touch him.

“I’ve never done this before,” he breathes, looking up at Connor unsurely. “What am I supposed to…”

“Do you want to try?” Connor asks, taking his free hand away to gesture at his lower half. Jack hesitates a second longer, then nods, watching hungrily as Connor lets go of his aching dick to unzip his fly. He considers pulling himself out, but instead goes for Jack’s hand, guiding it to the front of his jeans and letting Jack maneuver his way inside. His knuckles brush against the very bottom of Connor’s bladder and he shudders, eyes fluttering shut as Jack finally reaches deep enough and pulls his penis out.

“Oh…” he moans as Jack strokes him once, unsurely, then again with a bit more pressure. “That’s good…”

He forces his eyes open and reaches out once again, taking Jack’s leaking cock in his hand and twisting his wrist as he strokes, over and over again. Jack is making tiny little sounds, breathing shallowly and whining every time a bit of urine gushes out of him. Some of it splashes onto Connor’s lower leg, but he could care less at this point.

Jack may not have much experience jacking other guys off, but he’s sure as hell not doing a bad job of it. Maybe he mastrubates a lot, Connor thinks, the idea making him even harder as it enters his mind. Only it’s different now--he doesn’t have to fantasize, with the real deal right in front of him, on him. Every inch of his skin is so, so sensitive thanks to the overfilled capacity of his bladder, and Jack’s hand on him is practically sending him into overdrive.

“Ah, ah!” he exclaims as his bladder pangs harshly, forcing a short jet of piss to spurt out of his dick. He glances down, noticing that it had shot straight onto the leg of Jack’s pants and is dripping onto his hiking boots.

“Good?” Jack asks, pausing his ministrations, and Connor can’t help but thrust into his hand to get more friction.

“Don’t stop now,” he urges, taking a step closer until he can feel Jack’s labored breath on his cheek.

“Oh God,” Jack hisses as Connor speeds up his strokes, pausing briefly to drag his thumb over the tip, his fingers stroking the underside. “Oh God, Connor!”

His name sounds so delicious coming from Jack’s mouth that he practically comes right there and then. But right before he loses himself completely, his bladder contracts harshly, and he has to press his thighs together and shift his hips from side to side to keep from losing it all.

“Ah… haah… I still have to go so bad,” he whispers as a few stray drops fall from his cock, teasing him with the thought of release.

“Me too,” Jack agrees, his hand shaking as it pumps up and down on Connor’s dick. “But… I think it m-makes it better, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Connor groans. His legs feel weak under him, and he swears he can feel every cell in his body.

The sound of hushed moans and cries fills the seclusion, occasionally broken by a gush of hot piss hitting the forest floor. Connor knows he’s leaked enough to fill a whole can of soda on his own, and yet he still feels as desperate as ever--but at this point he’s too hard to lose control completely. Still, each stroke of Jack’s hand on his rock hard dick brings him closer to orgasm, and by the looks of things Jack feels the same. His penis is dribbling piss and precome, warm and sticky in Connor’s hand.

Time to bring him over the edge, Connor thinks, increasing his hand’s speed and making sure to pay attention to the tip every couple of seconds, smearing the leaked liquid around like some kind of lube. “Come on, Jack,” he huffs, eyes flickering between Jack’s dick and his face. “Come for me.”

That’s all it takes to send Jack to orgasm--his friend lets out a cry of pleasure as sticky white come squirts out of him, landing just to the left of Connor’s shoe. The ejaculate is immediately followed by an uncontrolled spurt of piss, followed by another, and suddenly Jack is gushing onto the ground with force, hours and hours worth of liquid finally exiting his body.

It’s that sight alone that sends Connor over the edge--he comes harder than he ever thinks he has before, his vision blurring and whiting out as Jack’s hand slips off his penis. He feels almost dizzy as his orgasm racks through him, shaking his body from fingertip to fingertip. His come lands in the rapidly growing puddle at Jack’s feet, sinking to the bottom of the urine like a feather in the air.

“Jesus,” Connor breathes, taking a deep breath in, but his bladder squeezes in protest, reminding him that he’s still far from empty. He makes a quick grab for his penis, but he’s too slow to prevent the line of urine from marking itself along the thighs of Jack’s pants in a splatter pattern.

He barely has time to notice before he’s pissing full force onto the ground, his urine mixing with Jack’s and creating a puddle beneath their shoes. And God, if that orgasm hit him hard, then finally being able to release all that liquid, those cans of beer and soda and water from the morning… It’s almost better. His stream is so powerful, thundering against the ground with force, and he can’t help but moan as his bladder finally deflates, letting go of the ocean inside of it.

The two of them piss in silence for almost a minute and a half, the sound of splattering echoing in Connor’s ears even as his stream tapers off. He doesn’t even bother tucking himself away, taking a few seconds to catch his breath and regain his bearings. His head is spinning from the events of the day, and he feels bone tired and jelly-like at the same time, but realistically he knows that they have to get back to the campsite before their friends come looking for them.

He opens his eyes, surveying the damage. Both his and Jack’s pants are soaked in several places, and he can already smell the piss drying on their hands and clothes. “Jack,” he says, tapping Jack on the shoulder several times. “We can’t go back like this?”

“Huh?” Jack opens his eyes, looking down at himself until he snaps out of his haze. “Oh, shit! What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know… Did you bring a jacket with you or anything?”

“I was kind of preoccupied,” Jack laughs nervously. “Hey, didn’t Henry say we were gonna be camping near a lake?”

Connor squints, wracking his brain for memories from earlier in the day. “Yeah, he did. Do you think we should-”

“Have a little swim before we get back and help the others unpack?” Jack finishes for him. “It couldn’t hurt to be a little late, right?”

“Right…” Connor trails off, picking at a wet spot on his jeans. “Hey, Jack… You aren’t weirded out or anything, are you? I didn’t do anything too far, right?”

“What? Oh, no!” Jack reaches out to touch Connor’s arm, meeting his gaze with a small smile. “It was great, Connor. What are you worrying about?”

“I just… I didn’t know you liked guys,” Connor admits, somewhat embarrassed. “If I’d known, I…”

“I didn’t know either,” Jack tells him, rubbing his arm gently. “But… I liked it. I liked today, even if it wasn’t the most conventional.”

“I liked today, too,” Connor says, his face heating up as Jack moves his hand into Connor’s own. Jack smiles at him kindly, squeezing once.

“Come on, then,” he says, tugging Connor towards the road. “Let’s go get cleaned up, before the others wonder where we’re at.”

“...Alright,” Connor agrees, smiling back softly. “Let’s go.”

[silenthillmutual]

pride week - day 1, storm

hghghghghghhghghghg yeah okay i’m late on this but a server i’m in posted prompts for each day of pride, so. this is a kind of au i’ve been working on where they all meet in college through the gsa. so. yeah.

anway. this isn’t very good, i guess i should go back and edit it all up once pride month is over or something. 

--

“I’m gonna go over there and close the damn laptop over.”

Chihiro drops the paper packet they’ve been reading into their lap, giving him an exhausted look. “Mondo, no. Don’t.” 

“I’m gonna,” he says, but Chihiro grabs his shirt before he can move in the direction he’s been staring at for the past hour. He probably stops more to be polite than because of any actual strength on Chihiro’s part. He looks down at Chihiro, trying very hard to pull him back by the hem of his shirt, and quirks an eyebrow at them. 

They don’t let go, but huff. “Why do you live to irritate him?”

“What?” he asks, having the audacity to look offended. “I don’t live to irritate him!” 

“You antagonize him at every given opportunity,” they point out, glaring at him. He looks down and off to the side very quickly, grumbling something out.

“I’m sorry,” Celes asks, and it’s only now Chihiro realizes that she’s moved the headphones to the side of her head to hear the conversation. “Did you just say that’s your way of flirting with him?”

“YEAH! AND?” 

It surprises no one that Taka’s the person who shushes them first, not even looking up from where he’s leaning into his laptop, way too close. Mondo just gestures to where he’s sitting, waving his hand around, like that’s supposed to tell them something.

