#you are lucky I didn't start web weaving here
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dnickels · 1 year ago
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I was listening to a very good podcast and it come me thinking about Henry V and Endeavour-- obviously Russ (may I call you Russ, Mr. Lewis?) is having a little fun with Roger Allam's wonderful performance as Falstaff, but what does it mean, to position Morse as Hal in their definitive rupture? To draw that immediate and direct comparison (I know thee not, old man)? Thursday is a killer (a murderer, if the semantics are important) and has a number of other flaws we've known since the first episode, but is he Falstaff? Thursday's not a drunk. He's not a thief. He's flirted with prioritizing his own comfort and personal wealth over his duty, but he's not a coward. A bully, maybe, on occasion, but a bully in someone else's service and operating under an ideology of 'preserving social order', which doesn't make much difference to whoever he's beating up today but its relevant for literary critique.
So when Morse rejects Thursday, what is he meant to be rejecting here? He's hardly a Prince Hal himself, outside of his problem drinking. And Morse is undeniably a moral actor and scrupulously so, but Morse of his later years is hardly a white-horse-riding rousing-speech "the mirror of all Christian kings". I could see an argument for Morse as Harry in a negative reading of Henry V, where there are questions about the justification of his war and the single-mindedness with which he pursues it, or Morse deluding himself into thinking he's ever going to win his long, endless siege at Harfleur. He did spend his thirties desperately trying to die leading various forlorn hopes, and perhaps no longer knows what to do with himself.
But looking at the denunciation in the pub compared to Hal's dismissal (and banishment!) of Falstaff more literally, there's a thread to pull apart: the prince is putting away childish things to become a man, to finally clean his act up and take up the mantle of duty he's spent the play dodging. It's ludicrous to say Morse has been thus far neglecting his duties, but here I think we see the apotheosis of the cranky old man: rejecting Thursday, no longer looking the other way on his little (and big) peccadilloes, means closing his heart to everything the Thursdays plural-- Fred, Win, Joan, and Ringo-- brought back into his life after his breakdowns and directionless drifting. He's going to take up the sword. Hal ascends to Harry, but Morse seals his own fate. He'll make Inspector, but at what cost? If he starts to believe that Fred was his Falstaff, leading him astray, he'll lose that fragile ability to trust, to be open, to make a connection that lasts.
What infinite heart’s ease Must kings neglect that private men enjoy?
Long story short: Watch My Show
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rosesradio · 5 months ago
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peter parker x trans male reader?
hi there !! assuming based on when this was sent it was for summer of smut, so here’s a little something for you 🤲💌
this is my first time writing an x reader with a trans male reader, i did my research into other x readers & i hope that the terminology is as inclusive & accurate as possible.
note: the reader is considered (subjectively) early in transition, with top surgery & not bottom surgery. the reader revives oral sex & the terminology “clit” & “sucked off” is used. (“suck off” is masc while “eat out” is fem To Me, but to each their own yk)
okay, enjoy !! <33
word count: 3,024
summary: you meet Peter at a party, and the two of you have an instant connection. once you two can find a spare room to have an innocent conversation, the intention soon turns less than innocent…
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You were not supposed to be here.
That was what you told yourself, anyway.
Your friend, Ashley, would call it your Spidey-Sense—that prickle of dread you got when you found yourself stuck in a situation...or trapped in a web. You just called it social anxiety.
You couldn't even find Ashley. After a round of drinks, she linked up with a pink-haired girl and weaved through the crowd into the living room for dancing. As for where they were now...you had no idea. Probably hooking up in a spare room.
Lucky her. You could not relate.
The flashing purple and orange lights at this house party were jarring, though at least they went with the theme. It was something along the lines of Haunted House Pride Nights, where all the extroverted gays brought their introverted friends for an extended night of socializing.
It wasn't all bad. You made your way into the kitchen, relieved to find a seat at the bar. Not only that, but there was still one last slice of pizza left. A bit cold as you bit into it, but still a score.
"Hey," a voice called over the music. "Who took the last slice of—" the speaker's eyes locked on yours, and you felt yourself shrink back.
