#◣* ┋ DIANA PRINCE 〉 … she will save the world | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

apocalypse-shuffle · 4 months ago

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DIANA PRINCE | WONDER WOMAN (the flashpoint paradox)

—

“The Messenger Bird Sings” (Diana Prince x Fem!Reader)

| Infiltrating Themyscira to save a resistance member is a disaster. But it leads to unexpected consequences when the Queen captures you.

| SFW, open ending, infatuated!reader, (TW: captured!reader, spoils of war, unfettered murder), -dark!wonder woman

| pics via: Justice League: The Flashpoint Paradox animated movie

| Here’s a link to the scene this is based on. The words/dialogue that are mine are mine and the words that are from the movie are not mine.

| 2k+ words

Sneaking around New Themyscira is a feat you didn’t think you’d ever experience but, lo and behold, here you were.

The island was beautiful in a way that reminded you of what used to be. It’s battle torn, but the skies are still bright blue and the air’s still unnaturally fresh and fizzling with magic.

Even if it’s not the same as you're sure it’d be on the original “Paradise Island”, the residual effect of the Amazon’s whimsy sticks to the place like it was fated to be. Like their magic lays as much claim over this part of what used to be Europe as they do.

It’s a drastic contrast to the wreckage all around you all.

“Alright crew, we meet back at the ship by dusk. This is an evidence gathering retreat and extraction mission so stay out of sight and do not engage.” Steve’s command stays quiet through coms even as he shifts to giving out individual instructions next. His voice a steady balm that you lock onto to distract you enough you don’t have to keep biting back your grin.

─────

It’s hours before anything worthwhile than ducking and hiding takes place.

Initially Steve’s group was primarily tasked with direct extraction of Lois Lane from behind enemy lines but you had run into her, and a small number of other survivors hiding in the nature reclaimed remains of what used to be London, first.

Your branch-off specifically is just meant to be gathering enough tangible evidence that the Amazon’s are taking human hostages to finally push the last remaining world leader to actually let Steve’s task force move in to save them.

Years ago you’d thought politics was hard to navigate. Now it was a literal minefield, one wrong move and someone would take off your head.

You’re hoping at the very least your wrong move doesn’t happen here.

The Amazons were brutal. What little clear footage that still remained showed their killing prowess off well. They didn’t level cities the way the Atlanteans did, but at the beginning of all this they’d conquered their way across the Mediterranean in less than a week and no one had even noticed.

The Atlanteans were too loud, even put up against the Amazons brutality and true disdain for humanity. Especially men. Atlantis had taken over the European Coast with brute force and luck that their extremely obvious assault couldn’t be stopped by any human forces.

If the human world had been anywhere near as technologically advanced and superhuman you’re sure that Atlantis would’ve fallen that day. King Arthur had put all of his forces, after the Amazon’s had near silently ran them off, into conquering Europe’s waters but he’d made a gamble in doing so.

The Amazon’s didn’t gamble.

Call it years of godly military practice coming into play or whatever but the Amazon’s were a strategic power house. They blew through everything they wanted to as if it was parchment paper in a way that the Atlanteans and their ‘throw everything at it until it sticks’ strategy could never.

The Queen didn’t take whatever she wanted, the rumored start of the war in the first place, because she was careless.

“Pilgrim to Mayflower, we’ve been caught in an ambush—”

Your radio crackles to life on your hip. You turn to your team leader but she only shakes her head. She gestures for you all to get closer together. She’s following protocol, if you have to leave team ‘Pilgrim’ behind you have to wait in silence five minutes before doing so, but if you get a response in that period you have to call in for backup.

Beside you Lois’s quiet as she stares at the radio in Boston’s hand, lip between her teeth.

The following crackle three and a half minutes in makes you all jump.

“—it’s The Queen. The Queen’s with them!”

This time it’s not Steve’s voice but a woman from his group. The air rushes from your lungs.

Queen Diana of Themyscira wasn’t careless.

Something presses down on the receiver and the sounds of screaming and gunfire reach your ears. Right behind it cheers of triumph follow.

All distinctly feminine sounding.

The Queen took what she wanted without hesitation because she was self assured in her prowess.

“Dammit to hell,” Boston curses.

Your heart feels tight all of a sudden.

The Queen.

The same one who started a whole world war because she didn’t bow down to such pitiful quirks as apologizing. The Queen who allegedly wore the crown of the woman she killed as a trophy.

When that exact crown, Atlantean in nature, crests over a row of rubble from toppled buildings towards you the sight of that golden headrest becomes an omen.

The Amazon’s are ruthless when they reach you. There’s barely a triumphant yell afterwards the fight was so close to already won once it started. In fact it’d probably be an insult to the Goddess Artemis herself to call it a fight at all.

A mild squabble maybe.

Like a kitten might give a gangly boy throwing her into a box to slowly meet its death. Or the inevitable but hopeless life of a fly when around a flytrap.

The Amazon’s had gained on you too fast for women who were supposed to be on the other side of the island right now.

As you’re thrown into the middle of a circle of stern-faced Amazon’s with your team, knocking right into Steve and his remaining crew, you start to feel a lot like a fly trapped because of its need to further inspect a predator so unequivocally greater than itself.

Your eyes prickle and your breath squeezes past your throat, but as you watch the towering few women around you your heart thuds not with fear but revelation.

In person the Amazon’s were every bit as terrifying as the stories and mission reports made them out to be, then some. Their armor was chinked and dusted with the brutal effects of war and yet they still seemed to glow brighter than the overcast sun as they set their ire upon you.

It was a lesson in skill to be present for the way they fought up close. Every strike and simple step was so clearly packed full with power and yet they moved as one graceful unit, where one woman leaned right two more would work to balance back out the open circle till closed again like feathers in the wind.

They were seamless even as they taunted Steve, held in The Queen’s lasso as he was. The center of everyone’s attention.

Something shamefully akin to envy prods at you incessantly. You do your best to ignore it.

Your fists clench and unclench at your side as you watch the warriors playing with their food. Lois looks like she can’t decide whether to throw up or throw something. For the sake of all your lives you pray she only vomits.

“You’re all Americans,” Queen Diana points out before tightening her hold on the lasso. Steve is forced to rise up on his knees at the movement, hands going to his throat in a fruitless effort to pry off the rope choking him. “But you’re going to tell me a little more about yourself. Who are you and what is your group’s goal?”

For a few seconds you all watch as Steve just…doesn’t answer. Your eyes narrow. Maybe the rumors about The Queen’s lasso were actually just rumors this time around, you’re pretty sure a gift from the gods isn’t supposed to have user defects.

The other Amazon’s seem to think the same thing as five of them huddle closer to their leader and soft murmurs travel around you from the ones that remain vigil.

“He’s resisting the lasso of truth! How is that possible Queen Diana?”

The Queen looks offended, jaw tightening.

“It’s not,” she says before wrapping more of the lasso around her hand and pulling Steve up so they’re face to face, his toes dragging in the dirt. “Who are you and what are you and your people doing in New Themyscira?”

You all gasp. Off to the side Boston starts to struggle, cursing up a storm as Steve truly goes red in the face. You can’t not watch her a bit impassioned, you know what’ll happen next. One Amazon, red haired and incredibly angry looking, kicks her in the face so hard that by the time her body falls to the dirt you can all tell she’s dead. Face crunched to all hell as her lifeless body faces you.

You shiver and look away.

“This is an outrage,” Lois murmurs.

You don’t argue in any direction with her, just turn back to The Queen.

“Thank you for shutting her up, Artemis. Now back to you, I believe I asked you a question.”

Steve can barely put up a token protest, still actively choking, before he starts to spill everything.

“My name is Colonel Steve Trevor of the United States Special Forces. Me and my team, the second of which was headed by the woman you just killed, Colonel Boston Knight, were tasked with gathering information about your base and with the retrieval of Lois Lane.”

The Queen’s brows furrow, “Who is this Lois Lane?”

You close your eyes. You can feel the very woman stiffen where she’s crouched next to you. Your next breath in feels too much like a hiccup.

“Lois Lane is a Politzer prize winning journalist who has been embedded in New Themyscira to gather intel on your Amazons for Cyborg. She’s…she’s also one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.”

Steve struggles, doing his best to clamp down on his jaw before some invisible force pries it back open and one of his trembling hands flick out to point. “And she’s over there.”

All eyes seem to shift to the woman no less than a foot away from you.

The Queen looks over at her with a haughty air as she takes in the new information.

“‘Most beautiful’ until me, that is,” she states while lowering him.

You're mesmerized as the glow of the lasso fades while she dismisses you all once again. The Queen’s attention quickly shifts to a blonde Amazon who nods and begins speaking immediately.

“Our information was correct, then, My Queen. Cyborg is amassing the outside world’s superhumans in an attempt to interfere in our war.”

“And he will fail,” her voice echoes across their foggy battlefield with surety. Wonder Woman scowls. “Now seize the Lane woman and take her back to our sanctum.”

“Yes, My Queen,” the blonde speaks up again as all the others quickly nod their assent.

Lois puts up a huge struggle, kicking out at a woman and briefly causing her to stumble before three more are on her. It takes a couple seconds before she stops, limbs twisted every which way as she’s held before the Queen’s unforgiving gaze.

She looks distinctly unimpressed as she and Lois stare down one another. The reporter definitely lived up to her reputation at least. Unfortunately so did Queen Diana.