When Chihiro shakes their head in confusion, Mondo huffs. “See? He does it too.”

“He shushed you because we’re in the library and you’re screaming. Not because he’s flirting with you, idiot.” 

Chihiro tries to glare at Byakuya from around Mondo’s body, but it fails spectacularly. So they just settle on saying, “You don’t need to be rude.”

“He is right, though,” Celes says. “He isn’t flirting with you.” 

Mondo’s face is so painfully red it might actually be radiating heat. “Well, yeah, that wasn’t. But he nags at me loads of other times.”

“He nags all of his friends,” Byakuya says, flipping between pages on his rough draft and sighing. “It’s the only way he knows how to make friends.”

“He nags you, too,” Celes smirks. “Does that make you friends?”

“Unfortunately.” 

“Don’t be a little bitch -” Mondo starts to snap.

Taka shushes them again. 

They’re all quiet for a couple of seconds, which is all it takes for Mondo to pull out of Chihiro’s grasp and stomp over to where Kiyotaka’s sitting, frowning at the screen with the blue light reflecting off his reading glasses. 

It all goes off when Mondo leans over and slams the laptop shut, almost on Taka’s fingers.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Taka shouts. Byakuya shushes him, but he doesn’t seem to hear it. “I WAS WORKING ON SOMETHING!”

“Guys -” Chihiro starts to call over. Some students from a different section shush them, so they get up to come over. “Guys, come on. You’re gonna get us kicked out of the library.” 

They both ignore them. “Come on, man, ya gotta take a break. You can’t even open yer fuckin’ laptop back open ‘cause yer so tired.” 

“No, I can’t open my ‘freakin’ laptop back open because you are HOLDING THE TOP DOWN!” This time, the circulation librarian joins in with their classmates in telling them to quiet it down. 

“I’m not even holdin’ in that hard. Yer just tired.” Mondo presses Taka back with one finger on his forehead, and he goes. “Take. A. Break.” 

“This paper is due -”

“On the twenty-sixth, man, it’s the seventh! Ya got time. An’ don’t even bother actin’ like you don’t got most’a that shit written out by now.” 

Taka scowls at him, but he has, notably, given up on trying to reopen his laptop. “You’re not going to permit me to continue, are you?”

“Nope,” Mondo says cheerfully. “You get to mom us all the time, so ‘m gonna dad you now. You gotta take fuckin’ breaks some times, so pack yer shit up. We’re goin’ out.” 

Chihiro stares at the table and blinks, wishing very suddenly they hadn’t come over for this.

Taka seems to have missed the implication, though. He takes off his glasses and rubs his face with his hands. “Where, exactly, are we meant to be going?”

“Does it matter?” Mondo grumbles. 

“Well, yes. I need to know if I should go by my dorm first.” 

“Nah,” Mondo says, distracting himself with the zipper of his own jacket so he doesn’t have to actually look at his friend when he says, “I’ll pay.” 

“I should at least pay for the cab,” he argues, but he’s still shoving all of his stuff back into his back. 

“What?” Mondo scoffs, picking up the things that won’t fit in Taka’s bag in his own arms. Not that he even asked. “We’re not gonna take a fuckin’ cab ya nerd, I gotta damn motorcycle fer a reason.”

Taka’s expression shifts from one version of irritated to another. “Mondo Oowada. I am not getting on your motorcycle.” 

“Why the fuck not!” His voice is raising back up to a shout. And since campus security is doing their usual rounds, that just means trouble. 

Chihiro should really back up. “Uh, guys -” 

“For one thing,” Taka says, pulling his bag up over his shoulder and his jacket on, apparently not realizing he’s just doing the process backwards, “It is pouring! Rain!”

Mondo’s already made his way around the table, completely forgetting Chihiro’s presence. He pushes Taka by the back, both of them oblivious to the way everyone is just...staring. Although they could just be used to it, by now. The last thing Chihiro hears of them is Mondo saying, “Oh, come on, it ain’t like I never done it before -”

And Taka shouting back - “You’re insane! I don’t get how you’re even still alive -!”

“Well, clearly, we were wrong,” Byakuya says from behind them. He’s got his stuff tucked under one arm, Celes trailing behind him, messing with her phone.

“How so?” Chihiro asks.

“Clearly, arguing is his version of flirting.” He takes off his glasses, shoving them in his pocket. “Well, are you ready to go?” 

“Uh...where?” 

“Following them, of course,” Byakuya says. “If we’re going to be the third through fifth wheels in their relationship, we may as well get some entertainment out of it.”  

“That’s not very polite,” Chihiro says. 

“Well, how about this,” Celes chimes in, pulling the hood of her jacket up over her hair. “Mondo already said he’s paying, so we’ll just say they’re picking up our tab. They owe us, for almost getting us kicked out of the library again.” 

“Well...”

“Great, it’s decided,” Byakuya says. “Let’s move, before we lose track of them.”

“There’s not many places they could go. This is kind of a small town,” Chihiro points out.

Byakuya ignores them, but Celes leans down. “What are my odds that they don’t realize they’re going on a date?” 

They think about it. “I wouldn’t bet against you.”

“Of course not, sweetie, you have common sense. That nasty bug in my French history class, though...” 

“Hmm...” It really isn’t kind, but Chihiro thinks they know who it is they’re talking about. So, “Wait until we get there. If it’s Cracker Barrel, double your odds they’ll get kicked out after an hour.” 

[medvsx]

Restart; A 2019 Reflection

8th January 2020

I thought about having a physical diary to jot down thoughts and all but personally, I feel like that isn’t… feasible at the moment. May also be because I have no sense of commitment towards whatever I want to do too, but ANWAYS!

I was supposed to write a reflection on 2019 but again, zero commitment whatsoever. So here I am, 8 days into 2020, writing a reflection on 2019.

First and foremost, I’d like to say that 2019 wasn’t the nicest to me. I’ve had more downs than ups last year. It wasn’t pleasant for me as a whole (physically, mentally, emotionally etc). I barely remember anything that happened through out the year. I only know that towards the end of the year, I was mostly sad. Barely felt like myself for the most part. Everything felt off. It came to the point where I studied for tests a couple of hours before the paper, did assignments the night before submission (by copying others) and just completely giving up on academic life. Not my proudest moment but I guess that’s what it felt like when you hit rock bottom.

I had the idea to reflect on 2019 from some Instagram post I saw a few weeks back. Partly doing it because 2019 was really a blur and I wish I had jotted down things throughout the year. It’s a bit late but here we go, a 2019 reflection.

What have you achieved?

I finally forced myself to join events held in my university. I’ve been here since my foundation year and I’ve been ridiculously shy (and maybe lazy) to join anything. I grew some balls to socialise with people outside of my class and participate in these events. Even though I only managed to sign up for two (major) events, I gained a good amount of experience from it. I was under the Public Relations department so I was mainly in charge of contacting competitors and participants from other schools (of all ages). I think that made me slightly more confident with speaking to people through the phone because I have never been a fan of phone-calls.

What are the new things you tried?

Only one thing that stuck out to me and it was during early February 2019. That was the first time I tried soju and alcohol in general. I had a Somersby Rose and (I think) Peach soju and it was wonderful. Did not regret the decision to drive away from Kakigori and straight ahead to a grocery shop to get two bottles of booze. Definitely shouldn’t have made my friend (who also drank) drove us back but I made it back alive. (Side note; we weren’t that far from home anyways but still; it shouldn’t be done in the first place). I wasn’t really a fan of the peach soju but the rose. *chefs kiss*

What are the new things you loved?

I got into Architectural Digest videos and luxury and designer item hauls on YouTube. I don’t know but something about rich people and their lifestyle is so fascinating to me. Almost… inspiring in a way. Makes me want to push myself to work harder to be more successful. I know it shouldn’t be a measure of success but I feel like my Taurus moon and Libra rising energy draws me into these sorts of stuff. I also have made a mental note on the bags I want to own in the future. My parents also got me Nike AirMax 97s which I’m very grateful of. These babies are quite comfy and gives me a boost of height which I appreciate. I also got a Solvil et Titus watch to replace my 9-year-old Swatch. My new leather strap watch is a beaut, I’m so in love.