The guy was cute, if not a little odd-looking. His brown hair was slicked back, with dark, curious eyes. At least, the two normal eyes. The other six looked inattentive, seeing as they were googly eyes that were glued at odd angles across his cheeks. He was also wearing all black, with what looked like black painted pool noodles attached to his back.
You raised an eyebrow. "Spider-Man, huh? Clever."
The guy's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before looking down at his costume and relaxing. "What? Oh, yeah, my costume. Yeah, just a regular spider—sticking to walls isn't in my budget. I'm Peter." He stuck out a hand to shake, which you found a little odd—who did that anymore, and especially in this type of setting? Still, you shook his hand. "And you're the guy who took the last slice of pizza, but..." he narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips as if in deep thought. "Seeing as you like my costume, I'm inclined to let it go."
"I appreciate your forgiveness," you grinned. "I'm y/n."
Peter nodded. He looked familiar, in a way, though you couldn't place it. He walked around the bar, looking you up and down. Strangely enough, you didn't feel weird about it—it didn't seem like he was quite checking you out.
"So," Peter started. "Guessing by the small cape over regular clothes and the devil horned headband, you are...?"
"Too broke to shop for a last minute costume, so I borrowed stuff from my nephew's costume chest." You replied, raising your voice over the music and talking.
Peter grinned. "That's adorable," he said, his voice almost too quiet to hear. "Did you, uh...did you wanna go somewhere a little quieter?" He paused, realizing how that sounded. "Not to hook up or anything! Even though you are cute—but I don't have, like, intentions, it's just the noise is a little..." he started to say something else, though you couldn't hear it.
Your face flushed a little, though you nodded. You wouldn't mind getting out of here...or hooking up with this guy, if that happened to be where the night went. It was a little outside of your comfort zone, but in a good way—like in the movies.
———
The house was big, which meant lots of bedrooms.
That also meant walking in on a lot of people hooking up. After the third round of this, you sighed, continuing down the hall.
"You'd think they'd at least put a sock on the door," you said, knocking on the next door. Based on the giggling coming from inside, this room was also occupied.
At least the navigating time gave you plenty of time to get to know Peter. It turned out you recognized him from a speech class you both took together in freshman year of college, though neither of you spoke to each other.
Well, that and—
"You looked different," Peter commented. "Your hair was, uh...longer."
You let out a huff of laughter. "Yeah, that's one way to phrase it. That was before I got the Big Chop." You gestured to your hair, which was now at the length you preferred. "Well...one of the big chops..." you looked down at your chest, where you had your trans flag pin, and, pointedly, didn't have other things.
Peter snorted. "Man, I regret not talking to you back then. I mean, I didn't really talk to anyone, but...you're pretty funny. And for the record, I like your new look."
You found yourself unable to help but smile as you opened one more bedroom door, and...it was empty. Maybe you were lucky after all.
You pulled Peter into the room, checking the closet inside for good measure.
"Do you want me to check under the bed?" Peter offered, to which you playfully flipped him off.
The pair of you used the space, true to your word, to talk. You shared your interests, talking about your favorite shows and hobbies as he matched with stories of his own. You leaned against the wall, nodding to the bass of the music pumping outside as Peter talked through his tier list of the best Star Wars Legos.
It was strange in how nice it was, as if you'd known each other for a long time. You didn't get that feeling with a lot of people.
"You wanna know something?" Peter asked, a curious smile gracing his features. One of the googly eyes glued to his face looked like it was about to fall off.
God, he was such a loser. He was so cute, it was hard to look at him.
"Sure," you replied, his smile contagious as you continued to meet his warm brown eyes.
"You're being a wallflower," Peter pointed out. "I can tell you like this song, but you're not gonna dance."
He said it like a challenge. You didn't need to take a psych class to know he was using reverse psychology.
Even so, it worked like a charm.
You stepped two steps away from the wall, moving your hips, your arms bent awkwardly. "You see what I'm working with? There's a reason you didn't see me dancing out there."
