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godlizzza · 7 months

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can we get Dan bottoming? I think he deserves it after all he's been thru

Dan had never struggled to ask for what he wanted in the past.

However, in the past he had never felt the want to get fucked up the ass, so it hadn't really been a problem. Now, though, it was a problem. He and Herbert had only just settled into a kind of routine that incorporated sex into their daily lives, so for Dan to ask for a role reversal felt too spontaneous, too unscripted.

For some reason he was convinced that Herbert would make a big deal about it. That Herbert would grin and tease him about his desires until Dan was so hot with embarrassment he would burn to a crisp. So, he resolved to keep it to himself. After all, he certainly enjoyed what they were already doing, so was it really a great loss that he wouldn't know what if felt like to have Herbert inside him?

Christ, just thinking about it got him all hot and bothered.

Herbert had clearly picked up on Dan's antsy behaviour. He cast him a look across the kitchen counter one night while he was scrubbing dishes. Dan had taken the opportunity to sit at the counter and watch. It was a rare sight to see Herbert so scrubbed down and domestic, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and soapy suds clinging to his arms, so he tried to indulge in it when he could.

His sweet musings were broken when Herbert said, "You've been acting weird lately."

This had Dan's hand falling from its place propping up his chin to slap against the marble countertop. "Huh? Me? Acting weird?"

"Yes," Herbert said, narrowing his eyes at him. "So, what is it? Was it something I said?" His voice turned mocking on the last sentence, pulling Dan's mouth into a frown.

"No. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

Herbert turned his attention completely on Dan then, ignoring the dishes still piled in the sink to place his fists on his hips. "Don't be difficult, Dan."

"I'm not-"

"You are, so just tell me. Is it something to do with that experiment from yesterday?"

"No, Herbert," Dan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was growing steadily warmer the longer this line of questioning went on. "It's nothing to do with the lab."

"Then what?" Herbert sounded exasperated, as thought Dan were being ridiculous.

And maybe he was. Weren't you supposed to openly communicate with the people you were fooling around with? Even if that person was Herbert? With another sigh, Dan tried to push past his embarrassment and get his thoughts in order.

"It's about us. And...sex," Dan admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Herbert merely pursed his lips. "Alright. What about it? Let me guess, we're not having enough of it to satisfy you?"

"No," Dan shot back, heat shooting up his neck (though he certainly wouldn't refuse if more sex was on the table). "I was just wondering if you'd ever thought about, you know...switching it up?"

"How do you mean?"

Dan licked at his lips, which had suddenly gone dry. "I mean, like...have you ever wanted to-? Like, instead of me fucking you-?"

"Oh." Herbert blinked at him as though he'd been expected a far more complicated answer than the one Dan had just stammered out to him. "You want me to fuck you?"

Dan bit down on the stab of lust that hit his stomach at Herbert's words. He settled for nodding, trying to decipher the look on Herbert's face. The look that held no trace of mocking contempt. Herbert, instead of pointing and laughing at Dan for asking to get his ass pounded, simply shrugged instead.

"Alright," Herbert said, drying his hands off on a dishrag. "Did you want to do that right now?"

Dan nearly fell right out of his seat.

They didn't end up doing it right away. Dan had a shower first, during which he cleaned himself thoroughly and attempted to finger himself open. The idea of having Herbert do it--of prolonging any instance that would involve Herbert kneeling behind him and staring directly at his naked, spread open ass cheeks--was too much to consider. It would be simpler if they could just get right to it, Dan decided. He'd tried this on himself a handfull of times, but it hadn't been for too long, and never with the intention of sticking something larger inside afterwards.

However, he thought he managed to do an okay job of it. So, by the time he emerged from the bathroom in only a towel, the water still clinging to his chest and dripping from his hair, there was a slight ache between his legs. Herbert was sat on the edge of the bed, folding up his pants and laying them on the ottoman. This gave Dan a prime view of Herbert's bare legs, milky-white and dusted with dark hair. His shirt-stays were still clinging to his thighs, the ring of them ending just past the cuff of his underwear. The sight nearly drove Dan to forget about his own plans to get railed and throw Herbert down on the bed to ravish him.

But then Herbert looked up at him and swept his gaze along the length of his body. The way his eyes darkened and settled to stare at Dan's bare chest had Dan swallowing against the sudden thickness in his throat.

"How did you go?" Herbert asked, his voice coming out oddly scratchy.

"Um, okay, I think," Dan replied, slowly approaching the edge of the bed. He didn't know how to start this. Should he just lay there and let Herbert have his way with him? He had no idea. "Uh, I'm not sure- How do you normally like it?"

Herbert took a moment to consider this, eying Dan up as he did. Eventually he rose to his feet and took Dan's hand, guiding him to take his spot on the edge of the mattress. "I'm not too picky but I quite like it like this."

He gently pushed at Dan's chest until Dan laid back, his feet still touching the carpeted floor. Herbert crowded in close until he was stood between Dan's legs, leaning forward to stroke his hands along Dan's thighs. His fingers brushing under the towel and hiking it higher up towards his hips had Dan sucking in a sharp breath.

Herbert's eyes were twin flames of burning desire as he loomed over him. "What do you think?"

Once again, Dan's voice failed him, so he just nodded jerkily. "Uh- Yes. Yes, okay."

"Good," Herbert said, sounding equally shaky.

He leaned down until his elbows pressed into the mattress on either side of Dan's torso. Dan pushed himself up to meet Herbert in the middle. They kissed languidly for a moment, Dan closing his eyes to luxuriate in the feel of Herbert's lips on his. Then Herbert gasped against his mouth and the temperature in the room spiked. Dan could feel himself getting hard as Herbert trailed a hand down his stomach, brushing the hairs along his navel, before settling on the edge of the towel.

It was when Herbert teasingly stroked his fingers along the length of Dan's erection over the towel that Dan wrenched his mouth away with a stuttering breath.

"Okay, come on. Touch me."

"So impatient," Herbert chuckled.

He tugged the towel open and Dan was suddenly naked, splayed out below Herbert who was still half dressed. Something about that just turned Dan on more and he was suddenly desperate for Herbert's cock. His face burned at the thought and he covered his eyes with his hands, sure that what he was thinking must've been written all over him. He heard the sound of a bottle being popped opened and the squelch of lube being squirted out. He only peeked between his fingers when he felt the cool brush of Herbert's slick fingers at his ass.

Herbert's face was tense with concentration as he pushed a finger inside. Dan gasped at the intrusion but it didn't hurt. Herbert's pointer finger easily slid all the way in to the knuckle. He added another and then quickly another, pumping Dan with three fingers, testing him out. Dan clutched at the sheets, eyes screwed shut as he tried to get comfortable, adapting to this new sensation. It was okay--something Dan could get used to--but it was when Herbert grasped his dick to jerk him off in tandem with his fingers that he moaned.

"Good?" Herbert asked softly and Dan nodded vigorously.

"Yes. You're so- Ah!"

Herbert curled his fingers, brushing against that sweet spot inside Dan and Dan saw stars. White hot pleasure lanced down his spine, sending his toes curling against the carpet. Were it not for Herbert's handing squeezing his cock he might've come right then and there.

"Fuck," Dan wheezed, blinking against the sweat trickling down his brow. "Fuck."

"Okay," Herbert said tightly, pulling his fingers out and releasing his cock. "I think you're, um, good to go."

Dan whined at the loss, suddenly feeling empty. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch Herbert unclasp his shirt-stays. They flopped down to dangle over his thighs, but the rings of black spandex remained taught around his legs like matching torniquets. Then he was pushing his underwear down to pool around his ankles and stepping out of them. Watching Herbert stroke himself, slicking himself up, getting ready to fuck him- It did things to Dan's psyche.

Herbert stepped close, one hand wrapped around his cock, the other running up and down Dan's leg. He pushed at Dan's thigh until Dan got the message and curled his legs up, lifting his feet off the ground. Laying there like that, his knees splayed apart, Herbert standing between his legs, he'd never been more exposed, but he didn't feel embarrassed about it, like he'd thought he would be. Instead, he just thrummed with anticipation as Herbert lined the head of his cock up with his entrance. The brush of Herbert's cock against his ass made him shiver, his body aching to be filled.

Herbert flicked his eyes up to Dan. "Ready?"

"Yes," Dan said in a rush, the words spilling over his lips. "Yes, I'm ready. Let's just- Okay?"

Herbert bit down on his lip, seemingly to fight off a smile. "Okay. Let's just."

And then he was pushing inside, cutting off anything else Dan might've even thought about saying. It took a minute of pushing in and pausing to give Dan time to adjust before Herbert was finally sheathed inside him. When his hips were flush with the back of Dan's thighs, Dan let out a choked groan. Herbert wasn't a big guy but it was still the most of another person that Dan had ever had inside his body. It was so much. He had no idea how Herbert did this on the regular, like it was no big deal.