What you want to do better in 2020?

I’ve written some of these in my daily journal. I really want to commit to my work and people that matter to me. I have been putting off work for quite some time now. It feels wrong, it is wrong but I couldn’t help myself. I want to try stopping compulsive and quit halfway. I want to try saving up money each week. I want to stick to doing my skincare routine every day. I’m not going to promise myself to study because why would I lie to myself like that? (Says the person writing all of these. I promise you; these are all lies)

What you aim for in 2020?

I want to aim to get better results, to increase my CGPA. Also, this September, in sha allah, I will start my 8-month internship programme. So, I hope to get a placement in a company I have in mind right now and continue my internship there. Hopefully, all goes well.

What you learnt in 2019?

This is the toughest of them all. The year 2019 is the year I became an adult (officially). I am 20 now and I guess there’s a lot of things that I’ve learnt. Can never seem to remember and apply what I learnt though… Anyways!

I’ve learnt that it’s completely fine if you don’t talk to your best friends every day of the week. We’re all busy with work, we don’t keep in touch often but once in a while we meet, we talk and that’s more than enough. I still love them nonetheless. I’ve learnt that only you can push yourself to success and you are also the only one holding yourself back from experiences. I wished I had the guts to be more outgoing. I’ve learnt that leaving your phone on Do Not Disturb mode for a day is actually the best thing you could do to yourself when you’re spiralling down into insanity. I have an odd attachment to my phone and social media in general so to take a break for even a day should feel weird but it felt… freeing. I felt in peace. I should do it more. I’ve learnt that talking shit about people won’t get you anywhere because karma is a bitch. Learnt that the hard way. I have this friend who absolutely sucks at doing work and I really disliked him for a good amount of time but well, turns out I literally became what I hated the following semester which is honestly so embarrassing. I’m disappointed with myself. I need to do better.

That will be the end of today’s entry. It feels nice to get back into writing, it’s been a while since I wrote. I’ve been spending too much time in my head. I needed to regain some sanity in this year. Lets all pray that I stick to this habit.

xoxo

[thefearlessgastronomist]

Cookbooks I’m Excited to Dive into in 2019

Cravings: Recipes for All the Food You Want to Eat & Cravings: Hungry for More

BY CHRISSY TEIGEN

I used to be indifferent to Chrissy Teigen. She was that lady married to John Legend and a television personality (what exactly does she do on Lip Sync Battle anways?)... but that that was about it. I didn’t even know or remember her as a model.

Then her cookbooks came out. I don’t know what it is about her recipes, but I think everyone was just as surprised as me at the success of Chrissy’s cookbooks. And naturally, their popularity piqued my interest. While many ingredients and meal ideas are day-to-day staples (like pork chops or mac+cheese), the spicy twists and Thai turns on various foods truly are recipes for food you want to eat. Paging through both books, I’m fairly certain I said “Yum” or “I want to try that” for just about every recipe. Not to mention, her humor makes her so incredibly personable.

Pull Up a Chair: Recipes from My Family to Yours

BY TIFFANI THIESSEN 

I’ve mentioned Tiffani before, but let me do it again.

The first recipe of hers that I tried in my own kitchen was the Blackberry Jam portrayed on her show, and it became an instant hit (I even gave small jars away as parting gifts for a family get together; it is amazing on vanilla ice cream). As simple as making jam may be, I knew then that I wanted to try more of her recipes. I immediately ordered her cookbook when it was released. 

Some of her recipes I might consider slightly posh, but trust me when I say they still easily doable and sound absolutely delicious. Just remind me to try her Grilled Artichokes again, now that I actually know how to properly eat them. *facepalm* Also, her hostess flair comes through in the last section of the book called “Picture Perfect Parties” – which has menu, decor ideas, and other such notes for hosting various types of get-togethers (i.e. tailgates, brunches, family campouts, etc.)

The Home Cook: Recipes to Know by Heart

BY ALEX GUARNASCHELLI

Over the years watching Food Network and Cooking Channel, I’ve really become a fan of Alex Guarnaschelli. She’s a fellow Italian (Italians have an unspoken bond lol), the first female to win Iron Chef and the second overall female Iron Chef (after Cat Cora), but really... the lady just knows her stuff. When I heard that she was releasing a cookbook, I was super excited to get my hands on it. Yes, me being excited about books of any form is a recurring theme for me.

One thing I look forward to in Alex’s cookbook – as well as with Giada’s down below – is experiencing how a fellow Italian does Italian food (although that is merely a portion of The Home Chef). We all have our own interpretations of Italian dishes based on our individual backgrounds. But I suppose that could be true of many cultures and many dishes. 

Also mildly prevalent in Alex’s cookbook is the sort of... “upscale” demeanor that I might associate with professionally educated chefs. It’s not many cookbooks you find recipes for bouillabaisse, unless they trained went to culinary school or studied in France  – or in Alex’s case, the two combined (she attended La Varenne Cooking School in Burgundy, France). 

Magnolia Table: A Collection of Recipes for Gathering

BY JOANNA GAINES

I always try to resist the charm of Chip and Joanna Gaines... but guys, it’s really hard. And, not gonna lie, a lot of the merchandise from their line at Target is SO PRETTY and on my wishlist 😍 Damn you, Gaines’s. 

While I am not entirely into the modern farmhouse aesthetic showcased on Fixer Upper or loosely included in their Target line, I am really feeling the down-to-earth homey recipes that Joanna shares in Magnolia Table. Many have that “fresh from the farm” Southern feel (based on her childhood in Kansas), where a handful of others include her Korean and Lebanese heritage. 

Eat What You Watch: A Cookbook for Movie Lovers

BY ANDREW REA

I discovered this book at work and I absolutely LOVE the concept! In fact, I’ve been plotting a project for myself with a similar concept (more on this later). 

Eat What You Watch encompasses 40 recipes to help recreate the amazing food moments in film – butterbeer from Harry Potter, the apple strudel from Inglorious Basterds, the titular ratatouille from Ratatouille. Essentially, this cookbook is the PERFECT way to combine my two favorite things. And I’ll get to watch some new movies in the process 😋

Giada’s Italy: My Recipes for La Dolce Vita 

BY GIADA DE LAURENTIIS

I have an... interesting connection to Giada de Laurentiis. 

Noooo, no it’s not just because of our shared Italian heritage (she was born in Rome!), but rather a foodie experience I had a few years ago. 

In late 2016, I traveled to Las Vegas with my aunt for her birthday. As a special birthday meal, we dined at Giada’s namesake restaurant on Vegas Strip. Sparing you the details, I think this was actually the first fancy-ish and refined dining experience I’ve ever really had. I spared no expense and splurged as much as I could, from appetizer to dessert. I really don’t know how to explain it properly but Giada just holds a special place in my and my aunt’s hearts thanks to this experience we shared. Later on, I even planned and together we cooked an entire meal inspired by our experience, utilizing Giada’s own recipes from her website Giadzy. 

Unlike her other books, however, I felt that this one was more authentic. There are the people that want “everyday” and “weeknight” recipes for oversimplified meals, but Giada’s Italy to me just felt more... real. More Giada than her other titles. And, as I mentioned along with Alex Guarnaschelli’s book, I look forward to tasting Giada’s interpretation of Italian food, especially knowing that Giada’s recipes incorporate a Californian flare, spawning by her childhood in Los Angeles. 

Bread Illustrated  BY AMERICA'S TEST KITCHEN

This cookbook is part of my ever-evolving desire to cook more items from scratch. As an Italian (I know I know, I’ve already mentioned this too much in this post), there are two things we (or at least I) really love as eaters: pasta and bread. It seems only natural for me to be excited to utilize this book. And, of course, it makes the house smell amazing! There’s nothing like the aroma of baked goods. I am always so fascinated by how varying measurements of flour, yeast, and wet ingredients can create beautifully diverse loaves of bread.

