#i know there was likely legal bullshit i don't care

[rastea]

Remembering Hyrule Warriors reminds me I'm still salty

[malaky-nightm4r3]

Sup fuckers Im 2

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

UPDATE What's up, it's the proposal guy. You said you wanted to know how this turned out, so I figured I'd tell you. First some context though, because I'm mean and I wanna keep you in suspense longer.

1- I don't wanna doxx us so I'm not telling you where we live, but suffice to say, neither of us are American, and gay marriage has been legal here for less than five years. For both of us, this is the first relationship we've had where marriage was even an OPTION, and I think that's where we've been getting some of that whole 'this has to be a REAL proposal with EVERYTHING' idea.

2- I gotta figure out how to explain this properly. So, I'm pretty used to being the GUY guy in relationships? I was always the one who did the nice gestures, not the one they got done for. Before I met my dream guy, I didn't really notice or care that it was such a thing, I just assumed that's how shit worked. Also, I promised I wouldn't talk a lot about his stuff here, but his last boyfriend before me SUCKED. Anyway point here is, it turns out we both REALLY like feeling swept off our feet sometimes, and a big part of finding each other has been getting to feel special for once? That's a stupid sappy way of putting it the point here is I think all that's what morphed into "I need to be the one getting proposed to, also it has to be completely perfect", and then our Petty & Extra genes got involved.

So I'm sitting in bed thinking about all that up there, and watching all the comments coming in basically being like "Dude, you are BLOWING this" on repeat, and telling me to compromise, and I look up and see him flossing in the bathroom and making all these doofy faces at the mirror, and it's like a switch just flips in my brain, and I'm like "Oh, I'd rather he gets to have his perfect proposal than we both have an okay one". I'm gonna do it.

Morning rolls around, and while I'm 'out for my jog like normal' I hit up a pawn shop for a temp ring (the ring pop thing is cute but NOT HIM). I found one I was at least confident wouldn't get ruined the first time he got his hands greasy (he fixes old machines as a hobby it's hot as hell), got back home, and hid the box in the toe of my nasty ass workout shoes in the bedroom closet, since I figured he'd check there last.

He was still asleep, because he stays up late no matter what and then is SHOCKED he's tired the next day, so I called and booked a table at our usual anniversary spot. (Side note about the 'he picks bad restaurants' thing. This isn't an 'I like Greek, you like Chinese' situation, dude's just BAD at finding places. He either assumes pricey is tasty and I get to eat some overrated gourmet bullshit, or he'll try and find something hip and underground and risk giving us food poisoning again, and he REFUSES to give up and pick somewhere we've been before when it's his turn to plan date night. I'm obsessed with him <3.) Date was set, I'd propose on the 21st.

Some of you might have noticed this, but fun fact! It's currently the 16th.

Last night I'm doing dishes and he's been sent to our room for mug collection duty, and he's taking FOREVER, so I go check just in case he found the ring, because the man's a gift tracking BLOODHOUND. Turns out he hasn't, he's found my Angry Box.

I assume other people have an Angry Box? Basically, we had this huge messy fight right when we first moved in together, and I never wanna let it get that bad again, so I have this shoebox where I keep a bunch of our stuff I can look at if we're fighting and hopefully cool off. There's one of those photo booth roll things, letters we wrote when he moved back with his parents for COVID, the wine cork from our first date, shit like that. Anyway, he's just sitting on the floor staring at it, and I explain about the Angry Box, and then he! Proposes!!! Kind of.

He definitely didn't have anything prepared, because by 'propose' I mean 'ugly cried & rambled at me for several minutes before I figured out it WAS a proposal', but once I got on the same page it was amazing. I said yes, and he had to admit he didn't have a ring for me because he was CONVINCED he'd win and I'd do it, so I grabbed mine because, yeah, he was right. He was like "this is the ugliest ring I've ever seen" and I was like yeah well the plan is to replace it later and he went "No. You can pry this off my cold dead fingers. After I'm buried with it." So I guess it's not a temporary ring anymore.

I'm just gonna go ahead and skip to this morning. I pointed out we still have the reservation, and he said I should propose there anyway because "We can get a free dessert. They have those creme brulee shot glasses you like. And for love, or something" and I said ok deal, but that means you gotta get me a ring to keep it fair, and his eyes LIT UP. When I swung by his work for lunch he was still on the phone with a jeweler and he had a whole page of notes on three other ones. Pray for me.

OH PS: I was RIGHT that he'd been the one behind the cat biting me, but it wasn't about the proposal stuff, it's because I paid my baby sister three dollars to shout 'fuck you' every single time he enters a room she's in for (if you ask me, he should be madder at my sister for charging so little), and he did it by giving her a bunch of treats for biting his hands too, so now neither of us can pet our baby girl without oven mitts on. HOLY SHIT I love this man.

Oh my goddddddd I love everything about this <333 I awwww'd out loud on a voice call, like, six times while reading. You two are friggin perfect for each other and so obviously smitten with each other and I wish y'all all the happiness in the world

PS Are y'all planning to have a big wedding? If so oh boy I can't WAIT to get that one in the inbox

Original post

[reasonsforhope]

I don't know who needs to hear this, but especially with the end of the school year coming up soon, and a bunch of people about to leave high school or about to leave college, I just wanted to say:

Being an adult can be really nice, actually!!!

Like, okay, yeah, life can be fucking stressful sometimes, and there's definitely an annoying amount of paperwork.

But me and just about every single adult I know will agree: I would never choose to go back to being a teenager, even if I somehow could.

Insert obvious disclaimer that nothing is universal. But for people worried about aging or graduating into the next chapter of life, here's some words of reassurance:

When you're a teenager, your brain is extra mean to you. Like, neurologically. All of the changes it's undergoing really, really increase rates of depression/anxiety/etc. A lot of the time, literally just not being a teenager anymore is really good for your mental health

Less than five months out of high school, everyone I knew my age was like "Thank fuck we're no longer in high school." Once you leave high school and adolescence there's really just such a dramatic drop in petty bullshit. Shit that would have been a huge social humiliation or gossip in high school is really often just like, "Hate that for you, man." Boom, done.

When you're a teenager or a brand new adult, you're encountering so many problems for the first time ever. When you're older, you just. Have learned how to handle a lot more things. You know what to do way more often and that builds confidence

When you're an adult, other people generally don't care if you don't do things perfectly, because jobs and life don't work like grades. This was such a trip to learn, honestly? But when you are an adult or have a job the bar for success is usually just "Did you do the thing?" or "Did you do the thing well enough that it works?" or "Did you show up to work for your whole shift and look like you were doing things?"

Similarly, if you're about to graduate college and you're really stressed about it, fyi just about everyone I knew in college ended up very quickly going "wow, 'real life' is way easier." Admittedly I went to a school full of very stressed out perfectionists and the like, so I can't promise this is universal, but there's a very real chance that life will in many ways get easier when you graduate

WAY MORE CONTROL OF YOUR OWN LIFE

Literally I cannot overstate that last point. As an adult, you are (barring certain disabilities or shitty circumstances like abusive family/the criminal justice system/etc.) able to make most of your own decisions. If you want to rearrange your furniture, you can. If you want to eat tater tots at midnight, you can. If you want to get yourself a little treat, you can. You can sign contracts and make your own legal and medical decisions and not need a parent or guardian signature for just about anything ever again

You generally learn how to give fewer fucks

The people around you have also generally learned how to give fewer fucks

Even when things are shitty, being able to choose what kind of shitty a lot of the time can really be worth an awful lot

[evilminji]

Okay... we KNOW that Justice League Dark is actually Competent at their Jobs.

Can banish most Spooks back home with out pausing to look up from their sandwich.

But you know what they HAVEN'T done? Dealt with the fuckin American Government. And all the complexe back-stabbery and "not my depart"ing that entails. The covering of asses and silencing of whistle blowers. Smearing of character. Just... the general BULLSHIT, legal and political, necessary to get those Ecto Acts consigned to the Depths of Hell where they belong.

Amity? Is fine.

Big ol Lair. Nothing nefarious getting in, few people ever bothering to go out. But like... they'd kind like THE OPTION, you know? Kids going to elite colleges. Jobs in other cities. That sorta thing! Maybe even new blood!

Stagnation feels too... Zone.

But they can't exactly FORCE the guys to focus on this one thing. And? They don't exactly... trust? Them? It's not personal. They're just not ghosts. Well, one is. But you can't ask ONE hero to handle all of that by himself! That's just unreasonable! Mr. Brand, while dashing and accomplished, has only so many hours in the day!

But what do DO???

...........well.......... Youngblood has an idea?

What if we annoyed them?

(How bout now? How bout now? How bout now? How bout now? How bout no-?)

Ooooooh~? Says the collectively gathered Ghost Regulars of Amity. Yes, that INCLUDES DANNY. They are INTRIGUED! Ghosts DO enjoy a good haunting. A light bit of Mischief, now and then. Some troublemaking! If you will~

I mean... Muses the resident Stick in the Mud, Phantom. As long as we all agree to some Ground Rules first...

Just until the finally Do Their JOBS, of course.....

The giggling is both bone chilling and filled with plotting. And so! The campaign of ghostly Minor To Moderate Inconveniences, begins! THINK FAST! *appears before Constantine, drops a LITERAL kid in his lap (as in a baby goat), in a "careful, I'm anxious!" Vest, then disappears.* The goat? Starts trying to eat his shirt. And is non magical.

It's the fifth random but slightly difficult to get rid off object or animal, dumped on him in the last two weeks. All juuuuust barely past that threshold where they're precious enough, he wouldn't feel comfortable handing um to some rando and walking away. GDI.

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @spidori @babbling-babull @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How plausible sentence generators are changing the bullshit wars

This Friday (September 8) at 10hPT/17hUK, I'm livestreaming "How To Dismantle the Internet" with Intelligence Squared.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

In my latest Locus Magazine column, "Plausible Sentence Generators," I describe how I unwittingly came to use – and even be impressed by – an AI chatbot – and what this means for a specialized, highly salient form of writing, namely, "bullshit":

https://locusmag.com/2023/09/commentary-by-cory-doctorow-plausible-sentence-generators/

Here's what happened: I got stranded at JFK due to heavy weather and an air-traffic control tower fire that locked down every westbound flight on the east coast. The American Airlines agent told me to try going standby the next morning, and advised that if I booked a hotel and saved my taxi receipts, I would get reimbursed when I got home to LA.

But when I got home, the airline's reps told me they would absolutely not reimburse me, that this was their policy, and they didn't care that their representative had promised they'd make me whole. This was so frustrating that I decided to take the airline to small claims court: I'm no lawyer, but I know that a contract takes place when an offer is made and accepted, and so I had a contract, and AA was violating it, and stiffing me for over $400.

The problem was that I didn't know anything about filing a small claim. I've been ripped off by lots of large American businesses, but none had pissed me off enough to sue – until American broke its contract with me.

So I googled it. I found a website that gave step-by-step instructions, starting with sending a "final demand" letter to the airline's business office. They offered to help me write the letter, and so I clicked and I typed and I wrote a pretty stern legal letter.

Now, I'm not a lawyer, but I have worked for a campaigning law-firm for over 20 years, and I've spent the same amount of time writing about the sins of the rich and powerful. I've seen a lot of threats, both those received by our clients and sent to me.

I've been threatened by everyone from Gwyneth Paltrow to Ralph Lauren to the Sacklers. I've been threatened by lawyers representing the billionaire who owned NSOG roup, the notoroious cyber arms-dealer. I even got a series of vicious, baseless threats from lawyers representing LAX's private terminal.

So I know a thing or two about writing a legal threat! I gave it a good effort and then submitted the form, and got a message asking me to wait for a minute or two. A couple minutes later, the form returned a new version of my letter, expanded and augmented. Now, my letter was a little scary – but this version was bowel-looseningly terrifying.

I had unwittingly used a chatbot. The website had fed my letter to a Large Language Model, likely ChatGPT, with a prompt like, "Make this into an aggressive, bullying legal threat." The chatbot obliged.

I don't think much of LLMs. After you get past the initial party trick of getting something like, "instructions for removing a grilled-cheese sandwich from a VCR in the style of the King James Bible," the novelty wears thin:

https://www.emergentmind.com/posts/write-a-biblical-verse-in-the-style-of-the-king-james

Yes, science fiction magazines are inundated with LLM-written short stories, but the problem there isn't merely the overwhelming quantity of machine-generated stories – it's also that they suck. They're bad stories:

https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence

LLMs generate naturalistic prose. This is an impressive technical feat, and the details are genuinely fascinating. This series by Ben Levinstein is a must-read peek under the hood:

https://benlevinstein.substack.com/p/how-to-think-about-large-language

But "naturalistic prose" isn't necessarily good prose. A lot of naturalistic language is awful. In particular, legal documents are fucking terrible. Lawyers affect a stilted, stylized language that is both officious and obfuscated.

The LLM I accidentally used to rewrite my legal threat transmuted my own prose into something that reads like it was written by a $600/hour paralegal working for a $1500/hour partner at a white-show law-firm. As such, it sends a signal: "The person who commissioned this letter is so angry at you that they are willing to spend $600 to get you to cough up the $400 you owe them. Moreover, they are so well-resourced that they can afford to pursue this claim beyond any rational economic basis."

Let's be clear here: these kinds of lawyer letters aren't good writing; they're a highly specific form of bad writing. The point of this letter isn't to parse the text, it's to send a signal. If the letter was well-written, it wouldn't send the right signal. For the letter to work, it has to read like it was written by someone whose prose-sense was irreparably damaged by a legal education.

Here's the thing: the fact that an LLM can manufacture this once-expensive signal for free means that the signal's meaning will shortly change, forever. Once companies realize that this kind of letter can be generated on demand, it will cease to mean, "You are dealing with a furious, vindictive rich person." It will come to mean, "You are dealing with someone who knows how to type 'generate legal threat' into a search box."

Legal threat letters are in a class of language formally called "bullshit":

https://press.princeton.edu/books/hardcover/9780691122946/on-bullshit

LLMs may not be good at generating science fiction short stories, but they're excellent at generating bullshit. For example, a university prof friend of mine admits that they and all their colleagues are now writing grad student recommendation letters by feeding a few bullet points to an LLM, which inflates them with bullshit, adding puffery to swell those bullet points into lengthy paragraphs.

Naturally, the next stage is that profs on the receiving end of these recommendation letters will ask another LLM to summarize them by reducing them to a few bullet points. This is next-level bullshit: a few easily-grasped points are turned into a florid sheet of nonsense, which is then reconverted into a few bullet-points again, though these may only be tangentially related to the original.

What comes next? The reference letter becomes a useless signal. It goes from being a thing that a prof has to really believe in you to produce, whose mere existence is thus significant, to a thing that can be produced with the click of a button, and then it signifies nothing.

We've been through this before. It used to be that sending a letter to your legislative representative meant a lot. Then, automated internet forms produced by activists like me made it far easier to send those letters and lawmakers stopped taking them so seriously. So we created automatic dialers to let you phone your lawmakers, this being another once-powerful signal. Lowering the cost of making the phone call inevitably made the phone call mean less.

Today, we are in a war over signals. The actors and writers who've trudged through the heat-dome up and down the sidewalks in front of the studios in my neighborhood are sending a very powerful signal. The fact that they're fighting to prevent their industry from being enshittified by plausible sentence generators that can produce bullshit on demand makes their fight especially important.

Chatbots are the nuclear weapons of the bullshit wars. Want to generate 2,000 words of nonsense about "the first time I ate an egg," to run overtop of an omelet recipe you're hoping to make the number one Google result? ChatGPT has you covered. Want to generate fake complaints or fake positive reviews? The Stochastic Parrot will produce 'em all day long.

As I wrote for Locus: "None of this prose is good, none of it is really socially useful, but there’s demand for it. Ironically, the more bullshit there is, the more bullshit filters there are, and this requires still more bullshit to overcome it."

Meanwhile, AA still hasn't answered my letter, and to be honest, I'm so sick of bullshit I can't be bothered to sue them anymore. I suppose that's what they were counting on.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/07/govern-yourself-accordingly/#robolawyers

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0

https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[maniacwatchestheworld]

Things to do with Jack and Maddie without them being abusive

As someone who actually likes Jack and Maddie as characters (I'm a fervent shipper of Maddie/Jack/Vlad), it's a real bummer to see so many people out there deciding that for their DPxDC AUs that Jack and Maddie are abusive, when that really doesn't represent how they are in canon. Now I fully acknowledge that doing this can be a very useful tool for telling certain types of stories, and if you want to make a story about recovering from abuse and finding a new found family, all the more power to you for that! But for any other type of story where them being abusive isn't necessary for the backstory of the story you want to tell... It's just a bummer to do that, y'know? If you don't want to tell a story with Jack and Maddie in it, that's entirely fine! I'm not asking you to. But there are ways to get rid of them without making them abusive or dying. Of the two, I personally would prefer them dying (I just like the story potential of that, especially as far as Vlad is concerned). But there are plenty of easy things to do with them to keep them out of the story that don't require them being abusive or dead! So I'm here to give a list of things that can happen to them (that have precedent within either Danny Phantom itself or the DC universe) that keep them out of the story that don't require much explanation as well as some other ideas for what you can do with them if you have no idea what to do with them otherwise.