“Go. I will deal with her later.”

They take Lois away and all you can do is watch.

The Queen glances over all of you again as the blonde waves the women off and then turns to Queen Diana with a wave in Steve’s direction.

“May I deal with this prisoner for you?”

She takes barely a second to decide.

“No, Persephone. The Queen of the Amazons is a servant to her people,” she rises then, taking Steve up with her and letting him dangle from the ropes. His gagging makes you curl in on yourself, “nothing is beneath her,” Queen Diana finishes as Steve takes his final struggling breaths.

The blood vessels on his face pop at the relentless pressure put on them as The Queen stares on impassively. The remaining Amazons cheer and the woman seems to bask in their praise.

“You must remember that this is a win for all of us!” Her exclamation is met with more cheers as she dangles Steve’s lifeless body through the air like a marionette.

“May the gods continue to look down favorably upon the daughters of Themyscira!” That cheer, from a dark skinned Amazon with snowy white hair, gets even Queen Diana calling out in excitement.

Their voices thunder around you all and in all your years both as black and as a woman you have never been made to feel so small as you do till now.

Like this, however, that feeling of absolute insignificance was damningly heady.

In the very next moment The Queen’s sharp gaze seems to snap to you and the skant air you’ve managed to gain seems to flee from your lungs in terror.

“Exactly sisters! And for that the fates of the spoils of our hunt today shall be decided by you!” She bows in mid air. “A gift from your ever faithful Queen.”

Seems the celebration won’t be stopping anytime soon then. You glance around at your teammates and see matching fear welling in their eyes.

Some of the people the Amazons choose are killed instantly and with gusto, others tossed between two of them like nothing as they’re tortured, some are even dragged away for who knows what, but you?

You’re left untouched.

Shaking you watch as everyone is picked off one by one around you and how in the rush The Queen's gaze still manages to stay locked on your form.

You’re watching her back with wide, nearly star struck eyes when she finally starts towards you. Your blood goes cold as she descends, carelessly dropping Steve in the process, before that damned lasso gets thrown around your body.

“Now you see that is a face of admiration!” She hoists you up into the air and your stomach drops. “Now tell me your truth, little human.”

“You’re…ethereal,” comes tumbling past your lips before you can hope to stop it.

The woman looks back at you in mild surprise before her laughter fills your ears.

“Of course I am.” She shifts you in her grip while motioning for the Amazons to move, hovering with you above them as they march back to their sanctuary.

You wonder if its location was one of the things Lois was going to share with you.

You were willing to bet it was too late to find out now.

─────

When you get back to the Queen’s new castle you feel like where they were hiding when they weren’t fighting should’ve been pretty obvious.

It was literally the former royal palace.

You walk in and can tell instantly that while some form of a fight must have occurred within the walls, the palace itself looked in otherwise perfect shape.

While most of the other Amazons that came with you disperse, some stay to debrief the Queen as she takes you along to the throne room.

At the entrance you’re met with a set of Amazons. Swiftly, they bow to their leader before opening the doors for her.

As you get a look inside your brows raise.

The throne that sits at the end of the velvet walkway is singular, first of all, and a lot bigger and more ornate than anything the British could’ve ever scrounged up. It makes even you impressed.

Queen Diana sits in it with all the air of a woman who knows without a moment of uncertainty that little can harm her.

In the following seconds she moves you to join her too, and you flush hard enough for a slight red hue to tint the deep brown of your cheeks.

The binding along your arms and midsection is so strong that you don’t even bother attempting to wiggle loose as you’re made to sit on the Amazon’s lap.

She’s completely self assured as she discusses her next steps with her council, and it makes you feel hopeless the way they blow off the US’s push back efforts as nothing. Easily solvable.

And all while you’re sitting on her lap like a trophy.

Eventually she dismisses everyone but the guards at the door and you're as alone as you’ll get.

You swallow thickly, glancing up at her through your lashes.

It’s a last ditch attempt but you try it anyway.

“If you kill me it’ll be all the US needs to join the war and deploy their forces.”

She looks down at you with a subtle raise of a brow.

“It’s adorable that you think you can scare me,” The Queen says. “Your government is so pathetic they jump at their own shadow. What threat could they ever possibly be to me when they can barely handle the problems within their own borders?”

She laughs, a boisterous sound that you feel just as much as you hear, and you’re unintentionally shaken in her hold. You knew it was a long shot but damn. She didn’t just shoot your idea down, she busted a fucking gut at it. You pout.

Yeah, you were screwed.

The Queen looked fucking unreal when she laughed though; you were a little winded.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! I love dark!WW, and she was too good looking in the Flash Point animation style; fourteen year old me literally couldn’t handle it.

Also— boy, has this one been in the works for a hot ass minute, but at least now it’s finally out.

In general, though, I’m trying to get out fics with more of The Trinity as a focus that aren’t just Batman fics. So yeah.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

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trappednyourheart · 6 months ago

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Another life of a clone

(maybe not clone? Yeah reincarnation is weird and simple at the same time)

You see it was too late, Danny couldn't save his clone- a female clone of his that was like a daughter/sister/clone to him....

He did everything to let her stabilise but she needed a drop of Vlad's DNA, but it was impossible- Vlad wasn't being cooperative and was just stuck there at his room after Maddie had almost killed him again like fully dead...maybe his head got the thought that Maddie wasn't exactly worth to be fucking obsessed in the old guy's head.

“my king, we've done everything but...this time it's out of our capabilities even as such as our tradition of Health, even with Vlad's DNA she might not actually last longer- she has the soul but her body would not last long” Frostbite settled in the truth to his majesty's mind, the truth that Ellie doesn't have more time to enjoy her existence...

Her existence was bound to not last long than after all she wasn't the original.

Maybe It was the tense atmosphere of the medical room that clockwork intervened,

“But there could be a way my king...How about reincarnating the mirror-born?” Clockwork was always the scheming type and I guess he's ideas were insane and probably the best for old times sake

Yes...Ellie having a second life was much more preferable,didn't Ellie wanted to travel the world right? She was always a troublemaking one...and been the most kindest even at that shitty chaotic grin of hers.

“Clockwork your a genius” Danny grin as he look towards the capsule containing Ellie's sleeping figure, surviving off in that capsule,

Danny would ignore the remark clockwork muttered “As I should be my king😀”.

(well Dani could be Lois lane ( Superman's badass wife) Diana prince (Wonder woman like Queen) or Richard Grayson (Nightwing literal big wing)

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book--brackets · 4 months ago

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The Magic Thief by Sarah Prineas (2008-2014)

In a city that runs on a dwindling supply of magic, a young boy is drawn into a life of wizardry and adventure. Conn should have dropped dead the day he picked Nevery's pocket and touched the wizard's locus magicalicus, a stone used to focus magic and work spells. But for some reason he did not. Nevery finds that interesting, and he takes Conn as his apprentice on the provision that the boy find a locus stone of his own. But Conn has little time to search for his stone between wizard lessons and helping Nevery discover who--or what--is stealing the city of Wellmet's magic.

100 Cupboards by N. D. Wilson (2007-2010)

Twelve-year-old Henry York is going to sleep one night when he hears a bump on the attic wall above his head. It's an unfamiliar house—Henry is staying with his aunt, uncle, and three cousins—so he tries to ignore it. But the next night he wakes up with bits of plaster in his hair. Two knobs have broken through the wall, and one of them is slowly turning...

Henry scrapes the plaster off the wall and discovers doors—ninety-nine cupboards of all different sizes and shapes. Through one he can hear the sound of falling rain. Through another he sees a glowing room—with a man strolling back and forth! Henry and his cousin Henrietta soon understand that these are not just cupboards. They are, in fact, portals to other worlds.

Princess Ben by Catherine Gilbert Murdock (2008)

A girl is transformed, through instruction in life at court, determination, and magic, from sullen, pudgy, graceless Ben into Crown Princess Benevolence, a fit ruler of the kindgom of Montagne as it faces war with neighboring Drachensbett.

Little Thieves by Margaret Owen (2021-present)

Vanja Schmidt knows no gift is freely given, not even a mother’s love. Abandoned to Death and Fortune as a child, she has scraped by as a lowly maidservant with her quick wits and the ability to see her god-mothers’ hands at work in the world. But when they demand her lifelong servitude in exchange, Vanja decides that gifts not given freely…can always be stolen.

When an opportunity rises to steal a string of enchanted pearls, Vanja seizes it, transforming herself into Gisele, the princess she’s served for years. As the glamorous princess, Vanja leads a double life, charming the nobility while ransacking their coffers as a jewel thief. Then, one heist away from funding an escape from her god-mothers, Vanja crosses the wrong god, and is cursed to turn into jewels herself. The only way to save herself is to make up for what she’s taken—starting with her first victim, Princess Gisele.

Valdemar: Mage Wings by Mercedes Lackey (1992-1993)

High magic had been lost to Valdemar when he gave his life to save his kingdom from destruction by the dark sorceries. Now it falls to Elspeth Herald, heir to the throne, to take up the challenge and seek a mentor who will awaken her mage abilities.

The Numair Chronicles by Tamora Pierce (2018-present)

Arram Draper is on the path to becoming one of the realm’s most powerful mages. The youngest student in his class at the Imperial University of Carthak, he has a Gift with unlimited potential for greatness–and for attracting danger. At his side are his two best friends: Varice, a clever girl with an often-overlooked talent, and Ozorne, the “leftover prince” with secret ambitions. Together, these three friends forge a bond that will one day shape kingdoms. And as Ozorne gets closer to the throne and Varice gets closer to Arram’s heart, Arram realizes that one day–soon–he will have to decide where his loyalties truly lie.