Mediterranean Cookbook

EDITED BY MARIE-PIERRE MOINE

A final repetition of this concept – Mediterranean Cookbook is another way I want to discover Italian food interpretation. However, this title is also much, much more than that. The Greek, Spanish, Andalusian, etc. foods within Mediterranean Cookbook allow me to uncover the flavors of the entire region, flavors that go well beyond Italy. I just might have to get over my distaste for olives to tackle this one.

Equally as entertaining will be trying to understand and use the titles of dishes – most, if not all of them, are not in English. But, if anything, I consider it a way to immerse myself into the culture of each dish.

Regions include (listed in the index): Middle East, North Africa, Morocco, Portugal, Spain, France, Italy, Sicily, Greece, and Turkey.

HONORABLE MENTIONS: The Book of Greens: A Cook's Compendium by Jenn Louis with Kathleen Squires In a strange turn of events, I've taken an interest in *gasp* salads and vegetables and healthier foods 😝 And while I also purchased The Vegetable Butcher by Cara Mangini a couple years ago, I knew it couldn't hurt to get my hands on a book just about greens; how to select, break down, cook them AND what flavors pair well with them. Let's be real, I just love any book that is essentially an encyclopedia for chefs. Instant Pot Electric Pressure Cooker Cookbook by Sara Quessenberry & Kate Merker Now that I have two Instant Pots in my possession (a 3-quart and an 8-quart), it is now a matter of actually using them. My first meal from the Pot was butternut squash soup, and I have since experimented with hard boiled eggs, a pot roast, and chicken breast (both from frozen!) that all turned out wonderfully... but I would definitely love to add more to my Instant Pot reportoire. I may still enjoy cooking the old fashioned way, but you can't deny how well the Instant Pot works. The Kinfolk Table: Recipes for Small Gatherings by Nathan Williams I got this book as an absolute steal at a garage sale; I think I literally only paid 10 cents. I may not read Kinfolk Magazine, but I was immediately drawn to the beautiful composition and cultural aspects of it. Not only does the cookbook encompass recipes from around the world, but also the stories that inspired them from the people who shared them. Although The Kinfolk Table is divided into Brooklyn, Copenhagen, The English Countryside, Portland (Oregon), and "The Wandering Table," the book's contributors span the entire globe.

[eregyrn-falls]

I wonder how many of Ford's degrees are still usable after he got back from the portal 30 years later?

(Sorry to take a bit to get to this! It came in right before I was going on a trip, but I’m back home now.  I think this was related to this post that I’d reblogged last week, which I’d tagged “FORD WHAT IS YOUR DEGREE IN? ANY OF YOUR DEGREES?”)

But… YES, actually!  This is a good point!

I mean, it does depend a bit on whether you think that all of Ford’s ph.D.s are from Earth institutions; or whether he is counting doctorates earned elsewhere in the multiverse.

I can see him having gotten multiple ph.D.s before he went through the Portal.  As often noted, we don’t know what his undergrad major was, and we don’t know what he even got his first ph.D. in.  After that, he WAS kind of busy (from 1975-1981, when he met Bill) doing the work for which he received that grant… but this is Ford, so it’s quite possible that he simultaneously did the work to get at least a couple more ph.D.s during those years, while he was studying Gravity Falls’ anomalies and working on his Grand Unified Theory of Weirdness.

(Let’s leave aside for the moment that it usually does not work that way.  Ph.D. programs are not usually correspondence-courses, and you don’t just waltz in and hand in a bunch of papers and a dissertation and somebody gives you a degree.  *Handwave* ) 

Gravity Falls has many amazing things for a nowheresville lumber town in the middle of the mountains, but I sort of balk at the idea that it has a college, let alone a university.  Although… hmm.  What’s sort of interesting is… to go back for a moment to another post I made a short time ago, talking about how Gravity Falls may be located in the Cascade range in central Oregon, but it’s clearly modelled after the coastal redwoods area of northern California / southern Oregon… I would note that Confusion Hill is located only an hour and a half’s drive away from the College of the Redwoods, near Eureka.  They offer associate degrees rather than full bachelors degrees, and they don’t have any ph.D. program.  But, in principle, it shows that you could have an institute of higher learning in the general vicinity of a place like Gravity Falls. 

In fact, now that I look at the maps: if Gravity Falls is approximately where I think it should be, then it’s probably a less than 2 hour drive from either Bend, OR (which has Oregon State University-Cascades) or Eugene, OR (home of the University of Oregon).  So in good weather, it was quite possible for Ford to have commuted to a university campus.  Perhaps he got a couple of his ph.D.s that way.  

I’ve honestly always wondered (again with reference to that first post linked at the top) what the heck Ford’s first ph.D. was in, such that he got a grant to go “study anomalies”.  I mean, we all know that Ford was basically doing theoretical / practical engineering in high school (building the perpetual motion machine), and he mentions being excited that WCT has multi-dimensional paradigm theory studies.  So like… what is that?  He doesn’t seem to have gone on in engineering (although he did create those mind-control ties during that period, which is a big engineer-y).  So… theoretical physics?  Seems legit.  But then how do you turn that (and whatever the heck his doctoral dissertation was on) into a grant to “study anomalies” in the field?  Apart from all of the equations, his Journals mostly read like a combination of fieldwork ethnographies and field bio observations.

But assuming that first degree WAS in theoretical physics or something like it, I would like to think that he did then get ph.D.s in field biology, anthropology, and possibly folklore, at least to apply the methods of those disciplines to what he was encountering in Gravity Falls.  (U of Oregon has a well-respected folklore program, so I say that at least one of Ford’s ph.D.s is in that field, because I want to.)  Quick, somebody search JSTOR for an anthro doctorial dissertation on Plaid Coding Among the Flannel-Wearing Population of a Cascades Lumber Town…

However, all handwaving aside, for Ford to have gotten TWELVE ph.D.s, purely in terms of time and effort, I sort of have to believe that he got some of them in other dimensions during his travels through the Portal.

ANWAY.  To go back to your original observation – YEAH.  In some senses his degrees will still be “good”, and useable; it just depends on exactly what uses he wants to put them to.  No matter what he studied in the 70s, all disciplines on Earth have moved on since then. There have been new discoveries, refuting old information, and new methods would now be common.  Ford would need a refresher-course in ANY field he had gotten a degree in back in the day.

In some ways, I think this would come as sort of a shock to him; but in other ways, not?  I mean, after traveling the multiverse, he has to be used to the idea of new discoveries and the advancement of science. In a lot of ways, I think, he would have been more dismayed on his return if science and scholarship on Earth had not advanced at all?  Buuuut… Ford does exhibit some curmudgeonly reactions during the Journal, so he might indeed be a bit more dismayed than excited at first.

I personally would like to think, though, that he would soon become excited about catching up, once the pressures of Weirdmageddon and dealing with Bill were in the past.  I kind of bet that the Stan o’ War II is a bit loaded down with a ton of miscellaneous books that he’s constantly reading to catch up with the latest theories; that the McGucket laptop I feel sure Fiddleford has provided has bookmarks for JSTOR and subscriptions to all kinds of scholarly and scientific journals, and that in whatever bits of down-time he finds, he’s reading, or watching documentaries.  Working hard and having things to learn seem to be things that really get him going.

(I also wonder if Stan ever picks up some of those books.  Feigning disinterest, of course, or reading them just because he’s “bored and there’s nothing else to read except your nerd books”, but kind of getting into some of them himself.  I’m not sure whether Stan would truly get excited about that kind of learning – it may bring back too many bad memories of desperately trying to teach himself physics and so on, especially during those early years of trying to get the Portal working again. But he’s a smart guy, and a curious guy, and I think if he allowed himself to view it as pleasure-learning, he might find it interesting.  Even if he explains it out loud as reading it just to keep up with what Ford is always babbling about.)

[sunlitroom]

Gotham s4e06 -  Hog Day Afternoon

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham.