Peter laughed, copying your movements. "No, this is perfect, it's fun!" He took your hands, holding an arm up for you to spin, which you did. You did for him as well, and Peter laughed between belting out what lyrics he remembered.
"This is ridiculous!" You protested, though it was hard to take even yourself seriously considering how you were laughing.
You then stepped back a little too far, hitting the wall with your shoulder with a painful thud. You winced, rubbing the spot as you smiled sheepishly at Peter.
"Sorry," you said. "I'm okay, that just hurt a bit."
"You sure?" Peter's eyes were a little wide. He held up four fingers. "How many fingers am I holding?"
You snickered. "I hit my shoulder, not my head. Dummy." You looked at his hand, then back up at his eyes. "Eight. Four on your hand, and one for each of the spider legs you have sticking out of your back."
Peter rolled his eyes fondly. "Okay, smartass," he put his hand down...pointedly, on your shoulder.
You raised your eyebrows, a smile tugging at your lips.
"Sorry," Peter pulled his hand away. "I didn't mean to, like..."
"Didn't mean to what, Peter?" You asked, your own tone a challenge. You took his hand gently in your own, placing it back on your shoulder.
"I mean," Peter swallowed. His eyes were utterly transfixed on yours. "I really didn't come in here with intentions, but..." he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours.
"Yeah?" You whispered against his lips. "Well, what if I did?"
You weren't sure who kissed who first, though before you could sort out your thoughts, your lips were on Peter's. You cupped his face as Peter wrapped his arms around your midsection, pulling you close against him.
"I," you started breathlessly, pulling away for a moment, Peter resting his forehead against yours again. "I didn't just come here with that in mind, by the way. It was kind of in the back of my mind, but...I did also like hearing about your Star Wars Legos. The Millennium Falcon does sound super cool to build..."
Peter blinked, seeming unable to process the statement for a moment. "You saying that," he grinned. "Is way hotter to me than it probably should be."
He kissed you again, and you couldn't help but smile slightly against his lips. He tasted like Coke and chocolate chip cookies, and every small noise he made into the kisses spurred you on a little more. Your hands wandered under his shirt, and he froze for a moment, a hand on yours.
"Sorry," you said, pulling your hands away. "I didn't mean to, like, overstep or anything..."
"That's okay," Peter's brows were furrowed, and he had an odd, unreadable expression in the dim light. He shook his head. "I thought I had on—never mind..."
Your raised a brow, though you didn't ask for clarification. You figured that was just your type—a weird guy—being your type—weird. Instead, when Peter kissed you again, you kissed him back, getting lost in the feeling.
Peter began to kiss down your neck, nipping and sucking marks along your skin. Although you tried to hold back the noises, you couldn't deny how his lips and teeth and tongue on your skin made your breath hitch.
The song outside changed, and you nodded, unable to help but grin.
"I love this song," you murmured, hands on Peter's arms, squeezing his biceps. You didn't remember him being quite so built before, though you weren't complaining.
"Do you wanna," Peter whispered between kisses. "Stop and go dance?"
You scoffed, shaking your head. Curiously, you shifted a leg in between Peter's, moving up, and—Peter let out a surprised hum. Yep. He was half-hard.
"Do you wanna stop and go dance?" You asked pointedly.
Peter let out a small sound from his throat, almost like a whine, as you continued to press your thigh against his clothed cock. "Uh—no, preferably not. Please."
You felt a smile tug at the corner of your lips, and you pulled Peter close by the hem of his sweatpants.
"What do you think we should do about that, Peter?" You asked, an offer and a challenge in your tone.
Peter kissed you, and for a few moments, he seemed too lost in the feeling to want anything else. He then pulled away, his voice small in a way that made your stomach twist with excitement. "You could...touch me, if you wanted? And I could maybe return the favor?"
As much as you wanted this, whatever this could entail, doubt ran through your mind. "I don't know." You frowned. "I want to, but I'm...not that far in my transition. I've had top surgery, but not..." you looked down, fixating on the button on the fly of your jeans. "I'm not exactly handjob ready yet."