Lots of ideas under the cut! (Feel free to take what you want. As always, credit is appreciated, but not necessary. But I would love to see what you do with it!)

If you need them permanently absent so that Danny can get adopted

Fell into the Ghost Zone and cannot be found.

They are gone for whatever reason and Jazz is currently Danny's legal guardian (she's 18 or older and is therefore a legal adult).

While in the Ghost Zone, they accidentally traveled through time/got transported somewhere where they can't get home easily.

They got severely Joker gassed and are in medical care. (This is actually what happened to Duke's parents!)

They got severely Scarecrow gassed and are in medical care.

Went insane for some supervillain-related reason and are now missing/in medical care.

They were kidnapped by a villain for some reason.

They were kidnapped by a villain and are currently in a lotus-eaters simulation and therefore don't even know that they've gone missing.

Abducted by aliens.

They got wrapped up in some supervillain bullshit and now have amnesia and are unable to recognize Danny and Jazz.

They got magicked into something that can't take care of Danny and Jazz.

They were experimented on and are now incapable of taking care of Danny and Jazz.

Some cosmic entity did a whoopsie that effected Jack and Maddie and now they're in a condition/situation where they cannot take care of Danny and Jazz.

Got arrested and are in jail for some reason.

Were arrested and sent to jail for a long time. Have since joined Task Force X/the Suicide Squad for lienency.

Got hit by a stray Zeta-Beam and are now on some alien planet.

They got teleported somehow. We aren't certain about the details.

They fell into a hole to another world.

They no-clipped out of their normal reality.

Stranded with no way home.

They somehow ended up on a different planet. They are just hanging out with Space Cabbie now, who is just having a ROUGH day and can't find Earth for whatever reason.

Inducted into a Lantern Corps and are VERY busy because of it!

Coma.

Effected by a debilitating illness/disease/condition that makes them incapable of taking care of others.

They were forced to go undercover for some reason and therefore vanished. (Letting their kids know is optional)

They were forced to go undercover for some reason and were forced to fake their deaths.

They died, but came back to life. Danny has not been informed of this.

They got possessed by a superhero or supervillain who just wandered off with their bodies.

They got separated following a disaster and haven't been able to find each other again.

They've been retconned to hell and back again to the point where no one is entirely certain where they are, what they're doing, or even if they're alive anymore. Don't worry about it! Only mention them when it's relevant and the rest of the time we aren't going to bother explaining what's going on with them. If they are mentioned, accounts of where they are and what's going on with them are contradictory.

They're around, but will go unseen throughout this story

Any of the situations in the previous section, but it only happened to one of the parents, and the other is just too busy working and taking care of the kids by themselves.

The same as previous, but they also moved to Gotham.

Retcon things so that the events of Danny Phantom actually happened in Gotham City all along. (Maybe Amity Park is like... A suburb in the greater Gotham area.)

They went on vacation/were hired for a job that would take them away from home. They left Danny and Jazz to be taken care of by Vlad. Vlad is an asshole, so they ran away from him.

They went on vacation/were hired for a job that would take them away from home, but now that Jazz is over 18, she's been left in charge.

Put into Witness Protection by the government/the Guys in White.

Danny and friends have graduated from high school and are now legal adults, perhaps in college.

Danny's whole family moved to Gotham City. They're just at home/working during the events of this story.

Jack and Maddie have been hired to do some work with the Justice League and need to be away from home for an extended period of time. They have left a member of the Justice League to take care of Danny and Jazz in the meantime.

Fieldtrip/school trip to Gotham City.

Danny is old and responsible enough that Jack and Maddie trust Danny (and/or Jazz) to travel on their own. His parents are just a call away if he needs help.

Jack and Maddie are separated for whatever reason (one went missing/one is working abroad/they are divorced/one died) and the other moved to Gotham and is taking care of the kids in the meantime, but is busy and so will not appear.

Something happened to Fenton Works and the family needs to temporarily stay somewhere else while the problem with Fenton Works is sorted.

The family was driven out of town and they ran off to Gotham to escape the angry mob. (Or at least to wait until things cool down again.)

Jack or Maddie are able to work remotely and so they've moved to Gotham to do so. The kids came along/are visiting.

Jack and/or Maddie were hired for temporary work in Gotham and decided to bring the kids along.

One family member was taken to Arkham Asylum. They moved to Gotham to be closer.

Jazz went to Gotham for college. Danny is visiting.

Danny is sent to Gotham/Arkham for specialized health reasons.

Jack and Maddie have gotten in contact with a specialist that lives in Gotham and are visiting for work-related reasons.

They are on vacation in Gotham and brought the kids along. Danny and Jazz have been let off the leash to go where they want while Jack and Maddie do touristy stuff.

Visiting family/family friends living in Gotham.

They were passing through but are now unable to leave. (Bonus points if it's a No Man's Land situation.)

They were passing through, but were robbed. Jack and Maddie are dealing with the robbery stuff where Danny is off somewhere else.

They were just passing through, but Maddie and Jack got SEVERELY distracted by something and have run off to who knows where!

They are traveling with Vlad and expected Vlad to take care of and watch the kids!

Danny was abducted to Gotham.

Danny accidently ended up in Gotham somehow.

Danny somehow got transported/teleported to Gotham.

Doing an educational trip/apprenticeship/internship over in Gotham.

Danny ran away impulsively.

Some villain threatened Danny's family and forced him to run away from home.

Danny has revealed his secret to his parents, and while they might worry about Danny being a vigilante, believe in and trust Danny to do the right thing and allow him to do what he feels that he must to protect people.

The same as above, but Vlad also came out and is supervising.

They died.

I cannot understate the sheer JUICY storytelling potential that you can have by killing Jack and Maddie off! We already know how it might effect people and events from what we see in The Ultimate Enemy, but there really is limitless potential in terms of ways to twist, turn, and play with things to have different outcomes! Additionally, Jack and Maddie being genuinely good parents that die protecting Danny and Jazz offers lots of ways for Bruce to relate to Danny and Jazz! (He decided to become Batman so that no one would have to face what he did ever again... And he failed...) And the way that they die can offer some lovely different flavors of angst, coping mechanisms, motovations, and learning to deal with their loss. So here are some ideas for how to kill them off!

The universe exploded again, and when it was put back together, Jack and Maddie ceased to exist in current canon continuity. (This happens more often than you'd think.)

Vlad Wins.

They were killed in an apocalypse-level event.

They were killed in the crossfire of some superhero/supervillain fight.

They were taken by some villain. They were killed before the heroes could arrive.

They were killed in a random act of violence/crime. (Much like Batman's backstory. Do this to gain extra points from Bruce.)

Died in prison/after joining the Suicide Squad.

Gang violence.

Any of the previous but Gotham is just THAT dangerous!

Same as any gassing or supervillain plan, but they died instead of being missing or in medical care.

Got transported to a place where they died very far away from home.

They just died suddenly or because of an accident. It happens sometimes.

Things to note

Believe it or not, but your parents can still be in your life AND you can join the Batfamily AT THE SAME TIME! :D

Examples:

Barbra Gordon is very much in the Batfamily and both of her parents are alive and well. She's a very important part of the family, and in the comics, it is not uncommon to see her calling up her dad and talking to him! They'll even call each other if they need help with something. This does not take away from the fatherly role Bruce often has in her life. (She can have 2 dads and good for her for that!)

When Tim initially became Robin, his parents were alive and well. They would later die because comic writers are just like that, but being an orphan without loving parents in your life is not a prerequisite to being Robin.

Duke's parents are also alive! They are under the effects of Joker toxin, but they are alive, and if they ever find a cure for it, I imagine that they would be more than happy to have Duke back in their lives!

Terry from Batman Beyond is not an orphan and was taken under Bruce's wing to be the next Batman! Terry is even going to inherit a fair amount of Bruce's wealth for deciding to take on the responsibility of being Batman. But while his dad did die, his mom is still alive and well over the course of the series! And he has a little brother too! Terry may still be a teenager, but he is a bit of a breadwinner for his household while also still being an important part of Bruce's family. (He is often someone who helps Bruce take care of himself.)

But if the story you truly want to explore requires being adopted specifically... Well... You don't have to be a kid to be adopted! Jack and Maddie can still raise Danny and Jazz into adults and Bruce is able to adopt them later if he wants, once they have been well and established in his family! Hell, you don't even have to wait! As long as Bruce asks permission from Jack and Maddie, they can be alive AND he can adopt Danny! There is more than one way to be in a family, you know! And sometimes it takes a village! And really, would Jack and Maddie really object to Danny being adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne, especially if Danny really is enjoying his time being a part of his family and if Bruce has been an absolutely lovely person to them whenever he visits?

So I hope that you're able to take some inspiration from all of this for your own stories! If you need some elaboration on what I mean with some of these, or want to ask who could be responsible for some of these and how, feel free to drop on by and send me an ask! I would be more than happy to go into some more detail about these! Happy writing!

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Is there any chance we could have a round up of the Circus? I am so lost on how the dominoes fell over the last 40 days

Okay this is not comprehensive, because (a) my husband the politics nerd is currently on his way to a gig in west Wales somewhere and so cannot chime in and also (b) all our political journalist friends are understandably quite busy right now doing political journaling, but I seem to have an influx of new followers who are also very confused and don't understand what's going on, so I shall try.

Alright so what we're seeing here is the Second Clownfall of 2022, the hotly anticipated sequel to the Adventures of Big Dog the Clown. However it revolves around the character of Liz Truss, and will use some terminology, so

Previous Reading

Important Terminology - Required Reading

What is a Whip?

How do Whips work?

Shadow Cabinet

Front Benchers, Back Benchers and the Cabinet

What do we need to call an early General Election?

The Adventures of Big Dog the Clown - Suggested Reading

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Elanor's Guide to Liz Truss - Suggested Reading

Character-based prequel

...okay I think that's everything. On with the show!

The Premiership of Liz Truss (2022-2022)

Week One

We begin our tale on September 5th, 2022. Coincidentally, that was also the date that I personally started my new job. Let's see which of us does better!

The Daily Mail is delighted, and runs a headline proclaiming "Cometh the hour, cometh the woman". Tory rag in a frock coat the Financial Times runs an op-ed:

So the results ARE IN! She will definitely fuck us up! But that's a good thing for vague reasons! Blitz spirit everyone. Tally ho, pip pip, shoot a servant and have sex with a wall, hey what. Good old Blighty.

(That's my best impression of Tories I'm good at their accents I hope you like it)

Truss does an interview with Laura Kuenssberg, and fellow guest and comedian Joe Lycett wildly and effusively applauds her every word. Even Liz realises no one would sincerely applaud her. Bafflingly, the entire right wing press and every member of the Tory party freak out about this, because they don't understand the function of a satirist and don't know how to defend against it. It is extremely funny. Joe Lycett announces he's a right-wing comedian now, and begins a new extended career bit effusively and sarcastically praising right wing politicians. They all cry extensively and call him mean.

SO, it's been a long hard leadership campaign! But she made it. For years, Tories have been blighted by the curse of the PM/Chancellor relationship, backstabbing and cheating and lying about each other to try and get power. But not our Liz, oh no; her Chancellor is Maths Mate and BFF Kwasi Kwarteng, an insipid and poisonous gnome known for three (3) things:

He once wrote a stupid book with Liz Truss about his stupid opinions on how he thinks economics work and everyone laughed at him and stuffed him in a locker

On the night of the Brexit vote he was overheard by a journalist gleefully saying “Who cares if sterling crashes? It will come back up again“ which are of course the words of a man who knows all about economics and how they work

This fucking bullshit back in July:

But hey IT'S OKAY! Everything is fine! Because Liz and Kwasi are BFFs who certainly never had an affair and are marching in lockstep and have each other's backs and both love maths more than their own children if they had any! Maths Friends!

Multiple resignations immediately follow.

Among them is Ben Elliot, the Tory Party chair, which is a pretty big deal from a man who just lived through the Johnson years; also, shockingly, Priti Patel, the deportation-happy Home Secretary, decides that even as an animatronic goblin she cannot support this nonsense.

It's not a resignation per se, but at ten to seven in the evening it's announced that Andrew Bridgen, the Troy MP for Leicestershire North West, has been evicted from his home and ordered to pay £800,000 in legal costs, and a possible £244,000 in rent arrears. Also described as "dishonest" by a judge.

This is not directly relevant to Liz Truss but look, it was a staggeringly weird day and this was basically the topper.

Anyway.

Liz goes to the Palace and is duly sworn in by the Queen, who promptly keels over and dies the very next day. Parliament is instantly shut down for mandatory mourning. As omens go, this one was not subtle.

This triggers the circulation of some very awkward footage of Young Truss talking about how she thinks the Monarchy should be abolished for being a gross relic of horrifying social stratification. However you must understand that it's not awkward because anyone thinks she murdered the Queen. It's because Liz Truss's attempts at public speaking are like sitting through a children's Christmas play when you're the only person in the audience and they can all see your face so you have to look encouraging for four hours when inside you are shrivelling into something approximating an apricot pit travelling to the core of Jupiter.

Take a look at her acceptance speech and wither.

Anyway we're now several MPs and a queen down so she's got to get on replacing those so she can focus on her real love: the much-anticipated mini-budget that she is preparing with Kwasi to save the UK from the harrowing quagmire of crippling poverty that Big Dog managed to drive us into (all while pretending it wasn't Big Dog who did it.)

Fortunately, she does not need to replace the queen! Monarchies take care of themselves, which many people would argue is very much the problem, of course. They had a proper reunion with Meghan From Suits and Meghan From Suits' husband, both of whom were banned from visiting Balmoral, and also the Nonce flew in, who was allowed to visit Balmoral. Such heartwarming scenes.

But the Cabinet, that's another matter. That's something Liz DOES have to do, and it's important she gets it right, Tumblrs, because you see, every time a Cabinet minister is replaced it's expensive and a hassle and it weakens a government by making them look all crumbly, like a packet of biscuits that's been rammed against a wall and now someone is opening it and everyone is bracing for Crumbs.

So, step forward to the Cabinet soulless ghoul Suella Braverman, the new Home Secretary. She immediately distinguishes herself by trying to legalise torture.

And then, naturally,

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT IT'S TICK TOCK TERF O'CLOCK also FUCK the sovereignty of the Scottish Parliament amirite ladies lol Girl Power uwu

Not that she can actually do anything at this point, of course. As I say: Enforced Mourning is in process, which means Parliament is shut down for ten days. No work, no speeches, no appearances, no announcements, just taxpayer's money going on legal fees to see if she can interfere with another nation's elected government in order to strip away the human rights of queer people.

However, while we all weep over the corpse of Queen Lizzie Two and beat our breasts in grief, the already-beleaguered pound is slowly bleeding out through this inaction. And this, to the Maths Mates, is unacceptable.

Two things get quietly slid into the news cycle.

Thing the First:

BIG YIKES LADS

Thing the Second:

Fracking ban in England lifted in bid to boost UK gas supply - BBC News

For those who don't know, fracking is an energy extraction process. Water, gas and dust are pumped at high pressure into shale bedrock to crack it open, releasing pockets of natural gas that can then be harvested for fuel. It's environmentally disastrous for multiple reasons, both direct (earthquakes, groundwater pollution, social impacts) and indirect (IT'S STILL A FOSSIL FUEL YOU STUPID CUNTS ARE YOUR SKULLS FUCKING EMPTY). The Welsh and Scottish governments have both banned it outright, a straight-up "Foot down no, petal". England, though, is the Tory paradise, so the ban was less complete.

However, this is still a Huge Deal - the 2019 Tory manifesto was very clear that fracking would only be unbanned IF "the science shows categorically that it can be done safely". In fact, most Tories don't like it either. Their constituents REALLY don't. Also in March Kwasi Kwarteng literally went on record and said it wouldn't lower European gas prices anyway; but not anymore! Now he thinks it's a zippy idea. Just spiffing. Top hole, pip pip (I'm so good at their accents :))

Scientists who have been studying the environmental impacts of fracking produce their report -

And it is quietly buried, so as not to offend the corpse of Lizzie Two.