Herbert's face was pinched with desire, his eyes squeezed shut and his glasses slipping down his nose. His breathing was coming out in shallow puffs, colour flushing up his neck and dotting his cheeks. He looked blissed out before he'd even started moving. It made a surge of fondness for him swell inside Dan. He had never met a more trying, irritating person than Herbert, but in that moment, he was as endeared to him as he'd ever been.

"You can move now," Dan told him, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet of the room.

Herbert cracked his eyes open and nodded. He rocked his hips slightly before pulling out and thrusting back in. Dan gasped at the feeling, his hand flying out to grab Herbert's collar. Herbert kept his grip on Dan's legs folded in on his chest as he began to set up a stuttering rhythm. With every thrust, a little breathy cry was dragged from Dan's throat. He felt like he ought to be doing something--contributing in some way--but he supposed his ass was the contribution. He was so used to being active during sex that he had to keep reminding himself that just laying there and taking it was what he was supposed to be doing.

Herbert clearly didn't have any complaints if the string of deep grunts he was letting out as he pounded into him were any indication. Dan gritted his teeth and hissed at a particularly hard thrust that pushed him up the sheets a few inches.

"Sorry," Herbert huffed, his voice coming out rough and throaty. "Too much?"

"Maybe a little," Dan rasped.

Herbert kept going at a gentler pace, fucking him with short, slow movements that had Dan letting out a wobbly breath.

"I don't know how you do this," Herbert whispered.

Dan barked a laugh at that, blinking up at the ceiling as Herbert hunched over him further. "That bad, huh?"

"Shut it. It's not bad. It's--mm--good. Very good. So good I don't know how you--ah!--make it last."

"With much difficulty," Dan told him sliding his hand around to clutch at the back of Herbert's neck. He yanked him down until their foreheads were touching and gasped, "Now, come on. Don't stop."

Herbert's eyes widened. "Did you think I was going to?"

Instead of responding, Dan pushed his face up to kiss him. He moaned into the kiss as Herbert continued to fuck him, drawing a sound out of Herbert that vibrated between their lips. Dan hooked one of his legs around Herbert's back to tug him even closer, even deeper, and that was enough to send Herbert over the edge. His mouth fell open against Dan's as he came inside of him with a guttural groan.

The feeling of a wetness spreading out inside of him was odd to Dan. Odd but not unpleasant. The knowledge that it was Herbert's come, that he'd enjoyed fucking Dan so much that he'd shot his load inside of him just made his eyes flutter shut and relish in the feeling.

Herbert's shoulders slumped but he didn't collapse on top of Dan. Instead, he pushed himself up on an elbow and reached between them to take Dan's cock in his hand. Dan was so worked up, so turned on by the sound of Herbert crying out as he'd reached his orgasm playing in his head over and over, that it didn't take long for Herbert's clever hand to work him up to the edge. He buried his face in Herbert's neck as he came, some gurgled noise tearing from his throat as he shot ropes of come over his own stomach.

Herbert pulled out and rolled off of him to slump beside Dan on the bed. This left Dan with the decidedly grosser sensation of feeling Herbert's come leaking out of his ass. He'd definitely be needing another shower.

"Well?" Herbert said after what seemed like eons.

"Yeah?" was all Dan's sex-addled brain could formulate.

Herbert huffed out a scoff of a laugh and turned his head to the side to look at him. "Well, what did you think?"

"You're asking me to think? Right now?" Dan complained, rolling his head to stare back at Herbert. He was still flushed, his pale skin blotchy in places and his hair a mess, but he still managed to look imperious as he raised an eyebrow at Dan. Dan rolled his eyes. "It was good, okay? Really good. You totally rocked my world, baby."

Herbert gagged and tried to roll away but Dan caught him round the waist and pulled him back down against the bed.

"I was having a good time until you said that," Herbert said, pouting just enough to tempt Dan to lean over and kiss him.

Dan hummed into the kiss, breaking away only far enough to mumble against Herbert's mouth, "I can show you a good time."

Then he was throwing his leg over Herbert's hips and crowding in on top of him. If he was going to need a shower later, anyway, he might as well get a little dirtier.

#ask and ye shall receive #let dan have his back blown out #its what he deserves #danbert #dan cain #herbert west #spice #n sfw #re-animator #my fics #writing prompt #asks #reanimator

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deepspacedukat · 2 years

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Experimentation

This little rat bastard scientist has been living rent-free in my head ever since I saw “Re-Animator” for the first time a couple of months ago. Well...here goes nothing. Cross-posted to my AO3 here.

~*~

Herbert West (Re-Animator) x Reader

[A/N: I’ve never written for Herbert West before, so uh...here goes nothing. Also, did I write my dumb ass into a corner? Yes. Did @beyond-antares save my bacon by helping me come up with an ending? Also yes. This wouldn’t be finished if she hadn’t stepped in and assisted me, so give her a big round of applause and a BIG “Thank You.” She’s awesome!]

Warnings: None that I can think of. I mean, obviously Herbie’s a lil bit of a mad scientist, but I don’t describe any violence or gore in any graphic sort of way. So...other than that, just be aware of the content of Re-Animator, I guess?

~*~

“So...you and Herbert, huh?” Dan’s voice beside me made me jump. I hadn’t heard him come in. I was sitting in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in my hand, staring at the ever-closed door of the basement. I’d been lost in thought solidly for...how long had I been here, exactly?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, daring to meet Dan’s gaze as I took a sip of my now ice-cold coffee. Oh god, I had been there a while, hadn’t I? I couldn’t help but wince at the cold bitterness, and the smirk that crossed Dan’s lips made it clear he’d seen my reaction.

“Oh, come on. It’s obvious. You’ve got a thing for him. Ever since he moved in, you haven’t gone on a single date. Hell, you light up when he looks your way, and everyone seems to notice, except Herbert, of course,” he said with a wink. “Don’t bother denying it. I saw the way you looked at him when you were patching him up after his last experiment. So...you gonna tell him soon? Or do I have to do it for you?”

“You wouldn’t dare, Cain,” I scoffed, but all my bravado dissolved when he started walking toward the basement door. In a panic, I grabbed his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Nononono! C’Mon, don’t do that!”

“If you don’t tell him, he’ll never pick up on it on his own,” Dan said with an amused laugh. He had stopped walking, though, and I considered that a temporary victory. “What’s the worst that could happen? Seriously, just tell him already.”

“Tell who?” At the sound of the question from the basement door, I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment. Herbert walked casually from the doorway toward the kitchen, his hunger finally driving him to seek sustenance, no doubt.

“Oh, I think our roommate has something to tell y–” I elbowed Dan in the stomach, shutting him up with a grunt. “Rude.”

“Shut it, Cain,” I muttered, and Herbert cleared his throat.

“If you have something to tell me, I’m all ears, though I won’t be for long. My experiments need me,” he said in his usual sanctimonious tone as he rooted around in the fridge. Dan gave me a little shove forward toward Herbert just as the latter turned around to fix me with a curious look. I must’ve looked like a deer in headlights. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yeah. Yes, I’m fine,” I stammered as I tried to hide how hastily I wanted to retreat. Herbert raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and I started to back away in such a manner that I didn’t look like I was running away. “I-I should get going.”

Ignoring Dan calling my name, I hurried out the front door to my car. Did I have a destination in mind or anything at all that really needed my presence? Nope. Was I leaving anyway? Yep. All I had to do was avoid my roommates for the next couple of days and hope they’d forget by the time I had to spend any significant amount of time talking to them.

By the time I got home that night, I knew Dan would be in bed and Herbert tucked neatly away in his lab with his experiments. When I walked inside, the last thing I expected to see was Herbert leaning back against the kitchen counter wearing the same expression he always wore when analyzing the results of one of his re-animation trials. Upon cursory inspection, nothing seemed broken or otherwise out of place, so the problem wasn’t with an experiment then...huh. But, what else could draw his attention so thoroughly?

“What did Dan mean earlier?” I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed Herbert’s gaze turn to me. I could do no more than look at him in confusion.

“I-I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, and Herbert stood up straight and walked toward me.

“Before you left, Dan said you had something to tell me. What was he talking about?” There was no accusation in his tone, only the cold calculation with which he approached all of his research. Before I even realized what I was doing, I wrapped my arms around my middle in a subconsciously protective manner.

“You’d have to ask him about that–”

“I already have. He said it wasn’t his place to tell me...that it was yours.” Beneath his glasses, Herbert’s eyes skimmed the length of my face, his gaze most likely taking in more than I could imagine. “I have several hypotheses, but without more data, I can’t possibly hope to continue.”