Derkholm by Diana Wynne Jones (1998-2000)

Everyone - wizards, soldiers, farmers, elves, dragons, kings and queens alike - is fed up with Mr Chesney's Pilgrim Parties: groups of tourists from the world next door who descend en masse every year to take the Grand Tour. What they expect are all the trappings of a grand fantasy adventure, including the Evil Enchantress, Wizard Guides, the Dark Lord, Winged Minions, and all. And every year different people are chosen to play these parts. But now they've had enough: Mr Chesney may be backed by a very powerful demon, but the Oracles have spoken. Now it's up to the Wizard Derk and his son Blade, this year's Dark Lord and Wizard Guide, not to mention Blade's griffin brothers and sisters, to save the world from Mr Chesney's depredations.

Traveler's Gate by Will Wight (2013-2014)

Simon can only watch, helpless, as his family is killed and his friends captured by enemy Travelers-men and women who can summon mystical powers from otherworldly Territories. To top it off, another young man from Simon's village discovers that he's a savior prophesied to destroy evil and save the realm.Prophecy has nothing to say about Simon. He has no special powers, no magical weapons, and no guarantee that he'll survive. But he sets off anyway, alone, to gain the power he needs to oppose the Travelers and topple their ruthless Overlord. It may not be his destiny, but Simon's determined to rescue his fellow villagers from certain death.Because who cares about prophecy, really?

Deltora Quest by Emily Rodda (2000)

The evil Shadow Lord is plotting to invade Deltora and enslave its people. All that stands against him is the magic Belt of Deltora with its seven gems of great and mysterious power. When the gems are stolen and hidden in dark terrible places throughout the kingdom, the Shadow Lord triumphs, and Deltora is lost.

In secrecy, with only a hand-drawn map to guide them, two unlikely companions set out on a perilous quest. Determined to find the lost gems and rid their land of the tyrant, they struggle towards their first goal - the sinister Forests of Silence.

Furthermore by Tahereh Mafi (2016-2017)

There are only three things that matter to twelve-year-old Alice Alexis Queensmeadow: Mother, who wouldn't miss her; magic and color, which seem to elude her; and Father, who always loved her. The day Father disappears from Ferenwood he takes nothing but a ruler with him. But it's been almost three years since then, and Alice is determined to find him. She loves her father even more than she loves adventure, and she's about to embark on one to find the other.

But bringing Father home is no small matter. In order to find him she'll have to travel through the mythical, dangerous land of Furthermore, where down can be up, paper is alive, and left can be both right and very, very wrong. It will take all of Alice's wits (and every limb she's got) to find Father and return home to Ferenwood in one piece. On her quest to find Father, Alice must first find herself--and hold fast to the magic of love in the face of loss.

#best fantasy book #poll #the magic thief #100 cupboards #princess ben #little thieves #valdemar: mage winds #the numair chronicles #derkholm #traveler's gate #deltora quest #furthermore

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ladylaviniya · 7 months ago

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Lassoed In Love

|| Masterlist || Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: An investigation turns into a car accident rescue, a cup of coffee, an argument...and heated kisses.

Pairing: Farmer!Clark Kent X Teacher!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, No Sex in this chapter, Slowburn, descriptions of car accident, anger management issues, no sex but lots of kissing, topic of rape being mentioned.

Word Count: 8k

Author Notes: To save me from total writers block I thought I'd share this story. I will repeat. I HAVE NOT ABANDONED MY OTHER STORIES.

Inspiring Song: "Too Sweet" by Hozier

CLARK

Tossing and turning in the blankets, Clark sighed with frustration. His head turned and stared at the empty space on the mattress. He had half the mind to drive to the dump and collect the old one again. But it still smelt like her. That selfish bitch. The mother of his daughter...Lois.

His body yearned for intimacy, aroused for the warmth of a woman. He grabbed himself beneath the sheets and groaned softly. What was he to do? Porn was starting to be an issue. Some nights he felt like a teenage boy covered in acne hiding porn magazines from his mother, only now it was deleting the internet history off the computer he shared with his daughter and hoping he wouldn’t wake her up with the wet squelching.

He sighed clenching his eyes shut. The crickets outside chirped like an obnoxious symphony. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight again. Not with how his thoughts consumed him.

‘Coffee...no...I need a whiskey.’

With a heavy set groan he rose from the covers, naked and larger than life. His muscular body moved with soft cracks down his spine. The icy floor beneath his bare feet was a gracious gift, cooling down his hot blood and calming down his own erection.

Padding to the living room, he crouched low to the liquor cabinet. All the bottles were in different places than he last recalled. He didn’t dwell as he poured himself a drink and sniffed. No smell. He lifted the glass to his lips. Water.

He blinked. Sighed. Couldn’t help the tiny jerk rise to the corner of his lips.

‘Fucking kids.’

Lara and her friends were going to the newest Mission Impossible movie, or at least that’s what he was told. Clearly, they’d snuck into the cabinet at some point and helped themselves to the joyful adult treasures while sneakily topping it off with water.

‘She is grounded. That’s for sure.’

Lara was only sixteen. His sweet pride and joy. She had been through a lot in her young life, a life Clark could only sympathise and try his best to be a good father. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, so he put on the kettle, dragged on a pair of jeans and sat outside on the porch. He gazed out at the road and fields consumed by the growing frost.

The icy air cooled down his body. His nipples grew taunt. The bright white moonlight beamed across the strong lines of his features, his years of hard labour and history in the maps of his crow feet and smile lines. His voluminous black hair with hints of silver through it fell to his shoulders, he would need to start tying it back or cut it short again. His thick pink lips pursed just sitting above his jawline, he was like a blade, sharp and strong.

His veins ran with the blood of two different worlds...but there was a certainty that he would never be able to return to one.

With his strong desire for companionship, he knew himself well. Though he controlled it, there were times when he needed the physical touch of a woman. He often met with Diana Prince, a widowed woman who lived in Cottonwood Falls. Theirs was a purely physical arrangement, with neither interested in marriage. Clark tried to keep their visits infrequent, aware that her gossiping neighbours would be shocked to know she was seeing a man in the middle of the night...a man who had a criminal record, a dark past.

The next day was going to be a Saturday. He would carry out the planned chores and duties on the farm. The upkeep was falling apart and he desperately needed to fix the barn roof hole and retighten the fences and cut the firewood. And in the evening he would ride his truck out to Cotton falls, park and walk the rest of the way to Ms Princes house and extinguish all the fiery rage of his loins inside of her.

He didn’t like riding his truck on the icy roads. He chewed his lips as he glanced down at his erection rising again in his jeans. He needed a woman. God help him.

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

YOU

You had your own chores and plans for the Saturday. In particular there was one plan on your list you were desperate to investigate and find a resolution.

Miss Lara Kent

The girl had left highschool prematurely three months ago, a month before you had arrived to take over the role as teacher after Ms Rampling died at the age of eighty four. You had deep shoes to fill. Smallville had quite literally a small school it would seem ranging from kindergarten all the way to year twelve with only four hundred students in total.

Not a single student or teacher had mentioned her name, it was by sheer luck you’d come across her school records. It was rather bizarre that such a successful student to drop out. A straight A student. Nothing in the file indicated a decent reason to why she had left school but it had been approved none the less....the burning passion of your life work was lit a flame.

“Oh Lara?...Lara...oh...Kent...that farmers kid...yea, best be left alone,” said Miss Lana Lang, the eighth grade teacher.

How could you though? Clearly this girls future was in jeopardy if she just left it so suddenly. You needed to understand what was the choice behind this important decision. You recalled being sixteen and feeling so ready for the world only to find even yourself so unprepared when you moved out of home.

You stood in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea as you stared out your window up at the lonely moon, naked of the wreaths of stars...how could you sleep when this poor girl was making such a bad life choice?...you couldn’t imagine what her parents were thinking.

The cold wind was spreading white fog and frost against the window panels.

You were sure it would probably snow the first day of November at this rate. You rubbed your eyes and shivered. You would need to hire a handy man to fix the heater soon or else you’d freeze to death. It was never so cold in Metropolis city where you were originally from.

You’d moved here only after a month. You felt it was a sign of luck. You were struggling to find another teaching job while juggling to afford your rent....and then one-day you received a call on the phone. Out of some miracle or curse you had a great-great aunt Gwendolyn-Lee and she had a fat inheritance and a whole house left for you, her only surviving heir.

Oh and a ginger cat named Oz. With all the movie posters you had to assume your great aunts favourite film and book was none other than the Wizard of Oz.

He sat stop the old floral print arm chair, staring out the window. He turned his head and meowed wistfully. He kept to the floor and trotted over to you, threading his body around your ankles.

You sighed, “I know Ozzie, your poor bean toes must be getting cold like mine, I might need to see if there’s a pet store in this tiny town. See if they have socks for kitties.”

His meowing reply was lighter as if he had approved of your comment. You crouched to his level and ran your fingers along his orange stripe spine. It hadn’t taken him long to warm up to you. At first, he refused to leave the space beneath the bed in the master bedroom. You wondered how he had survived so long after Gwendolyn passed. You didn’t know who was feeding him. He mewled softly as you began getting dressed.