Here ends the first four days of the Reign of Liz Truss.

Second Week

Anyway, royalists have gone insane and started a REALLY BIG queue to see a box that supposedly contains the rotting cadaver of the old queen. Multiple people have to be hospitalised because they join the Queue and don't take food, water, warm clothes, or essential daily medications with them, even though the Queue is literally days long. Some die. Many take the ashes of their own loved ones so they can wave them at the box for the thirty seconds they get to be in front of it, like a sort of play date for ashes.

Prince Charles, now King Prince Charles, starts swanning about as King, demanding everyone be sad for him and clap him to cheer him up. Someone holds up a sign saying 'Not my King' and gets arrested. This triggers a whole wave of protests and arrests as free speech slides out the window, until the Met Police chief has to step in and explain to the police like they're five-year-olds that they can't do that, actually, and need to cut that shit out.

But we can't wholly blame the police, because the main pressure to clamp down on protestors actually came from...

The government.

Meanwhile the country goes bat shit fucking insane. In order not to offend the fragile sensibilities of royalists, now so brittle they need to be treated with the same delicate touch normally reserved for unstable nitroglycerin, the UK sees supermarkets lowering the volume of self-serve checkout desks, people's funerals cancelled, vital operations and other medical interventions postponed, Centre Parcs cancelling holidays, FOOD BANKS CLOSING, Nintendo Direct cancelling its live stream in Britain (but not cancelling the release of the recording onto You Tube an hour later because as we all know Queen Elizabeth II was a MASSIVE livestream fan and would have been DEVASTATED to miss it but she was very 'meh' about YouTube), cycle racks being closed, and this unhinged shrieking harridan:

Very normal, lads. Very normal.

Oh and also they cancelled Owain Glyndwr Day so as a Welsh person I am now legally allowed to forcibly ram a daffodil into the urethras of the landed English gentry.

However, the protests grow as the suppression wanes. By the time King Prince Charles comes to Wales, he is met with silent protests, this guy who learned a sentence in Welsh specially for the occasion, and a petition to abolish the Prince of Wales title.

Except government is still shut down, so the petitions are all suspended.

But not to worry! That gives the Maths Mates more time to work on their special mini-budget.

Week Three

More of the same at first, really, but she finally addresses the nation to announce that the Queen was the "rock" on which "modern Britain was built".

Also someone finally spots that the necklace she always wears is a day collar, so that was fun.

BUT THEN

The moment we have all been waiting for, with baited breath.

On the 23rd September, 2022, the mini-budget finally arrives. The golden egg of Kwasi and Liz, their beloved, beautiful child, the crowning glory, the culmination of their economic beliefs and values. They are so proud of it, so sure of it, that they do not even submit it for the approval of the Office for Budget Responsibility. Why should they? This is the moment Kwarteng can finally show the world that he was right; that this is the way to do economics after all; that he alone in his brilliance and genius has reinvented the field and will lead the country to a new era of riches and prosperity.

And the pound does this:

Yikes.

Truss goes into hiding for a day and a half, during which time her aids claim all her relatives have died so she won't have to speak to the press, which is obviously a simply fantastic quality in a Prime Minister. Finally, she resurfaces by doing a series of radio interviews for regional stations around the UK, hoping they'll be easier on her, starting with Radio Leeds. The good journalists of Yorkshire eviscerate her and strew her corpse through Adel Woods. It's downhill from there.

Week Four

One poll puts Labour 33 points ahead of the Tories.

It can be a little difficult to translate polls, because the electoral system is complex, so I asked my journalist friends. They cheerfully informed me that, if translated into a General Election, the Tories would have just 3 seats left.

Except! Of course, naturally, that is me reporting naught but the most extreme result, Tumblrs, dancing upon the bones of my enemies as I chant the rites to make the Tory party die faster. If I were to be fair about this - and I am, of course, a journalist of Integrity and Morals - I would actually give the average poll result. And I am wise and fair to all, ancient rites aside, so I shall.

The average poll result is still 19 points ahead.

Tony Blair's landslide Labour victory in 1999 was 12 points.

Rounding off the day, Labour declare that they are backing a change to a proportional representation voting system in place of the UK’s archaic first past the post system. Funny that.

Anyway, that mini-budget is going poorly. Realising unlimited borrowing rather than tax cuts for the rich is maybe Bad Actually, the Maths Mates decide to get the money for their bail-outs some other way. Can you guess, Tumblrs? Can you guess where they decide to get the money from?

Naturally.

Week Five

In a fascinating little twist, the papers claim Liz banned King Prince Charles from going to the Climate Summit in Egypt. This is interesting for about a billion reasons, not least of which is that the papers seem very angry about this and yet also that it's an unsubstantiated rumour - the phrase "it's understood that _" gets a hell of a workout.

She then does not go herself. Makes sense. They'll probably be mean to her about the fracking.

She then loses the support of the Daily Mail, a paper that five weeks before were ecstatic about her rise to power :( so sad. But why? What made them change their minds?

Well. What else from Truss, but a massive and catastrophic u-turn on the economy?

And she does! The absolute nutter!

Plans to cut the 45p tax rate for those earning upwards of £150,000 were abandoned, as were:

abolishing the planned rise in corporation tax

cutting the basic rate of income tax

the two-year energy bill support plan

scrapping the planned dividend tax hike

VAT-free shopping for international tourists

freezing alcohol duty

easing of IR25 rules for the self-employed

ALL GONE! All gone. The mini-budget is not working so lol jk we'll think of something else, that's how government works, right? The pound promptly implodes further. Of all people, Nadine Dorries is the one to criticise

WE ARE IN A TOPSY TURVEY UPSIDE DOWN WORLD

The Daily Mail still finds a way to say it's all Michael Gove's fault, though.

Anyway, the 5th October dawns bright and beautiful and YouGov polls rural voters:

THIS IS HUUUUUUUUUGE, because farmers just will not fucking stop voting Tory, AND YET. Wowsers. Not just popularity. Voting intention. She might as well have personally infected every farm in the South Downs with foot and mouth disease.

Truss realises her popularity is plummeting and she needs a new audience. She tries to appear down with the kids and declares that she's the only PM to have gone to a comprehensive school.

This is not true. Gordon Brown and Theresa May both did. However, it's certainly true that all three of them became PM by ousting a sitting PM, so there's that I guess.

Week Six

At this point I can start putting in PRECISE DATEs just call ME Robert Peston.

13th October

News reporters start speculating that she'll be done by the end of the month as the first rumoured letter of no confidence reaches us. People realise that her competition for shortest serving PM was a guy who died in office of TB at about the four month mark RIP king sorry about your lungs.

(A reminder - normally, if MPs want to oust a party leader, they must send in 54 letters of no confidence. This makes the 1922 Committee - a bunch of back benchers who preside over this shit - hold a vote of no confidence. A leader who loses gives way - this is very rare. A leader who wins is then immune to another such vote for 12 months, but they almost always crumble within a month or two anyway - this is much more common.)

This is extremely funny, because a newly-elected leader of the party has a 12 month immunity to votes of no confidence, same as people who've won such a vote. Likes charge reblogs cast apparently. MPs are getting desperate.

Pressure mounts. Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng announces that he is "Not going anywhere."

14th October

Chancellor Kwasi Kwarteng is sacked and blamed for the entire economic mess.

Incredibly, Liz does this without first planning a replacement, so it's several hours before Jeremy Cunt suddenly reappears like the spectre at the fucking feast.

Meanwhile here's Ed Milliband on Twitter

Seven and a half years he waited to retweet that. Seven and a half long years, look, to have the last laugh.

In the end, he still went too soon.

15th October

Deputy PM and also Health Minister Therese Coffey (side note - have they always doubled up in roles like that? Or are there just not enough of them anymore?) announces that she loves antibiotic resistance and dead kids and also breaking laws:

16th October

The Sunday Times calls for Extremely Corrupt Former Grand Vizier Rishi Sunak to take over, and then a General Election so that Labour can take the reins.

The SUNDAY TIMES

Calling for LABOUR

The Sunday Mail tries to stir up support for Ben Wallace taking over, because no one has heard of Ben Wallace so he needs the boost, but then accidentally publish their front page with a different man

In another YouGov poll for the Times, not a single political group, age group, area of the country, gender, or other demographic said that Liz Truss was the right choice for PM

This is the new predicted election graph:

Yikes

17th October

The projected election results are a Labour victory so complete the opposition would be the SNP. Legend suggests Nicola Sturgeon's cackle on finding out was so powerful she accidentally resurrected a witchfinder.

18th October

Meanwhile in the Senedd, Welsh Tory leader Andrew RT Davies, a sort of humanoid boil dressed in ham, tries to accuse placid and gentle First Minister for Wales Mark Drakeford's Labour of being responsible for long ambulance waiting times.

T'was a mistake.

19th October

Oh boy.

Well, first of all, Suella Braverman sends an official email from her private email address, and then promptly leaves the Cabinet at cannonball speeds as though she's seen a brown child about to be given citizenship. Was she quietly fired by Jeremy Cunt? Did she do it deliberately to resign? On her way out, she blames the true source of our problems - the Guardian-reading, tofu-eating Wokerati.

Nigella Lawson spends the day tweeting tofu recipes.

Meanwhile, Graham Brady, the Chair of the 1922 Committee, comes to Liz Truss to inform her that he has in fact now received 54 letters of no confidence. Normally, of course, that would be considered enough to trigger a vote in her leadership; but not now.

However, these are unprecedented times. So he changes the threshold - if half of the Tories send him letters, her immunity will be revoked.

But the thing is, Tumblrs, the thing is...

It is all about to kick off in the most spectacular and catastrophic fireworks since Guy Fawkes had a dream.

Because Ed Milliband, once accused of leading the country to chaos and now riding high on the joy of his well-timed Twitter jab of Some Days Ago, wakes this morning and chooses violence.

He has spotted, of course, that no one likes fracking; even the Tories are against it.

He has also spotted that Liz Truss is very stupid.

So he goes into the House of Commons, and he digs a big pit and covers it over with twigs and leaves so it can't be seen, and he bakes a big cake and he places it in the middle of the twigs, and he sets up a net to fall as well and a big stick of ACME dynamite, and he hammers in little signs everywhere saying CAUTION - TRAP, by which I am of course being metaphorical because what he actually does is table a motion to extend the moratorium on fracking. The signs aren't necessary, really. This trap is easy to avoid.

All Liz Truss has to do, you see, is not use a three-line whip on this vote.

The three-line whip, as you'll all recall, is the highest level of coercion. MPs cannot defy a three-line whip. MPs cannot even abstain on a three-line whip. MPs have two choices on a three-line whip: to vote as they're told, or to be removed from the party. You obey or resign. That's all.

For this reason, it's sometimes called a 'confidence vote', as it is effectively a stand-in for one. The vote is not about the issue at hand - this is now a vote of confidence in your leader.

(He's also laid lesser traps. Years back when fracking was first being heavily discussed, Ed was Labour leader and one of the main figures in those discussions. During today, before it all Kicks The Fuck Off, a Tory stands and challenges him on previous statements about fracking, trying to accuse him of hypocrisy.

He was fucking ready for it.)

Graham Brady pops his head back around the door. He's changed his mind - a third of the party is all that's needed now to trigger a vote of no confidence in Liz Truss. And legend says he's only 17 off.

This is presumably the reason for what comes next.

Liz panics. Liz sees she's desperately unpopular. Liz sees that she has to do something to shore up support; and she sees that her important fracking rule, which her party hates her for, is now being challenged by a former Labour leader, and if he wins (which he will) she'll lose all credibility and maybe they'll take her nice office away and tell her she was a Bad Girl.

And so, with the inevitability of gravity on the now-leaden pound sterling, she makes it a three-line whip, and a confidence vote in her government.

INSTANT CHAOS.

There is uproar! There is rage! There is blinding fury! Tory MPs are standing up in the Commons and snarling and pissing and moaning! No one likes fracking except Jacob Rees Mogg! For TWO HOURS they shriek and scream and gnash their teeth, yelling at Liz Truss, demanding to know why this is happening.

(Legend has it chaos-deity Ed Milliband simply leaned back, put his feet up on the chair in front, and made Christian Wakeford hand-feed him grapes and fan him with a palm leaf, but this is unsubstantiated.)

And then, at 6.55, FIVE MINUTES before voting is ready to begin, the Tory Minister for Climate Graham Stewart stands up and declares that everyone should vote how they want because it's not a confidence vote.

Did I say there was chaos before?

Lol. Lmao, even. Rofl, in fact.

Now Tories leap to their feet and basically all scream one long, unending breath of WHAT-DO-YOU-MEAN-IT'S-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE-WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-HAPPENING-IS-IT-OR-IS-IT-NOT-A-CONFIDENCE-VOTE and so Stewart gets up again and says, right to everyone's faces, "It's not for me to say whether it's a confidence vote or not," which is an even faster and more spectacular u-turn than Truss herself could pull off given that he literally just said it wasn't and did so while being a minister.

And then the voting starts. MPs are now milling about like chickens who've sighted the hawk, clamouring to know if they're going to lose their jobs unless they vote for Satan. The Whips - specifically Chief Whip Wendy Morton and Deputy Chief Whip Craig Whittaker - descend upon them like fucking wargs on the hunt. They don't just spit vitriol and blackmail into MPs ears. They fucking bodily drag people into the right voting lobby. MPs are legitimately screaming. Grown men are crying literal tears. Labour's Chris Bryant reports holding multiple Tory MPs as they sob into his shoulder. Multiple MPs report similar scenes.

And Tories still don't know if this is even a damn confidence vote, or if they should just knock the Chief Whip's teeth out.

And then the Whips, filled with bloodlust and frenzy, suddenly realise that NO ONE IS LISTENING TO US, YOU'RE ALL SUPPOSED TO LISTEN TO US SO WE FEEL POWERFUL -

Cue sudden meeting in a locked room with Liz Truss. For over HALF AN HOUR.

So is it a confidence vote? No one is sure. Deputy PM Therese Coffey thinks so, so in the absence of the Whips she decides physical assault is her job now and is seen by David Linden MP (SNP) physically carrying someone into the voting lobby. Jacob Rees Mogg thinks not and starts yelling "It's not a confidence vote!", to which his colleagues reply, "Fuck off." Meanwhile the Whips have possibly resigned, no one is sure. It is still uncertain if this was a confidence vote.

And Ed Milliband basks in the chaos, playing the fiddle while it all burns around him.

Finally, voting concludes. The Whips reappear to lurk.

The votes are in - the government wins, and fracking will go ahead. But.

32 MPs abstained.

And one of those is Liz Truss.

Which is WILD??!? What possible benefit could she get from that??? No one knows. Everything is uproar again. Guess who else abstained? Well, riveted reader, here's a list with important names highlighted:

Nigel Adams, Gareth Bacon, Siobhan Baillie, Greg Clark, Sir Geoffrey Cox, Tracey Crouch, David Davis, Dame Caroline Dinenage, Nadine Dorries, Philip Dunne, Mark Fletcher, Vicky Ford, Paul Holmes, Alister Jack, Boris Johnson, Gillian Keegan, Kwasi Kwarteng, Robert Largan, Pauline Latham, Mark Logan, Theresa May, Priti Patel, Mark Pawsey, Angela Richardson, Andrew Rosindell, Bob Seely, Alok Sharma, Chris Skidmore, Henry Smith, Ben Wallace, Sir John Whittingdale, and William Wragg.

Kwasi still smarting about that p45, I see.

In any case it then turns out that Liz DID vote, but incompetently, because her voting card didn't read properly, which is actually fair given that she was being screamed at by angry Whips waving Graham Stewart's severed dick and balls around while they demanded power and authority. While she's clearing that up, the press are understandably waiting open-mouthed for comment, but don't worry Liz! Your old pal Jacob Rees Mogg is here to fill in for you!

And thus it is that JRM willingly chooses to go on the live news and calmly confirm to the nation that no one knows if it was a confidence vote or not.

Chaos. Chaos again. Unbridled chaos. The Whips are furious. Everyone is furious. The rebels are now in limbo, unsure if they're now out of a job. Tories are weeping, trying to work out if Rees Mogg WANTS to sink the party. Back bencher Charles Walker MP delivers a frank interview to the press absolutely SHIVERING with rage, like the drummer in a Fleetwood Mac concert. Ex-Lib Dem leader Tim Farron, a bland man known only for the time he himself willingly chose to go on the news and calmly explain that he's a homophobe without provocation, tweets that Liz Truss is a Lib Dem sleeper agent they sent in to destroy the Tories, sparking what is likely to be a whole slew of conspiracy theories by next week. No one knows what is going on. They all decide to sleep on it.

