#absent government

[anyoneknowwhatbrexitmeans]

“The government has now reached a state of perfect vicious cycle, when the only thing worse than the things it does are all the things it didn’t get round to doing.”

[dillapidateddenizen]

A lot of people have talked about Sparrow marrying a centrist made him more of a disappointment than Lark and how its a little unbelievable considering the politics of Henry and Mercedes, but I think it makes a lot of sense as an extension of his character.

Sparrow was the Love Wolf first and foremost. Of course he's going to be drawn to a person who is willing to see the absolute best in people in every situation. Like yes, the Paradox of tolerance 100% applies, but Rebecca's willingness to see everybody with pure understanding would automatically draw in someone who is dedicated to the same idea.

There's also the fact that Sparrow does care about other people's perceptions. He's so focused on other people that it's difficult for him to be proud of his own son. He probably dealt with a lot of pushback when he was younger. Lark and Sparrow were wild kids raised in a household with few boundaries who also encouraged pushing societal norms, and Sparrow was the furry of the two! He probably had a lot of pushback when he was younger! It makes sense that he'd push Normal to try and blend in more. Rebecca is the most open minded individual (literally "'we can't get along' shaking hands with 'we can get along'"). I think he'd be drawn to someone who doesn't automatically see the worst in him (this is the exact same reason Lark was interested in her).

Sparrow is not the type to challenge anyone instead just trying to maintain peace within the household. He doesn't challenge Lark or Rebecca when they cheated on him. He didn't challenge Norm despite his feelings about Teeny (until he was literally being influenced by the Doodler). He doesn't challenge Rebecca about the pepper spray (he gives in almost immediately). He didn't challenge Norm about being locked into a room with Willy.

In season 1 when we started to see the strain in the Oak-Garcia household between Lark and Henry, we also saw Sparrow trying to mediate the conflict. Ultimately stuck between his codependent relationship with his twin, his intense loyalty to his father, and his dedication to his moral Love Wolf framework. I think being pushed into a mediator position (not by Henry or Lark but by Sparrow himself) would translate into his adulthood. Rebecca, being a centrist, is the ultimate mediator to him.

[theramblingvoid]

I think the biggest thing about Sunless Skies that gives it a different feel than Fallen London (other than the obvious gameplay differences) is the position of your player in the universe. In Flondon, your character is important and singular. The storyline is oriented around mastery and influence: starting from the bottom and climbing to the top, gaining recognition and reach as you unravel the world's secrets. While social play is encouraged, there are few in-game characters comparable to the PC, and in many plotlines the idea of being the only or the first one to accomplish a certain thing is specifically emphasized. The story is about what path you take to Make Your Name.

In Sskies, that goal is not absent, but there's a sense of...fleetingness, that never quite leaves you. There are many others like you. You see their entries in the cache logs, they are mentioned in the ports and pubs, you find their frozen bodies littering the open void like stones. It is the very first thing you know when you start: you are a Captain filling the shoes of a predecessor, and in all likelihood simply keeping them warm for the next to come after you, and the next. Your time is limited. Your significance to the wild, vast, ancient skies is negligible. The drive in the story comes from this: Your space in this universe is small and hard fought. Make it count.

[deus-and-the-machina]

ffxiv garlemald discourse is so funny because people will go "ugh people just cant stand it when things aren't black and white" and then you look at how the empire are portrayed in stormblood and shadowbringers and its like hm. that seems like a pretty intense and accurate display of violent imperialism to me! Wow I wonder why people in this day and age may find it hard to feel sympathy for them or even hate them on principal. god its such a mystery.

the games like 50/50 to me on how it tackles these themes because I actually like the garlemald arc in EW, I think it has a lot of horrific and powerful scenes depicting how self destructive fascist propaganda and beliefs are, but I also think it doesn't go far enough on some fronts. the garleans' xenophobia is most notably and obstacle to getting them to accept the contingent's help, which is what they're there to do,

but there's never an admission of harm from any garleans on the uuuuuuuuh massive amount of war crimes the nations around them are still suffering from they're just kind of like "we misjudged you...but you actually wanted to help us all along" like yeah thats great now can we get you all some deprogramming because you keep talking about returning to your prime and glory days and I think we need to unpack some stuff you really SHOULDNT return to. im not even really talking about EW proper but the patches where things are a bit more chilled out and people are recovering.