Despite the wonderful fortune you’d gained, tragedy struck when the moving van forgot to pick up the box with all your clothes.

So naturally you borrowed your dead great aunts hand made, outdated dresses. You’d never met the woman and yet the genetics were clear to be positive considering how you were both the same size.

You went with the white shirtwaist dress with lilac astor flowers embroidered along the edge and collar. You would’ve gone out to the town and bought a new wardrobe...if the shops sold anything that wasn’t still the same style from 1970.

Who were you even trying to impress, yourself? You sighed looking at the mirror. You reached for your flat shoes. ‘No one.’ Your hands ran down the front of your dress. ‘What type of man wants a woman that dresses like a grandma?’ you rolled your eyes.

You scratched Oz behind the ear, his little golden bell jingled away as he kept up onto the mattress and stretched his lithe body.

“I guess you’re the only man in my life to impress Ozzie,” you giggled as he flopped on his side and purred, snuggling his cheek on the patchwork quilt to take a fat cat nap.

Fetching the wool cardigan and car keys off the hook you grabbed the school record file and handbag.

Outside your car waited. You knew you’d have to drive carefully along the road. You prayed the address on Lara’s record was correct.

You pulled out of your driveway and watched as the small town buildings became trees and dead orange leaves. Halloween was just around the corner. Everyone was setting up their decorations, you felt strangely naked with such a bare house. It was on your shopping list to buy candies for the kids in the neighbourhood. You didn’t feel obligated to decorate or participate when you lived in your shitty city unit. But now you lived among families and country locals.

Even though the farm lands were carpeted in brown, red and orange leaves, you were looking forward to the gossip that come spring the lands would be blooming with green lush grass and waves of flowers and forests of apple trees with rushing blue creeks soaring through the valley. Smallville wasn’t very small in the proportion of its farming lands.

As you peered over to look at the map sitting on your passenger seat, you struggled to clearly see the street names.

Above the sound of your engine, you heard the sound of a moo before glancing up back over your hood. A large beast, a black bull the size of a fridge was haphazardly trotting across the road in line of your cat. You slammed the butt of your palm against the car horn before you hit the breaks hard and instant lost control on the loose dirt road. Spinning out, you uttered a prayer the big bull would move in time. You squealed as the tires burned across the trail and fields you crashed against flying dirt smoke and dry leafy grass up. Your body was lunged slightly forward before the car fully stopped and your ass hit the seat hard. You were finally caught in a man dug gutter, the cars nose diving down and the boot hanging up half on the road.

Your chest had been strangled by the seat belt when the loud bang and buff of white slammed up into your face, knocking your head back against your car seat.

Your mouth filled with blood and your face felt like it had been soccer punched. You managed to move your face to the side, sobbing at the feeling of your throbbing nose. Eyes closed in a mixture of fear and disbelief, you felt like you could barely breath, spitting up blood and crying in pain. You were gasping for air, your lungs stung like a million cuts.

You didn’t register the sound of a man’s voice asking if you were alright, nor how he flung open your door and used a pocket blade to slice through your seat belt.

The car hood was clouded in white, billowing out steam like the smoke of a Pompeii volcano.

What you do remember about your saviour was how he had the most bluest eyes that reminded you of the cleanest ponds. His hair was jet black like a crow. You stared up at those features when he curled his arm under your knees and behind your back and shoulders and hauled you out.

Your guardian angel...or the grim reaper carried you away from destruction as your head grew heavy and your eyes rolled like heavy marbles to the back of your skull.

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

CLARK

He was riding along and moving his cattle from his main property over to the Nell Potter’s who had lease out her land to him for grazing before all the frost took the sustaining grass. He had watched your car, assuming that a group of cattle with legal crossing signage would have you slowing down....but your speed never changed until Chief was last in line and taking his time to walk across the path.

By some miracle you’d managed to miss the bull but only to twist out of control and crash into the edge of his corn crop before the wheel took you back up and the car slammed into the road gully.

He leaped from his saddle, yelling out to the stranger in the car as he did. He tore the car door open, slamming the bags, struggling to click out your seat belt before succumbing to using his tool knife in his pocket to cut your trapped, weak body out. You were awake, your eyes droopy, but you weren’t responding to his questions.

“What’s your name?” no answer. He tore out the keys from the car, turning the damn thing off before it had the chance to explode or catch fire.

You weren’t answering.

“You alright darlin?”

He swore loudly, shuffling your body from one arm to the other, carrying you back hurriedly down to his house. He managed to whistle his horse back over. It had to be said you were lucky he managed to get off his horse in time before you suffocated against the airbag.

He trusted his cows to stay in the Nell property, grazing on the new grass, too stupid to leave the paddock back onto the road.

Chief had run into that yard the moment your horn blared.

Clark was a strong man yet that did little to change his worries. Racing up the steps of his porch, he kicked open his front door and planted you with care along his sofa lounge.

Clark stared at you with disbelief. How could anyone be out in the bitter cold so poorly dressed? How had you managed to not slow down for such a huge bull? He wondered how you’d almost hit the massive beast instead of slowing down and breaking in time. Thank god the car had swivelled on ice for a quick turn or else he would have a dead Kerry Bull and a female corpse he’d have to talk to the police about, again.

But his anger at your careless driving was eclipsed by his grand concern. You seemed so vulnerable; underdressed and out in the middle of the countryside, if your car flipped Jwho but him or Lara would be here to come save you?

Who the hell were you?

The moment he asked himself however, a sense of recognition flooded him as it became clear who you were. There was no mistaking that you were the new schoolteacher he’d heard so much about in the farm tool supply barn store. With the way you were dressed, it was like staring back at a significantly younger, prettier version of Ms Gwendowlyn-Lee.

That old bag died just around the same time as Ms Rampling died too. And it was to be well known the pair were...special roommates for a time in their youth, but that was just gossip and talk.

He snorted softly. Of course you were hers to replace not one But two ancient Smallville women.

Nonetheless you were severely underdressed for the climate. He hastily moved to the kitchen sink and began running a pot of hot water for you. He paused as he thumbed your front buttons. Your dress was soaked in your own blood. Did you know his history? What if you came to full awakening and saw him looking over your chest and touching that spot...would you start screaming that vile word too?

He huffed annoyed, shaking his head. He got up and returned to the warm water pot. If you didn’t wake up in the next ten minutes, he’d throw you into his truck and speed to the local hospital. Even if it meant he might risk spending a night in jail. God knows the average folk never listened to reason or logic – always jumping to conclusions.

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

YOU

It felt like a split second, cut up into spliced moments. You in the car. The bull. The devilishly handsome guardian angel and then waking up on a full purple lounge.

Your eyes fluttered wide open. Your head felt like it computer weighed like a bowling ball. The sensation of nausea took hold of you as you tried sitting up. You decided to give in to your body and laid back down. The room was slightly rocking. You shut your eyes again and sighed before slowly opening them, focusing on breathing and looking around the room.

The room was covered in similar decor as the stuff at your aunt’s home. Old ornamental decorations and wallpaper from the 70s. The dated furniture and lack of television in the living room except there was a and desk in the corner.

Beside you on the coffee table was a folded out box filled with first aid kit items. Bandages, syringes, gauze and disinfection creams.

You were startled to rise a little as the sound of loud foot steps entered the room. An enormous man held a bowl of warm water and a cloth. His face was stern while his brows lifted.

“Oh fuck, he’s huge,” you thought, watching how his hard face twitched in a smirk that appeared and disappeared in a blink. You realised with horror you’d murmured that thought aloud.

He got onto his knees beside you, touching your shoulder lightly and softly guided you back down onto the soft cushions. He wet the towel and gently dabbed at a spot on your forehead. You hissed. It stung. You winced and jerked back, quickly apologising.

“Care to share why you were tryin’ to kill my prize Kerry, Miss?” you heard him mutter. Your mouth dropped at hearing how deep, rich and sensual his voice was. You never had heard such a pronoun southern drawl sound so seductive.

He washed the dirt front your face lightly, he let he droplets wash away the marks.

You warmed, feeling butterflies in your belly as you tried to mentally find your bearings, “Wh-what? Could you repeat that sir?”

His brows lifted again, this time a firm frown was on his face, “Miss, you were in an automobile accident, are your brakes broken or are you just a bad driver?”

That’s when the black bull came back to your mind once more. You swallowed, your mouth was dry.

“I didn’t-,” you stammered and shook your head, “I wasn’t trying to hit it.”

He snorted with a hint of disbelief.

You curled in your lips, your eyes skated over the home again. You were almost at the Kent property according to the map address. You would’ve gotten there if it wasn’t for his dumb stupid bull.

You licked your bottom lip timidly, “I’m Y/N Y/F/N, I’m a schooltea-.”

“I know,” he said sharply.

Your eyes widened, “You know?”

“I know,” he repeated. You felt a discomfort in his responses even when his voice sounded like deep warm honey over buttered toast. Maybe his toast was burnt black in way.

You lightly nibbled your bottom lip and dared to ask, “Are...are you Mr. Kent? Sir?”

His ocean blue eyes darkened to the pitch of the night sky, his rosy lips peeled back, showing his white teeth in a tight grimace, “I’m Clark Kent.”

Oh.

You cleared your throat, “You’re Clark Kent?”

“I’m Clark Kent,” he repeated, again.

Granting him a small tight smile you then asked, “So you’re a farmer?”