Peter snickered, and though your heart sank for a moment, he quickly shook his head. "Sorry, I wasn't laughing to be malicious. You're just blunt—but I like that. And as for that, I really don't mind—I'm up for anything. If I could choose what to do, though..." he trailed off, his cheeks flushing in the dim light.
"If you could choose," you echoed uncertainly. "What—what did you have in mind?"
"I, uh..." Peter shrugged, trying to play off some sort of nonchalance, though it clearly wasn't working. He had a hunger in his eyes that was undeniable. "I could suck you off...?"
You felt your whole body flush with heat at the thought, a vision forming in your mind. Peter on his knees, licking and sucking eagerly between your legs, looking up at you with beautiful, half-lidded brown eyes.
"I, uh," you swallowed, nodding. "Yeah, that's cool. That's cool."
Peter grinned, moving in to kiss over the previous litany of marks he made across your sensitive skin. "You're so cute..." he murmured into the crook of your neck, his nimble fingers unbuttoning your jeans.
"Hi pot, I'm kettle," you fired back, carding your fingers through his hair. You blushed immediately afterwards, chiding yourself on how odd and old that sounded.
Peter didn't seem to mind as he unzipped your jeans, pushing them down slowly. He leaned in and pressed a deep kiss to your lips, rubbing your outer thighs as he did so. Pulling away almost reluctantly, Peter moved down to his knees, gently nudging your legs a little further apart.
You complied, unable to help but feel a little exposed. Even so, you couldn't deny your excitement. Plus, something about Peter and his cute dorkiness made you feel safe.
"Hey, y/n?" Peter asked, gently and almost teasingly as he pulled down your boxer shorts.
You nodded, swallowing, hoping he didn't notice how wet with excitement you'd already gotten.
"Could you," Peter's voice was nervous, breathless. "Could you pull my hair while you fuck my mouth?" He let out a shaky breath, warm against your inner thigh. "Please..."
You nodded again, carding your fingers through Peter's hair as he finally, finally put his mouth to work. He licked and sucked your clit, his shyness melting away at the the way your breath hitched. Low moans escaped your lips as you pulled his hair, Peter responding with moans of his own. The vibrations spurred you on further, giving you the confidence and desperation to grind down against his lips and tongue.
"Peter—mm, fuck," you groaned, closing your eyes as your head tapped the wall. The sensation overwhelmed you in the best way, though you couldn't stay that way forever—you had to see more of Peter like this. You looked down at him, lost in his dark, lust-blown gaze.
"This is—hah—exactly where you belong, isn't it?" You mused. "On your knees, so desperate to get me off..." you rolled your hips, letting out a shaky breath as Peter pinned your hips to the wall. He then moved a hand to your lower thighs, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
Curious despite the haze of pleasure, you looked down at Peter, at where his other hand could possibly be. It only took you a moment to notice, and once you did, you felt pushed even closer to the edge.
"Fuck, Peter, are you jacking off while you—" your back arched, and you whined, your stomach coiling with a fast approaching orgasm.
Peter pulled away, effectively pulling you away from the edge for a moment. "Can—can I?" He asked, giving puppy dog eyes whether he knew it or not. His lips appeared shining in the dim light. Despite asking for forgiveness instead of permission, he didn't appear to be in a rush to stop. "Please let me, I need it..."
You nodded, tugging Peter's hair, relishing the moan from his lips. Flashing you a relieved, charming smile, Peter continued to work his magic on your clit. It didn't take him long to pull you to the edge once more.
"Good—good boy, Peter," you murmured. "God, 'm close, 'm so close, just..." you panted, the coiling in your stomach so intense and pleasurable it almost hurt. It was when you heard Peter whimper around you, a desperate sound that could have only been caused by his release, that you were pushed over the edge as well.
You came hard, grinding down on Peter's lips and tongue, chasing the sensation until every last drop of your high wore off. It was then that you pulled Peter away by his hair, trying to steady your breathing. You started to smile, covering it slightly with your free hand.