It feels like they wanted to have their critique of imperialism and also have things end with the beauty of human connection and reaching out and these things just don't mesh well because hey a lot of your modern day audience is not gonna like having to treat people yelling xenophobic things at the cast and your character with kid gloves after you showed them hours and hours of the awful things these people's beliefs have done. especially in the present day hoo boy.

[gayforcarstairsgirls]

This is literally like watching a political drama unfolding before our eyes oh my god

[unhonestlymirror]

My favorite Faust character always was Mephistopheles. Dude's just trying to do his job but suddenly angels appear and take Faust, this shitty asshole, to Heaven. It's so unfair in relation to Margarita as well.

[diobrando]

I told my cooperating teacher the students wouldn't understand the assignment and I was right <3

[chronicbitchsyndrome]

so: masking: good, unequivocally. please mask and please educate others on why they should mask to make the world safer for immune compromised people to participate in.

however: masking is not my policy focus and it shouldn't be yours, either. masking is a very good mitigation against droplet-born illnesses and a slightly less effective (but still very good) mitigation against airborne illnesses, but its place in the pyramid of mitigation demands is pretty low, for several reasons:

it's an individual mitigation, not a systemic one. the best mitigations to make public life more accessible affect everyone without distributing the majority of the effort among individuals (who may not be able to comply, may not have access to education on how to comply, or may be actively malicious).

it's a post-hoc mitigation, or to put it another way, it's a band-aid over the underlying problem. even if it was possible to enforce, universal masking still wouldn't address the underlying problem that it is dangerous for sick people and immune compromised people to be in the same public locations to begin with. this is a solvable problem! we have created the societal conditions for this problem!

here are my policy focuses:

upgraded air filtration and ventilation systems for all public buildings. appropriate ventilation should be just as bog-standard as appropriately clean running water. an indoor venue without a ventilation system capable of performing 5 complete air changes per hour should be like encountering a public restroom without any sinks or hand sanitizer stations whatsoever.

enforced paid sick leave for all employees until 3-5 days without symptoms. the vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through industry sectors where employees come into work while experiencing symptoms. a taco bell worker should never be making food while experiencing strep throat symptoms, even without a strep diagnosis.

enforced virtual schooling options for sick students. the other vast majority of respiratory and food-borne illnesses circulate through schools. the proximity of so many kids and teenagers together indoors (with little to no proper ventilation and high levels of physical activity) means that if even one person comes to school sick, hundreds will be infected in the following few days. those students will most likely infect their parents as well. allowing students to complete all readings and coursework through sites like blackboard or compass while sick will cut down massively on disease transmission.

accessible testing for everyone. not just for COVID; if there's a test for any contagious illness capable of being performed outside of lab conditions, there should be a regulated option for performing that test at home (similar to COVID rapid tests). if a test can only be performed under lab conditions, there should be a government-subsidized program to provide free of charge testing to anyone who needs it, through urgent cares and pharmacies.

the last thing to note is that these things stack; upgraded ventilation systems in all public buildings mean that students and employees get sick less often to begin with, making it less burdensome for students and employees to be absent due to sickness, and making it more likely that sick individuals will choose to stay home themselves (since it's not so costly for them).

masking is great! keep masking! please use masking as a rhetorical "this is what we can do as individuals to make public life safer while we're pushing for drastic policy changes," and don't get complacent in either direction--don't assume that masking is all you need to do or an acceptable forever-solution, and equally, don't fall prey to thinking that pushing for policy change "makes up" for not masking in public. it's not a game with scores and sides; masking is a material thing you can do to help the individual people you interact with one by one, and policy changes are what's going to make the entirety of public life safer for all immune compromised people.