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

CLARK

When you spoke so easily to him, it caught him off guard. Had no one warned you about him? Had the rumours not gotten to your darling ears? When you raised your brows in that inquisitive manner, it only added fuel to his frustration.

“Yeah, dairy and maize,” he grunted.

The delicate curves of your face and those sweet eyes had a curious effect on him; it set his teeth on edge. He was not going to hurt you, but he could if he wanted. That primness about you irritated him to no end. His first instinct – to shock you out of your prudishness – scare you into fearing him, make you see the monster everyone but his daughter called him. Your beautiful eyes were so innocent; it was frustrating that you couldn’t see how vulnerable of a situation you were in. There was something so twisted in his mind that even he was surprised by the urge to protect you from himself.

He tore open a packet of povidone-iodine and cupped your cheek and held the curve of your jaw, “Best hold still,” he warned, his eyes bore into yours, “This goin’ sting now.”

He pinched the wipe and ran it over your forehead. Clark had been focused on cleaning the cut but his gaze flickered up at the pitched whine you made, right into your wide teary eyes. The whimper that came from your lips had the air sucking out of his lungs. What a delicious noise. Your eyes right then were his new favourite colour, he decided. Your delectable lips had turned into an ungodly knot as they quivered in pain. And they were just inches away from his and the unfortunate desire to kiss them flashed in his mind.

He ran a thumb over one of your wet cheeks,

He wondered if your skin was just as soft and sensitive all over...your breasts, your belly, your thighs...the petals between your legs. Your body trembled under him. And the brief thought of making you tremble naked made his loins stir beneath his jeans. Holy fuck.

You’d just met him and made yourself a nuisance but the thought of kissing you sent an overwhelming surge of desire through his body. It was like an electric shock to his entire system. As he drew nearer, he noticed that you smelled exquisite. Your scent was tantalizing and all he could think of was how much he wanted to taste it. The urge to kiss you was nearly unbearable. But you would probably squeal and run out the door if he lifted your dress the way he wanted to and buried his face against your silky thighs to inhale the honey of your cunt.

He launched fast up onto his feet and walked away.

“I ugh, I’m makin’ coffee,” He marched back to the kitchen and turned on the pot for some coffee. No...he needed whiskey. Fucking damn it Lara.

He splashed cold water from the sink into his face. What the fuck was wrong with him.

♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞♞

You

You sat in quiet solitude as he took his time making coffee.

After five minutes of staring up at the garden wallpaper on the ceiling, you heard his foot steps return back to the living room.

You decided that Clark Kent was in fact not a social person and holding a conversation would deem a challenge. But you were stubborn. You came here for a reason and his lack of small talk would not dissuade your mission. In fact, it gave you the opportunity to study his character.

He sipped his cup and cleaned up some more scratches on your face. Very carefully he began peeling band aids apart and applying them to your face. You smiled at some still in the first aid kit. They were children’s bandaids, yellow and printed with ducklings, cute and probably many years old. You couldn’t imagine a sixteen year old girl being caught dead wearing duckling bandaids.

You had hoped to compare him to Lara and perhaps even her mother to see why and what behaviour the girl held. When he leant over you, you studied his expression, hoping to find some clue as to his thoughts. But his face was unreadable; you couldn’t discern a single emotion within his eyes. Without even the slightest word, he pinched your embroidered collar to get your attention.

You licked your lips, unaware of how your tongue movement had captured his attention. You wanted to say something, but were at a loss for words. His physical proximity had utterly paralysed your thought processes. You felt completely overwhelmed by the sensation of his presence and the sight of his face. You were struggling to find a thought or a word that could accurately describe how much he stirred your senses.

He’s so big...God...help me.

You should have maintained your composure and remembered why you had come here, instead of acting like a foolish girl because an attractive man was standing too close to you. You were frustrated with yourself for allowing yourself to be so swept away by his good looks, rough appearance, and masculine presence. You tried to remind yourself that his physicality wasn’t the point of your presence here but it failed to have any impact. Your body simply reacted with desire and longing to the nearness of his person.

You cleared your throat for the thousandth time to ask, “Ah… I have come to speak with Lara Kent, if I may?” as if you hadn’t just crashed your car and almost killed one of his cattle.

You cast your eyes over to the man in front of you. His face seemed expressionless as he stared back at you, but there was something in his eyes – a hint of suspicion, scepticism. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

“Lara ain’t here. She’s doin’ her chores out in the paddocks. Probably got her walkman on a higher volume, she didn’t hear your car destroying some of the crop or else she’d have been here by your side like you were some helpless duckling.”

A tiny smile came onto his face at those last few words before it melt back into his set frown.

“I see....sorry about the...corn,” You hummed sheepishly, “And...when might she return inside?”

He sighed, scratching lightly at the corner of his brow, he glanced over across the room at a grandfather clock beside the fireplace, “She should be back any time now....”

You looked at him disbelievingly, your eyes locked on his. You couldn’t shake the feeling there was something more to this man than just being a farmer. “Are you Lara’s father?” you finally asked.

“Yes,” he replied in a clipped yet measured tone.

“And where is her mother?”

There was no denying he was a man of few words, and yet somehow, he managed to convey much more than what was spoken.

His eyes shifted to the fireplace. You followed his gaze. There was a beautiful enclosed vase on the mantle...wait, no-

“Dead.”

-an urn.

Something about that flat, solitary word jolted you, a mix of surprise and discomfort. Yet alongside the shock, there was also a faint sense of relief. Slowly you sat up and with a quick glance away, you stared out the window just beside the sofa. You focused your eyes on the dead and disfigured front garden, dotted with weeds and looking more like a barren wasteland than a place of joy and life.

Clark began packing up the first aid kit. He left to put it away.

Further out you could see your car, the front bumper crushed and totally ruined. Shit. You’d be doing a lot more walking and catching the bus.

When he returned, in his hand was a cup of water and a small bucket.

“It’s salt water, to clean your mouth of the blood.”

You gratefully accepted the water, swishing the foul liquid in your mouth. You spit into the bucket. There was still a stillness in the air that felt like a heavy weight, weighing on you as you breathed in the cool air. You faced him again, hands in your lap now, touching your feet to his floor.

You dared to ask, “And how did you feel about Lara quitting school?”

He shrugged in a nonchalant manner, “It was her choice.”

He was turning to go back to the kitchen.

A palpable and intense feeling of indignation and exasperation mingled together, acting as a powerful driving force, you got to your feet and started to follow him, “But she’s only sixteen! She’s just a young girl—”

You managed to follow him into his kitchen, old vinyl flooring and wooden benches with a deep copper sink. He slammed the bucket and cup into the sink and spun on his heel.

“She’s my daughter,” Clark interrupted, holding his finger up, “and she can read, write, practices arithmetic better than anyone I know in this hick-town. My Lara also knows everythin’ there is to know about livestock and runnin’ a dairy farm.”

The man’s voice held a hint of pride, though even that couldn’t mask the hint of resentment that still showed through. “This is my land, my dairy farm, my house,” he continued. “One day it will all belong to her. She decided what to do with her life, and she decided to harvest and produce milk to the entire county.”

Clark was blushing, hints of his frustration were spitting out. He wasn’t fond of sharing his or his child’s life story, considering all the prejudice they faced all these years. Except, there was something about you, this huffy, and prissy little teacher that made him answer.

You seemed oblivious to the rumours about his past; or else why would you be mouthing off so brazenly without bringing it up... you evidently knew nothing about what made him who he truly was, about the impact of his name on the town of Smallville. You didn’t know how often it was people turned away and ignored him just to avoid associating with him...you didn’t know how much it affected Lara too.

He swallowed loudly, “Now, all that bein’ said, she chose to leave that sorry excuse of a school,” he tongued his inner cheek, trying his best not to curse. He groaned, his knuckles turned white as he gripped his own flannel. It was like white smoke was pouring from his ears and shooting out his nose as he forced himself to take deep breaths.

“And, who the fu-...who are you or I to tell her what she can or can not do?” He licked his teeth, “I’d love to see your smart ass out in the dairy shed and see how much you mess it up, I’ll wager it’s like your driving.”

You bravely jerked your chin up with your hands coming to sit on your hips.

Oh Fuck, he wanted to kiss you

And unbeknownst to him, you would’ve let him. Something about how much he was pissing you off and getting heated made you excited, scared...aroused. Facing the beast in the car was not as scary as facing this beast on your feet.

“I’d like to talk to her anyway,” You said stubbornly.

His brows connected, he licked the bottom of his lip, glancing down at yours, “That’s up to Lara. She might not want to talk to you. Especially if you’re here to ask her to return to that school.”

He leant away from you briefly to turn the coffee pot on to boil.

The hands on your hips cross over your chest, You scoffed, “Right, then you won’t even try to encourage her to graduate from the highschool then?”

That was it. He paused. He smirked, he chuckled mockingly and shook his head at you, “Nope.”

“Why not?” Your foot almost stamped, “She’s a bright girl, she should at least have the option of going to college!”

Clark stepped closer, towering over you, his nose nearly touching yours as you glared up at those dark blue eyes, “You listen here,” the air from his nose was hot against your face, “She’s sixteen, don’t you understand what that means ‘round these parts?” He snorted rolling his eyes, “Hell, how can you? You’re just some uppity, conceited, self-centered upstart.” He then scoffed. “She’s not welcome in that school. That was made very clear. When she wasn’t being neglected she was being bullied. Why the fuck would she want to go back?”