"Damn, Peter," you said softly. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
Peter seemed surprised, and he shrugged. "I don't have a lot of experience...guess my desperation paid off?" He grinned, wiping his mouth as he stood, pulling his sweatpants back up. "I'm sorry I, uh...took care of myself. I got too excited too early, I guess."
You shrugged to mirror his own. "That's okay...it was hot, really, you being that turned on by sucking me off." Your voice faltered as you slid your boxer shorts back up, your jeans following. "Um, if you ever wanna do this again, we could explore other stuff. Or we could just stick to, like, friend stuff if you want." Your voice was a little more hesitant on that part. "We could just stick to Legos, maybe."
Peter smiled crookedly, and it was in that moment you had a memory of him from before. You sat across the room from him in class, and he had this far away look in his eyes. When he caught you looking, he fixed you with that look, and you had looked away with a flushed face.
That felt like so long ago; it felt like yesterday.
And now, despite how little time the two of you had actually spent together, he seemed to have genuine affection in his gaze.
"We could do both," Peter settled. "Sounds like a dream come true, to be honest. Here, before I forget." He unlocked his phone, adding a new contact, and you gave him your number. He added your name with a smiley emoji, the type of which you tried not to ruminate on.
It was an odd feeling, how easily you two connected. It felt like kids talking about comic books—it felt like teens at the skating rink—it felt like a missed connection between two college students finally clicking into place.
And when Peter muttered one more before pulling you into a sweet and passionate kiss, you knew that this was far from the last moment you'd share with Peter.
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androgynousgiverprincess · 3 years ago
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Hyde has always considered himself a lucky person. He had everything - he had great colleagues and fans who had supported him for so many years. He had everything else that he could then have - friends, money, property ... in general, that would have been enough. If not for one "but".
He was unlucky in love. That was not at all lucky. Although, it would seem, and here he did not miss. Nature gave him excellent external data for flirting, and his life path gave him an idea of ​​how to behave with an object of love. But ... it didn’t work either the first time or the other times. The spark appeared instantly, but he never made it to the beautiful ending. They didn't light a fire. Divorce turned out to be the easiest decision for him. Although a year ago he carried this woman in his arms and thought that he would not be better than this. No, he was not really a soulless brute. He still loved his son and never gave rise to doubt that these were the father's true feelings for his child. He did not complain about fate - after all, he is not the first and not the last on earth who could not save the marriage. Rather, he consoled himself with the thought "it happens, everyone is wrong." Then there was work, work and more work ... Fartuna was again glad to see her pet in his rightful place, so everything went like clockwork. Until he saw Him …
Hyde does not remember when his heart suddenly whispered "this is what you need." Probably when that man standing in the opposite corner of the club, whose silhouette was so clearly outlined against the background of red lighting, looked at him and nodded his head in greeting. Oh, this fate - it does not explain anything to you, it just pulls everyone by the strings and weaves spider webs for its own sake, pleasing its pride ...
- Meet, Atsushi Sakurai.
Hyde doesn't remember when his lips felt the heat of his other lips. It was an exciting experience for him. The kiss seemed like a miracle that he had expected all his life. He does not remember when those same lips painted a pattern on his belly, and his tongue reached the starting point of ecstasy, forcing him to sigh erotically while arching his back. He does not remember when he admitted defeat in this game and realized his role among the two of them. Atsushi claimed the role of alpha, and Hyde did not mind being his omega. In the end, it is not always the same for him to be the commander everywhere and always.
Hyde remembered only one thing. Their relationship had already lasted two years, but none of them spoke the three main words to each other. He was afraid of these words, and Atsushi ... probably did not see such a meaning in it, as people give it. However ... it happened so unexpectedly that Hyde remembered this moment forever. On the night of August 23, Atsushi took his face in his hands, touched his lips to the bridge of his nose and quietly said ....
I
Love
You
Hyde will forget this only when the massive coffin lid covers the daylight and leaves him always in the silence of endless waiting ...
P.S- wanted to immediately apologize for mistakes in the text. I know English quite poorly, so sometimes I had to work through a translator.❤️
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