[aloysarrow]

I literally said I wasn't gonna argue lmao

[illitten]

.

[spiritmoon23]

standardized testing scores should allocate funding in the opposite way that they do

schools with worse scores should get more funding because they are the ones that are obviously struggling in some capacity and something needs to be addressed in those places

[leonsdolly]

Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor. 

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion. 

The door swings open, and your body dissolves. 

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully. 

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier. 

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat. 

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit. 

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness. 

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

[mali-umkin]

Macron just declared he wants to create an obligation for fathers to visit their children until 18 years of age because having an absent father is worse than "having a father that doesn't want to be one". The violence of these words in the face of all of those who were physically and mentally abused by their fathers, regarding monoparental and homoparental families, regarding women abused by their ex husbands and children whose opinions as persons in their own right is out of the table as always, is absolutely unfathomable.

Perhaps the government, rather, could focus on actually forcing fathers to pay child maintenance?

[syrma-sensei]

→ Hot Under The Helmet.

gif credit

pairing: soldier boy/ben x wife!reader.

rating: explicit.

warning: ben's pov, horny and angry ben, dom/sub undertones, aggressive sex, piv, fingering, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, glove kink, eventual fluff, antiquated mentality...

word count: 2.2k

summary: fucking his wife is the best way to ease his mind.

taglist: @zepskies, @deansbbyx, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deans-spinster-witch, @homosexualferret...

→ masterlist | ao3

Soldier Boy didn't head back to his quarters in Vought's tower when the damned mission was over. He didn't want to spend another minute with his pathetic excuse of a fucking team nor did he want to be in the tower. He scoffed. A bunch of fucking clowns in a fucking circus. Sometimes he wondered if Vought picked them on purpose for the sake of insulting him and his legacy.

Instead, Soldier Boy made his way straight back home. He'd been on duty for a couple of weeks, accompanied with his teammates and other government soldiers as a backup to their mission — not that he needed either but protocols and marketing and Vought's bullshit.

Long story short, and as expected, The Twins fucked up, Noir tried to be the hero of the day, Swatto a fucking idiot, Mind Storm and Gunpowder fucking useless, Countess a fucking bitch. He had to handle it all by himself and fix everything his teammates dicked with. And he was pissed. Fuming. Raging. All he was seeing was red. And he could do nothing about it.

When Vought promised him a team to lead, he expected to have seasoned soldiers who knew how shit was done. Warriors who respected the missions and honoured their duty and privileged their country. Instead, he got fucking spoiled children to babysit. He wasn't in charge. The irony. His fucking helmet of forty years of dedication and service for this country granted him no say at the matter. It was fine, he'd tried to convince himself. He took it upon himself to train them and mould them into formidable soldiers like he was but to no avail. The fucking idiots thought the job was only to wave their hands and pose for fucking cameras at movie premieres!

Soldier Boy grumbled when he stepped inside one of his many properties. The one he shared with his wife. Their penthouse; their home. His pretty, little wife. He let a small smile slip into his lips when a mix of aromatic whiffs permeated his nostrils, his superhuman sense of smell enhanced the savoury scent. His stomach grumbled. Fuck did he really miss his wife's delicious cooking. Suddenly, his fury began to cease. Soldier Boy clicked his helmet off of his head absent-mindedly and set his shield aside before his lips quirked into a wicked grin.

It'd been a fucking fortnight since he saw her. Touched her. Fucked her. He was surrounded by dicks for far too long, and he craved pussy. Her pussy. He was consumed by the urge of destroying her cunt. And she'd love it. She'd always had. She liked it rough. She liked him ruining her, and leaving her unable to sit right for days. And she even dared to chide him when he went easy on her at the beginning of their relationship.

“I'm not fucking fragile, Ben. Don't you hold back.” She'd told him.

He smirked. She had no idea what he had in store for her tonight.

With many many years of experience under his belt, Soldier Boy stealthed his way to the kitchen where his wife was swaying her hips and humming a song as she bent over to check on the ribs she was roasting in the oven. Ben smiled proudly. He never let her do that job. The grilling. It was a man's job, the husband's job. So, to accommodate his wishes, she came up with this idea. To cook that kinda food in other ways. And being the expert cook she was, she did it extraordinarily.