The good folks at Wikipedia ultimately decide to make three separate pages for the UK 2022 government crisis, and to label them with the month "to leave room for another by the end of the year."

Ed Milliband skips all the way home, and treats himself to a bacon sandwich.

20th October

Okay, Liz thinks, the morning after. Okay. Last night was bad. But today will be better.

So first... the vote.

Because there's bad news for Tories who like money and good news for people who like liveable planets - there are problems with the vote. For one, the vote counts are being called into question. Are the results reliable?

For another, the Speaker of the House of Commons calls for an investigation into the reports of, um, assault. So will the result stand?

It's so unclear! And so is that ongoing issue of whether or not the damn thing was a confidence vote. Angry whips say YES, JRM says NO, Downing Street refuses to pick up the phone to the BBC, but does send ITV's Robert Peston a text at 1am to say it was definitely a confidence vote and, unrelatedly, the Whips aren't resigning :)

I think we have found the price paid to keep the Whips.

Meanwhile. Let's see what this has done for Liz's leadership stability!

13 letters of no confidence are confirmed submitted by Sky, 5 of which came in overnight. The 1922 Committee reconvenes the coven to discuss matters. Simultaneously, the One Nation Conservatives reconvene their coven to discuss the same. Presumably there is much "Girl what are YOU doing at the Devil's Sacrament?"-ing and "Same cloak, how embarrassing"-ing. MPs are CLAMOURING for her head. It is VICIOUS. It's like cartoon piranhas in a supervillain's lair; which is highly appropriate, because that's exactly what Tory MPs are.

Graham Brady, head jester of the 1922 Committee, demands to see Liz Truss.

He walks into a room with her, and the doors are closed. Half an hour later, he walks back out of the room.

Ten minutes later, she calls a press conference.

45 days after being appointed, Liz Truss breaks the record, and becomes the shortest-serving British Prime Minister.

[velvetures]

Helluuuu!! I saw your post about sending requests and mine is actually a really simple one cause I don't have a creative but I just though about a ghost hurt/comfort story

Little Secrets

A/N: So this is very self-indulgent... I hope you don't mind. I think there are quite a few people who struggle with taking meds for depression/anxiety or feel guilty for it. Me included. Hopefully, this helps everyone feel valid, seen, and supported. Summary: Task Force 141 is where you belong. But it doesn't make the work easy by any means. You finally get the help you need and try hiding it. Ghost notices and is the one who sets you straight. T/W: depression/anxiety themes, medication, guilt, insecurity of reader, fem reader, and I'm sure I've missed something, so let me know.

photo by: pedropcl

You couldn't keep fighting it for any longer.

Staring down at the two orange bottles of pills in your hands and the directions packets in the other, you felt like you'd failed despite the psychiatrist you'd spoken to reassure you that this was certainly not a failure. Your brain kept refuting that this was a step in the right direction. Working as a professional and legal murderer should've meant you had no feelings. No failures of regulating your emotions or having such miserable trouble falling asleep at night. That nice woman who'd put the prescription in for you said it would take two to three weeks to see a difference. It felt like no time, yet an eternity all at once. Relief felt so far away, but insignificant compared to other people you often compared your personal struggles with.

You weren't homeless, you could eat without worrying, you had clothes and shoes all of the time, and never needed to wonder if you would have enough money to take care of your responsibilities. Education hadn't been a problem, you were well-respected despite being a woman in such a male-dominated field and kept up with your work extremely well. At least, when your brain decided to deny that you had the ability to do anything. Or... repeatedly try to convince you that nothing you did was worth a damn or actually made you useful. Vicious cycles of fighting with your own brain, knowing that you shouldn't feel or think this way but have no strength or way of stopping. None of the "hacks," meditations, or affirmation bullshit touched that panicky feeling you had mere minutes after laying down at night.

The pills shaking around in your hands were your last resort. And they made you feel so fucking embarrassed as you tucked them in your pockets before entering back into HQ. Praying to god that none of the 141 would see you with them or hear that slight sound of them rattling in their bottles. By grace or luck, you were able to avoid all of them and got back to your quarters to stash them under your bed in a small ammo box repurposed for some personal belongings. The directions you'd thrown away on your drive back, just taking a picture of them for reference and ditching the paper copies so you wouldn't have to keep track of those.

"This better fucking help," You breathe out heavily to yourself.

Staring up at the ceiling and almost dreading having to take one tonight before bed and the other when you wake up the next morning. Daily reminders of how you couldn't be hard and cold like the others. Cool and collected like Gaz, confident like Soap, unaffected like Ghost, or just so very reliable like Price. It made you feel like the weak link needing support. You'd never needed it before, and within two years you'd suddenly realized that your own mind was winning in a fight you'd never even been aware of fighting in the first place.

Keeping all of them in the dark about this would be safest. If they didn't need to question your stability, then it wouldn't feel like such pressure to perform. And hopefully, after a few weeks, things might start to shift a little. Maybe enough to where you could begin sorting out the other problems without the image of a cluttered attic representing the state of your head. Taking care to not raise the alert of the 141 wouldn't be easy. Always noticing everything out of sheer training and sharpened instincts. Having no other good ideas... You just settled on doing everything you could to keep your little secrets under wraps.

In the following couple of days, you’d become adjusted to the routine of taking your medications on the surface level. While the one tasked with easing you anxiety and depression wasn’t going to take effect for quite a while longer the other -a sleeping aid- was definitely making a significant impact. You were able to actually fall asleep and stay that way, problem was, with a couple missions impending in the near future, you were getting concerned that if you took them when you were supposed to -on a schedule- that staying awake would be next to impossible. And if you didn’t take them at all… you didn’t want to deal with the consequences of breaking a much more healthy habit.

And the reason you were so worried about the missions was because of a reoccurring problem that the 141 began finding you falling victim to. Thankfully you were all on leave, making it a lot more acceptable, but they still began walking into different rooms around HQ to see you sleeping soundly. No matter the noise level, temperature in the room, or the space you’d fit yourself into. And no one was quite as intrigued with your sudden change in behavior was the Lieutenant.

Ghost liked things to have order, and often used regiment or habit as a very small form of comfort when he felt that his physical situation was one that could be trusted. And while the others just thought you’d found a new safety in HQ and enjoyed sleeping somewhere safe, Ghost could see that something much different was happening. Your sleeping wasn’t a new habit.

It appeared far too quickly, and you oftentimes didn’t look like you had much control over it. There had already been three times where he’d watched you fall asleep on one of the guys late in the evening without as much as a single attempt to fight the drowsiness. While Ghost didn’t like to think that he cared that much about you, he found himself paying even closer attention to you than he had before.

“There she goes…” Soap chuckled quietly, pointing to you on the couch; head laying in Captain Price’s lap, eyes closed and sleeping deeply with your arms tucked against your chest and lying on your side.

Price had a loving hand on your head, and had been idly petting your hair much like a father would despite being hardly of age to act it. Yet, Ghost felt that Price’s warmth towards you wasn’t the entire reason you had yet again fallen asleep before 11 o’clock. Purposefully he’d been keeping count, and this was the fifth time in a week. More than enough to raise alarm with the others… but he was still waiting silently for someone else to bring it up.

Price chuckled, glancing down at you. “I carried her to bed last time,” His pointed look at each of them was more than enough to guess what he was about to say. “Someone else needs to, otherwise you’ll be voluntold.”

Ghost internally groaned. Not only was that kind of behavior what made people soft, but it also made seeing through the mask of affection far more difficult. But before Soap or Gaz took initiative, the Lieutenant was up on his feet and approaching Price with every intention of being the one to take you back to your quarters. Looks got thrown around the room, and Ghost wasn’t stupid enough to not notice. It was the first time he’d gotten this involved, and there was certainly a spectacle of him picking you up carefully enough to not wake you.

Even though he was quite certain it would take a lot more to get you up than that.

Your door opened up into warm, glowing light from a little lamp you’d left switched on. He catches sight of your quilt on the bed and the little rug that made the polished concrete floors look so much less like the jail cell his own quarters resembled. The whole room smelled like you too. Sweet, and a lot like cinnamon rolls. Probably some type of candle or other smelly thing that you had thought was worth spending money on. Plenty more reasons added to the list of what separates the two of you. Debating your differences or the reason you preferred your quarters smelling like a bakery wasn’t his purpose for bringing you back to your room.

But even with laying you down on your bed and pulling the sheet and blankets over you, Ghost wasn’t seeing any of the possible signs that could lead him to better understand what was going on with you. Nothing is out of place though. Your room is pretty much spotless save for a sleep outfit you’d laid out for tonight, but wouldn’t have the chance to get changed into. And right about the time Ghost decided he’d been looking into your business too much, he bumped into your nightstand.

It knocked something off into the floor, bouncing under the bed and clattering a bit.

Ghost sighed, eyes rolling up towards the ceiling and having quite the frustrating experience of dealing with the sudden responsibility of making sure you were cared for. And that meant picking up whatever shit he’d been too busy watching you, to not knock somewhere under the bed he’d have to fish around and find. So he knelt down and pulled his phone from his pocket and used the flash to spot a tube of chapstick near the bed frame foot.

That, and an ammo box with your initials spray-painted onto the side of it.

Compared to everything else, it didn’t look like it fit amongst the rest of your things. And damn if Ghost didn’t have a sudden gut feeling that it was the reason you’d been sleeping so much. Why you’d been so out of character; Setting his teeth on edge. Reaching out… Ghost grabbed the lip balm and got back to his feet and sit it down on the nightstand where it couldn’t be as easily disturbed again.

“G’night kid.” His whispers fell on your unconscious ears as your Lieutenant dismissed himself from your room and back down to his own space.

***

You woke up in your bed after falling asleep somewhere unintentionally, for the who-knows-which time. Just like before, left in whatever clothes you’d been wearing and all of your blankets tucked up tightly around you. It left a lingering sense of disappointment in yourself. A little pinch of sadness rested like a rock in your stomach. You couldn’t really remember falling asleep to begin with. If you ended up keeping this little habit going, there’d be no doubt you would risk everyone on a mission falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

All because of this damn medicine.

One that you needed to grab from under your bed, and sneak into the kitchen so that you could have some water and food. You'd seen one of the tens of sites -during your research of your pills- that it would help digest it better... whether it actually worked or not wasn't something you could tell. But either way, a doctor had said it, and plenty of people taking it agreed. So you grabbed the pill, shoved it in your pocket, and went out into the kitchen to find a glass.

The floors felt cold even with socks on. And while a steady rain poured from the sky, you were more heated with concern that someone would notice you. Notice your sleeping issues, the way you crawled around in the morning for the first couple hours before the pills began working, or the shady way you hid your face in the refrigerator while swallowing down your medication. Surely the stuff had to be working since you'd not been struggling to get your work done throughout the day. But maybe that was the hard part. Taking pills to fix your head, but needing your brain to recognize whether or not you felt better.

"Oh god help me..." You mutter quietly, searching past Soap's energy drinks and Gaz's revolting jug of green juice to find something you could make for breakfast.

A cabinet door shutting behind you nearly stopped your heart. Seeing Ghost's dark eyes evaluating your reaction didn't make your heart rate drop back to normal either. In his typical day-off wear, a pair of well-worn jeans hung low on his hips and an old SAS t-shirt you'd seen him wear countless times stretched tightly over his chest and shoulders. No doubt he'd been up since four. Quite certain he never actually slept, you wondered momentarily if he could benefit from the sleeping tabs you took. But quickly that got covered in anxiety when his eyebrows furrowed at your expression.

"Nothin' to eat?" He asked with a smooth voice, nodding to the refrigerator door you still held open dumbly.

"N-no... just a bunch of shit drinks." You reply, letting the door shut and noticing that he's got a brown bag with grease spots at the bottom corners. He just nods, looking off into the empty common room. Like he's trying to think of the right way to talk shit about both Gaz and Soap's bad choices in hydration.

"Sit. I've got enough to share." He jerks his head to the other side of the counter, turning that wide back to face you, leaving no room for argument.

You're swallowing down a thick bite of a bagel with god-knows-what in British style as Ghost brews tea. Silently making you a cup as well and standing stiffly with both milk and sugar on the table with the expectancy that you tell him how you like it. Not really unusual behavior from him... typically you get along just fine. But it's the fact that he watches so heavily.

"Just sugar, please." You say through a mouthful, covering your mouth with your hand.

He nods, but then starts putting the sugar in, mentioning something about fucking Americans before sliding the mug closer to you with a couple of fingers. Those damned eyes are just as observant as ever when you crumple up the finished sandwich before he even steeps his own drink. It made you nervous. Wondering if those pills were helping with your appetite too. The psychiatrist said it could; Something about feeling less stressed can give your body more opportunities to worry about being hungry. It was one of those facts on the medication packet you'd taken pictures of.

"Plans for today, L.t.?" You ask, sipping the tea, eyes grazing over the cup rim as you stare at the back of his head.

Mask rucked up high enough to eat and drink freely he nods his head. Leaning his lower back against the edge of the kitchen counter

and resting one hand back.

“Yeah, you?”

You shake your head uselessly, “No. Maybe some laundry, but I’m not really even due. Wouldn’t be worth the water in the machine.”

He hums lowly, taking a drink of his tea. You can hear his swallow and a steady exhale of air that follows. Whether it’s him cooling off the steaming cup or just breathing, you cant tell. But it’s so steady that you actually mimic the tempo of it. Feeling the way it expands and contracts your lungs smoothly. Almost settling. Much like L.t. himself in that way. Terrifying until you see just how easily you can be around him. He’s always quiet and composed, even when there’s plenty of reasons not to be. You wished it was something you could do too. Maybe it would help the task force if you didn’t have to spend your energy keeping yourself at an unnoticeable level of consistent panic.

“Know anythin’ about cars?”

“No,” You’re quick to add on. “But I can learn fast.”

You watch the way the back of his mask slides down further and how his head tilts from side to side to settle it comfortably. Seeing the rest of the tea get dumped into the sink and his own sandwich bag get crumpled up. He’s silent as he washes the cups used and methodically cleans up after the pair of you. Even reaching across the counter to swipe a couple of crumbs off your t-shirt with a subtle nod to his own satisfaction.

“I like to hear it,” His hand palmed at the back of your neck. Gently tugging you off the barstool, and grabbing your jacket to toss it to you. “You’re comin’ with me then.”

Learning about cars actually became quite easy… when Ghost was teaching.

He explained the parts clearly, what his goal was, and didn’t get pissed when you handed him the wrong size socket wrench on the first try. On the other end, you’d only been working next to him -well, sitting on the wheel well- for a couple of hours when you started getting tired again. Almost helpless to your own frustration, you yawned. Fighting the sleepy feeling valiantly, and taking as detailed of mental notes as possible while watching Ghost’s greased knuckles tighten a bracket holding his master cylinder in place. Surely it was a cosmic joke. L.t. was fixing his brakes, and it felt like someone had stomped on yours.

“Hand me that,” He muttered, head stuck down in a gap between his engine block and alternator, still effortlessly pointing at a pair of channellocks. “And get in for me.”

You did as he asked, yawning one more time. Trying to blame your sudden exhaustion on the rain pelting the metal roof above you. Sliding into the back of the car and kicking off your boots to let them rest on the concrete floor outside of it. Attempting to be polite by not getting any dirty spots on the mats of the -very original- DB4 GT Aston he’d given you trust to even sit in. The leather seats help you glide into the driver’s seat, giving you a very slim look at Ghost through the gap in the hood.

“What exactly am I doing in here?” You ask, loud enough so that he can hear you.

It prompts his head to pop up from inside the engine bay, giving you those same, observant eyes from earlier. He looks back down, reaches in and taps on something harshly, then looks back to you.

“Roll it over.”

The car starts effortlessly. Practically purring under you, and echoing in the metal hangar making it sound all the more ruggedly beautiful. The whole car hums, and as you watch Ghost go back to focusing on something in front of him, you feel the heat come through the dash. It’s a perfect storm that lulls you even closer to sleep. A dangerous thing, considering the one man who could figure out what was wrong with you was the only one close enough to see. Hell, you weren’t even sure he didn’t already have it figured out, and wasn’t planning some way to tell Price about it and have you removed from the task force.

Unfit for duty.

You could just picture it now. Red pen in Price’s handwriting detailing your medications and how it was grounds from honorable discharge. Perfectly common in the military, but it felt like death in your hazy mind.

Not that you could fight it for much longer.