You felt a chill run down your spine as he edged closer, his words sharp and venomous. You bared your teeth in a grimace, frightened by his aggressive manner. You weren’t used to men invading your personal space, shouting curses in your face. As a young girl, boys had turned a blind eye to the shy, bookish girl. Now, as a grown woman, men still showed scarce interest in you.

You were utterly unwavering in your beliefs about education and refused to let him frighten you into submission. Bigger people often used their size to intimidate smaller ones, oftentimes not even realizing the effects of their actions. However, you weren’t going to bow down simply because he was more robust than you. Your beliefs were far too important to sacrifice for someone as boorish as him.

“She was at the top of her class given her KAP results, top in the five percent in Kansas for girls in her age group.” you said briskly. “If Lara could beat that top, think of what she could accomplish with help! She could get a scholarship, become something greater than a dairy farmer, or is having a doctor for a daughter beneath a redneck like you?”

He fluttered his eyes shut. There it was. That disdain he was used to. Little did you know...he was fighting his arousal his erection and the urge to put you on your hands and knees on that kitchen floor. If you wanted to call him a redneck, he’d fuck you like one...dirty and unprotected.

The silence was beyond pregnant until his throat bobbed, “Like I said, it’s up to Lara.”

The scent of freshly-brewed coffee filled the kitchen, but neither of you spoke as the minutes ticked by and the silence stretched on. He backed away and poured two cups of coffee. He poured fresh milk into the cups, real cow cream. He leaned against the cupboards and watched you sip from your porcelain mug, taking in the delicate sight. You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, thinking back on what you’d just called him after he saved you from your car.

Redneck...

How could he be so kind in the face of your rudeness?

“Sorry...I didn’t means to call you a redneck...”

He smiled, this time it was filled with cheek, “Oh, yes you did...but I ain’t no soft Lily. Trust me, I’ve been called worse. You think I can’t handle when some hoity toity teacher goes an calls me a redneck?”

You returned the smile shyly. Looking down at your chest, you pinched the fabric. The front was blazing bright red.

He stepped closer and carefully reached out, pinching your shirt, he said with a calm and steady tone, “Yea that’ll probably stain without a good soak.”

You pinched your nose, “It was my aunt’s, I think it’s vintage.”

Clark set his cup aside and jerked his head to the side.

“I reckon I got something for you to wear. You can keep it and soak the dress in the laundry. Lara can talk to you about this mess and I’ll scrub the blood out.”

For a man so stubbornly spoken, he had been remarkably hospitable to you.

As you glanced up at him, the intensity of his dark blue eyes caught your attention. Something about his gaze made you feel unsure of yourself, your heart racing and a slight feeling of unease growing within you. It was as if he were peering directly at your breasts with a hungry look in his eyes. The thought made you feel warm with embarrassment and your breath caught slightly in your throat.

“I think some of my wife’s old clothes will fit you,” he said letting go of your shirt.

His dead wife? Oh god...

“Oh, I don’t need any clothes. I mean, what I have on is perfectly—”

“Stained,” he interrupted. “You really want to be going back to town looking like that? People might think I’ve gone and bashed you....”

You looked down.

“or raped you.”

Your eyes snapped back up. You didn’t know why he jumped to such a salaciously coarse word.

He murmured, “Come with me, then.”

You followed him down through the hallway of his farm house.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“To the bedroom.”

You stopped, blinking at him, he turned to face you with a bitter smile twisted his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he said crudely. “It’s Saturday. I only rape on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

Your eyes blinked again.

“What’s wrong with Saturdays?” those words slid past your lips without any warning, leaving you dumbstruck when you realized what you’d done. You clapped your hands over your face, mortified that you’d accidentally insinuated the possibility of him committing such a heinous act and not just that but almost questioned his intentions towards you in that department. Heat surged into your cheeks as a flood of embarrassment washed over you. Your brain must have short-circuited; there was no other explanation for the idiocy.

Clark was taken aback by your words, the stunned expression on your face making it clear that you had no intention to say them. It had been ages since he’d seen anyone look so horrified, and it took him a moment to realize that you were acutely embarrassed. You were certainly something of a prude, he concluded, with your dowdy appearance and old-maidish manner. So much so that your slip of the tongue was probably the biggest entertainment he’d had in a while. He couldn’t help but grin as his irritation softened again. Yes, this was definitely a highlight for him.

“Not a damn thing Miss Y/L/N,” he chuckled.

You drew yourself up to your full height, your lips firmly pressed together in a rigid expression. “Please do not make fun of me, Mr Kent,” you stated clearly, though it took a great deal of effort to keep your tone even. His sarcastic comment only served to salt the wound you already knew existed. You knew you fell short in the seductive department, but you didn’t need sarcastic reminders to confirm it.

Clark’s straight black brows drew together over his strong nose, “Make fun of you? What? How?”

You sulked sourly, “I am fully aware of how I look. I know I am not the most stunning woman. But surely...” you paused, your eyes shut, “Am I that ugly to look at?”

The choking noise was loud. He was rather gobsmacked. Did you really just say that to him?

His heart was still pounding from when she had whimpered, a lingering throbbing in his loins reminded him that his reaction hadn’t completely subsided. He chuckled bitterly, the sound devoid of humour, his mind playing over again and again what had happened between them. Why not spice up your life a little more?

“Now, don’t play this game with me Missy,” he said

But the way you avoided his eyes.

“Shit. You’re serious? Come on now girl, you gotta know. You damn well know you’re a wet dream...you’re a real head turner. Make men like me all hot and bothered.”

“Hot and bothered, by what?” she asked blankly. It was impossible. She had never made a man… aroused a man in her life.

Heat had been simmering just beneath the surface for too long, and the irritation he felt in the presence of this prim woman was like a spark to a fuse. His iron control had kept him in check when dealing with the townspeople, but something about her, this prim woman, got under his skin. Frustration filled him to the point that he thought he might explode, the tension and desire rising to a pitch that was almost unbearable.

His intentions had originally been to stay far away from you, but now he found himself pulled close by a force he could not resist. Hands gripping your waist, he pulled you closer until you were pressed against him. His mouth came down on yours, covering it in a hard kiss. “Maybe you need a to be shown,” he murmured, his words coming out in deep and breathless. It made the moment even more intense, his desire for you growing with each passing second. He couldn’t keep himself from kissing you again, his lips exploring yours in a passionate, urgent way that left you feeling completely powerless.

You froze as he gently and passionately moved his lips over yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off his long, thick eyelashes, how they brushed your skin. His hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you firmly against his muscled body, causing you to let out a deep gasp.

As soon as your lips opened, he took the opportunity to probe inside with his tongue as if he couldn’t get enough. You trembled, feeling a strange heat deep inside, growing more and more intense. The pleasure became so strong and powerful that it frightened you, not knowing where this might lead. If only you’d known to buy some lingerie this morning before you left to the Kent property....

There was something powerful about the way his lips felt, their firmness bringing you to a state of ecstasy. You could taste his heady flavor, and his tongue was caressing yours with an intensity that invited you to play. But beyond this physical sensation, there was a warm and musky scent drifting from his body. Your breasts pressed up against the taut muscles of his torso, causing the tips of your nipples to tingle in an exciting yet embarrassing manner.

You opened your eyes in sharp disappointment when he pulled away from you. But his intense black gaze was unwavering, like he wasn’t finished with you yet. “Come on girl, kiss me back yes?” he breathlessly pleaded, his tone suggesting he was far from satisfied.

“I don’t know how,” You confessed, still bewildered to what he had just done to you...and you enjoying it.

His eyes fluttered, “Here, I’ll teach you,” his nose nuzzled yours.

He pressed his lips against yours again, and this time you parted your mouth to accept his education. He explored your mouth and demonstrated a pressured patterned that you began mimicking and returning to him. His kisses this became further demanding, filled with panting.

You suddenly felt a frightening excitement explode through your body, growing beyond simple pleasure and transforming into a ravenous hunger. The sensations coursing through you were no longer merely pleasant but overpowering, your heart racing wildly as it hammered against your ribs. The heat within you was unbearable, an intense blaze spreading through you, leaving you panting and aching for more.

Looking into his eyes, you realized that he had felt the same burning desire that was overtaking you now. You were stunned by the revelation, and it made you feel even hotter. You uttered a soft, unconscious sound as you moved closer to his body, unable to control the sensations he had unleashed inside of you. The yearning was unbearable, and you wanted more of him, his experienced touches making the sensations overwhelming and irresistible.

You had never believed it could be like this, such an intense and overwhelming desire. You had been told that some men could be crude and cruel, but those warnings had never prepared you for the intense sensation of burning desire. You had always made the sensible choice to avoid flirting or attempting to attract a boyfriend, yet, here you were, wanting a man to do those very things to you.

The men you had encountered during your time at college and in the workplace had appeared to be normal, not lecherous sex fiends. You felt comfortable around men, and even considered a few of them to be good friends. But you did not consider yourself attractive, or at least, not enough to attract the opposite sex’s attention.

Men had never scrambled to get dates with you or even managed to acquire your phone number. As a result, you hadn’t been exposed to the intense sensations of a man’s embrace and touches, nor the throbbing sensation of his manhood pressing against your thighs. You hadn’t realized how much more you needed, the feeling of his hands roaming your body awakening a hungry desire that grew within you with every touch.