Harvey promises Jim they'll bust Oswald some day.  Oswald needs to know Sofia isn't on a fools' errand.  Oswald apparently still needs the Falcone name. Jim wants to know what Sofia's plan is.  Ed used to be smart.  Butch is Solomon Grundy.  Butch and Ed are besties now.  Ed decides that since he still has some brains, and Butch has the muscles, they should make lots of money.  Lee is now doctor in an underground fightclub.

As always, long post will be long - reaaally long.  There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot may appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)).  There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

In Cherry’s club, we see, blurrily, a fight taking place.  Cherry raises the victor's hand, while Lee resets the loser’s nose.  Well – that’s not how you would do it, but, anway.  

Ed watches her wide eyed and, grinning, follows her to the bar, with an oily,

Dr Lee Thompkins.  What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?

He follows it up with a sleazy laugh.  That's a bad Ed laugh right there, but then – bad Ed did seem to be in charge of the libido before, and Lee has always rung Ed's bell, ever since he commented dreamily to Harvey and Jim that she smelled nice.

(An aside – hang on, last episode – Lee was coming out to patch Butch up.  Did Ed somehow not see her then?)

Lee curls her lip, and tells him she had heard a rumour that he was frozen.  Ed notices the disdain dripping from her, and smilingly says that she surely can’t still be mad at him.

Lee asks why she would be mad at him, and mentions him killing Kristen, and framing Jim for murder so that he was inside when she lost their child.

(An aside.  This is true, and Ed is an ass, but there were actual murders that Jim could have been in jail for at the point.  Ogden Barker.  Theo.)

Ed’s smile dims.  Lee pastes on an extra sarcastic one, and says that hey – she’s over that,

Let's be friends

Ed smiles

I’m sensing sarcasm

 Lee makes to leave. Ed tries to stop her by putting his hand on her arm, and Lee aims a punch.  She’s only prevented from landing it by Butch, who grabs her arm.  Lee turns, spots him, and is wide-eyed.

Butch!  Holy hell, Butch Gilzean!

(An aside – Right, ok – now I’m baffled.  Did Lee just not treat Butch in the previous episode for some reason?  Doesn’t seem legit – I think Cherry would want a new fighter checked over – and she specifically wanted that burn checked.  So…..?????)

Lee is aghast, and asks Ed what he’s done to him.  Ed gets rid of Butch by telling him to go lean against the wall.  Ed tells her doesn't know what happened, but now Butch is super strong, has amnesia, and seems to love him.

While he still has Lee’s attention, he hastily adds that he too is hoping to get back to who he was – and that the whole being frozen thing left his head scrambled.  He wants Lee’s help.  She snorts incredulously and tells him he really must be dumb.  Ed persists.  He tells her that she must be here for some reason, even though he can’t figure out what it is, and if she helps him then he’ll help her.

Leslie fixes him with a dismissive stare, and tells him that she will never help him.  She leaves, and Ed is left thoughtful.

Sofia’s mansion.

Oswald is protesting something, telling her that he was

Raised to be a gentleman

(An aside.  Meh.  Gertrud certainly seems to have raised Oswald with some old-fashioned manners – but whenever we heard her talk about women, they were hussies and harlots – out to get Oswald.  Oswald is accused of ‘tomcatting’ around when he gets home.  None of that seems particularly in step with being raised a gentleman, but whatever)

Sofia cuts in that he’s also practical.  They been seen out at dinner together. They’ve had three dates.  No-one is watching them now.  She smiles. Oswald blinks awkwardly.  Her smile widens.

I’d just like to know where I stand

This seemed garbled to me. Is she saying he should be seen leaving her mansion the next morning to imply that they’re genuinely having a relationship?  Is she honestly asking him if this is a relationship?

Oswald's wide-eyed. He’s disbelieving, but there’s something hopeful flickering there.  He tells her it isn’t easy for him to have someone he can trust.  A real friend.

Sofia smiles, and we can see, suddenly, that Jim is watching.  This is objectionable on a number of levels but – principally – I hope Jim is choked with guilt, because this – this – is low.  He knows everything that Oswald has gone through.

Sofia takes Oswald’s hand and smiles – telling him he can trust her.  Oswald smiles back  She says they’ll have lunch tomorrow

Just us

Oswald gives a tremulous little until then and leaves.  It’s shot in such a way to make sure that we see Oswald’s stick, and his limp, making sure of where our sympathies are.

Sofia watches him leave, and then looks down, walking to the fireplace.  As in previous episodes – she can be hard to read because her facial expression doesn’t immediately drop when she’s alone.  I previously thought that she might be emotionally involved – but given the level of manipulation we’ll see from her later, I think she just stays in character from whatever game she’s been playing.

Jim walks further into the room, and asks her if she had a nice dinner.  She turns, surprised, and smiles – asking him how long he’d been there.

(An aside - Jim: have you just been lurking around without permission?  That’s pretty creepy and invasive.  Aside from that – does this point to a growing mistrust whereby Jim feels a need to keep tabs on Sofia?)

Jim makes his disapproving face and says he’s been here long enough.  He wants to know what she’s planning, since all she’s done is make Oswald stronger.

(An aside – gee, Jim. It’s almost like this was a terminally fucking stupid idea.  You have no leverage over Sofia at all, which means – bluntly – she can do anything she wants.)

Sofia looks amused, and asks what he plans to do if she refuses to reveal her end game.  He tells her he’ll put her on the train home.  Jim seems to have forgotten he’s dealing with someone who told him flat-out that she’s a gangster, and who had been running Falcone’s business down south for the last ten years.  And if he had forgotten that, and just sees her as Falcone’s misbehaving, spoiled daughter – juvenile enough to be packed on to a train and sent home – then banging her is pretty gross.

They face off.  Jim is teeny tiny, which also emphasises how powerless he is here.

Sofia tells him that in a matter of days, she’ll have Oswald in the palm of her hand.  If she fails, he can do whatever he wants.  She holds out a drink, which he accepts, but he looks dubious.

(Another aside – presumably, we’re also to assume that Jim will hang around and they’ll have sex, which – given the overall situation – just seems pretty sordid)

(Another another aside. How much time has passed since the last episode?  How much time was there between Oswald and Sofia’s dates? Has Jim interacted with her at all between times?  Has it been long enough to perhaps explain his growing suspicion?  Long enough to explain the attachment Oswald seems to have developed?  Couple all this with the earlier confusion about Lee apparently just meeting Butch, despite being told to treat him last episode – and you have a bit of a mess)

An alley in the rain, where two cops are exchanging cash.  One drives off.  The other hears a noise, and goes to investigate.  Entering a nearby building, he sees a cute little cat.  Stopping to pet it, he doesn’t see the creepy guy in the pig mask behind him until it’s too late.  Hearing oink oink, he turns and gets a cleaver to the skull for his troubles.

 Same location in the daytime, where Jim and Harvey have found the corpse.  Jim asks Harvey who it is.  Harvey says they don’t know yet, and shows Jim that the corpse is wearing a pig mask.  Jim is shocked.

They take the mask off and reveal someone Harvey knows as Dave Mesker -  a grade A bastard.  Harvey says he’s the candy man, delivering the pay-offs from Oswald.  Jim decides to go see Oswald to figure out what’s going on.  Harvey pleads with him not to stir the pot.

 The Iceberg Club.  A waitress finishes laying a table for two, and tells Oswald to enjoy his lunch.  Oswald inspects the glasses.  Jim strolls in and tells Oswald he needs to talk to him.  Oswald seems quite perky, and tells him that if it takes less than three minutes, then he’s all ears.

Jim relates the story of the murder, and says that the cop was one of his.  Oswald tells him that a general doesn't need to know every foot soldier.  Jim tells him that someone is sending him a message.  The cop might have been dirty, but he was still a cop, and the killer is making a point.

Oswald is unruffled. He tells Jim if someone had a problem with him, he’d already know about it and have dealt with it.  Jim says he guesses that Oswald is always one step ahead, obviously thinking to himself how that isn’t the case right now.