Shit. Was he going to be studying my behavior now?

“And...what are the current hypotheses?” I asked curiously. Herbert wasn’t exactly socially aware, so I hoped that he hadn’t put things together on his own. He made a disapproving little noise with his tongue and gave me an inscrutable look.

“You know very well that I can’t tell you. That would taint the results...invalidate the experiment...” Herb murmured stopping barely a foot from me. “Where did you go when you left?”

“Irrelevant.” I tried to keep my tone and expression as neutral as possible. He didn’t know I’d been avoiding both of them all day. Besides, he said it himself: without more data he couldn’t continue. So I would just have to avoid giving him any more data. His brow furrowed and he tilted his head curiously. Before he could comment, however, I stepped around him and started making my way to my room. I paused when Herbert said my name, and I turned to face him from across the room.

“I was wondering if you could assist me in the lab tomorrow. I asked Daniel, but he insisted that you’d be better suited to the task.” Of course he did. I agreed without considering the wisdom of my answer, and Herbert gave me a small smile. “Very well. I’ll come get you when it’s time.”

He returned to the basement, and with a deep breath, I went to my room. What the hell had I just agreed to?

A loud sound roused me from a deep sleep. When it came again, I realized it was somebody knocking rather insistently on my bedroom door. With a glance at the clock as I got up, I saw that it was four in the morning. I stumbled to the door and opened it blearily to see Herbert standing there.

“What’s wrong?” I could think of no other reason for him being there than some sort of emergency. After all, it was the middle of the night.

“Nothing is wrong. You agreed to help me in the lab,” he said as though I was being silly by asking a question with such an obvious answer.

“Herbert...Do you realize it’s four in the morning?” Instead of getting an answer, his eyes slid over the length of my body, making me acutely aware of the thin tank top and threadbare sleep shorts I’d gone to bed in.

“That would explain your state of dress, but it’s hardly an excuse for going back on your word,” Herbert said drawing an exhausted sigh from my lungs.

“Who said anything about going back on my word?” I asked turning to slip on a pair of shoes. If I’d been slightly more conscious, I’d have changed clothes altogether, but at the moment, all I could think of was how cold the basement floor would be if I went without shoes. “Do I need to take re-animation precautions? I don’t want to get blood on my clothes.”

“No, not today,” he answered, and I grabbed the spare lab coat that Herbert and Dan had given me when I first got involved in their crazy re-animation bullshit. At least it would keep me relatively warm while we worked. Within minutes, the two of us were elbows deep in a reformulation of the reagent. The original worked, sure, but Herbert wanted to see if there was any way to speed up the reaction so that re-animation would occur in a more timely fashion. After all, there was always room for improvement, especially after some of the more delayed reactions he’d observed in several specimens.

As Herbert used a drop of his previous reagent on a sample of dead tissue, he called out the re-animation time as a control. I wrote it diligently in the notebook he’d designated for that sort of thing, and my thoughts began to wander - as they so often did - to the scientist rather than his work. He was so stuck in his work all the time. Did he even realize how attractive he was?

“Are you listening?” Herbert’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts as quickly as I’d gotten lost in them.

“Huh?” That was all I could manage as I blinked back to awareness and realized I’d been staring at him the whole time. Shit. Good job not being obvious about it.

“Have you heard a single word I’ve said in the last few minutes?” Uh oh, come up with something quick, self!

“I-I’m sorry, I was considering the problem of the...uh...reagent base and whether it would still be viable in the new formulation. I got lost in thought for a moment,” I answered trying to make it sound like I was telling the truth instead of covering up the real reason I was staring at him. Herbert was silent for a moment before his eyes narrowed and his head tilted like that of a curious puppy. Oh no.

“...Really? And what factors did you consider in your musings?” Herbert’s tone was reminiscent of that of a teacher who caught a student daydreaming during a lesson. I reflexively sat up a little straighter even as heat rose to my cheeks. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze as I stammered.

“Uh...W-Well, the...n-neutral ph of the current base works in its favor, b-but...for future mixes, w-we could...uh–” I broke off as Herbert’s thumb and forefinger tilted my chin up so I was forced to look in his eyes. when had he even walked to my side of the table?

“I hadn’t considered it to be a possibility, but...I believe I have an answer to my current hypothesis,” he murmured. Hypothesis? Oh. Oh no, not that one. “I need to test my theory before I can analyze the results...”

Before I could ask what he meant, his lips met mine. After spending a moment too stunned to even contemplate reciprocation, I melted against his lips. I couldn’t help but feel as though this might end disastrously, and yet...I’d imagined this so many times. Herbert’s hands came to rest on my hips even as mine took up residence on his chest, smoothing the crisp fabric of his white button-down as I’d imagined doing so many times. As quickly as it had begun, Herbert pulled back and took a breath that was even shakier than I felt.

“It would appear I was correct,” he mumbled sounding like a mere shell of the restrained, impassive man that he normally appeared to be. “How long have you felt this way?”

“Does it matter?” I wondered if this was the part where he’d call me a ‘bubble-headed co-ed’ or throw me out of his lab, but...that never came. Instead, his fingers slid up to my waist under my lab coat and tightened their grip.

“No, not really,” he mused as his eyes skimmed the length of my face as if in search of something. “You know...for a hypothesis to truly be supported, the results must be...repeatable...”

Licking my lips nervously, I took a chance hoping that I was reading him correctly.

“I’d be willing to participate in further experimentation...” I trailed off looking up into his eyes. It was a cheesy line, but the way he allowed a hint of a smirk to cross his lips before he leaned in to kiss me again told me all I needed to know about its effectiveness.

#herbert west #herbert west x reader #re-animator #deepspacedukat fic #am I actually gonna post this?#I did it I posted it oh god time to hide

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sluttyfluffartist · 4 years

Text

Yo I'm finna wait for Tumblr to delete this shit but let's go

Kurt Franz fanfiction

Note: I don't support the Nazi ideology and I only write stories like these to make fun of the perpetrators of the Holocaust

Today is a beautiful day Franz thought, why you must ask well today he had shot ten jewish prisoners, had beaten up 20, and had sent 1800 to the gas chambers and had not a single slip up, to which he will put on his personal record. While he made his usual rounds with Barry he came across something that caught his attention a new guard by the name of Walter Schmidt who, to his embarrassment to describe, had very nice shapen body and extremely good looks. Walter had a very feminine body if you could describe it; he had very nice thick thighs, very curvy and round hips, and to top it all off he had a nice juicy plump ass that if you asked nice enough or order to would let you squeeze.

However Walter's body isn't the only thing Franz enjoyed fantasizing about he also enjoyed his face, his round cheeks, his ocean blue eyes, his peachy complexion, his golden hair, and his nice plump lips. Franz felt embarrassed about imagining fucking the new guard and he felt even worse coming home, greeting his wife, and imagining to fuck him while talking to her, but he couldn't help himself Walter just looked so hot especially when his pants would closely fit him and it hugged his ass in the right places or when Walter would drop something in front of him and when he would get on his knees to pick it up Franz would imagine him sucking him off or AAAAAHHHH FUCK I'M GETTING DISTRACTED Franz thought I just need to focus on my job and get through the day that can't be hard right.

"Hello Untersturmfuhrer Franz how has your day been going" Walter greeted fuck Franz thought as Walter ran up to him Franz noticed how Barry was getting excited and started to wag his tail you and me both Franz thought.

"Um today has been fine" Franz said and greater now that your here he thought

"Oh I'm glad to here that Untersturmfuhrer, I just came to say that we took care of those gypsies you wanted to be shot and not a single one stepped out of line"

"Great"

"Also I'm sorry if I seem bothersome but may I please pet Barry" Walter pleaded. Franz contemplated for a moment until he realized he would finally get to have a closer inspection of Walter's ass so out of impluse Franz said Yes

"Thank you Untersturmfuhrer."

As Walter bended down to pet Barry Franz's eyes immediately went to Walter's ass and holy shit was it plump, it was like staring at two soccer balls in a very tight knitted bag and god did he wanted to grab his ass, but Franz knew that if he were to grab Walter's ass he would not only be in trouble with his superiors but he would also would be shot for being gay. Even though he wasn't gay or at least he believed he wasn't I mean Walter is the only guy he has ever been attracted to and he's pretty sure it's because he shares to much similarities to a women.

While Franz was having a existential crisis he started to feel something soft on his crotch he looked down to noticed that Walter had unknowingly placed his ass on his dick SHIT SHIT SHIT Franz thought what if someone noticed Franz looked around and hoped nobody saw what was going down and to his relief no one did. Oh god what am I going to do Franz panically thought but then he came to a conclusion if Walter isn't paying attention to what's going on maybe he won't notice this Franz cautiously grabbed Walter's hips and to his surprise Walter didn't react Franz smiled then started to grind on his ass.