Because by the time the Lieutenant had finished his little bit of work, he came into sight of you, slumped over in his driver’s seat with you lips parted and your arms wrapped around yourself. Nothing short of a pretty sight for sore eyes. His car had damn near rocked you sleep, and for once, Ghost felt his heart couldn’t take the feeling of waking you up. He’d watched you all morning. Gauging your reactions, your lack of conversation, and the way you tried to keep from showing him any sign of being tired. Initially he wanted to be angry. Mad that you were hiding something from the team… from him. But seeing you sleeping there, he knew there was a fight in your head. A fight he knew well. So he left you there to sleep.

Turning off the engine to keep from filling the garage with exhaust, but pulling up one of the small space heaters close to the open door to keep you from getting cold while he worked. Making small adjustments, looking over future jobs, and even entertaining the thought of adjusting you over in the seat a little bit so that he could drive-test his handiwork. But that didn’t come, because Soap arrived with a grin on his face and no idea that you were sleeping.

Until Ghost told him to lower his goddamn voice.

“Sleepin’ again bonnie?” Soap chuckled to himself, looking at you before back to Ghost. “How long’s she been out?”

Ghost shrugged, “Few hours.” Really he hadn’t been watching the clock; far too comfortable to concern himself with it.

“I know you’ve been tryin’ to figure it out,” He started back, resting his hands on the hood. “Why she’s doin’ this so much. Have ya’?”

Ghost shook his head. “No. Not yet, but I’m not concerned.”

Johnny laughed softly, slapping Ghost on the back and beginning to walk away. “I never took you for the type to be worried, L.t.. But since you’re so reassurin’ I’ll take it t’heart.”

Any way Ghost came at that statement, he felt himself on the end of a losing battle. Maddening. Losing a fight wasn’t in his nature. Even if that meant he had to take some of the most fucked up torture to reach it. But what bothered him more than Soap knowing he was concerned about you was the knowing you weren’t okay.

Days out in the field were bad enough. But when they got worse, you were always there. And maybe you didn’t feel much better than he did, yet you always held softness. For everyone. For him. A kind of understanding and acceptance that wasn’t required, or exactly approved of in this line of work. You could keep a secret better than anyone he knew, and while he didn’t burden you with a single one of his, there was always the foreign comfort in being able to come with them if he wanted to. Hiding your own feelings wasn’t right though.

Selfish maybe. Thinking it was okay to linger in his own issues and still demand you give him yours.

But hiding behind his rank and position over you meant he could make that kind of decision without any questioning. A type of don’t fucking ask why that saved him face when carrying you from his car back to your room after you still hadn’t woken up nearly seven hours after passing out in his car. Shouldering open the door just like the night before, he expected to see nothing out of place. The same lip balm on the side table, the same rug, and maybe a different night shirt since you’d mentioned doing laundry. But there was something out of place. And damn if it didn’t make his gut twist up in a ugly kind of feeling. One he’d not felt in years, but certainly recognized as soon as he spotted the orange pill bottle sitting on your bed.

It made sense.

The sleeping. The different behavior. The reason you’d practically swallowed a whole fucking sandwich for breakfast when a cup of tea would typically be all you stomached until afternoon. And thank god… you were finally starting to look a bit fuller. Getting prettier every day, and he finally had something to place the blame on. All hesitations about you being able to handle the upcoming missions faded once he got a good look at the bottle. A medication, funnily enough, that Ghost was well-acquainted with. It wasn’t part of his own personal line-up in his medicine cabinet, but it was one he’d taken for a while.

You’d been in need of some help, and luckily for you, it hadn’t been nearly as hard for you to get help as it had been for him. Actually asking for what you needed -and while frustrating- decided to try and manage it without anyone else’s knowledge. Ghost couldn’t think of a better scenario. Realizing that the only thing he needed to know about was your side effects, and how to best manage them alongside you. Thank fuck you weren’t sick… well… sick in a way that someone couldn’t help you with. A way that he couldn’t help.

So, he sit down in on the floor in your room and waited.

Your wake-up call came in the form of sleepy eyes opening to see the massive silhouette of Ghost sitting in your floor. Dark eyes much softer than you’d expected, and a much more concerning sight of your pill bottle resting in his massive hand. A sight that sat you up ramrod straight in your bed, gasping softly and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t tell Price.” You sputter, rushing to get the words out of your mouth. Terrified that he’s going to get up and run out the door. Just sitting long enough to let you get a good look at his plan before exposing you to the Captain as some sick kind of satisfaction.

His eyes narrow a little, “Don’t tell Price?” His voice sounds hoarse. “Don’t tell Price?”

It sounds that much more broken and gritty when he repeats it. Standing up to meet you a bit more level, fisting the pills in his hand, and lightly making them shake. He can’t understand your fear. Completely blind to the fact that -much like him- you’re fearful of being shamed. Misunderstood for it. Or worse. Ghost can’t recognize why you’re looking at him as if he’s going to be the reason your life ends. When in all reality, you don’t see how he’s trying to figure out why you didn’t feel safe coming to him.

“You’ve been takin’ these… fallin’ asleep on everyone, and-and struggling for who knows how the fuck long…” It’s hard for Ghost to keep his tone even, thinking about it. “Why didn’t you tell me. you should’ve told me. Said something. Anything.”

Caving in on itself, your chest burns. Eyes locked on his and scanning every confusing moment of emotion and each shift as it comes and goes.

“You wouldn’t…”

Ghost takes a fast step closer, “I wouldn’t what?” His hand drops the pills on the bed and quickly grabs your face, soft fingers pressing into your jaw. “I wouldn’t get it? I wouldn’t do what you needed me to? Wouldn’t let you sleep on me?”

Your lips open in surprise at the softness in him. All of him. The gentleness of his fingers, how his eyes lay silkily on you. Even his voice, falling so softly despite it’s rough tone and deep sound, feels like he’s terrified of you being scared away from him. Like that gentle hold on your face is all he can manage, and he’d rather do anything other than let you pull away from it.

“You have to know…” he starts weakly. “You have to know that - that I would do… anything you needed me to. Anything to make this easier for you. Even somethin’ small, I’d do it for you, honey.”

reblogs & comments are appreciated 🤎

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hello :)

Could you please do and platonic Aizawa x daughter reader?

His daughter is in her teen years so she is being like really rebel and all that so they fought a lot, but one day she just breaksdown during one fight and starts crying and apologizing for being a shitty daughter?

I have been avoiding this for so long, and it's all because I have no idea how aizawa would handle something like this. because it goes against everything that Aizawa would try and teach his kid so this may be a little forcefully written, apologies.

TW : unhealthy parenting, mental illness, some suicidal thoughts, probably angsty shit, I dunno, read at your own risk.

We can start this by walking through how this may start in the first place. I think the best place to start is that reader's mom left her and Aizawa when she was very young, and Aizawa, assuming here he didn't understand how to properly tell her why her mother left her, never tells her why.

Now reader is very young so she might blame one of two things.

herself

her father

While both instances would technically work, I think the more favorable option is she blames herself since a young child would probably never blame an adult they look up to and hold dear as the problem.

Up to this point her father has been really kind to her so the only other variable is her, this spirals into social anxiety, low self esteem, and depression. all of which don't help when you have an absent mother and a neglectful father who is both a teacher and a full time hero, which leaves little to no room for children.

(this is also why I think it isn't realistic for Aizawa to keep Eri or a child without another non-hero caretaker. Fight me, I dare you.)

As time goes on, and this child becomes a teenager, she might not know how to properly express her feeling and after being misguided by factors like the internet, other adults, and "friends" she might take out the feeling of being abandoned on her closest caretaker and another source of her problems; Aizawa.

if you purposely yell at him or start arguments it's not going to be very fun because Aizawa has this complex where if his students or other heros represent incompetence or arrogance he expels them or ignores him rather than explaining it to them and helping them improve, this is especially with students.

and since he lacks a true connection with you as his daughter mainly because of his job(s) and past with Oboro which he is still trying to heal from keeping him from bonding with you, he'll treat you as a student like the rest of the teenagers he knows. and even then, you may actually be treated worse than his students because while he interacts with them daily, he interacts with maybe 1 hour every other day.

so from all that he simply ignores you, just stops interacting with you entirely, he's too tired for your bullshit. this action makes the wedge between you two even worse.

if you keep persisting though he will yell back but it's often really short and really loud. something like "SHUT UP" a cold "I don't care." before slamming the door in your face. He knows it's probably not right to do that to your daughter but let's face it. you're just this annoying teenager he legally has to live with if he doesn't want to lose his hero and teaching license.

this is where things actually get very interesting, because let's assume he stops approaching you entirely, you just live in the same house nothing more than that, and while you may act like you hate your father for ruining your family and neglecting you all your life on the outside, remember, you're still that little kid in second grade that blames yourself for your mother leaving and your father not caring for you.

so let's say you realize this and go back to blaming yourself for everything like you did when you where a kid but since your father stopped talking to you entirely explaining your faults to him maybe difficult.

this where my personal experiences come in, I've actually had this happen to me in my own life, and I truely hope that you'll enjoy it. thank you.

---------

why is it that the voices are the loudest in the dead of night?

the moon is gone, the birds are silent, there isn't a single light that shines on your tear streaked face, puffly, swollen, sad, just sad.

years of confusion, neglect, a lack of love in it's purest form.

all because of you.

it's all because of you.

it's sings so prettily, like it's a church choir spreading the word of the lord like it's common knowledge.

it's common knowledge that you are a terrible person!

it cackles.

the urge to strangle yourself to finally feel some relief has never been stronger.

lie awake in the dead of night, in pitch darkness, a proper scenery to match ones broken and cracked soul, be careful, you might hurt yourself, again.

however, one cannot weep in their wallows forever.

the night has to make way for the morning sun.

and a relaxed self pity has to make way to dread.

dread.

dread of him, he who you blame for everything, everything you know is your fault.

it's all your fault.

a click at the door,

the creak of the old wood and the hinges never oiled.

mild thumping footsteps that wander around the apartment that can barely hold your overflowing buckets of tears.

you can mumble out all your pleas.

pleas that this is all a terrible nightmare and your real life is actually one with a kind and loving mother and a supportive and encouraging father.

mumble out the little lies that you made up all these years to make yourself feel worse and other better.

"it's pointless to keep trying."

"I wish I wasn't here."

"why can't I just be happy?"

"it's all my fault,

it's all my fault,

it's all my fault."

the thin walls don't do those in mourning justice though.

for the wind is calm, the branches don't dare to move, the owls, the bats, the sleeping heros in training downstairs don't make a peep.

for the only ones alive, awake, aware, is a man beaten down and broken by society serving as it's protector, ignoring the one in most need of protection all this time. With him is a girl. a girl that's scared, scared of her mirror image that haunts her, a girl who's cried an ocean, screamed a thousand wails of pain, a girl lost in her own heart,

"No wonder no one loves you."

you lie again.

but keen ears trained from years of work with villains hears you, for the first time, he hears you.

not the rebellious teen he's seen yell out strings of pure hatred and fiery insults like he's her own worst enemy.

it's the girl who he saw waiting on the steps to their apartment all those years ago. waiting for her mama to come back home with the promise of cupcakes.

it's the girl who never smiled for the remainder of elementary school.

it's the girl who's heart withered way that autumn evening.

he heard the softest little voice in the dead of night. he heard his daughter cry

"No wonder no one loves you."

.

.

.

"But I love you."

for that whole night, for that whole night.

the peace was disturbed.

for that whole night, it seemed that the moon shone once again.

it may not be the sun. but it'll do for now.

Aizawa walked away shortly after that.

leaving a little girls and her mirror image to ponder.

ponder.

---------

Afterwards I don't think he'd talk about it too much, he's proabably approach you after breakfast the next morning and tell you "you can talk to him about it if you want." but not much more than that

he definitely would change his practices though. like getting you a therapist, taking the weekends off in favor of being around the house more.

he'll let you get used to his presence first like one would with a cat, and one day. maybe years later, or tomorrow, you'll talk to him.

you'll tell him you love him too.

and maybe.

just maybe.

the world will stop,

and everything will be okay.

[heytherecentaurs]

The Bad Parents would see Kristen in crisis, sort of in free fall, and all endeavour to help her. She's a kid who had to leave home because her parents are bigots. Then she moved in with her girlfriend's family (which thankfully is also her best friend's family). But do you ever think she was scared, even briefly, that she'd have nowhere to go when she and Tracker broke up? Like maybe in the back of her mind she wondered if the grace they'd shown her was because she was Tracker's girlfriend.

I think the bad parents would have rallied around her. Jawbone who knows how hard she's been grinding at school. Sandra Lynn who fully understands what it's like to be a young woman in crisis. (And who is used to dealing with Fig's special brand of bullshit; Kristen's problems might seem easier to tackle.) Wilma and Digby who are so kind and understanding but don't put up with bullshit and won't be pushovers. Even Sklonda who didn't want Riz's friends exploiting him, but you can't tell me she wouldn't hear from Riz that Kristen is Acing her cleric classes and crushing it on the campaign, and now you're telling Sklonda this girl who's really applying herself in shitty circumstances is being punished for it and on top of that it's going to effect her own kid's academics and future. Get the fuck outta here.

Kristen just needs one adult to march into that school with her and say "You're out of order." Like the school may be able to push around some kid and force her through hoops, but Sklonda or Sandra Lynn? No way. "You can't expel her. Kristen has perfect grades and is an active student in extracurriculars. What do you mean, 'She fails because her deity is dead'? Does Kristen still believe in her? Yes. Does Kristen still have her magic? Yes. How then can her goddess be dead? Last I checked Cassandra is a goddess of mystery. Just because you don't understand the mystery doesn't mean you have the right to punish Kristen for it. In fact combined with the cleric teacher's behaviour, this constitutes discrimination on religious grounds." Like... "Who's in charge here? You don't have someone qualified at the head of your administrative faculty? I'm going to have a class action suit brought against the school on behalf of the student body and you don't have Arthur Aguefort here to protect you."

Kristen needs an adult to reasonably address these issues on her behalf and failing that, an adult who will be mean.

Put me in a room with whoever you want from that school and I'll eat them alive. I'll make them cry. I don't care if Jace Stardiamond is evil or not. And I certainly don't care what big tent megachurch bullshit Bobby Fucking Dawn slithered out from. Fuck him and his Kentucky-fried drawl. I'll crush him.

(Side note: Kristen should have immediately begun whatever emancipation process Solace has because Mac and Donna should not be making legal and medical decisions on her behalf.)

[redditreceipts]

This is actually a TIM explaining why it's legitimate to be anti-feminist because feminism has done nothing for TIMs/trans and has even been hostile towards them

https://www.tumblr.com/havenofcybele/744684220115566592/some-thoughts-on-feminism-from-a-trans-perspective?source=share

well feminism has given half of the trans population human rights, the right to vote, and legal recognition as a person lol. (of course you wouldn't bother to think about trans men, because you're a male and all you care about is yourself, but well)

it has admittedly not done anything done for trans women, because feminism is for women and trans women are not women lmao

yah, interesting thing to think about, right? That the people who stand in for women's rights continue to do so, even when those women don't identify as women anymore.