(An aside – Fuck you, Jim. I’m going to enjoy the moment you discover that you’ve been played for a fool.  If I squint and try very hard to think the best – I can pretend to myself that this comment maybe, maybe had an indulgent familiarity/fondness to it, but it feels like a reach (given the context), and I will need to see qualms of conscience pretty fucking soon)

Oswald smiles, and comments airily that that’s why he’s alive.  He gives Jim a little wink – a nod to the fact that his first escape from likely death came from thinking ahead and betting on Jim’s good nature.

He prods Jim’s chest, and says that he would like to help, though.  Calling Mr Penn to assist Jim in doing his job – he’s able to tell Jim that someone applied for a burglary license to rob a butcher.

Jim thanks him for the lead, the words obviously sticking in his throat, and tells him to enjoy his lunch. Oswald tells him not to thank him, but to thank the licensing system he hates so much.  Jim grimaces.  Oswald adds that he should be sure to let him know if he needs to get more involved – but, until then, he’ll be rooting for him.

(An aside – this is something else that makes Jim’s scheme so unpalatable.  Oswald’s licensing system is – of course – corrupt, and impractical, and flat-out wrong.  However, while his reasoning might be twisted, and while there is a lot of self-interest involved – part of Oswald genuinely believes that it is beneficial for the city.  It’s why he was so moved by Bruce’s approval.  

In contrast, Sofia thinks that Gotham should be hers because it’s her birth right.  She’s entitled to it.  That’s it.  

Just to ramble on – it adds a class dynamic to their interactions, too.  On top of her sense of entitlement, we see that Sofia has an automatic entrée to much of Gotham’s society.  She knows how to act, how to behave – is effortlessly smooth, very wealthy. Oswald – in contrast – has clawed his way up.  We saw Gertrud’s faded apartment with the rat traps.  He has the van Dahl name behind him in a sense, but it’s tainted because of the context – the illegitimate son of the cook.  He’s frequently socially and physically awkward, raising eyebrows and attracting sneers.  It all adds to the power dynamic at play)

 In a creepy warehouse somewhere, of which Gotham has many, we hear opera.  The creepy pig mask guy is doing unsavoury things to some skinned pig heads, putting makeup on one of them.  Whatever.  I immediately hate this guy – so summaries of him may be irrationally salty.

 Jim and Harvey interrogate a suspect.  My wrist is sore – so long story short – they find out that he was hired by a man he refers to as ‘Professor’ because he talked all fancy, and stole four pig carcasses. Jim and Harvey look alarmed, because this likely means three more murders.  Jim says they need to find out who Oswald’s other bagmen are.

 Oswald sits alone while sad 1950s music plays.  Victor arrives, and says that Sofia isn’t coming – she’s cancelled their lunch date. Oswald over-protests that it’s not a date.  Oswald asks if she said why – but Victor stopped paying attention and just tuned out of the call at that point.  He sits down opposite Oswald and starts to eat – commenting that it’ll all just go to waste.

Oswald stares furiously at him, and says he wants her followed.  Victor nods, asking if he thinks she’s two-timing him.  Oswald yells that they are not dating – it’s just that this lunch was her idea.

Victor just watches him, amused.  Oswald tells him to do it now.

(An aside.  I think lunch with Victor was the better deal, but hey.)

 At Cherry’s club – a treat is being announced – a new fighter, Butch.  Lee watches from the sidelines, but looks unhappy.  The other patrons cheer.  Who goes to something like this, anyway?

The fight begins, and the other fighter beats Butch with a hammer.  It’s quite horrid, actually, because Butch doesn’t fight back – just allows himself to be beaten, underlining his vulnerability, despite his size and strength

At the sidelines, an irate Ed tells Butch to fight now.  Getting up, Butch takes the other guy out with one punch, and then wallops him with the hammer.  Lee winces. The crowd chants Butch’s new name. Ed cheers, and hugs him.  Cherry grins that she's got a new cash cow, and tells Lee to clean up.

 Elsewhere Harvey is talking to cops, trying to get names amicably. Jim is using his usual method of growling and grabbing.  No-one will talk to them, because they won’t snitch on another cop, and because they suspect it’s a trap to catch corrupted cops.

Eventually, Harvey’s method not working, they try Jim’s technique – punching the guy and putting him in the trunk of a car.  Jim and Harvey talk loudly about how hot it is, and how they’re off to get lunch, and the guy breaks and gives them a name, and tells them he’s at court all day.

 Outside the courthouse. Harvey and Jim have another name: Jenny Butler.  Harvey comments that it’s bizarre that Jim is running around saving cops on Oswald’s payroll. Jim sanctimoniously comments that they should be prosecuted, not butchered.  I say sanctimoniously, because his posturing here reeks – given that his stunt with going to Falcone for help has so far resulted in the murders of three of Falcone’s former associates.  Did they not deserve prosecution over murder too?

They hear a scream for police.  Heading towards it, we see two bodies on a bench, both wearing pig masks. Everything goes weird, and we get distorted sound and vision like someone is hallucinating – to heighten the horror of the scene, I suppose.

Harvey and Jim talk. No-one saw anything apparently. These cops must have been abducted which would have taken work.  The message is important to the killer.  Jim comments that it’s no wonder the cops nearby all look on edge – and fails to take in the strain on Harvey’s face.  Harvey says he’ll work on the fourth name, and leaves.

Cutting this bit short – through actually using his brain and being observant, Jim gets a lead from a saxophone player busking nearby.  A white plumber’s van was parked all morning.

 Lee is stapling Butch’s wounds.  She asks him what happened to him, sounding both curious and concerned.  She comments that his hand has grown back, he has swamp water instead of blood, and no apparent heartbeat.  He seems to be doing OK though.

She tries to explain to Butch that Ed is not his friend, that he’s only using him.  Butch says that Ed is his best friend.  Lee persists.  She says Ed just wants to make money and make his brain better and then will discard him or kill him if possible.  She grabs his chin, desperate to get her message across.

Do you understand?

Butch just repeats his assertion that Ed is his friend, and a smirking Ed wanders up to them

That's right - best buddies

He waves a wad of cash around.  Butch is the new attraction – which means they’ll be sticking around.  Ed slyly remarks that if she fixed him, then they’d be gone.  He’d pay her. She refuses again – and says she’ll only patch up Butch as long as she has to.  Cherry enters the room.  Lee tells her she’s stepping out.  Cherry remarks that this is fine, but to remember they have a deal.  We exit on Butch’s face – looking thoughtful

 Lee is walks down some stairs (is this directly from the door in the ‘treatment room’?) into a Dickensian-looking scene.  She aims for a cheerful tone.

Hi everyone.  Sorry to keep you waiting.  I’ll be right with you

Lee is running some sort of free clinic.  As she enters the room at the bottom of the stairs, we see Ed lurking at the top, listening to her.  He creeps down and eavesdrops on her conversation in the treatment room – lifting a little girl up onto the examination table.  He looks serious for a moment, then smiles unpleasantly.

 Victor is taking pictures of Sofia from a car.  She’s meeting with some grey haired guy.  Victor says aloud,

Sofia Falcone.  What are you doing?

(An aside.  Victor is hot all the time)

 GCPD – Harvey’s office. The press have wind of the murders, so they need to move fast.  Jim wants to take their list of potential names to Oswald – but Harvey’s apparently already narrowed it down to the likely next victim.  Jim is ready to head off – but Harvey stops him, and asks whether this doesn’t seem weird.  The killer would have had to have had access to a lot of information about the cops’ schedules to pull of the abductions. It’s maybe an inside job and – Harvey argues – they should be tight-lipped outside the office about what they say and who they talk to.

Harper knocks the door and delivers another lead.  Harvey tells her not to say a word to anyone else about it.

(An aside – is Harper someone’s mole?  Maybe Sofia’s?  Falcone’s – at a stretch?  They seemed to arrive at just about the same time.  Her timing in this scene seemed pretty deliberate, just as Harvey talked about an inside job.)