Oh shit Franz thought while biting his lower lip he held back a moan oh fuck this feels so amazing and as Franz went to grab Walter's ass two things happend one Franz was amazed on how squishy Walter's ass really was and two he heard a squeak Franz looked down to see that Walter had stopped petting Barry and was extremely red in the face. Walter turned his head a little and as he stared at Franz, embarrassment written all over his face, he said

"um Untersturmfuhrer what are you doing" Franz had never felt this damn embarrassed in his entire life

"uh" I sound like a fucking idiot Franz thought

"I'm just uh" there was no explanation for his behavior then him acting out on lustful desires

"I umm shit I was"

"you can finish if you want to"

"what

"you can finish if you want to I said"

Franz had not believed what he heard and so make sure he gave Walter's ass a firm squeeze and as a confirmation of reality he heard Walter squeak again. What the hell was going on why was Walter ok with allowing him to carry on with his lustrous behavior Franz looked around to make sure there was no witnesses to their crime and when he made sure there was no one he carried on with his grinding. Walter let out a surprised noise when he felt Franz's hard on and so he quickly stood up then whispered

"Franz we can't do this here follow me" then it dawned on Walter holy shit he thought I'm about to have sex with my boss Walter looked back and saw a very hot and bothered Franz, who was biting his lower lip and had very expanded pupils, and took a big gulp then thought well here we go.

Walter dragged Franz to the back of the building of the medical wing and from there they just stared at each other

"So what do we do now-" but before Walter could finish Franz grabbed his waist lifted him up and on instinct Walter wrapped his legs around Franz and then Franz slammed his back against the wall

"I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk that's what I'm going to do."

All Walter could feel at the moment was heat, heat from the massive blush that had spread from one side of his face to the next, heat on his neck from Franz's breath, heat in his crotch from the close proximity of Franz's penis to his, and heat all over his body because right now Franz was radiating heat from his body and if you looked closely in his eyes you would see a fire buring in his soul to which Walter thought no wonder he's so hot.

Franz slammed his lips on Walter, which took him off guard, so out of instinct Walter yelped which gave Franz the perfect moment to slip his tongue in Walter's mouth; Franz thought wow Walter tastes like chocolate and cheese how peculiar Franz smirked but I'm more interested in what kind of sounds he would make.

Walter started to tug on Franz's hair not for pleasure but to tell him he was running out of air but his meassage was ignored because Franz wanted to test how long before Walter started to act out. Which didn't last that long maybe 4 or 5 minutes then Walter began to buck his crotch up which shot pleasure through out Franz's spine making him groan in the kiss giving Walter a chance to cough and breathe.

"What's wrong Walter can't take it" Franz teased

"You're being too rough on me maybe you can be a little gentler"

Walter will soon learn that asking Untersturmfuhrer Kurt Herbert Franz to be gentler would be the biggest mistake of his life, Franz gazed at him for a moment and Walter saw the fire in his eyes dimish like a light, but soon to replace it was something much worse. Walter saw something in Franz's eyes that only a jew or a gypsy would ever see before they took their last breath of life Walter saw nothing but pure hatred. Soon Walter started to perceive a never-ending amount of an icy chill down the course of his spine making him no longer questioned how the prisoners felt without coats during winter.

Franz slowly brought his hand around Walter's neck then faintly questioned

"What did you just ask me"

"I asked if you could be more gentler" Walter whispered so quietly that you would have had to be right next to him to hear it.

Franz studied Walter's face searching for an answer to his question only to find nothing, he tightened his grip around Walter's neck then said

"You have to earn gentleness from me bitch," tears started to well up on Walter's face for two reasons one he could hardly breath and two he was genuinely scared for he did not know what would happen next. Franz kissed Walter's cheek then he started leave kisses lower and lower down his neck until Walter sucked in a breath Franz smirked

"Is this a sensitive spot Walter" Franz mocked

but Walter had not answered for he was still being chocked. Franz loosened his grip around Walter's neck then started to nibble on the spot that was sensitive. Walter let out little mewls of pleasure until Franz bit down then without any thought Walter let at a loud moan, Franz bit his lip then started to grind, Walter released a shaky breath afterwards stating

"Ooooohhh.....fuck me daddy," Franz stopped what he was doing and glanced up at Walter

"What did you just say" Franz panted.

Walter grew to be cold and hot at that very second for heat had went and spread throughout his whole face again and a freezing chill sat at the pit of his stomach from Franz's freezing glare of hatred, Franz sneered at him, then lowered his hand until they were at the button of his pants then he began to unbuttoned his pants. Walter detected anxiety had grown throughout his stomach and as a coping mechanism he bit his lip and looked away

"Whore don't you look away from me" Franz demanded

"You begged for this and now you've got what you wanted"

Walter felt Franz's other hand grab his face and turned him to look at him straight in his eyes his cold, icy, intoxicating, eyes, and honestly he didn't want to look away. At this point Walter no longer had pants they were quickly discarded so now the only think keeping him from getting fucked was his boxers but Walter predicted those would be gone soon to. Franz began to pawn at Walter's clothed dick then stopped Walter looked down in confusion then yelped when Franz impulsively dug his hand in his boxers then proceeded to jack him off.

"Do you like it when Daddy plays with you kitten" Franz remarked however Walter could not answer for the lust had clotted up in his brain hindering him unable to create a single comprehensible thought

"ANSWER ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU" Franz shouted, Walter let a trembling moan before saying

"Yes sir"

"Good boy."

Pride soon began to well up in Walter's stomach after that praise making Walter yearn for more praise more praise from his boss, his Untersturmfuhrer, and most importantly his Daddy so he began to thrust his dick in Franz's hand allowing pleasure to fester in his spine and stomach. Franz looked in amazement at Walter is he really fucking my hand right now Franz pondered holy shit that's hot, Franz used the hand that was grabbing Walter's throat to unbuttoned his own pants giving Walter a chance to take in a breath and let the tears fall down his face.

"Stop fucking crying" Franz commanded

"I'm sorry" Walter pleaded but it was no use for the tears just kept coming in vast amounts, so Franz finally unbuttoned his pants, took a deep sigh, glared up, and tenderly kissed him on the cheek taking Walter by surprised

"May you please stop crying Walter" Walter was flabbergasted Franz had never addressed him by his name hell he never addressed him by his title either it was always hey you or he would just order him to do something but this he could hardly described the emotion that Franz evicted out of him. Was it desire,that's it, pure unauthorized and unadulterated desire while he didn't understand why however all he knew was that he enjoyed that feeling and he wanted more. So while tears rolled down his cheeks, pupils dilated, and mind clouded he passionately kissed Franz and to his shock Franz kissed back.

Walter felt Franz lick his bottom lip so he opens his mouth letting Franz explore it allowing Walter to really think about how Franz taste; orange flavored schnapps and caviar how predictable. While Walter was letting Franz explore his mouth he felt his boxers being taken off, well here we go he thought, as Franz stop to take a breath and to throw his boxers Walter shivered as a cool breeze blew on his dick making his dick twitch. Franz lifted his hand to Walter's mouth

"Suck" he stated and without any thought that's what Walter did hmmm Walter thought his fingers taste like dried blood, gross, soon Franz took his fingers out of Walter's mouth and inserted two in his ass.

Oh Walter thought that's a new feeling I never thought I would've experienced in my life, you see Walter had never slept with a male before and the reason he is allowing Franz to fuck him was because he was afraid Franz would hurt him or torture him, so as Walter felt Franz's fingers inspect his ass Walter grew to enjoy the feeling until Franz inserted a third finger then the feeling of comfort grew to pain and when the fourth came pain went to immense pain.

"Ow fuck that hurts" Franz drew his eyes up at Walter with an annoyed look then he gave him a crooked smile before spreading his fingers

"OOW THAT HURTS" Walter squawked as his eyes clamped shut tears welling up then his hands went to Franz's back scrapping his nails against the clothed skin. Franz seethed as he felt those nails pierce his back even with my shirt on that shit hurts he thought,

"Quite bitching I'm trying to make sure it doesn't hurt when I fuck you," Franz became more and more aggravated with Walter until he heard sniffling. Walter was crying for the second time

"You are one sensitive person aren't you" Walter didn't respond he just looked away and bit his lip. Franz sighed and kissed his forehead, then his tear stained cheek, next his jawline, lastly his neck

"God no wonder I'm attracted to you"

"Why"

"You remind me of my wife" Walter starred at Franz for a minute before getting flustered and looking away again Franz chuckled then he plunged his fingers deeper making Walter cry out in pain and soon he felt something round. He pressed down on it lightly and he heard Walter hitch his breath so he smirked and applied alot more pressure

"Oh fuck right there Franz" Franz felt his dick twitch then he bit his lower lip fuck he thought that was so hot so he began to thrust his fingers in and out causing Walter to spread his legs wide and arch his back.