Also, the question is so stupid. Like, even if I thought that trans women are women, asking what feminists have done for trans people is like asking what anti-racist activists have done for disabled people. And when they struggle to find an answer, I then as a disabled person tell them that I won't be participating in anti-racist struggles anymore because they don't focus on ME (the most important person in the world)

also, I think it's kinda smart for those "trans feminists" (like Julia Serano) to act as if trans activism and feminism were compatible. you can of course come out and tell the world that you dislike feminism as a trans woman, because feminism is about protecting women and you as a man feel neglected, but it will really not help your cause in the public opinion lmao

I mean he's kinda right in his assessment though. Feminism is a movement to liberate women, and his bullshit ideology is not compatible with that. Feminism will always be about women, and as a man who wants to retain his privileges, being an anti-feminist is a logical conclusion. If you live in a patriarchy long enough, your privileges will appear to you as "rights", and taking away your privilege to define women as a man will seem to you as oppression. I guess it will be harder to convince your ftm brothers, because they actually know what it's like to live as a woman under patriarchy, but well, you're just proving the femininists' point by your post. Men as a class primarily care about retaining their privilege to oppress women, and this guy accurately recognised that and wants to stand in for men's rights instead. I guess normal people would have empathy for the struggle of a marginalised people that they're not a part of and not throw a tantrum when these people's emancipation means making themselves uncomfortable, but what do you expect of people socialised as male? this kind of rhetoric is like a plantation owner who lets their palm oil get picked by people in the global south and pays them $0.10 per hour, and then he turns around and says "What has the anti-imperialist movement ever done for plantation owners??? why should i support them when they want to take away my rights to exploit people?" like yeah, of course you shouldn't support them if all you care about is your own gain. but the people getting angry with you for not supporting a movement for the liberation of a marginalised people you are not a part of expect you to have the tiniest shred of empathy and not only care about yourself, but that's apparently too much asked of a man lol

[calliesmemes]

IN-CHARACTER QUOTES FROM DISCORD

UNHINGED SENTENCE STARTERS FEATURING THINGS SAID BY MYSELF AND MY FRIENDS WHILE WRITING AS OUR MUSES IN A CRACK-BASED NONCANON GROUP CHAT. This post is dedicated to Em, Liz, Tanny, Nellie, Mel, Ange, and everyone else in the server who recognizes these quotes — you know who you are 😈

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   Have you forgotten that you should not steal someone’s property? ”

“   I could slap that smug look off his face right now! ”

“   Your ears are a lie. ”

“   Woah woah that's - that's a bad word. ”

“   I don’t know if it’s allowed and quite frankly I don’t care. Fuck the rules. ”

“   Time for gremlin activities! ”

“   I hate this man. Let's prank him. ”

“   We are all going on strike today I swear ”

“   Looks like I need to invest in a kid leash. ”

“   DONT BE COWARDS!! JOIN THE STRIKE!! ”

“   I support her saying what needs to be said! I am done with the silencing of women!!!! ”

“   I like the dramatics. ”

“   I did not ask for a second opinion. ”

“   You seem to be doing a great job at being a nuisance. ”

“   NO BITING MY EMPLOYEES! ”

“   do you want me to bring you cheese? ”

“   Next move, start chewing on the door frames ”

“   I like crumbs. They are like a little midnight snack in my bed at night. ”

“   if he wants to be a worm, LET HIM BE A WORM ”

“   the rest of you suck my toe ”

“   To be fair I am simply vibing. ”

“   I am going to commit a war crime! ”

“   I am manifesting being happy. ”

“   Am I gonna talk shit WITH you guys? because im down to talk shit about pretty much anyone ”

“   Who says? We shall revolt without question. ”

“   Let's just start burning stuff. ”

“   Did you just call me... small? ”

“   Can I convert you with my kazoo propaganda? ”

“   We were radicalised by The Little Mermaid. ”

“   Penny in the swear jar, now. ”

“   My last words are, bros before hoes. ”

“   The old men are trying to be trendy. ”

“   I can do whatever I want too! ”

“   Can we go one day without an interruption from an American? ”

“   I am so sorry. He enjoys conflict. ”

“   Why is he so tall? ”

“   For legal reasons, kids, that's a joke. ”

“   Would you like to fight the adults? ”

“   You're not meant to bite people, it's frowned upon. ”

“   He’s a fun killer, don't listen to him! ”

“   Ow! Stop kicking me! ”

“   I have quite literally begged you not to kick, hit, or bite today. ”

“   BUT I thought we were buds, pals, amigos, chums, friends. ”

“   Oh shiiiii someone’s in trouble ”

“   How much caffeine have you had in the last hour? ”

“   I'll be honest they wouldn't be so bad if they didn't speak. ”

“   Is this goof meant to be dead or what? ”

“   I am a witch. ”

“   This one reeks of self confidence when he clearly doesn't think before opening his mouth. ”

“  I call bullshit on that rule! ”

“   The point is I have a cane and I’m not afraid to use it. ”

“   If you slap me, I’ll cane you. ”

“   Yippee for women. ”

“   FUCK THE PATRIARCHY ”

“   Sorry for being British. ”

“   Oi who's playing that ominous music? ”

“   I'm strong because I eat carrots. Oh wait or is that to see in the dark.... it's for something. ”

“   I will say sorry when i'm caught, don't you worry. ”

“   AND YOU CALLED ME UP AGAIN JUST TO BREAK ME LIKE A PROMISE! ”

“   ... He's done for. Broken beyond repair. Someone play Taylor Swift. ”

“   Please refrain from punching one another. ”

“   He is becoming one with the spider I believe. ”

“   If anybody asks I will say I made you, then you will not get in trouble! ”

“   Can I be a girlboss too? I am not rude to women and I do what i like ”

“   Yippee for patriotism! ”

“   … i could make you guys rat costumes ”

“   Do you think if we started stealing bread we would lose our jobs? ”

“   why do British people ”

“   … you all need therapy. ”

“   Do you ever feel if you breathe the wrong way he will bite you? ”

“   I actively avoid whatever this is. ”

“   CARRY ME. ”

“   What if, and hear me out, they both promise not to do it again? ”

“   I wanna steal all his socks. ”

“   My socks were stolen! ”

“   Hey, watch it now. Only I'm allowed to insult me. ”

“   You couldn’t whisper to save your life. It’s pitiful. ”

“   Both of you are insufferable. ”

“   The law is overrated. ”

“   I’m afraid. Miss, you aren’t my type. ”

“   No. I swear on my life. I am being a gentleman ”

“   I support women’s wrongs. ”

“   ONE FOR ALL AND ALL FOR ONE!!! ”

“   GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE RIGHT NOW ”

“   He bites? Are you .. joking? Please say you're joking. ”

“   If you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain ifyou're not into yoga if you have half a brain if you like makin' love at midnight in the dunes on the cape then I'm the love that you've looked for write to me and escape 🎶🎶 ”

[xoxodivine]

ACADEMIC RIVALS | FUSHIGURO MEGUMI x READER

summary: reader is annoyed particularly after their classmate megumi copies their answer. they have a rivalry that carries into high school, something shocking is revealed about megumi

content warnings: light n' slight cursing, reader is lowkey petty and a bully, first story ever type writing

NEW SCHOOL, Same bullshit. Same lame ass teachers that think they know every damn thing, Same students forced to be in a legal prison for 7 hours straight, Same assignments that take longer to finish than the class, and same stupid icebreaker questions no one cares about. It is only your third or fourth year in elementary school, and you already want to graduate college. Maybe if you're smart enough I can graduate extremely early and leave this school that's full of sh- "We're waiting for your answer" You spaced out again? that's like the fifth time today "I'm sorry, what was the question?" You were so wrapped up in your thoughts about graduating you forgot to listen for your name for icebreaker questions.  

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" Easy question. "A doctor" It has been your dream career since you were 5. You've always wanted to be a doctor for as long as you can remember, it was the reason you pushed so hard in school despite being in the third grade. "Wow, our first doctor! Wonderful choice." You felt special that you were the only person who said you wanted to be a doctor. It was granted since most people in the class had stupid answers like "A fairy princess" or "A dog". Yeah, the kids in your class were that dumb. "Ok, last person. Megumi, what do you want to be when you grow up?"  

Megumi? That's a dumb name. He wasn't difficult to spot because anytime someone's name was called the whole class would stare at them. He looked like he wasn't paying attention at first, looking out the window. He was the supposed "smart kid" of the class. Not smarter than you of course but to you he just looked quiet. He also looks like he would pick his nose to be honest but hey, don't judge a book by its cover? He stuttered as he spoke, "uhm...uh a doctor?"  

Who does this kid think he is? He just stole your answer. You just heard this kid speak and you’ve already decided he’s your biggest enemy. “Oh, now there’s two doctors in the class.” No there’s not. This wannabe will never be a doctor. He wishes he was me. “Alright class, take out your notebooks and we’ll start the lesson for today.” You turned to look at him with a stank face which doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He furrows his eyebrows at you in confusion and you mouth to him “I hate you.” 

And that’s all it took for your rivalry to start. It was always a competition with the two of you. Although Megumi was a smart kid, you were smarter. For example, he might know grass is green, but you knew it was chlorophyll that made it green. He could be able to the time on a digital clock, but you could tell the time with an analog clock with roman numerals.  

After that day in third grade, you’ve both spoken 264 words to each other within the years you guys have known each other. A few exchanged that time you bumped into each other in the hallways which was dismissed with a “Oh, my bad” and “Watch where you’re going”. The other 254 being when you had a science project with him which your teacher conveniently paired the both of you together. 

 Was this “rivalry” really because he said he wanted to be a doctor back in the third grade? Sadly yes. You both are in your first year of high school and you still haven’t let it go. But in all honestly, Megumi hopes you don’t let it go. Before your rivalry, he never really felt a reason to go above and beyond in school. If he had A’s and B’s, he was set for the year. However, you pushed him to do better, seeing as you were always competing. He does think the reason this started is stupid. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

The reason for that isn’t just because of his grades improving, It’s also because he’s madly in love with you. 

xoxodivine©

[potatomountain]

*739 San

*739 Masterlist

Synopsis: with sex work legal, it was as readily available as texting *739, filling out the form sent, and setting a time and place with an easy charge to your credit card. Even the more hefty kinks could be fulfilled with a professionalism that was respected, and could be addicting.

Word count: 8.5k (22pages)

Warnings below cut! taglist at the bottom

Smut warnings: Pet play, praise, degradation, san x fem reader, switch san, switch reader, strength play, use of toys, pet names, masturbation, cum play, cum eating, overstimulation, squirting, oral (fem receiving), paid sex, sex worker, some impact play, some predator/prey play, mirror sex, some choking- let me know if i missed any!

"I don't think this is going to work out." Your current, well now ex, boyfriend spoke from across the cafe table. When he had asked to meet up at a cafe neither of you had been to, you had expected this. Really you had seen this coming for weeks.

Frowning down at your drink of choice, not as good as your usual from your favorite cafe, you shrugged. "Do I get an explanation? Or, let me guess." Setting the cheap cup down you lifted your gaze to the man across you, brows pulled down. "I'm too independent? I don't seem to have time for you, too cold? Too demanding? You probably feel inferior to me right? Making six figures a year, nicer apartment, nicer car, barely any shared interests, and I don't satisfy you enough?"

With each word his cheeks grew red with anger, hand tight around the cup. "You really think you are so high and mighty? That you are that much better than me? Have to rub it in constantly? Fucking Bitch." He stood, slamming the coffee down and spilling it on the table and his hand. He just cursed once more before storming off.

And you didn't care. 

If anything you were upset with yourself. Every time you dated you had gone by their terms. Wearing clothes they liked, spending so much of your money on dates and gifts, only for them to fuck you poorly and treat you like a trophy wife once you've invested enough.

Their love and attention was always conditional, and at this point you were beginning to wonder if it was worth it.

Sighing, you stood up and headed for the counter with the intent of getting one more drink to go. Sure it wasn't your usual, it wasn't as good, but it was good enough and you needed the extra boost. The line was just a tad longer than it had been moments ago unfortunately, a few chatterboxes behind you.

"Seriously you need to check it out! I thought it was bullshit until I tried it." A pair of girls were huddled together, and a quick curious glance showed they were huddled around their phones. "Like look at him! He's model quality and it felt like living through the perfect porn scene!"

"It must have been expensive though… for this type of quality. My roommate goes to the one downtown sometimes and she said even those were pricey as hell and mediocre."

"Oh please. This is worth it I promise. You wanna get over that bad ex of yours? Get a good dick down, and this is the place to do it."

Keeping your eyes forward you were tempted to ignore the conversation, but the girl's words intrigued you more than anything else. Get over a bad ex huh?

With determination you turned to look at the girls, startling them. "What are you two talking about? I'm curious."

The two girls looked at each other, then the one holding the phone looked back at you. "The sex hotline, star seven three nine. Don't you know about it?" 

"The biggest selection of sex workers out there, and apparently the best according to her." The other spoke, pointing to her friend.

A sex worker? Would that really dull the ache? Help with the bitterness dating had instilled in you? It would be an arrangement on your terms, transparent and nothing with-held. A simple transaction, a contract, no different than one of your own business contracts right? 

"Now why didn't I think of that. Huh." It was such a brilliant idea you were stumped that you hadn't thought of it as an option. "Order whatever you like off the menu girls, it's on me." Feeling a bit invigorated you turned back to the counter, a cat-eyed boy on the other side with broad shoulders. "As for me, I'll have another one of these." 

"Sure thing ma'am." He was quick to ring you up, the two girls behind you eager to take you up on your offer and ordering as well. "Quite a generous deed ma'am."

You shrugged at his words, looking him over slowly. "I give rewards as I see fit."

"And their gossip about a sex hotline is deserving?" He questioned without any malice, mere curiosity and an innocent look in his eyes. He reminded you of a kitten, fearless and adorable, just wanting to play right before they sink their claws into your knees to try and do so.

"They've given me an answer to a problem I have, no matter how unconventional, so yes I think it is." You looked at the two girls and gave them a half smile. "Actually, I wouldn't mind hearing more details about this sex hotline and your experiences. Do you have time?"

"Sure! We were going to do some school work anyway." The first girl spoke up, only to be elbowed by the second. "I was going to help my friend sign up. You get a first timer discount."

"Interesting…" Humming to yourself you turned back to the cashier and held out your card to pay. "What about you, cashier boy? Have you tried the service?"

He shook his head. "Can't say I have, hard to afford it with a cafe job like this. But I've heard very good things. They're professional and as the girls said have a wide variety of workers. I think all kinks are on the table too and they take it very seriously."

"Oh they do! I had to Google a lot of the kinks listed because I never heard of them before. Did you know they'll even do some of the more dangerous kinks? I wasn't sure that was legal." The experienced girl whispered to you.

"Anything is legal if you word the paperwork right." You countered, eyes on the man as he handed back your card. "Thank you."

"No problem ma'am. Food and drinks will be right out, and good luck with your experience. Can I get a name for the order?"

You gave your name as you pocketed your card, only for one of the girls behind you to gasp. "Hm?"

"I thought you looked familiar! You run a few cat homes don't you?" 

"Oh so you are a big business woman?" The first girl wiggled her brows. "You probably could afford the best of the best on the hotline."

You shrugged, thinking it over. "Maybe, but I'm not that wealthy. Those cat homes are paid for out of my pocket, you know, and I do hope to open more." On a subject you were passionate about you followed the girls over to a table and awaited your order.

You liked cats a lot, they were aloof and independent and strong-willed. They gave love on their conditions, and when they did they ended up the most loyal and adorable companions without sacrificing any of their personal space or personality. Often compared to cats, they were kindred spirits to you.

It was perhaps because of your love of cats you glanced back at the man at the counter. Cat-like eyes, a cheshire grin, broad shoulders and a bit of himbo energy… he reminded you of the beloved felines.

Maybe you didn't need a boyfriend, a companion like a pet would be better wouldn't it?

.

.

.

You spent a bit of time at the cafe with the two girls, getting their number and even offering to pay for the other girl's first time if your own really was amazing as her friend said. You filled out the kinks you were interested in, built a satisfying profile for yourself, filled out the waivers and paperwork and just when it got time to schedule your session you realized the time.

So you rushed it.

When greeted with an option to be surprised by who the company picked or view and pick one yourself, you just hit surprise and quickly paid and set your time for later that night. You weren't one to wait around, instead you like to charge head first especially when it came to an idea that, so far, had no cons to it whatsoever.

Curiosity also killed the cat and you were one curious woman.

But you were also a businesswoman, throwing yourself into your meetings and reviewing contracts, going over budgets and coming up with new plans for your business; the day went by fast without a second thought to your scheduled night.

At least not until you were on the drive home and a call came in. Connected to your Bluetooth, you answered thinking it was perhaps someone in the office. Your name being called through the car speakers by a somewhat familiar voice only solidified that thought. "Yes, what is it?"

"My name is San, I'm calling about our session tonight? To confirm some things?"

For a moment your mind was drawing a blank, going over your mental schedule for the day before letting out a little “Ah” when the light bulb lit up. “That’s right, I had nearly forgotten. Please go ahead with what you have to say San.” You kept your tone light, no different than if you were discussing terms for a contract. While it was technically a contract, the nature of it should have you treating this a bit differently than normal; truth be told it was no different to you.

“Right… the purpose of this call is just to go over the list of kinks and go over safety measures and any disclosures, as well as map out the scene you had in mind.” His voice rang through the bluetooth of your dash, your eyes on the road as the information felt pretty basic to you.

“Understandable, you may continue.”

You could hear a bit of a chuckle on the other end, the sound drawing your attention. “I have the feeling you prefer to be the one in charge of the scene, is that correct?”

After mulling it over for a moment you answered. “Yes and no. I’m used to relinquishing command in the bedroom but it’s only gotten me into some… poor excuses for a good time. For this session I hope I can be honest and forthcoming with my desires and that they will be met, but I am not one to ask my partner to give up their own for mine either.”

The line went silent and for a moment you questioned if the call was dropped.

“I see, this explains the pet play.”