 We see what must be the abducted officer in the back of a van, bound and gagged.  Pyg approaches.  The man is terrified, breathing fast.  Pyg does his stupid oink oink again, which is pretty redundant when you’re wearing a pig mask.

 Back at fight club. Lee and Ed are watching, unimpressed, as a large man from an 80s fantasy movie attempts to beat Butch.  He wraps a chain around Butch’s throat – but Butch only pulls him in, grabs the guy’s makeshift mace, and beats the bejesus out of him

Cherry hold up his hand and announces the new champion. Ed laughs, and Butch looks round as the crowd chants his name.

 Oswald is at his desk, angrily eating chicken from a bucket.  

(An aside – I’ve never understood the big fuss over KFC)

Victor arrives, he tells Oswald that Sofia broke their date to see the mayor.  They had lunch at Angelo’s, then Sofia went to the Heritage Hotel, which has apparently been vacant for years.

(An aside – there’s red wine on the desk.  Red wine and chicken?  I thought that was a no-no?  Is this old hat?)

Mr Penn cuts into say that the hotel recently sold for over the asking price and he assumes the buyer was Sofia.  Victor adds that she met with the zoning commissioner there.  She has permission for new walls and a gate.

Oswald laughs, eyes bulging with rage.  She’s been pretending to be his friend while allying with politicians and building a fortress. She’s planning a war.

(Another aside.  See, now.  Given that Oswald’s suspicion is still running so close to the surface, his starry-eyed-ness doesn’t ring true to me.  I think it’s supposed to ring true– but it doesn’t work for me in terms of writing).

Victor looks happy to see Oswald’s rage - knowing it means work.  Oswald tells Victor to bring her in for a chat.  Victor clarifies whether they’re having a chat, or a chat chat – where they put Sofia in the trunk.  Oswald smiles, and tells Victor to bring a shovel.  Victor smiles and leaves, and Mr Penn looks like he’s wondering how he wound up here.

 At fight club, Ed is waving his money about in front of Lee, and wondering about renting an apartment. Lee says he’d be better finding himself a neurologist.  Ed is insistent that it must be Lee, who is aware of his previous intellect

You know me and what I'm capable of

Lee says that’s why the answer is no.  Ed tells her he knows about the clinic, and guesses that she gets to keep it in return for being club medic.  Lee shrugs. Ed points out that this means she’s vulnerable – but can’t find the words ‘threat’ or ‘blackmail’.  Lee asks what his brilliant scheme is then.  

Ed can only manage a feeble threat that if she doesn’t help him he’ll do something to the clinic. Lee snorts in laughter at this.

Oh my God- you really aren’t smart.

 Under a bridge at night, Jim and Harvey prowl about with torches, searching for their missing cop. In the warehouse, they find him. He’s not a corpse yet, though – still moving.  They reassure him as he makes muffled sounds.  

Jim removes the mask – but we can see a thread attached to it – which goes down his throat – and an odd wound in his gut.  As Jim pulls, the thread snaps.  Jim’s eyes widen, and his army training kicks in.  Grenade!  The cop yells at them to run with his last breath, but the grenade goes off, and they’re knocked to the ground as they run.

 Jim wakes taped to a chair. In a scene I’m not going to describe in great detail because it irritated me, Pyg prances about sounding like a cross between Frasier Crane, Charles Winchester, and Stewie Griffin.

He tells Jim that Harvey is a dirty pig who’s holding Jim back.  Harvey has – over the years – held Jim back from running into a variety of dumb and deadly situations, and generally had his back, worth remembering at this point.

Whatever, he’s Jim’s biggest fan, they both hate corruption (he obviously doesn’t know about Ogden Barker), they both want to cut out the cancer, he has flair.

Jim lacks enough self-awareness to sincerely tell him that he’s delusional, and just has his own agenda – neatly forgetting Carmine’s astute observation about Jim smarting over a loss of power.  Pyg claims to have suffered profound loss at the hands of the greedy pigs in power.  Jim tries to wheedle, says he’ll make it right – but Harvey yells from another room and Pyg runs off, Jim yelling after him that backup is coming.  As he twists in his chair, he sees a ledge, and edges the chair towards it.

 Pyg tells Harvey, strung up in a noose, that he deserves what’s coming. There’s a crash, and they turn to see Jim is free.

(An aside – I think he’d more likely have damaged his spine and broken some bones – but ok)

Pyg chortles that he hates to cut and run as he slits Harvey’s throat and scampers off.  Jim cuts Harvey down from the noose and tries to stop the bleeding from his throat, telling him desperately to hold on, as we hear sirens approach.

 Back at Lee’s free clinic, a woman with a cough is telling Lee she can’t afford to miss work.  Lee reassures her that she’ll give her antibiotics – but the cupboard, to her frustration, is bare.  We hear crying from outside, and get an impression of the enormity of her task.

 Sofia is looking in a compact, checking her makeup.  Oswald approaches.  She seems surprised but pleased – but can’t fail to notice that he’s brimming with anger, pointing again to her game-playing. Oswald tells her he thought he’d surprise her.  She says she has to go elsewhere, and says that Oswald sounds strange.  She claims that she wanted it to be a surprise. Oswald tells her the cat is out of the bag, and he know about her plan to attack him while pretending to be his friend.  He should have known - she has her father’s blood in her veins.  She insists she’s his friend, but he only tightly says he can’t wait to see her surprise.

 At Cherry’s, Ed is drinking something green.  Lee tells him that won’t help his brain – but adds that she’s willing to go along with his scheme, she needs cash.

Ed grins, and asks what changed her mind – was it his charisma?

Lee tells him that he asked why she was here.  She never wanted to be here – or to come back to Gotham at all.  But she couldn’t stay away.  The Tetch virus hit the Narrows hard, and it was her fault – because she prevented Jim’s efforts to stop the virus.  She was infected – but nonetheless.  She doesn’t have a choice but to be here, doing this.

(An aside – she was infected, but she did knowingly infect herself, though – but, hey, this is the most morality we’ve seen from anyone in weeks, and Lee’s been pretty likeable this week - so OK.)

Ed absorbs this.  Lee also comments that if he’d wanted to blackmail her he should have used Butch’s popularity to force Cherry’s hand.  Ed grimaces, and she tells him to come by the clinic tomorrow.  Butch wanders over.

Hi pretty lady

Lee gives him a little wave as she leaves

Ed crows that he’s going to be smart again, and almost spills his drink when a pleased Butch claps him on the shoulder.

 Victor opens the car door for Oswald and Sofia.  She tells him that she wants him to know she forgives him.  She has apparently opened an orphanage.  It’s essentially all a ploy to defuse Oswald’s suspicions by drawing them out with a decoy – making him contrite and less likely to believe anything suspicious about her in future.

Oswald stammers, embarrassed.  She tells him, in saccharine tones, that she understands the pressure he faces, and that his survival depends on being constantly aware of potential threats.  She doesn’t want him to bear that burden and end up like her father.

Oswald asks her to forgive him.  She asks how she can possibly do that, since she forgave him already.  She does tell him she owes him lunch, though, and asks if he likes macaroni cheese.  He smiles shakily that he loves it.

A hospital room. Harvey slowly wakes.  Jim is sprawled in a chair, but gets up – saying that he gave him a scare.  Harvey says he owes Jim.  Jim tells him to pay it back with the truth, and asks how long Harvey has been on the take from Oswald.  They both look pained.  

Harvey insists that it’s only since the license.  He’s practically tearful, and says that he didn’t do anything he would have done anyway – but he has bills, and debts.  Jim is grim-faced and tells him it stops.  Now.  As he leaves – Harvey looks miserable.  

(An aside – Jim presumably excuses his own actions by reminding himself of his high and noble motivations, but he’s full of it.  Even if you accept that his current actions are acceptable – literally in bed with the mob – he trotted off to Oswald in season 2 largely to get back at Loeb, and he murdered a man to do it.