"Oh mmmmm oh fuck yes right there"

Walter's pants started to become louder and louder until they bacame moans and then those moans got louder and louder until Franz realized shit we could get caught so he kissed Walter to keep him quiet but then Walter lowered his hand till it was near Franz's dick then he plunged his hand in his boxers and jerked him off. Walter stopped kissing Franz and put his lips to his ear and whispered

"I want you to fuck me with your cock Daddy" then bit his earlobe Franz stopped everything he was doing, raised his eyebrows, and looked at Walter's face, he was astonished at what he saw Walter's eyes were half lidded and dilated, his hair was a mess, and he was covered in hickies that Franz didn't remember giving him, all in all he looked like the perfect personification of sex and holy shit was it hot.

Franz and Walter peered at each other then Walter started to peel off Franz's boxers just enough to expose his dick and not expecting the girth of Franz's dick Walter yelped when he felt the tip slap his stomach

"What's wrong Walter" Franz snided

"Didn't expect it to be this big."

Walter gapped at how long and wide it was, it had to be at least 7 inches long, Walter started to get nervous and consider there is no way that dick is going to fit,

"I want you to relax Walter or this is going to be more painful then it needs to be ok." Walter shook his head yes and Franz smiled

"Good" Franz then aligned his dick with Walter's entrance then roughly thrusted into him

"OH FUCK" Franz and Walter said in unison Walter being louder than Franz.

"Oh god oh fuck you feel so tight Walter" Walter wrapped his legs tightly around Franz to get leverage from the pain as well as stabbing his back with his nails

"God fuck don't move Franz please"

"I can't even if I wanted to you're to tight" as Walter started to adjust to Franz he started to loosen up giving Franz the option to move and as soon as he did Walter's legs relaxed around his waist.

"You feel amazing Walter" Franz moaned. Walter had not answered him for he was reflecting how the hell did he fit he thought how in the hell did he fit inside me and why the fuck does it feel so awesome. Walter relaxed his head on the wall while Franz thrusted into him

"Oh fuck daddy yes right there"

"Do you like this my little kitten"

"Yes daddy very much"

"Then show me much you enjoy my cock, I want you to moan out my name so the entire camp can know who you belong to" Walter bit his lip and looked around he was scared someone was going to hear them.

"Are you sure-" Franz wrapped his hand around his throat then squeezed

"That wasn't a question it was an order" Franz seethed, Walter nodded ok,

"Good boy"

"Your first name"

"What"

"You want me to moan your first name"

"I would prefer it that way"

"Well what is your first name" Franz blinked in surprise and came to a quick conclusion that in all the time that he knew Walter Walter had hardly known him hell he didn't even know his first name. Franz blushed bashfully

"It's Kurt" Walter saw for a quick moment of humanity in Kurt's eyes then it was gone and in that millisecond Walter had grown to admire his superior not in a romantic kind of way but in a way a son would look up to a father.

"Ok" Kurt and Walter gazed at each other then Kurt went and started to nibble on Walter's neck

"Oh" Walter squeaked, Kurt smirked, for he had found another sensitive spot on hid neck and to make sure Walter actually followed his command he angle his cock to hit his prostate, thrusted, and bit down on his neck.

"OH GOD KURT FUCK YES" Walter noticed that drool was streaming down his jaw but he didn't care all he cared about at that moment was pleasure and the yearning for more of it. Kurt picked up the pace in his thrusting

"Oh Kurt yes just like that don't stop" Walter's body started to tremble for he was close to climaxing so he went to grab his dick but Kurt slapped his hand

"I'm only allowed to give you pleasure do you understand me"

"Yes daddy"

"Louder"

"YES DADDY"

"Good boy." As Kurt picked up the pace on his thrusting he saw Walter widen his legs, arch his back, bite his lower lip, and lean his head on the wall evoking a strange erge in Kurt to mock him.

"Do you like it when Daddy fucks you like a whore kitten"

"Yes Daddy" Kurt bit his lip

"I bet you would love it if I were to fuck you in front of the whole camp" Walter tensed up at the accusation and wondered would he really enjoy that and then his cock began to accumulate cum at the imagery.

"Yes Daddy"

"Of course you would because your a whore kitten, but Daddy would never do that because you belong to Daddy and Daddy doesn't like to share, do you understand"

"Of course Daddy"

"Prove it to me that you understand" Kurt then began roughly thrusting into Walter

"I want you to chant who you belong to right now"

"You I belong to you"

"LOUDER"

"YOU I BELONG TO YOU"

"AND WHO DO YOU BELONG TO"

"UNTERSTURMFUHRER KURT FRANZ"

"Good boy" Kurt was nearing his climax.

"Nobody can fuck you like I can" Kurt mumbled

"Nodody" Walter moaned, Walter could feel the pre-cum sliding down his dick on to his stomach,

"I'm so close Kurt" Walter groaned out as he felt that tight knot in his stomach get tighter and tighter until it popped. Kurt strengthened his hold around Walter's legs indicating he was close as well so as a last chance of speaking before Walter's mind became a cloud of mushy lust he desperately groaned

"Oh fuck Kurt cum inside me please fill me up Daddy." Kurt rammed his lips on to Walter and slamming his tongue into his mouth before giving one final thrust and climaxing inside Walter. He gave a few more thrust while coming down from his high until he realized cum had gotten on shirt, boxers, and shoes

"Shit my clothes are stained" Kurt cursed

"I can get them cleaned if you want" Walter giggled.

#kurt franz #ww2 #wwii #nazi #nazis #third reich #treblinka camp #treblinka #treblinka guards #oc #fanfiction #fanfic

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chiseler · 4 years

Text

The Day They Busted Mencken

In 1922, Baltimore-based journalist, essayist, literary critic and gadfly H. L. Mencken wrote, “I am, in brief, a libertarian of the most extreme variety, and know of no human right that is one-tenth as valuable as the simple right to utter what seems (at the moment) to be the truth.” Toward this end he used his American Mercury magazine and other publications as platforms from which to wage his ongoing war against the more ludicrous expressions of self-righteous morality, in particular fundamentalism, Prohibition and censorship. He once described the Puritan mindset that so dominated the American Northeast as “the haunting fear that someone, somewhere may be happy,” and his post-mortem evisceration of Anthony Comstock (who had staged the most singularly effective and far-reaching censorship campaign the nation had ever seen) remains shockingly timely. But That’s another story.

Comstock had taken his fight against obscenity national with the conscription of the United States Post Office, lobbying for legislation that made the mailing of materials deemed obscene a federal offense (again that’s another story). But on a local level his New York Society for the Suppression of Vice was an extremely effective weapon when it came to cracking down on New York-based publishers, booksellers, book buyers, art galleries and theaters that displayed or sold material he found personally offensive. The NYSSV was so effective it spawned other bluenose organizations in other major US cities around the turn of the twentieth century, in which holier than thou citizens took it upon themselves to scrub their own communities clean of books and art they didn’t like. It wasn’t just Fanny Hill and pornographic stereographs they were after, but George Bernard Shaw, Oscar Wilde, Eugene O’Neill, and The Decameron. Among these tight-assed citizen vigilante groups, the most powerful by far was Boston’s Watch and Ward Society, formed in 1878 with the stated purpose of cleaning up corruption in local politics. Perhaps finding that a futile waste of time, in 1906 the leaders of the Watch and Ward Society shifted their focus, aiming their vigilance at any manner of artistic expression they deemed unseemly or that might undermine the upstanding moral virtues of the fine God-fearing Christians of Boston. They did this, with the cooperation of the local vice squad and the blessing of city fathers, by banning anything they found offensive and ordering the arrest of those responsible. By the second decade of the twentieth century, no city in the nation could approach Boston when it came to banning things, and the term “Banned in Boston” soon became a big selling point in other American cities. If a book or play had been banned in Boston, you could almost guarantee hot diggity sales across the rest of the country.

But in Boston, The Watch and Ward Society—made up of citizens, not politicians, lawyers, or law-enforcement officers—wielded so much power that booksellers and publishers were terrified to cross them. If you bought or sold something they decided could corrupt the morals of your average eight-year-old girl, you could find yourself not only out of business, but in jail in short order.