“Does it? How so?”

“Pet play is a bit more endearing than slave/master dynamics, leaning more towards mutual agreements and praise. You want someone who is going to enjoy doting and pleasing you.”

“Or I have a thing for furries.”

He chuckled at your nonchalant retort. “Maybe. I think you have a clear image of what you want. Perhaps you can describe it to me first?”

Biting down on your lip you pulled to a stop at a red light, thinking over the boxes you had checked out. “I want… I want to be in command. To coo and wiggle my finger and my lover would be eager to come. They’d get off on how many times they could make me come, how good they could fuck me, and they would listen to every command I give during. No expectations of what I can do for them, if I said bark they just would. But I think I’d prefer a cat.” Your finger was tapping on the steering wheel, imagining the scene with a faceless man at first. “Toys, tongue, hands, cock- they would use these and more. I think I’d love to see them beg for me, for a taste, for a touch. Every woman wants to be worshiped and desired, I just don’t want to feel as if they are becoming less of themselves to do it.”

His humming pulled you out of your monologue just in time to hit the gas when the light turned green. “I think I can do that just fine. Now that I have an idea of what you would like, let’s go over a list first. Just a simple yes or no will work, is that alright?”

“Yes.”

“Sweet. I’ll start with the first thing that comes to mind. Pet play is usually accompanied by the pet donning on lingerie or items to make them appear like a pet. Since you prefer a cat, would you like me to have on items to fit that image?”

You hadn’t thought that far, but now your mind ran with the idea to an alarming decree. Cat ears, a leash and collar… perhaps a tail. It was enticing to say the least. “Yes.”

“I’ll list the items I am comfortable wearing for these. Please respond accordingly. Cat ear.” You replied yes to almost them all, saying no to paws but agreeing to a tail anally inserted. The pleased hum he had given in reaction was almost like a purr.

You were beginning to get excited for this session on a new level.

“Next- toys. Vibrators?”

“Yes.”

“Anal plugs used on you?”

“Yes.”

“Dildos?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to let you know that for toys to use on me, vibrators will suffice.”

“What about cock rings? Pocket pussy? Are those on the table?”

“Do you want them to be?”

“Hm… that’s a maybe.” You didn’t want to write it off, who knows how this session was going to.

“Then yes I am as well. I will be supplying the toys for the session. Some other kinks to go over. Since you are going to be the one in command, I will follow each kink up with a yes or no of my own. Is that alright?”

“Yes, that’s understandable.” How you were managing this conversation while driving home was unbeknownst to you. Each second that passed had you more eager for the coming session.

“Very well, I’ll start with choking. Yes.”

You weren’t that surprised by his answer somehow. “No.”

“Impact play. Yes.”

A smile pulled on your lips as you imagined just how you could use that. “Depends on context.”

“How so?”

“I am not one for receiving punishment. For other situations I can’t say I’ve experienced it to know if I enjoy it but I am not against it.”

“Very well. Dacryphilia? Yes."

"Yes."

“Overstimulation? Yes”

“Yes.”

"Bondage? Yes"

The more this list continued the more you were looking forward to this. "On myself, no. But using it- yes"

“My, I really am the bottom here huh?” He chuckled and you found it charming.

“That works for me. I think I’d enjoy seeing you a mess, San.”

There was a sputter on the other end that had your smile widening. You had noticed a gradual breathlessness to his voice the longer the conversation went on, and now that you were pulling up to your garage you could focus a bit more on that. “I’m not opposed to that either. Cumeating? Yes.”

“Yes.”

“I was beginning to think you don’t like being the one who is a mess.” Now there was a smirk to his tone.

“Not particularing but I am not against it. I want to see if you can make a mess of me.”

“Ah, prideful huh? Well, how does strength play sound? I like using it.”

“Are you strong then, San? I’m excited to see you use that.”

He chuckled a bit breathless. “We’re getting away from yes or no answers. Let’s move onto safety measures. I’m partial to the color system; red for stop, yellow for slow, green for good. But you also filled out the safe word. Can you repeat to me what you put down?”

“Calico.”

“You really do like cats.”

This time his comment had you flustered. “Perhaps. Does everything check out so far San?”

“One last thing. Are there any titles or pet names you would like used in the scene?”

You hadn’t thought about it, but like some other things he had brought up your mind ran wild with the ideas. “Miss or Ma’am. I’d like to refer to you as kitty.”

“Noted. That checks off everything. I’m obligated to inform you that since you have it checked that unprotected sex is alright, you did sign a nondisclosure writing off all rights and responsibilities on our end should this session result in a pregnancy. Is that understood?”

“Very much so. I just arrived at my home, we still have a half hour until the scheduled time, correct? Is it alright if we end the call here so I can prepare?”

“I was just about to ask the same. Yes, if there is nothing else you want to discuss now, any other questions can wait until my arrival. We’ll start the scene when you are ready, as I’ll be at your mercy from the moment I step into your home. Is that clear?”

“Crystal. I’ll see you shortly Kitty.” You didn’t wait for a reply before hanging up, turning your car off and practically rushing into your home. You had limited time to prepare both yourself and the space you wanted for the scene, not sure if thirty minutes would cut it but you were determined to try. 

Shoes kicked off just inside the door, you headed for your bedroom. Thankfully you were meticulous about your space and not much would need to be cleaned, but you did switch out your bedding for the night, throwing your old sheets in the wash before putting on your nicer black silken sheets. You also took care of the plethora of stuffed cat animals, setting the current chosen one back in the net with the others. You debated on hiding the stuffed animals but what was the point? You did not care what opinion this San would have of you as long as he did what you were paying him for.

That just left yourself. Stepping into your master bathroom, you made quick work of your clothes into the hamper and stepped into the shower, washing up in a timely manner and going so far as to tidy up every hair on your body to match your usual proper and clean image.

Your conversation with your soon-to-be-sex-partner popped back into your head, remembering the part of being a mess. Yes, you weren’t one who liked being a mess, but needless to say you wanted to see if he could make one out of you: to achieve something that none of your exes had ever come close to, but you could manage on your own with your own toys. You still had your doubts, it was a pretty specific fantasy and there were parts you just didn’t think a stranger could pull off.

It would be a win in your book if he could manage half of your fantasy, so you kept your hopes up.

After a quick skin care routine and some lotion and moisturizer, you debated on even wearing clothes for this. It hadn’t been discussed, and you didn’t see much of a point but- you had implied you wanted to make a mess out of him. Having a pet that would go feral over you was quickly becoming a fantasy you wanted to see brought to fruition.

So you opted for a lingerie robe. You had a few that went with a few sets, all things you had bought for previous relationships, and chose a simple silk and lace black one that cut off mid thigh but hung over your hands. Simple, elegant, and with just a pull of the sash you would be naked.

Perfect.

Just in time as the doorbell rang, signaling the beginning of the rest of the night. Passing your bedroom mirror you took one last look at yourself, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves as you headed for the front door. You only briefly glanced at the security monitor next to it, spotting wide shoulders and a black cap from the upper angle of your camera. You thought nothing of it, unlocking the deadbolt and swinging the door open, knowing the robe covered enough to be modest just in the unforeseen event that this man wasn’t San.

Your first thought was that it wasn’t, eyes finding familiar ones and going wide. “You?”

Those memorable cat-like eyes from the cafe widened under the cap, just as taken back as you were. “Well this is awkward…”

However, the irony of the situation had you laughing, leaning against the door as you dragged your gaze over the length of him. From those sharp features, a collar around his neck with a cute golden bell, a tight black shirt that was form fitting of his broad shoulders and small waist down to the ripped jeans were snug around his waist but showed off some of his toned legs underneath. He was, by all means, even more attractive than he had been in the cafe.

“Hm, a little bit but I think this is just a bonus for me. Come in will you?” Taking a step back you held the door open for him. Having a face to go along with the voice and conversation just reignited your excitement for this evening.

Thrown off by your words, San eyed you a bit skeptical as he stepped inside, a duffle bag in his hand that you hadn’t noticed before. “A bonus?”

Shutting the door and securing the lock you nodded. “Yes. Truth be told you were what I had in mind for this, or at least someone of your stature and energy. Who knew choosing random would result in such a lucky find.” You practically purred out as you turned to him, eyes racking over his back. When you looked back up he was looking over his shoulder watching you, the cap blocking the light from reaching his eyes so you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “However, if that knowledge makes things too awkward for you to perform, I expect either a refund or a new pet to take your place. So does it bother you kitty?”

You weren’t mistaken when you saw his jaw clench, his movements slow but tantalizing as he turned to face you. “Not at all, I take my job very seriously Ma’am. In fact I find our prior acquaintance to be a bonus as well. Truth be told, when I saw your name on the customer form I had hoped it was you.” He admitted.

Now that was unexpected, your eyes wide as saucers as you processed this information. “Oh? Does that mean you were wanting this even before I signed up?” At his nod you let out a pleased sound, closing the distance between you two. “Well, kitty, follow me to my room and we can discuss just how you want to start this. I think you are deserving of a reward, since you are already playing so well into what I want.”

You led the way with your head held high and a giddy smile on your lips. This new information had this session feeling even more real, more exciting. He wanted you enough he hoped you were the one who had arranged for this session, and lucky for the both of you that you were. 

You didn’t need to look back to know he was following, at first hearing him shuffle his shoes off and then catch up to you with ease. He was broad enough you could see him in your peripheral vision, his footsteps soft for his size. “Ma’am… this session is about you, pleasing you is enough of a reward.” 

Unsure if that was true or just him being a professional, you shook your head and glanced back. “We’ll see about that. Even pets want attention and love their way. So-” Opening your bedroom door you stepped inside and right over to the large bed, “-I’ll let you decide how we start. You have that big bag there, you have your hands, mouth, cock; if pleasing me is what you want, then you can choose the first way you do it. I mean, after you get rid of your clothes.”

Dropping the duffle bag on the chair by your mirror, San kept his eyes glued on you. “Well, you reward what you think is deserving, and you’re always straight to the point, hm? I knew that from the cafe, and just like I thought it’s going to make this even more exciting.” He pulled off his cap first, then his shirt, tossing both next to the duffle bag. The bell on his collar jingled when he had discarded his shirt, taking your mind down a delicious thought process: Would it jingle with each thrust?

The temptation to find out was nearly overwhelming, but you kept your cool as you sat on the bed and crossed one knee over the other. This was business, at least that was how you had viewed it; now the lines were getting a little blurred as you took in every inch of him with a hungry gaze. “My my such an eager kitty, but where are your cat ears?”

His hands paused on the button of his jeans, lips spreading into a wide grin you were already coming to enjoy as he reached for the bag. A second later he was securing cat ears into his red hair, cute bows on them that almost made the look comical… almost. Hands back on his jeans he made quick work of them, kicking them off and leaving him in nothing. The lack of underwear surprised you, but it made sense when you saw a black fur tail dangling between his legs. It only had your attention for a split second, eyes drawn to what wasn’t hanging in the front but stood up tall.

You almost caught yourself drooling. Biting down on your lip, you shifted both feet on the ground, content with watching him. He seemed too preoccupied to notice your reaction, turning his back to you and giving you quite the view of where the tail was inserted. You’ve never seen that on a man, certainly not on one built like he was, but you certainly did not dislike it.

“Ah, here it is!” Turning back to you he held a toy in his hand, a silicone bullet with the elongated tail and button. “I like this one for starters.” He strode right over to you, setting the toy on the bed as he hunched over just enough, eyes seemingly innocent and an excitable grin. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret Ma’am. See I decided that if it was you, I’d ignore the time limit. Sure you paid for two whole hours, and I’m sure that might be enough, but I want to make a mess out of you and I don’t plan to stop until I have. Even if it takes all night.”

The low declaration had heat coursing through you, brightening your cheeks a few shades of pink and lips parting to either gape or answer. You couldn’t get your brain to function fast enough to decide before his lips were on yours, a ghost of a touch at first but with each stroke he added more pressure, more desire.  

Part of you wanted to stay in control, to push him away and command him, but mostly you were perfectly content with the heated kisses. Reaching up you grabbed both the collar and his hair, pulling him closer and spreading your legs for him when he nudged your knee with his knuckles.

You memorized the way he tasted, almost like he drank a coffee on the way over, mingled with the chapstick he had on his lips. The combination wasn’t bad, in fact it was almost intoxicating, something about it making you want to kiss him more. So focused on his lips that the touch to your pussy had you shivering, his finger sliding over your slick folds and a chuckle vibrating against your lips. “Miss is so excited hm? I wonder how easily this toy is going to slip in.”

Curiosity had you pulling your lips away to look down, both of you watching as he pushed the silicone bullet vibrator inside, the small toy disappearing between your folds. He used his fingers to push it deeper, causing your breath to hitch as he stretched you out. He didn’t pull them out right away, instead curling them to tease you, a groan falling from his lips that was like music to your ears. You weren’t even touching him and he was making sounds like that? Breathing a bit rapidly just as you were? From inserting a toy and his fingers inside you?

Now this could get addicting. HE could get addicting. 

Spreading your legs further you leaned back on your hands, biting down on your lip as you watched him pull the two fingers out and bring them to his mouth. He didn’t tear his gaze from your cunt, and yours was glued to his tongue wrapping around the two fingers sucking them clean.

He definitely knew what he was doing. “Kitty, put on a leash for me will you.” Lustful eyes flicking up to yours, he purred around his index finger before standing up and walking back over to the duffle bag. He pulled out the leash, turning “Bring the bag. I don’t need you leaving me every time you want to grab a new toy to use.”

“Mm good point.” Grabbing the bag he set it down next to the bed before attaching the leash to the collar he wore. He held out the other end to you, immediately being pulled on top of you when you gave it a tug. He managed to catch himself with a hand on either side of you, his breath against your cheek as you locked eyes. “Yes?”

With a devilish smirk of your own you shrugged. “Nothing, just wanted to see if I could actually pull you. You may continue.”

With a chuckle he leaned forward, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “Pull harder next time Ma’am.” Gently nibbling on your nape, his tongue ran up to your ear as he pulled open the sash, letting the robe fall open. The next second he was reaching lower, turning on the toy by the button at the end and listening to its hum course through your body. The breathless moan you let out in response had his cock twitching.

“N-Noted.” Exposing your neck to him, you watched through lidded eyes as he trailed kisses down your body. The ears tickled against your flesh, the leather leash limp in your hand dragging along the curve of your body as well- all of these felt more intense than it was due to the vibrations coursing through you.

Truth be told he was the first man to use toys on you, others finding them an affront to their capabilities, but not San. No, from the size of that bag and how eager he seemed about the leash, he seemed to like using toys. While that was a good thing, you also realized you had a lot less control over this situation than you thought. 

“Kitty-”

“Hm?” He hummed against your navel, hands gripping the flesh of your thighs and holding your legs open.

Just a little lower and he would look absolutely perfect, but you still wanted to give him a bit of a reward. “Lay on the bed, I want to use you.” Your choice of words had heat pooling in his eyes. After placing a chaste kiss to your inner thighs, he climbed on the bed around you and did as instructed, eyes on the leash in your hand.

Standing up you let the robe drop to the floor, taking in the sight of him laying there ready for you, trusting you to use him as you see fit. Muscles taunt, cock leaking precum against his abdomen, and tongue running over his lips as he took in the sight of you as well. Giving him a bit of a show, you ran your hands over your sides and up to your chest, thumbs running over your perky nipples as you climbed on the bed. Impatience was clear in the way he watched you, his hands tugging at the sheets beneath to keep from reaching out.

Part of you wished he would, give you a reason to punish him, but you liked how obedient he was. “That’s it, my pretty kitty. I have just the treat for you.” You swung your leg over, pushing the tail of the toy aside before lowering until you could feel each of his hot breaths on your folds. “Use just your mouth, I want to see your hands stroking that pretty cock for me. Show me how much you love it. Does my pet understand?”

“Yes Ma’am.” The two words were more like a guttural groan, hands tugging on sheets a bit harder. 

“Good boy- dinner is served th-en.” You barely got the words out before his mouth was on you, tongue pressing up against your clit. You lowered yourself more, playing with your own breasts while still holding the leash in your hand. He was messy, a bit feral even, and you were loving that.

Like you had ordered, one of his hands wrapped around his cock, using the bit of precum to lube himself up. Being the generous owner you were, you leaned forward, letting a glob of spit dribble down onto his cock. He groaned against your folds, hand working the spit over himself a bit faster than before. 

“Ah so good, just like that.” Your hips began to grind down against his mouth, the stimulation against your clit with the toy and the sight he made felt amazing. He was needy beneath you, switching between his lips and tongue, quickly finding the perfect rhythm that had moans falling from your lips in between praises.