His dulled eyes came to life with a lick of lust swirling within the green of his eyes when he traced the curve of her perfect ass. Fuck, his trousers began to feel too tight to his liking. Little did she know that she had a stirred brute standing behind her, waiting for the right moment to pounce on his prey.

Turning on her heels gracefully, a surprised gasp escaped her throat when her dilated eyes landed on her beloved husband. He was still in his supe gear except for his helmet and shield.

“Ben!” She trilled with a big smile, trying to balance herself from the surprise; he was hours early, “Welcome back, honey! Didn't think you'd be early—”

He cut her off with a burning kiss. Hungry and possessive. How he could cross the kitchen to her in such agility was still behind her. He smelled like earth and dust, blood and sweat. He smelled like a man should. Like a soldier should. Her core throbbed at his virile odour. His stubble grew bigger, and she liked how it brushed coarsely against her palms when she cupped his cheeks to kiss him back. She giggled against his mouth when his strong hands grasped her waist and lifted her up effortlessly and sat her at the countertop.

She clung to his neck, their kiss nourishing with vigour. His lips left hers temporarily to loosen her apron and toss it aside, then he removed her blouse and unclasped her bra. Ben crushed her lips again, his rough-padded hands kneading her tits, thumbs aggressively flicking her hardening nipples. His thumbnails grazing crescents on her darkening areolas. Ben's lips split mischievously when she let a wanton moan. His grin widened when the smell of her arousal reached his nose. Fuck. He loved it. He could already taste that on his tongue.

“Fuck, Ben!” She groaned when one of his hands trailed down to her shorts and slipped beneath her panties. He smirked when she instantly smeared his fingertips wet with her arousal. He let his gloves on; he knew she loved it when his gloved fingers fucked her relentlessly. She liked it when they were knuckles-deep inside of her, with the rims of his fingerless gloves grazing her clit. The little slut. She also liked when he fucked her in his supe suit. She took pleasure in submitting to his power. To him. He was a man worth submitting to after all, and he'd earned hers.

“Hmh, those fourteen days were rough on you, weren't they, baby girl?” He mocked, thick fingers spreading her folds open roughly. He loved to tease her and turn her into a mess. He relished in it.

She nodded hastily. It took a measured press of his thumb on her clit to turn her into putty in his hand. “Use your words, baby.”

“Y-Yes, Sir,” She whined, legs parting wider for him, “They were brutal.” She sobbed, burying her face in his powerful neck when he twisted his finger just right, her ankle snapped. He added another finger and she mewled.

“Ben, Ben! Sir, please!” She shrieked in delight, hands clutching at his gear. She gushed on his fingers and he fucked her through her high. He felt the tremble of legs. He was going to force another one from her. She should have asked for permission. She wasn't in control. He was.

She gasped when he didn't stop, “Ben, please don't—!” She squeezed her thighs shut, an attempt to cease the searing pleasure between her legs. His fingers were raw against her flesh. It brought tears to her eyes.

“Now you want me to stop?” He sneered with a drawl, curling a finger inside, her walls tightened in response. “Your pretty pussy doesn't.”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip, before she gazed up at him through half-hooded eyes, moaning, “Don't stop!”

Fuck, that shouldn't have surprised him. But it did. Fuck. She was really a slut. His pretty slut. She was practically inviting him to break her. Oh, he would. Deliciously so.

She squealed when he coaxed another orgasm from her. Begging him to fuck her more like a bitch in a heat.

“Holy fuck, baby, your pussy is squeezing my fingers tight!” He chuckled maliciously as he curled his knuckles again then pulled out.

With pearlescent tears adorning her eyes, she took his thumb into her mouth when he pressed it to her lips. Fuck, the way she twirled her tongue around his digit made him half-tempted to fuck her throat. He could do that later. Now, all he wanted was to fuck that needy, slutty pussy raw.