In 1926, Mencken, well aware of the situation in Boston, decided to do something about it. Publishing essays lampooning our self-appointed moral guardians or condemning censorship in philosophical terms was all fine and good, John Milton and the Marquis De Sade had done the same thing, but what had it accomplished? Plays were still being shut down, museums were still hiding artwork away in vaults and classic literature was still being banned. Better to take the war directly to the enemy. He began hatching a scheme which, if successful, would lead to a court battle he felt certain he could win. As he would later write in a 1937 article about the event, “{If} [Watch and Ward Society leader John] Chase were permitted to get away with this minor assault he would be encouraged to plan worse ones, and, what is more, other wowsers elsewhere would imitate him.”

The April, 1926 issue of the American Mercury proved irresistible to Chase and his minions. The essay arguing sex should be seen as a simple and pleasant bit of recreation to pass the time would likely have been enough to get the issue banned, as would have the ad for a book already condemned by the Watch and Ward Society. The clincher, however, was an excerpt from Up From Methodism: A Memoir of a Man Gone to the Devil, by Gangs of New York author Herbert Asbury.

Asbury was the grandson of the first American bishop of the Methodist church, and in 1926, while a reporter for the New York Herald Tribune, he set to work on an intentionally profane memoir about his Methodist childhood in Missouri. “Hatrack,” the chapter he submitted to Mencken’s magazine, concerned a prostitute from his hometown who, despite being a devout Christian, found herself rejected by the church. As he tells it, she continued her life of ill-repute, bringing her Catholic customers to the Protestant cemetery to complete the transaction, and vice-versa.

Well, the piece resulted in the predictable shitstorm, and the April issue of The American Mercury was immediately declared obscene and banned by the Watch and Ward Society. Upon hearing the good news, Mencken contacted his lawyer, Boston-based attorney Herbert Ehrmann, and got on a train the next day.

The first thing they had to do, Ehrmann explained when Mencken arrived, was go to the Boston Health Department and meet with the Superintendent of Peddlers to obtain a peddler’s license permitting them to legally sell copies of the magazine in Boston Commons. That done, Ehrmann contacted Chase, asking him to meet Mencken at the corner of Park and Tremont, where Mencken would sell him a copy of the very magazine Chase’s organization had declared obscene a few days earlier. After that, Chase could feel free to have Mencken arrested if he so chose.

There was nothing accidental about the chosen meeting spot. The corner was home to the Park Street Church, where for nearly 120 years evangelical preachers had tried to terrify their congregations into lives of righteousness with fiery sermons about hell and damnation, leading the intersection to be dubbed “Brimstone Corner.”

Chase was understandably suspicious about Ehrmann’s offer. He was clearly familiar with Mencken, and was in all likelihood familiar with Ehrmann as well, a local who’d gained a national reputation as part of Sacco and Vanzetti’s defense team. Chase was used to everyone being terrified of him and doing whatever he said, but now here was this upstart journalist from Baltimore who, like all gentlemen of the Fourth Escape, was obviously up to some devilments. If nothing else, he was there to make trouble for Chase.

It’s unclear why, exactly, Chase agreed to participate in the publicity stunt. It reminds me in a way of Donald Rumsfeld agreeing to be interviewed on camera by Errol Morris. Maybe Ehrmann was simply that persuasive, or Chase was so blinkered he didn’t recognize it as a publicity stunt. An even sadder possibility is that, like Rumsfeld, Chase was convinced he could match wits with Mencken and come out on top.

In any case at noon on April fifth, a week after the magazine had been banned, Mencken showed up at Brimstone Corner, a copy of the American Mercury in hand. Word had spread about the public confrontation, and the streets were packed with onlookers, most of them, Mencken surmised, Harvard students. But instead of showing up himself as agreed, Chase instead sent his assistant to meet Mencken. Although the youngster assured Mencken he was a member in good standing of Watch and Ward, with all rights and privileges that came with the position (including the right to order arrests), Mencken was having none of it. He would only sell the magazine to Chase himself.

The assistant left, and some time later sure enough, the murmurings of the crowd announced that Chase himself had arrived, accompanied by a plainclothes officer and Captain George Patterson, Chief of the Boston PD’s vice squad.

Without much ado, Mencken offered to sell Chase the offending magazine he was carrying, and Chase handed over a fifty-cent piece. In a bit of showmanship, Mencken bit the coin to test its authenticity, and Chase ordered that the journalist be arrested.

Mencken was not billyclubbed or handcuffed. Capt. Patterson merely tapped him on the shoulder, and they made the four-block walk through the crowd to the precinct house in Pemberton Square, where Mencken was booked on a charge of possessing and selling obscene material.

The next day they went before a judge who, clearly no fan of the Watch and Ward Society, declared the April issue of The American Mercury was not obscene, and acquitted Mencken on all counts. Mencken then turned around and sued the Watch and Ward Society, accusing them of restraint of free trade. Again the judge was on Mencken’s side, going so far as to state that the banning of objectionable material was the job of lawyers and elected officials, not citizens.

Emboldened by these two victories, Mencken had the legal footing he needed to go after his real target. After the Solicitor General of the Post Office, ignoring the decision of the Boston judge, declared that issue of the American Mercury obscene, and therefore sending it through the mail a federal offense, Mencken filed suit against the U.S. Postal Service. It would have been a landmark First Amendment case and, had he won, it would have dealt a serious blow to those pinch-faced do-gooders who would tell us what we can and cannot read. That, however, would have to wait until Barney Rosset and Grove Press landed in court three decades later. Mencken’s suit was dismissed on a technicality, and that was that.

Even though in the years that followed the Watch and Ward Society would again shift their focus to more definable vices like gambling, books would continue to be banned in Boston at an unprecedented clip until the time of Mencken’s death in 1956.

by Jim Knipfel

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fish-d · 6 years

Note

did someone say MORE KROLFRED HEADCANONS???? yes pls

KROLFRED ANON(s? are there two of you? how many people are into this ship?) i am blessed w/ ur presence this day

ok so minor disclaimer, 90% of my krolfred onions are gonna be ½ composed by @penhales (& occasionally @robot-sex-guy) b/c we’ve become some kind of three-headed discord-based krolfred monster. this ship is all-consuming, i live here now, i sold my goddamn soul the first time i watched vor dem schloß with kevin tarte and max niemeyer and now i spend my afternoons composing lists of gay vampire minutiae

(also all of these are like… alfred, one way or another, ends up back at the castle after sarah turns him. & my go-to first name for krolock is “johannes” bc i feel kind of weird abt referring to him w/ his surname all the time ?)

krolock was initially interested in alfred for a bunch of kind of superficial reasons - he’s cute, he’s innocent, he’s functionally unavailable (there was a kunze interview that i Cannot Find where i s2g he said that krolock has a thing for stealing lovers/prey from authority - a pastor’s daughter, napoleon’s page…) - but as they get to know each other, it’s alfred’s intellect that really grabs him. it’s not often johannes meets someone who can keep pace with him, but alfred has a doctorate in literature and speaks at least a couple different languages (german, romanian, probably latin and/or greek, i could go on). even before they’re an item they get drawn into these long-ass winding conversations that often last past the sunrise.

alfred l o v e s krolock’s hands like So Much. if given the slightest opportunity he’ll have johannes’s cold-ass bony fingers in his hands and he kisses his fingers a lot.

johannes is the type to shower alfred in gifts. its actually an issue when they first become a Permanent Thing bc alfred is some middle-class prussian nerd who just wants to read & snug his boyfriend but his ungodly wealthy boyfriend keeps buying him things !!! he accepts the new wardrobe (even if a lot of it is old-fashioned and out of date b/c both johannes and herbert Refuse to keep with the times) and all of the books but he learns to be quiet about expressing Casual Interest in material items. johannes WILL buy them and there’s nothing alfred can do about it

krolock appreciates alfred’s “süßen popo” just as much as herbert did, if not moreso. B)

alfred is the first one to say “i love you”. it’s during some quiet moment, in the early morning hours, when they’re curled up together and johannes has said something to make alfred laugh. it’s super awkward, bc johannes is still genuinely terrified of committing. no one but herbert has ever really stuck by him, and though alfred’s a vampire and he’ll probably be around forever, johannes still worries. alfred understands, but it still gnaws at him when johannes doesn’t reciprocate for weeks - until he does, one night, when they’re drifting off and he has his arms wrapped around Alfred in the coffin they share and his lips pressed into Alfred’s curls.

krolock is fiercely protective - not possessive, but still sometimes overbearing. he tries his best to keep alfred away from (and sometimes ignorant of) nasty internal vampire politics and would really rather he stay in the castle if johannes has to do anything diplomatic. it’s something they iron out, eventually - after a couple of pretty heavy arguments when alfred is Frustrated about it - but johannes still won’t spare ur ass if he thinks you’re going after his Man

they make each other laugh, a lot. alfred’s really the only person who can get, like, a true belly laugh out of johannes (usually bc he said something Unexpectedly Coy under his breath), and alfred is absolutely prone to full-on giggle fits around him. he’s really weak for those #dadjokes, y'all.

they do get married, eventually, probably sometime in the 20’s-30’s. its only legally binding as far as Vampire Law™ goes (boy do i have some Opinions and Concepts abt greater vampire culture but thats for another time) and they don’t make a big thing of it. it’s just them, in some stripped-down hall in schloß von krolock, a handful of close friends/family in attendance. they almost-whisper their vows and johannes wears his wedding ring from Alfred along with the one from his late wife.