Your own hands working on your breasts, all the different ways of pleasure twisting and combining to bring you closer and closer to your high. “Use both hands, want you to cum Kitty. I told you I want you a mess. Understand?” With a tug on the leash, his hips bucked and you felt him moan. 

There was no doubt in your mind he wasn’t enjoying this, the rapid way he was stroking himself, now coupled with massaging his balls. He dug his heels into the bed to lift his hips, thrusting up into his hand at a similar pace to his tongue flicking against your clit. You were close, the praise you were giving devolved into moans.

As if sensing it, he worked a bit harder, bringing you to a climax that had you soaking his mouth and legs tightening around his head. He didn’t seem to mind at all, groaning as he lapped at your wetness, the work of his hands becoming a bit unsteady.

The thick white spurts falling over his chest and abdomen came as a shock to you, his hips stuttering as you had lifted yourself off to keep from being too over stimmed. You definitely didn’t expect him to come so fast, but the fact he did filled you with pride. Did you taste that good? Did he enjoy this that much? The breathless stutters that left him as he pushed out the last drops of cum he could onto his stomach had you clenching around the toy.

Being reminded of it, you sat to the side of him and turned the toy off, leaving it in for now. Your legs were still trembling, satisfied for the moment. “I wasn’t expecting you to be such a mess already, poor kitty, can’t you handle yourself better than this?” You leaned down, face hovering over his as you took in the sight of your slick all over his mouth and chin. It was hot, the sight of him alone heating you up.

He grinned, wide and cute despite the situation. “I’m just getting started, Ma’am.”

“I’d hope so.” Tucking a finger under the leather of the collar, you pulled him up to meet you halfway, lips moving against his and getting a taste of yourself on his lips. The kiss was heated, messy, each stroke of your lips needier than the last. You could feel his hands on your hips, lowering you onto the bed as he moved on top, pressing his body against yours and smearing  his cum onto your skin.

Not that you cared, you wanted to be a mess. Fucked dumb, worn out you wouldn’t want to get out of bed for days. But first, you wanted to play with your pet some more. Gripping the leash you managed to flip the two of you over so you were back on top, lips still clashing with his. He groaned beneath you, grinding his hips up to rub his half hard cock against your folds, his hands on your hips moving you in sync with him.

Giggling you pulled away, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. “Aht, you’re getting a punishment first Kitty.”

“W-Why?” He whined out, chasing your lips with his when you sat up. With a dazed look in his eyes he added on “Ma’am.”

“Because I never told you that you could cum. So if you want to be a mess that badly… I’m going to make you a mess. Go sit on that chair over there, legs up.” You maneuvered off him before he could protest, brow lifted as you waited for him to obey.

True to his role, but not without a pout, San made his way over to the chair and leaned back, a blush on his high cheeks as he pulled his legs up and held them to his chest. He looked so beautiful there, cute little blush matching the cat ears and the cute tail dangling from his ass, all on display for you.

Licking your lips you sauntered over, running your hands over his rear and up over the back of his thighs. With a devilish smile you grabbed the leash and wrapped it under the backs of his knees, holding the end against the arm of the chair to keep him in place. “Now now, you’re going to still and do nothing except what I tell you. Don’t move your body, don't break your gaze from mine, and certainly don’t cum unless I say. Understood my little pet?”

He nodded, biting down on his lip as he watched you place a foot on either side of him and step onto the chair. With your free hand you gripped his cock, pulling it up so that you could lower yourself down. The first inch had a gasp leaving your lips, gaze locked on his as you took inch by inch until you were sitting on the back of his thighs, San folding under you for you to use as you please. This was a position you always wanted to try, and so far it was everything you hoped for. A big strong man bent to your will beneath you, cock throbbing in your cunt, ready for you to use.

“Fuck you look so pretty like this. You’re my pretty kitty aren't you? How does my pussy feel? You like it?” Keeping him fully sheathed you rotated your hips forward, biting back your own moan at how good he felt with that bullet still inside. It must have felt just as good for him, his mouth falling open and his hands gripping the sides of the chair. When he nodded, you tutted, snapping your hips to get a reaction out of him, pleased with the jiggle of the bell. “Use your words.”

“F-fuck yes, feels so good Ma’am. So fucking tight.” His whiney words hit as deep as his cock did, motivating you even further.

“Mmm, you fill me up so good, kitty. Can you feel how deep you are?” Another snap of your hips, taking in every subtle shift of his expression. 

“Yes yes, I can feel the bullet.”

“Do you want me to move?” You urged, leaning forward until your shoulders were hitting his calves, his mouth just out of reach but you could feel his heavy pants. 

“Yes Ma’am. I want you to fuck yourself on my cock.”

You tightened the leash, clenching your walls around him on command, tsking. “I’m giving the orders right now. You have to beg for what you want, pets ask nicely.”

“P-please Ma’am, please fuck yourself on my cock? Use me, please.” He begged, but it wasn’t enough. You lifted yourself up before slamming yourself down, the deep moan leaving him doing wonders to your own brain. “Yes yes like that. More like that. Please Miss.”

With a breathless giggle, you did it again, the jiggle from the bell music to your ears. “That’s it, keep begging.” You managed to reach between you both and turn the toy on, his hips jerked as it vibrated against his tip inside you. With him filling you up like this you could feel it much more than before, making your head spin.

His head fell back but your eyes stayed locked, so much desire in his that it almost flustered you. Gripping the arm rests with both hands now, you moved your hips, grinding them forward while keeping him mostly sheathed inside and hitting all the right angles. Your pace was painfully slow, hips stopping whenever he stopped begging which he was now doing as easily as breathing. The whiniest words leaving his lips followed by a moan whenever you obliged.

You weren’t unaffected either, breathing harder with each flick of your hips, each press of his cock head against your inner walls. His pleas had progressively gone from “please use me” to “fuck I wanna cum. Please let me cum.”

“Hold it, you don’t get to cum until I say.” Your command lacked oomph with how breathless you were, your own patience running thin. Only when you noticed he was drooling a bit did it snap, your fingers digging into the fabric of the chair as you lifted yourself up only to slam back down. Your pace was harsh, much faster and harder than it had been seconds before. If you thought he had been vocal, it was nothing compared to the whines and grunts that left him now, drowning out the sound of the bell jiggling with each slam of your body down against his.

“Ma’am- want to cum. Want to cum. Let me cum.”

He was very addictive indeed. “Then cum, make a mess.” You weren’t at all disappointed when you felt him begin to unload in your cunt, managing to pull off him and watch his load unravel on his chest and face instead, a few drops getting into his open mouth. It was filthy… and hot. Hot enough that with the vibrator still driving you crazy, your hips were stuttering with your own climax, soaking your thighs and pushing out his cum onto his thighs and ass.

You didn’t give either of you a chance to come down much before you were pushing him back inside and fucking at the same pace you had been before. “What’s your color?” Despite the fact he was the one getting paid to fuck, you felt the need to ask with how intense this was.

“Green! Fucking hell so green!” No longer able to keep his eyes on yours he was a drooling mess, managing to thrust his hips up to bounce you harder on his cock. “Fuck going to milk me dry. Gunna come again- shitshitshit.” Seemingly lost to the pleasure he grabbed your hands to keep you from falling off him as he kept going.

Letting him have control, your head fell forward, moans tumbling from your lips, marveling at how he managed to turn this position around and fuck you so good despite his own sounds indicating he was fucked dumber than you were.

He had you coming around his cock before he did, both of you a twitching mess as this time he unloaded himself into you. Somehow you managed to reach between you and turn the toy off again, legs still shaking as you climbed off and watched his legs fall to the floor. Both of you were panting, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a wide satisfied grin on his face as he lounged there catching his breath.

You weren’t doing much better, but you could stand. “God you are a fucking mess. Such a filthy kitty, don’t tell me you’re tapping out before me?” Your taunt was only half-cocked, running a hand through your hair to pull the sticky strands off your face, shaking your head.

The satisfied grin turned into a smirk as he opened one eye to watch you, a deep chuckle escaping him. “I told you, Ma’am, that I wasn’t stopping until I made a mess out of you. Do you really want to test me?”

Hands on your hips, you stood your ground as your heart rate was returning to a normal pace. “You’re shooting blanks, little pet, I don’t think you can keep going, viagra or not.”

He shook his head, gripping the edge of the arm rest and sitting up, a predatory look in his eyes as he licked the remaining cum off his lips. “I don’t use viagra Miss, but I should mention for safety reasons that if we go any more without a break… I might break you.” 

The mere idea had you shivering, for the first time this night you were intimidated by him. The way he was watching you as he seemed to regain his composure became more predatory by the second, the idea of the pet eating you alive exciting you on a whole other level.

The look of understanding settling in his eyes told you that he was aware of your current direction of thoughts. You took a step back, glancing around the room as the urge to run was becoming stronger by the second.

“Color?” 

You nearly missed the low rumble, breath catching in your lungs as you looked back at him. “Green.”

The split second the word was out of your mouth he was off the chair and you were running towards the bathroom, adrenaline of the chase exciting you. You didn’t make it to the door, his arm wrapping around your waist and turning you to him, silencing anything you had to say with a messy kiss. You could taste his cum on his tongue, feel his hands run up your body, moving you back. Your ass hit the cold glass of the mirror hanging on the wall, the whimper leaving you getting swallowed by him.

Your head was swimming with desire, hands gripping his biceps unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. He decided for you, pulling away to turn you around and press you firmly against the mirror, trailing open mouth kisses down your neck. “Still want to order your pet around? Or can I finally show you what I can do to you? Please you so well I’ll be the only little kitty you ever want again?”

The mere idea of him fucking you that good left you breathless, a nod of your head all you could manage. He picked you up by the back of your thighs then, wrapping an arm under your legs and holding you back against him. You could only watch through the mirror, the toy sticking out of your dripping cunt on display, his eyes watching over your shoulder as he nibbled on your shoulder. With his free hand he pulled the toy out by the tail, holding it between two fingers as he gripped his dick and guided the tip in place.

For a brief moment neither of you moved, staring at your reflection. You could see everything below and so could he. The next moment however he was pounding up into you hard. The bell jiggled just behind your head, nearly animalistic grunts leaving him as he held you up with no issues with just one arm. Even with the constant motions he managed to move you around, pushing your legs to either side of your torso so your knees aligned with your shoulders, leaving your breasts to bounce on display. His fingers dug into your thigh hard enough bruises would be left, and yet he still managed to bring his free hand up and hold the toy up against your clit now that it was turned on once more.

He had said he liked strength play, but you hadn’t even thought this possible. Any thoughts or doubts were wiped clean as you lost yourself to the pleasure. The sounds he made, deep grunts and growls, as your cunt constantly squeezed his cock, hips stuttering as the constant vibrations on your clit were quickly bringing you to a high.

You cried out louder than you thought you could when you did, coming so hard your juices squirted out onto the mirror. The primal growl he let out against your shoulder as he bit down did things to your mind and body. You were barely selfaware for the seconds that followed, tongue sticking out and drool running down your chin as your head fell back, still twitching and coming as he fucked you through your climax.

It was both painful and pleasurable as he kept going, dropping the toy to the floor and now holding your thighs with both hands. “Not messy enough. Just a bit more.” He shifted and somehow managed to go harder, hitting all the right spots that had you clawing at his arms and tears running down your cheeks from the overstimulation.

Black clouded your vision for a moment as you were squirting all over the both of you, hard enough his cock was pushed out, his own cum squirting up on your thighs and the mirror as well. You were left shaking in his embrace, whimpering and begging. “No more. You win. You win.”

So fucked out you didn’t register the kiss he placed against your cheek, or that he was laying you down on the silken sheets a moment later. He laid down next to you, that you did register just barely, turning to look over at him. His brows were pushed together as he watched you with a look of concern, perking up when he noticed you focused enough on him.

“Hey, how are you feeling? That wasn’t too much was it?”

Your mind floundered for some semblance of words to speak, gaping like a fish before settling on a lazy smile. “I think I just forgot I existed for a moment there. Damn.” Laughing a bit breathlessly you shut your eyes, making a mental check of your body. “Next time just fuck me like that.”

“Next time?” Humor was laced in his words.

“Mhmm. Next time. We can talk about the time after that later. For now… how does a cat nap sound before we have to clean up?”He chuckled, curling up into your side much like a cat would. “Sounds like a deal.”

taglist: @justhere4kpop  /  @warpedspirit /  @candypop1611  / @spooo00oky @sanniessnails / @gugggu6gvai / @starillusion13 / @tunaasan / @lavishloving / @h-nji / @tearfulsparks78 / @minkysmilk /

[potatoetree]

Tried out incorrect-quote-generator again here's some of my favorites!

Mumbo : I have a bad feeling about this...

Grian : What do you mean?

Mumbo : Don't you ever get that little voice in your head that tells you if you're going to get into trouble?

Grian : No?

Scar: That actually explains so much.

Grian , acting tough: You guys don't want to mess with me.

Scar: Yeah, Grian  will straight up cry in public. Don't try them.

Grian : Exactly, I will straight up-

Grian :

Grian , tearing up: Scar, why would you say that?!

Mumbo , texting group chat: What flavour of ice cream do you guys want? I’m at the store so be quick!

Grian : Moose Tracks is good!

Scar: What the fuck is that!?

Grian : *Gasp* How dare you insult moo-

Scar: No. No no not that. What the hell. Why do you spell flavor like flavour. It’s like you have flavor but then this guy shows up and is like “Oui Oui Would you like chocolate flaVOUR or vanilla flaVOUR. 

Mumbo  and Grian : what?

Scar: I don’t get it why add the EXTRA u when it’s PERFECTLY FINE AS IT IS!?

Mumbo : You done now?

Scar: Yeah ok.

Mumbo  and Grian : ...

Scar: ...Can I have the Mint Chocolate chip flavour?

Boatem Addition!

Scar, to Grian : When was the last time you let someone hug you?

Grian : *thinking*

Grian : 2012.

Pearl : 2012…?

Grian : Yeah. I almost died and it really freaked Mumbo  out so I let them hug me.

Mumbo : *gets a text* Oh! It’s Grian.

Impulse, excitedly: Did they get me the stuff?

Mumbo : Yeah, they say they got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood.

Impulse: Wow! Where’d they find 12 gallons of fake blood?

Mumbo : You wanted fake blood?

Impulse:

Mumbo : I’ll go call Grian.

Grian : I’m in love with you.

Mumbo : We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork.

Grian : I know.

Mumbo : Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool-

Scar: If I run and leap at Grian , they will most certainly catch me in their arms.

Scar, running towards Grian : Coming in!

Grian : No! I’m holding coffee!

Grian : *Drops coffee and catches Scar*

Scar: Are you mad?

Grian : No.

Scar: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

Mumbo : Small creatures are much more vicious because they have a smaller body to bottle up all their emotions.

Scar: Ridiculous. Give me some examples.

Grian : Wasps?

Grian : Terriers?

Mumbo : Grian.

Grian: *Laughs* Babe, you had a crush on me? That’s embarrassing—

Mumbo  : We’re married.

Pearl : I haven’t slept in 72 hours…

Mumbo : I haven’t slept in 80. I’m the insomnia king!

Grian: Ha! I haven’t slept in 90 hours, I’m aiming for an even 100.

Impulse: What the fuck is wrong with you people.

Scar: Dear Diary, my teen angst bullshit has a body count.

Grian: What? I'm not aggressive!

Pearl : Last Tuesday, you wacked me with a pair of crocs and stole my chocolate chips?

Grian: Survival of the fittest, bitch.

Pearl : I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture.

The Squad: Awwww-

Pearl : And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything."

The Squad: Oh.

Scar: I am Scar, I speak for the trees. Chop them down and I snap your knees.

Impulse: Just be careful, Scar!

Scar: *heading out the door* I'm always careful, Impulse!

Scar: It's everything around me that's careless.

Mumbo : Grian, is that legal?

Grian: When there's no cops around, anything's legal!

Pearl: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!?

Grian, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

Scar: Hey, Mumbo. Why did the chicken cross the road?

Mumbo: To get to the other side?

Scar: You were supposed to say “I dunno, why?“

Mumbo: Uh... fine. I don’t know. Why did it cross the road?

Scar: To get to the idiot’s house.

Mumbo: ...Ok?

Grian: Hey, Mumbo. Knock knock.

Mumbo: No.

Grian: You were supposed to say “who’s there?”

Mumbo: Fine... let’s get this over with. Who’s there?

Grian: The chicken.

Mumbo:

Grian:

Scar:

Mumbo: Listen here you little shits-