Ben shifted her up and flipped her on her stomach, her hot breasts squeezing against the cold marble. Shoving her shorts and panties down, he took in the sight of her ruined pussy. She was soaking, her arousal oozed from her opening down to her thighs in small rivulets. Unabashedly inviting him to feast on it. And how could he reject such an invitation? In a moment, he was on his knees, mouth wrapped around her slit, sipping from the sweet honey she had to offer. Seemed the act surprised her as she jerked in stupor with a squawk.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Her knuckles went white when she grabbed on the edges of the countertop as he ate her out like a man starved.

The new gruff hairs on his face burned deliciously against her skin as his tongue flicked assiduously against her swollen clit. He lapped her heat with a flattened tongue before invading her sensitive drawers, slurping her through the mess of her dew and his spit.

“Ben…I'm cumming again!” She tried to utter, but all that came out of her mouth was a broken whisper.

Smirking again, he unbridled the wonders his tongue could do, and she was undone again; his soddend beard was a proof of what he could do to her.

He licked her clean, and her overstimulated cunt shivered every time his tongue made contact with her flesh. She was trying to catch her breath up there, but he couldn't let her. He wasn't done with her yet. He had yet to be satisfied.

He heard her hum as she turned her face to make eye contact with him. A satiated look in her eyes as she smiled weakly at him.

“Ain't fair tho,” She croaked playfully.

He raised an eyebrow, “Hmm?”

Supporting herself with her arms, she managed to turn her body to face him, eyes immediately perching on the conspicuous bulge between his legs before her teeth dragged her lower lip inside her mouth.

“I'm naked, you're not.” Her hands trailed from his chest down to his zipper.

“Thought you liked me fucking you in this shit.” He drawled thickly as her nimble fingers undid his pants and freed his cock.

“God, you're so hard,” She giggled gleefully, “I do,” Her eyes flitted up to his face, “I like what kinda authority this suit holds. It's like fucking a god.”

His dick twitched painfully at her words. She was so good at this. He liked that about her. How she could tickle and caress his massive ego so easily. How good she made him feel so damn good about himself though he'd never admit that out loud. A god she wanted to fuck, then a god she would fuck.

His large hand roughly seized her jaws, her yelp was swallowed by his mouth. His dick was too eager to feel the warmth and wetness of her cunt as he plunged it inside of her.

“Oh, God!” She sang, her arms encircling his neck as he snapped his hips into her. Her hands fisted his short hair.

“No god, only me.” He groaned.

She cried his name as he bottomed out, he was fucking every ounce of anger out of his system on her. And she liked it. Her walls sucked him deeply, wanting more, and more he gave her.

He grumbled, “Gonna put a baby in you.” He wasn't asking. He was telling.

“Yes, Yes! Please make me a mommy!” Pride sprouted in his chest, and the immense feeling bolted down his spine and made his cock spring his load into her.

He didn't pull out right away, he waited for a few minutes. He didn't want his seed to spill out of her as much as appealing that would be to watch.

“You okay?” He asked her with concern.

“A bit thirsty, but I'm aces,” She blinked, sighing dreamily, “That was fucking sexy by the way.

He chuckled amusedly, reaching for the pot of water next to them and pouring her a glass, “The part you called me a god?”

She rolled her eyes as she gobbled down the water.

He arched his brow before whispering into her ear, “Roll your eyes at me like that again and I won't be letting you cum for a month.”

She choked on the water and he laughed deeply at her reddened face.

Suddenly, he became aware of the burning smell coming from the oven. She picked up on him sniffing and they looked at each other and say in unison, “The ribs!”

Her quiver didn't go unnoticed when he pulled out of her to let her check on the food cooking in the oven while he adjusted his clothes. He appreciated her nakedness in the kitchen, maybe he should ask her to wear nothing but an apron when she cooked. She'd look fucking sexy. His cock twitched at the idea.

His wife groaned in disappointment when she saw the ribs.

“Is it bad?” He asked, crouching next to her.