Also – you kind of wonder about Jim and Harvey’s friendship.  Harvey knows all of Jim’s burdens and sins – but Jim apparently doesn’t even know that Harvey has constant money problems.  Is Harvey reticent about his troubles, or doesn’t Jim ask?)

There’s a tv in the corridor outside, telling us Gotham is gripped by terror, and that citizens should report anything suspicious to GCPD.

 Nighttime.  We see a barn full of pigs.  Pyg (I’m not giving him an academic title he possibly hasn’t earned) is there.  He’s singing a threatening little song as the sweet little things all fall asleep, about how the axe will fall tomorrow.  Ugh, fuck off, creepy.  You can’t die fast enough for me.

 General Observations

A lot of the ambiguity is gone from Oswald and Sofia’s interactions.  Before – they were both wary, and everything felt very knowing and cagey.  Now, though, Oswald now seems genuinely emotionally invested, and she’s much more obviously playing him.

I’m not sure in-character I find this.  Yes – Oswald is emotionally needy, but he’s not stupid – and he’s been burned before.  Plus – it’s not even like Sofia is some random Liza-esque woman.  He knows she’s Falcone’s daughter.  The notion he’d have taken this as far as he has seems very far-fetched.

Also – he has that little comment about not being able to trust anyone, and not having a real friend. Did they remove Ivy from the storyline to make all this less glaring?  He did have this.  Ivy stayed with Oswald and faced down Ed – even though she was scared.  Ivy and Oswald’s whole storyline is a terrible muddle and makes no sense.

Sofia holds all the cards right now.  She’s playing Oswald, and Jim seems suspicious – but mostly frustrated and impotent.  She’s presumably going to make fools of them both, and seems to be enjoying herself.

Jim is on his moral high horse and overdue a fall.  He’s out of his depth with Sofia, and Oswald was presented as deserving of our sympathy in those early scenes: making Jim look low.  

He’s self-righteous with Harvey – but it’s one of those tricky situations where I can’t tell whether the show expects me to remember Jim’s past, and is deliberately presenting him as hypocritical, or whether I’m supposed to have forgotten and see Jim as straightforwardly heroic.

I enjoyed Lee this week. Her guilt feels believable, and her actions plausible. She got to be funny as well as sympathetic in her scenes with Ed and Butch. More like this would be good.

I can’t stand Pyg.

Victor is hot.

Thoughts?

[miniwolfsbane]

I found a shiny in the wild on a website!

Still can’t get a dog, very disappointing.  It’s just I’m the only one that wants one, we have wood floors now after having carpet for a long time, (I think that’s the main reason my dad’s not on board), we’re still working on the house and everyone is busy being an actual adult (unlike me!) so I have too much time on my hands and do stupid stuff like this. You might be wondering “Why don’t you move out?” Well, because, dear anon, I’m caregiving and have been for 13 years and it’s not gonna change anytime soon. So, because of all this, I probably won’t ever get a dog. Anyway, I just thought the whole “I found a shiny” was really funny. As it usually is. I still don’t have Let’s Go Pikachu either, but, hey, first world problems, am I right?

Also her name is Princess on the site and she’s beautiful and looks like a lab/Husky mix from the light yellow coloring. A husky is A LOT of work and care, but I want a dog for exercise, among other reasons (because we’ve always had a dog until now. As I’ve said, I lost my last dog to a tumor 8 years ago, and our other dog Cleveland was gone a year or two before that. He was old and didn’t take our move well. Long, sad story there.

I’m just going ramble for a minute. Tumblr hasn’t let me post for a couple days, so I need a good vent. Again. Feel free to ignore past this point unless you’re really bored!

I know a dog is a big responsibility and I’m ready for it. I promised a family member (and I think I told my dad? But it had no effect, obviously) tuthat I’d take full care of it. I used to just feed my dog and walks were done as a family thing, but I could totally walk it every day and feed it. I’m more than old enough. 

OTOH, without a dog, there’s not more responsibility piled on top of me. I already have a cat and bird, besides fulltime caregiving. So...plus?

But I miss having a dog and enjoyed the companionship. It’s like the meme says, money doesn’t wiggle it’s butt when you come in the door. 

Then it’s like, I’d love to finish the repairs on the house, but again, money is always an issue. (Another reason I became a youtuber. I’m hoping to earn money to contribute to household funds and not just spend it on myself. Besides, if you’re following me, you know I’mma just spend it on Sailor Moon merch, clothes, food and the like!) Again, it’s a waiting game. You have to be good enough, funny enough, entertaining enough for youtube to start getting monatized. Like I said on Twitter, I’m going to try ASMR and a bit of everything and see what gets views. And for fun, because it’s an excuse to cosplay, lol. (I want to stay away from romantic ASMR for the time being, because it sounds weird for me to do that and I’m religious and I’m not sure it’s okay. So dressing up as Rogue or whoever sounded like a fun idea that’s not romantic at all.) On that note, I was super excited last night because one Sims video got 40 views in an hour and the second video I did got 74, then 84 later on!! That is more views at once than I’ve had in weeks. I wondered if YT was glitching, but I figured not, so I was really happy! I wanted to write it last night, but like I said, Tumblr hasn’t let me posted. Well, glob knows how I’ll do with a fake southern accent. I want to do Evo Rogue just for the attitude alone. Oh, and I’ve still got my crappy cosplay blouse of hers somewhere too. Hooray? (And the fake white hair. XD) The fam and I dressed up for the Iron Man 2 premiere with a huge group. Never happened again, unfortunately.

Anway, back to the dog thing. It would be so fun to have a dog, but I can’t keep going like this. Unless I have the money to make the repairs needed, then I don’t think anyone will care much. Unless the dog scratches up the floor, of course. Or something worse. Le sigh. We actually had to send my first dog, a dropped off Golden Retriever named Buttercup, to a farm when I was 5 because she chewed up hoses. (Both parents worked at the time, so she was outside a lot.) And, of course, my parents took me to “say goodbye” but I actually had to watch her get taken away, barking and upset. Completely traumatizing. After that I had a string of dogs that kept dying on me and such, no lie. Bailey Quarters ran away, Widget drowned in our pool during a pet sitting (It was one of my brothers friends, but it could’ve happened to anyone. Worse, I saw it at 8. It was a wonder it didn’t scar me for life.) , Abby the hound got Parvo. We took in Widget’s mom and sister, Missy and Chubby, and then things finally normalized. Then Cleveland came along, then Wiley came because I begged for him. (Do not take your kid to a puppy birthing unless you want a puppy.) Missy, Chubby and Cleveland had been family dogs, but Wiley, as insane and hyper and smart-dumb as he was, totally my dog. This is the dog that stuck his head in a fireplace while the fire was going to retrieve a stick. (But he was safe, as the stick didn’t go into the fire, just far from it.)

I miss all that crazyness. I miss having a dog. Dogs don’t scratch you on purpose and they don’t bite if they’re friendly, usually. Dogs aren’t cats. I love my cat, I let him have a Meow box subscription for a while, but he’s not a dog. Same with the bird. (Who screams too much, BTW.) Well, it’s not the end of the world. I just have to learn to take disappointment better.

Lastly, unrelated but the hmm-hm-hmmms at Skreened.com shut down my store! :( Buuuut that may be because I was making fangirling shirts without permission and using AOS actors names? IDK. But, it’s like, you can’t own people? What, do you go e-mail their agent and say “Can I use his name on a shirt?” I guess so! That’s the only reason I can think of, but they didn’t even e-mail me a warning or anything! (I signed up in ‘15, if that makes any difference. Didn’t sell anything.) I do remember taking down shirts that used character names, in fear of getting terminated. Very disappointing, but I’ve got other stores that didn’t delete me, thank glob, and my patreon I never actually look at and need to get back to. Bleh. I just hate when things like this happen, but don’t we all? On the upside, I wasn’t making, say Pokemon stuff on Etsy and getting a cease and desist and I know not to deal with them again. Oh, hey, look, clear copyright infringement! https://skreened.com/search?q=pokemon *Headdesk*