#tdv #tanz der vampire #krolfred #y'all lmk if u dont want this tagged lmao #I LOVE U KROLFRED ANON/S #krolock #alfred (tdv)#ask #anonymous #txt #headcanon #tdv headcanon #kept 'em all sfw for General Consumption lmao #krolfred anon

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benlawwrites · 7 years

Text

AGENDAS pt.3

MARTIN Martin stood on the sidewalk outside of Theresa’s apartment building, watching Sandra drive away in the long white limo. He was in a complete shock. His stomach was flipping against itself and his knees were weak. He started feeling dizzy, so he sat down on the curb to gather his bearings, not caring that he was potentially ruining his designer slacks. When he rested his head into his hands, he realized that his hands were shaking as well. Despite the chill in the afternoon air his bald scalp was beaded with cold sweat. He realized when he opened his eyes, that the fronts of his pants were completely stained with Theresa’s juices. He chuckled and shrugged, cum stained pants were the least of is worries at this moment, he had another suit in his office. “This is one hell of a day,” Martin sighed as he stood up to walk to his car. He would have never guessed that his day would have turned into this. When he made his way to Theresa’s apartment earlier that day he was only going with the intention of breaking things off with her. But with the memories of having her and being inside of her mixed with seeing her in that towel and still wet, changed his mind all together. He had to have her right then and there. And then Sandra showed up. The thought turned Martin’s stomach again, this time violently. He ran to the curb and retched into the street. Even though he hadn’t eaten much that day, he continued to dry heave until his stomach settled slightly. “Ok, this shit is crazy; I have to talk to somebody.” Martin reached for his phone in time to see his best friends name flash across the screen. He took a deep sigh before accepting the call. “Larry you must be a psychic or something, I was just about to call you.” Martin checked his watch and picked up the pace to his car. He had less than thirty minutes to get to his meeting. “Yeah I must be,” Larry responded from the other end. “Hey man, where the hell are you? I have been running interference for you for the past two hours. Francis called looking for you at least four times, I told you her you were in a session with a witness.” Larry lowered his voice, probably covering his mouth trying to be discreet. He sucked at discretion. “Johnson is looking for you. He said and I quote: ‘If Martin don’ get his incognito ass in this office an’ brief me before this meeting, I’m tanking him. I don’ care if he is marryin’ the damn Queen of England.’ End quote.” Martin started laughing and almost forgot the rollercoaster that he was currently on. Herbert Johnson, Boston’s current District Attorney, wasn’t much older than Martin’s 42. But his southern drawl and mannerisms made him an easy comparison to Colonel Sanders from the KFC commercials. And recently he had been making sure to let everyone know how he felt both about Martin running for the D.A. seat and his engagement to the Mayor’s daughter. Outside of that, Johnson was a good guy and great D.A. so Martin didn’t hold his comments against him. But he did need to hurry to work. He jumped into his G-Wagon and synced the phone to the system as soon as the car turned over. “Martin, you there man?” Larry asked impatiently. “Yes, I’m still here Larry,” Martin responded. He pulled the SUV out of the parking space and headed towards the City Hall. “I’m on my way to the office. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.” “Where are you coming from, I called your apartment but your housekeeper said you left over an hour ago.” Larry had a teasingly suspicious edge to his voice. But Martin had no intentions on letting him know that he had been with Theresa. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. We have a big problem. I just saw Sandra.” “Sandra who?” “Sandra, my deceased wife Larry.” “Martin, I know this is a stressful time for you. With the upcoming election and you getting married soon, things will get a bit rocky. But you have to hold it together buddy. You can’t afford to start hallucinating visions of your wife that died over fifteen years ago. You’re getting ready to marry Francis. Try to focus on that” Martin could hear the concern in Larry’s voice. And if he hadn’t experienced what he just did. He would have questioned himself as well. But he needed Larry to understand that he was telling the truth and that he was serious. He tried to keep his cool but he was already on edge. He heard a chime and checked the display on dashboard. It was a message from Theresa. It was immediately followed by a text from his fiancé. Martin pressed ignore on both of them and continued driving. He had to figure this mess out. “Larry, listen to me. I am not having hallucinations. Sandra is not dead. She walked up to me and started speaking to me. We had a conversation, and yes it was as creepy and fucked as it sounds. Sandra is alive and from the looks of things she is doing very well for herself. She told me that some good things are going to come of her being alive.” “Why would she say something like that?” Martin sighed and shook his head before he answered his friend. “I don’t know man. I haven’t the faintest idea.” Martin looked to the dash and remembered he still had to change his clothes. He picked up speed. “Larry I need you to go to my locker, pull out my dark grey suit and bring it to the garage. I spilled something on my slacks. Matter of fact, leave the blazer on the back of my chair and just bring me the pants. That way Johnson would think I’m there already, unless the sick bastard is in the security office watching the garage entrance. I’m two minutes out.” “Okay bro, see you soon.” Larry chuckled and hung up the phone, leaving Martin alone with his thoughts. He turned into the underground parking lot and pulled into his parking space. How is Sandra alive? He remembered the night she died. Or better yet, the night he thought she died. That was a bad time in their marriage, the worst actually. Martin had just found out that Sandra had been cheating on him. They had gotten married straight out of law school and then hired on under a famous criminal defense lawyer as a team package. They worked famously as a law team but not so much as a married couple. They successfully assisted in the acquittals of many of the most nefarious criminals the city had to offer. Martin and Sandra were great at finding loop holes that the prosecution or the city itself could never close up in time to make charges stick let alone get convictions. They had won all of their major cases, except for one. The couple was on a capital one murder case, defending a local crime boss by the name of Richard Pelk. Pelk had his hand in all types of underground deals, but he was mostly known for selling information. No one new how he got it, but he had information on some of the biggest names across the country. Legit, damning information, that people would kill to get or kill to make sure no one else could get. It turned out that a particular piece of information Pelk had possession of was enough to make a certain police officer try to kill him during a “routine” traffic stop. Unfortunately for the cop, Pelk saw him coming and drew first. Unfortunately for Pelk, the squad car’s dash cam and the officer’s vest cam both caught Pelk pulling out his gun and firing on the cop first. But the funny thing about in dash cameras and body cams is that they also pick up speech. So when the officer called Pelk threatening to kill him only moments before he was pulled over. It was a hard case to break and they only had Pelk’s word to go on. But Martin knew some people that could get their hands on the full video. It took a while but, during one of their sessions Martin was called to retrieve the video. Before returning to the office he stopped and bought a bottle of Sandra’s favorite wine to celebrate the upcoming victory. When he finally returned he opened the door to find Pelk and Sandra going at it right there on the floor. Sandra was riding Pelk, her skirt bunched up around her waist. Pelk’s pants were down around his ankles. He was holding onto Sandra’s hips pumping hard up into her. Both were backing the door and hadn’t heard it open. Martin stood there shocked at what he was seeing, until he heard Sandra speak. “Hmmmm, I don’t know which I love more, you or this dick, Dick.” She purred teasingly, slowing the stroke. “Don’t you really, Sandra?” Martin asked before Pelk could respond. They jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice. Sandra scrambled behind the desk fixing her clothes. Pelk regained his composure faster smirking as he stood and buckled his pants in one fluid motion. Enraged, Martin stormed into the room and tackled Pelk. They fell to the ground, grappling with each other, trading punches and kicks, as they rolled around on the floor. That’s where things got fuzzy for Martin. After the initial brawl, all he remembered was hearing the double “POP”, the shattering of glass and Sandra’s scream. He looked around and saw Sandra holding her abdomen, blood leaking from a piece of glass sticking out of the side of her neck and seeping through her fingers. Martin disengaged himself from Pelk, and ran to Sandra, catching her before she fell to the ground. “Oh no! Sandra! Baby, baby, baby, no, no, no, no, no.” Sandra’s eyes rolled to back of her head. Martin moved her hand and pulled up her shirt to see she had been shot. He pressed down on the wound and looked around the room confused, searching for a gun. He had forgotten all about Richard Pelk, until he heard the chamber slide of a small semi-automatic pistol. Richard was standing on the other side of the desk. He was armed with the small pistol that Martin usually carried around his ankle. It must have fallen out during the tussle. Now he was staring down the barrel of his gun. Martin looked down at Sandra again, she wasn’t breathing and a puddle of her blood was forming in the carpet below them. Blood still pumped its way up and out of her neck. His wife was dying. He kissed her knowing that he was going to die right beside her. The fact that he caught her cheating was a distant memory. He sat there waiting for the shot, but it never came. Police officers broke down the door and surrounded Pelk. It didn’t take much looking around for them get an idea of what happened, one look at Sandra and they immediately arrested Richard Pelk for murder and attempted murder. Paramedics took Sandra away while the police tried to ask him questions, but Martin just sat there in shock, covered in his dead wife’s blood. To be Continued...