“It's way crispier than I intended.” A hand pressed to her forehead.

“I can handle crispier.”

“But, Ben, I wanted it to be perfect for you,” She whimpered and he smiled, “I know how much you like it.”

“Well, in your defence, happened when you were pretty busy serving me desserts before the main dish,” He winked.

She shook her head with a smile, “Y'know, you're surprisingly cheeky sometimes.”

“With you, I am.”

[karabin4ik]

Hello there! I was absent due to health, but now I’m back in action 💪

In connection with recent events, the feelings are extraordinary. On the one hand, I received confirmation that the choice of the citizens of my country no longer matters (believe me, before the elections I still had hope for changes!), but on the other hand, people saw that they are not alone, that there are many of us . With the death of... the man-voice-of-the-people (you yourself understand who I mean), the light went out completely. I don’t understand what will happen next and I’m a little scared, not even for myself, because my family has the opportunity to at least leave, but for the future of my homeland. I realized for myself that I love my city, people, nature, and in general my country. If I leave, how long will I not see my native land, how much will the life of the citizens of my country be ruined and how much will the government become intoxicated?

However, you shouldn’t lose heart, if nothing lasts forever, that means tyranny will come to an end!

Это пойдёт!

Sorry for this, Im just little upset. I will post the full work only here. On my usual Russian-language platform, posting this is a little risky due to moderation.

[fandom-geek]

btw, the violinist in tmp 4? he's probably james smithson, of "founder of the smithsonian institute" fame

so what do we know about our violinist? he grew up in alnwick abbey, he was illegitimate and had legitimate full siblings, a father "certain of his celestial significance", and he has a nephew to whom he leaves his violin

and smithson? well, his father restored alnwick abbey in the 1750s, which was in ruins up until then. smithson was the only illegitimate child of any of the dukes there in the 1700s, which is when the statement is set

smithson also left his estate to his nephew after his death, with the condition that his fortune would establish the smithsonian institute if his nephew died without any children.

here's a point of divergence, however. in our timeline, smithson was a chemist and mineralogist. in tmagp's timeline, he was a violinist. however, as u/New_Helicopter836 pointed out to me on reddit, when smithson's body was disinterred by andrew graham bell, his right little finger was such that it suggests he played "the harpsichord, the piano, or a stringed instrument such as a violin"

looking at smithson's life, he left for university in 1782, so it's likely that tmagp 4 is set around the same time. it might be a bit earlier since the royal court orchestra moved from mannheim to munich in 1778 (putting smithson at about 13), it might be another point of divergence, or smithson is describing it this way to call back to its earlier significance. i'm not sure, but it's weird either way.

all that said, i'm not terribly sure why smithson describes his father (sir hugh smithson/percy, duke of northumberland) as "certain of his celestial significance", especially when the only other time he says celestial is to describe the violin's music. the user i mentioned before found that sir hugh, a major patron of architectural projects, had an observatory built, but i find smithson's language too specific. is his father an avatar too? mannheim is only a bit north of schwartzwald, after all, and this is about thirty years before tmag 23 where albrecht writes to jonah magnus.

let's look a little at smithson's bequest to found the smithsonian institute in the first place. smithson asked for it to be "an establishment for the increase and diffusion of knowledge among men". the magnus institute, notably, is described in the arg as a place of education, and it was founded in 1818. although smithson died in 1829 and his nephew in 1835, the original smithsonian (the columbian institute) was granted a charter by the us government in 1818.

the letter is strangely absent of any names for the violinist or his family, and i can't help but wonder if this is why. and if it is because this is smithson - is this related to why the magnus institute exists instead of the magnus archives? the smithsonian, before it was renamed, was originally granted a charter by the us govt in 1818 - the same year that the magnus institute was founded in tmagp.

this is set 30 years before we know anything of jonah magnus, at least in tmag, so is it possible that he persuaded smithson to fund his educational institute focusing on the supernatural? the changed course of smithson's life from scientist to supernatural violinist would certainly be conducive for that, not least to mention the strange absence of his fortune from his letter to his nephew.