You instinctively locked your arms around his neck and moved your body against his, feeling the waves of frustration and desire increasing within you. The desire was a blaze consuming your body, empty and aching, hungry for more. The new sensations were a flood, your mind overwhelmed by the feeling of your nerves being assaulted. You didn’t know how to control it, the tidal wave of sensation growing with each movement made against him.

Clark jerked his head back, his teeth locked as he relentlessly brought himself back under control. Black fire burned in his eyes as he looked down at you. His kisses had made your soft lips swollen. Your eyes were heavy-lidded as you opened them and slowly met his gaze.

The desire was plain on your face, a look that suggested he had done more than kiss you. You already looked dishevelled, as if he had taken you in his arms and claimed you. In his mind, he had. He wondered how pretty you would look with a ball gag between your teeth. Despite your delicate appearance, you had moved against him with a voracious hunger, your body moving and seeking more.

He knew with the state of your mind, he could take you to bed right now. You were desperate for him, hot past the point of reason. And yet...he decided that it would be best if he would wait for you to make the conscious decision to be with him. Your inexperience was clear, and he’d even had to teach you how to kiss. The thought was suddenly cut off when he realized just how inexperienced you were. You were a virgin, and it was not fair for him to take that without your full consent.

The notion left him dumbfounded. It didn’t seem possible that you could be so innocent, yet there you were, gazing up at him with eyes that were both innocent and full of desire. Your body was pressed tightly to his, your arms locked around his neck, and your legs slightly opened to let him nestle against you. You were waiting for the next move, as you did not know what else to do. Before him you had never even been kissed. No man had touched your soft breasts or your tender nipples. No man had ever shared his love with you.

He swallowed the rock in his throat that threatened to choke him, his eyes still locked with yours. “Alrighty now, missy, that almost took a dangerous turn.”

You jerked away a little, your eyes fluttered, “oh, really?...”

Slowly, because he didn’t want to drop you, feeling how much your knees might collapse under you, he let you slide down to find your feet. Your sweetness would be the death of him...figuratively and literally if you tried to accuse him of something wayward. He was a fiend, a criminal, a man charged with possibly one of the worst crimes known to man. And you were the new miss innocent school teacher coming to talk to him about Lara only for it to almost become a shit show of either moans or wailing squeals.

You should never have come her. The people of Smallville had a knack for gossiping. Lord knows you’d find out the truth eventually and then you’d never want to associate with him again...

So he released you, despite the overwhelming desire to drag you onto his bed and educate you to all there was to pleasuring a man and yourself. Still wrapped around him like a human scarf were your soft arms. Your fingers had tangled up into his dark raven mane. You almost appeared unable to let him go, drunk on new founded lust. He reached up to take your hands and move your arms away from his body entirely.

The softest sound of disappointment left your wet lips...was he rejecting you now? Had you done something wrong...

Your eyes looked up at him in a desperate plea to continue...but his eyes were staring away and over your shoulder.

“I guess I’ll come back later then?” Came a new, young and feminine voice interrupting your blood rushing thoughts.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#Spotify

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airgiodslv · 2 months ago

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I skipped the July creation wrap-up because nearly everything I worked on was for challenges revealed in August. There's a lot!

Fics:

Guess That Voice: WIK Edition

KinnPorsche, Kim/Chay, rated T

Kim is grilled within an inch of his life about Wik’s personal life, his projects, and his future plans. Chay takes meticulous notes on his phone the whole time. Kim has trained with professional interrogators who are less intimidating than Chay crafting a bomb to drop on Twitter.

“It’s not for Twitter,” Chay corrects him. Kim has a short-lived moment of relief before Chay clarifies: “I’m writing Wikfic.”

(Fic Text + Podfic)

The Shadow Lyctors

Jeff Satur Cinematic Universe & The Locked Tomb Series - Tamsyn Muir, rated M

Moonshine was the cavalier primary to Sunshine, Third Saint to serve the King Undying. It is unclear whether this was his given name, or how Sunshine has memorialized him after death. Sunshine calls him ‘an Alexandrite’, referring to the branch of Sixth House cavaliers whose attractiveness and skill earned them an education in erotic poetry and a Cohort assignment, for the express purpose of finding a mate to diversify the ailing Sixth House gene pool.

Given Sunshine’s sense of humor, it is possible this was a joke.

(A fandom Wiki for a fictional book trilogy)

Podfic Triptych + Ficlet: Sunshine and Rain, written by TheCookieOfDoom, shubaka, and AirgiodSLV

Jeff Satur Cinematic Universe, Sunshine/Rain, rated T

untitled ficlet, written by TheCookieOfDoom The being coalesces from smoke and shadow.

from where the light shines, written by shubaka The Rain God discovers a man on a rooftop, lying in a pool of his own blood.

ghost light, written by AirgiodSLV On the night of Wan Ok Phansa, Sunshine dances on the Mekong River.

by the light of the sun, a remix of to have and to hold by shubaka

Jeff Satur Cinematic Universe & Wuju Bakery, Sunshine/Ghost, Sunshine/Passion, rated G

Most people forget that Sunshine is the scion of a dynasty himself, too used to thinking of him only as Prince Raon’s companion.

Passion, however, forgets very little that could prove useful to him.

hiraeth and hwyl, written & performed by The Sentient Hive (AirgiodSLV, CompassRose, ellejabell, epaulettes, kitkat50311, mahons-ondine, minnabird, sisi_rambles)

Howl's Moving Castle - Diana Wynne Jones & Piranesi - Susanna Clarke, rated G

You find yourself looking at a door.

It looks like an ordinary door, but you’re somehow certain that it isn’t.

In theory, you could open the door…but something warns you off.

You might not survive, if you pass through that door. You might no longer be you.

Podfics & Audio:

you could cut ties with all the lies (that you've been living in), written by Nemainofthewater

Nirvana in Fire, Lin Chen/Xiao Jingyan & Mei Changsu, rated M

“Sir Sū,” Jĭngyán said, “Forgive me, but I can’t help but feel strange referring to you in such a manner after such intimacies.”

“Ah,” said Lìn Chén, abruptly thrown out of his warm, post-coital state, “No, Your Highness is going to have to trust me on this, calling me Chángsū is really going to spoil the mood.”

Listen to the radio, audio collage of music & interviews by Jeff Satur, with art by TheCookieOfDoom

On a desolate planet under distant stars, these heroes fight against the corporations that control society. Late at night, you can hear them broadcast to each other on pirate radio frequencies, sending secret messages across the airwaves...

"Fuck it, I'm adopting her," said John Gaius, not knowing the paperwork wasn't necessary, written by Naamah_Beherit

The Locked Tomb Series - Tamsyn Muir, rated T

Gideon, a highly distinguished Cohort lieutenant, saves the day—and the girl—and then gets stuck in the lift of The Erebos with a man feeding her peanuts as if they have all the time in the world. They don't, but if he doesn't mind, then why should she?

baby I, baby I, I'm caught in the middle, written by IsleofSolitude

KinnPorsche, Kim/Chay, Chay/OMC, rated E

Seth has had threesomes before. He knows he’s great at sex—that sex with him is something Chay enjoys immensely. He and Chay have a strong relationship, he knows Chay intimately. He’s never had a third with him and an omega during a heat before, but Kim’s sort of attractive. Besides, they are in his home. There’s no reason to not be okay with it. If things go badly, he can just kick Kim out.

(the steal the show inspired threesome omegaverse inspired by a dream)

love, let my love inside go free, written by daltoneering

KinnPorsche, Kinn/Porsche, rated E

They burst to the surface gasping for breath, water clogging Porsche’s ears, distorting the brightness of Kinn’s laughter across the pool into muffled echoes along the tall glass walls of the building. He grabs for the side, lungs screaming.

“Fuck! You want to drown me?”

Kinn shows Porsche just how grateful he is for the perfect first date.

History Talking to Itself, written by Sour_Idealist

Teixcalaan Series - Arkady Martine, Mahit Dzmare/Three Seagrass, Yskandr Aghavn/Nineteen Adze/Six Direction, Past Mahit Dzmare/OFC, rated T

Twelve excerpts from Teixcalaan and from Lsel Station.

#kinnporsche #kimchay #the locked tomb #nirvana in fire #jeffcest #jeff satur cinematic universe #teixcalaan #howl's moving castle #piranesi #writing #podfic #interactive fiction #audio puzzle

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fandomnerd9602 · 1 year ago

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Having a Family with Wonder Woman

Diana Prince x Reader Headcanons

You were a mere mortal who fell in love with a goddess. And amazingly enough, the goddess loved you back.

You began as a technician support for the Justice League, a sort of guy in the chair. Bruce trusted you enough to bring you into the fold.

Diana Prince was the first person you met on the team. It was full on, head over heels, knock the wind out of you love at first sight.

You were nervous and stuttering, a complete contrast to Diana’s calm and confident demeanor. She found your inner warrior so attractive.

10 coffee hangouts, 50 official dates, 10,000 kisses, and two botched proposals later, you and Diana were married.

You welcomed your first child, a little boy named Hunter, a year or so later. Diana was ecstatic, she had everything she could ever want. A loving husband and an amazing little boy.

Two years after that, you and her welcomed your second baby, a little girl who Diana named Antiope after her aunt and favorite warrior.

Diana’s a natural mother. She’ll joke with you that battling monsters is nothing compared to the challenges of parenthood.