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literateape · 6 years

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The Long Road to the Trump Presidency and Where We Go From Here

By Don Hall

Imagine sitting down in your living room to watch the first televised presidential debate. Depending on which side you were on — Richard Nixon for the Old Guard conservatives, John Kennedy for the Young Progressive liberals — it was either going to be a complete ass-kicking by a long-time political beast or a breath of fresh air by the youngest candidate in recent history.

If you were in that new audience of television viewers, what you saw was the very beginnings of media chipping away at the intellectual strength of our democracy. You witnessed the first time when good looks and charisma on a mass-cult scale beat facts and acumen to nothing more than likability.

Read the transcript. Divorce yourself from the televised spectacle and Nixon’s flop sweat. He presented better arguments, better answers and demonstrated a genuine knowledge of how things worked. Kennedy reads like he was exactly who he was — a neophyte from a family legacy.

Yet almost completely due to the new media that emphasized looks and poise over knowledge and experience, the nation watched and crowned Kennedy the winner of both the debate and the presidency.

Television had changed everything.

The Vietnam conflict was the first war broadcast into the homes of Americans. Not just the propaganda newsreels of WWII or Korea but the actual images of children being napalmed and American soldiers having their legs blown off. The effect was tremendous in that kids seeing the destructive force of warmongering anti-Communist paranoia caused them to mobilize and protest on a mass scale during the conflict.

It is worth noting that while television indelibly damaged our democracy’s leadership races, it changed the way the population viewed American exceptionalism and her imperialist tendencies. The new media (at the time) was both destructive and constructive in separate turns.

Film has had the same such affect upon the masses. Films made during the Blacklist times of Senator Joseph McCarthy appealed to both those still in thrall to the propaganda of WWII as well as offering more subversive messages about the dark power of censorship and government overreach. On one hand we had John Wayne in The Green Berets and Frank Sinatra in The Manchurian Candidate; on the other we had Elia Karan’s On the Waterfront and Herbert Biberman’s Salt of the Earth.

In the '70s, film took an even more activist approach with movies that continued to destroy the myths of war via the Vietnam Conflict by focusing on the horrors of it (Full Metal Jacket and The Deer Hunter) as well as the difficulties of being a veteran of that war with little or no support (Coming Home). Tackling the environmental concerns of the day were Silkwood and The China Syndrome; police corruption (Serpico); protest culture (Zabriskie Point, The Conformist); and a general distrust of authority (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, A Clockwork Orange.)

At roughly the same time, videotape technology began making it’s way into homes, and the process of separating movies from community events to individual preferences as well as the free exchange of copied tapes opened new doors for pop culture.

In 1980 came the continuation of that ill-fated first televised debate with the new 24-hour Cable News Network effectively forcing journalists to find news in the most mundane and banal events as well as begin spinning news to keep advertisers happy. It is not without irony to note that this lead-up to an infotainment style of reporting was ushered in in the same year the country elected a B-movie actor turned California governor to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

The '80s saw a growing list of films about gay rights, nuclear war and civil rights while at the same time promoting anti-gay and misogynist humor. Cable news became a parody of itself and the FOX network was founded in 1986 (although it’s pernicious news arm didn’t launch for another decade.) In 1990, the ARPENET was decommissioned and the internet as we know it was dropped upon a public completely unprepared for it.

VHS was abandoned for CDs. Home computers became commonplace. Personal devices designed to individualize musical tastes and further distance one person from another, creating tinier and tinier bubbles of consumption were all the rage.

Meanwhile, electoral politics became more and more influenced by the work of ad-men and saw candidate Bill Clinton playing saxophone on The Arsenio Hall Show. The monster that is the Celebrity Politician really started flexing his popularity in the late '80s and '90s and, Holy Shit, was he itching for the unfettered, unregulated, Wild West show that was the World Wide Web.

Imagine sitting down in front of a computer screen, logging onto the internet with a modem that squawked like a digital hog being slaughtered, and hearing that chipper “You’ve Got Mail!” You check your mail — a couple of ads for CD-ROMS, a message from a co-worker as geeked out as you are about the instant communication of this 2400 baud device, another ad about NewtonMail and an invite to a ListServ.

You click that link and in an impressive three minutes of download time, you’re on.

On the ListServ (a prehistoric version of Faceborg and Twitter) you find a thread espousing the new GOP-driven “Contract with America.” Users with fake names espousing the “Taking Back Our Streets Act” and the “Personal Responsibility Act” and conspiracy theories about President Bill Clinton and his “manly” first lady.

“Who pays attention to this shit?” you ask yourself after perusing the thread for three hours. The irony is lost on you.

As the internet became more evolved and connection rates got faster, as the devices became smaller and more powerful, as the platforms became more pervasive and asked less and less personal accountability for what what written, the spiraling cascade, like the Skynet of James Cameron, grew to an unstoppable informational force. It was ready for abuse. It was ready to change us indelibly.

A couple of things to chew on:

Faceborg is 14 years old. It debuted in 2004. Twitter is 12 years old. The iPhone is 11 years old.

77 percent of Americans own smartphones. Faceborg has 1.8 BILLION users. Twitter has 327 MILLION users.

In 1960, during the Nixon/Kennedy debate, only 47 million households had televisions.

So, here we are. A sub-par reality TV star as or president. So easy to hate. So easy to blame everyone else.

When celebrity and fame become the coin of the realm, is it really any big surprise?

This isn’t a polemic about the dangers of technology. Technology is not dangerous, it is a tool. Atomic energy is not dangerous. What we do with it is. Guns are not dangerous. The assholes who use them to mow down innocent civilians are. It isn’t television’s fault we so wholeheartedly were convinced that the good-looking young TV-friendly candidate beat the paranoid, anti-Communist politician who looked like shit on the box.

Media is not dangerous but our awe-inspiring, numb-fucked gullibility is a giant shark-infested moat surrounding us at every turn. And these sharks have lasers and extra teeth and, like a NASCAR jacket, are covered with corporate logos.

The flipside is that without the internet, without this unbelievable communicating power, there would be no #BlackLivesMatter or #MeToo. There would be millions still left in the dark as the oligarchy marched through the village with impunity. Due, in part to the internet, there is now more equity in Hollywood, on television, on cable. More black and brown faces telling stories we need to hear. More democracy at work in who gets to make movies.

What do we do? How do we avoid allowing our worse natures use the technology at our disposal in ways that threaten to destroy the fabric of our democracy?

1. Give the news two days before you jump in.

The internet has created a race for first when it comes to reporting. School shooting? Wait two days before you ingest the noise. Trump fires another corrupt shitstain on Twitter? Wait before you read. Do not cede control of the information to those less interested in accuracy and more interested in winning the scoop.

2. Refuse to resort to the tactics of those whom you despise.

Fight fire with fire was a saying coined by a fucking arsonist. Go with the much better adage “Tweet others as you would be tweeted.” Sure, it’s fun to participate in the online pile-up, the masscult public shaming, but it truly makes you exactly like the squalid bullies you endured in high school. Exactly the same but with all of your teeth and without the brutal alcoholic step-father.

3. Learn to fast.

There is a genuine benefit from taking a break from those things that consume us. Fasting doesn’t have to be 40 days and 40 nights — you are the Savior, dimwit. Take a day and turn your phone off and leave it in a drawer next to your weed and gummy bears. Read an actual book. Talk to other human beings face-to-face, especially those whom you may think disagree with you on something.

Use social media. Don’t let it use you.

4. Read three articles on anything from three completely different sources before you form an opinion.

“The opinion of the intelligent outweighs the certainty of the ignorant.”

If my guess is correct (and fer crissakes, I hope not) Trump will be our president until 2024. While not all of us made it through the lost decade of George W. Bush, plenty did. The prospect of eight years of the orange tweetdick is horrifying but there are far worse than him waiting in the wings, hoping we don’t wise up to the fact that celebrity, money and fame are not congruent with the ability to soberly lead a nation (or even the local school council, for that matter).

We don’t need more information these days. We need to understand how to use it.

#Nixon/Kennedy Debate #television #media #internet #Faceborg #Twitter #Trumpfuckenstein #film #news #Vietnam

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