You and Diana still do date nights when she’s not off saving the world. Little coffee dates, dinner dates, movie nights with the kids. You’ll steal little kisses away from the prying eyes of your kids.

You and her absolutely adore your kids, even if you have to separate them from little fights and tussles.

Diana’s favorite part of a mission is always being able to come home to her demigod children and the mortal husband who holds her heart.

#diana prince #diana prince x reader #diana prince imagine #wonder woman #wonder woman x reader #dc comics #gal gadot #dc comics imagine #dc comics fluff #dceu #dceu fluff #dceu imagine #dc headcanon #headcanon #headcanons

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venusphoriia · 9 months ago

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— The Pain of Loving You

;; ₍ # ₎ ⁀➷ Diana Prince x Fem! Reader

─ In the grief of losing one, she also lost you.

cw ཿ⠀ wlw. angst. hurt no comfort. mentions of losing a loved one. mostly proof read. the reader speaks a little greek, but the translation could be wrong (sorry if it is (｡•́︿•̀｡)). 860 words.

ପ a/n ; might do a part 2 to this. i’ve been wanting to write for diana for a while now. a really quick story, i hope you enjoy!

She sees your smile in old photographs, newspapers, and paintings. To her, it was a sight that rivaled even the most magnificent artworks. She hears your laughter in her dreams, an endearing sound that makes her heart flutter. Her hand reaches out towards you, yearning to feel the warmth of your skin under her touch, but her fingertips are always met with the coldness of your absence.

The dull, painful ache pulls her from her slumber. She groans softly as she turns to stare at the ceiling. Another night’s rest ruined in the grief of loving you. Or perhaps, not loving you is the more appropriate expression for it. The loss of her previous love, a noble pilot who had managed to capture her heart, had made it difficult to fully love another.

She had loved you. She truly did, but she couldn’t love you the way you deserved—not then. So, she let you go. A brilliant researcher and journalist with an insatiable hunger to explore the world. She refused to let her heartache keep you from pursuing your dreams, no matter how much you were willing to stay. She can still feel the bitter ache from the argument that night, but regardless of your stubborn protests—she refused to let you allow your dreams to die for her.

You were given an opportunity, a once in a lifetime. She couldn’t let you pass that up—not for her. The sad smile you gave her as you fought back tears slips into her mind. She shuts her eyes in protest, trying to block out the memory, but the unwanted reminiscence persists.

She stood with you at the docks, her hands tenderly held yours. Your hands felt so cold despite the thickness of your gloves. The cold spring air betrayed the clear, sunny morning. The sight of a beautiful day was nearly as deceiving as the forced smile that rested on your lips. Your gaze was avoidant as you focused solely on her hands wrapped around yours.

“(Y/n)?” She called your name softly, quickly catching your attention. You looked up at her with teary eyes, your smile seeming more sorrowful by the second as you hummed softly in response. Her heart breaks, a brief moment of regret over her decision to let you go. In a moment of weakness, she almost wanted to plead with you to stay, “Stay safe.”

Almost. She doesn’t miss the way your smile faltered, the small hopeful look in your eyes dimming a bit more. She knew what you wanted her to say, but she wouldn’t. It would’ve only given you more of a reason to stay.

You cleared your throat, steadying your voice. Your posture straightened a bit as you tried to maintain your composure. You adjusted your smile, it was less forced—much more relaxed. Your voice wavered a bit, “I will…”

You opened your mouth to say something else, but stopped yourself. You looked away, laughing softly to yourself, trying to keep yourself from breaking down. She smiled softly as she watched you pick up your bags before looking back at her. The tears in your eyes looked as if they would fall in any minute, but the smile you gave her brought a pleasant feeling to her heart. You were never one for sad goodbyes, always finding them more heartbreaking than anything else, “It’s been wonderful knowing you, Diana.”

One final goodbye, she thought. She hummed softly in response, not being able to find it in herself to say the same in turn without tears following shortly after. You didn’t seem to mind though, walking onto the ship without so much as another glance. Another effort to save face Diana knew.

Once the ship blared its horn, parting its way with the docks, Diana turned to leave. She took a few deep breaths, pushing down the tears—along with the heartache. She tried to delude herself into thinking that these feelings weren’t so deep, that she wasn’t—

“Diana!” Your voice breaks through her thoughts. She looked back towards the boat, sailing away, seeing you leaning over the railing, waving to get her attention. Your smile was genuine, as pure as the sun painted in the sky, your tears slip from your eyes the moment they meet hers.

She hears you. She heard you. But for a second, she doubts she hears correctly—immediately believing it was just fabrication of her own delusions until she hears you yell it out again, just as proudly and longingly as the first.

“Σ'αγαπώ!”

A small, depressed laugh slips past Diana’s lips as all her efforts to hold her composure become futile. She breaks away from the memory and the tears come flowing all over again. She cries heavily, resting her arm over her eyes in embarrassment. She felt like a child, sobbing over something treasured and lost.

She knows her feelings of regret are reasonable, and so are her tears. She just wished you were here to soothe her back to sleep like you did all those years ago. She loves you. She truly does. She just wishes she could have another chance to love you the way you deserved.

[ “I love you” in Greek is Σ'αγαπώ (S'agapo). Here, Σε (se) means “you,” and αγαπώ (agapo) means “I love.” — fluentin3months.com ]

#diana prince x reader #diana prince #diana of themyscira #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman #diana x reader #diana x you #diana prince x you #dc x reader

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finisnihil · 3 months ago

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Watching the general populous of Webtoon hate Rashta from The Remarried Empress so violently, to the point of making her ridculing nickname a synonym for The Other Woman archetype, is really exhausting for a number of reasons, with the main one being that there are numerous female main leads of similar stories that fit that characterization of her more.

I love The Remarried Empress but the readers love to blame Rashta for EVERYTHING that happens in it, when at the end of the day, Rashta is just an antagonist. I know! Shocking! Rashta is not the driving force of the story! You know who is? SOVIESHU.

Sovieshu has always been the main villain. He is the one with all the power, he is the one who created a situation that pit these women against each other. Rashta was a slave because her father was a criminal, being Soveishu's mistress was a means of survival. Like, of course she sucks ass at scheming! She never had an education, and Sovieshu stalled on giving her one because he was ATTRACTED TO HER CHILDISH DEMEANOR. Soveishu liked Rashta because she was what Soveishu wanted from Navier and she sucked up to him in the ways he wanted! Because she needed to in order to survive! Her mistake was becoming paranoid, arrogant, and cruel to continuously provoke Navier, but that was also at the urging of another man: Duke Ergi! Because Rashta is uneducated and vulnerable and she thinks he's her only support system! She went through the trouble of ousting Navier at Ergi's suggestion and Soveishu began to just use Rashta as a baby factory, because as Rashta became like Navier to survive the political world and as he realized he lost Navier, he stopped caring about her. He never saw her as a human, he only saw her as a slate to project on the child version of Navier he was still in love with.

Now, i'm not gonna deny the heinous shit Rashta has done nor am I defending it, she is the antagonist, she does do cruel things that can't be excused, and that's factual. But the tragedy of her is that she was set up to fail by every single man in her life. She started seeing the women around her as competition because of those men. She never once had power and her frustration at her powerlessness and her disillusionment is valid. Navier was protected by her status as a noble, but Rashta had nothing and watching her crash and burn is satisfying but also sad. In another comic, she would be the female lead, and she would be safe and happy, she would be loved. To see the fandom boil her down to some man stealing bitch is really sad because it takes all the focus from Sovieshu. Instead of ripping him apart for using a system to abuse the women in his life, everyone rips apart Rashta for lashing out as a victim of that system.

You know who fits this dynamic more though? Diana from For My Derelict Favorite. Diana is a saintess with healing powers who was mistreated for being a commoner and married the Crown Prince. Hestia, the protagonist, targets her for revenge for a numerous amount of reasons, but what makes their conflict interesting is that Hestia is her equal. They were both commoners, they both are beloved by the world's god, they both rose in their station. The difference is that Diana is everything Rastha is percieved as. She still acts like a victim of the class system, despite the fact she's the crown princess and now has power and luxury. She looks down on the other nobles for their spending and ridicule of the lower class, yet doesn't realize she's become just like them. She casts aside Caelus for killing the novel's OG villains to save the empire, but has no problem acting like nothings wrong despite her treatment driving him to try and take his own life. She thinks herself objectively right and special and the minute anyone criticizes her, she turns on them, her husband included. She makes it a goal to steal Caelus from Hestia in order to hurt her and validate her behavior, thinking Caelus still loves her over Hestia. When Hestia makes soap accessible for the common people and makes advancments in changing the nobility's views of the lower class, Diana nitpicks her for it, because she can't stand to see Hestia take the limelight. She uses her power and privilege to bully and abuse others and then runs crying when she's called out on it.

The difference between these stories is clear. Rashta has no power and isn't the main villain, she doesn't have equal standing as Navier. She does a lot of her actions out of desperation for love and to survive while still being cruel. Diana and Hestia come from equal status; Diana is the one in the most power. She abuses the systems meant to mistreat those like her for her own benefit and nothing more. Helios is the antagonist while Diana is the villain, because it is Diana's actions that push the plot, akin to Soveishu. Helios and Rashta make things difficult, but they're really only along for the ride, and their interference in the plot happens because of the villains their characters serve.

#finis analyzes #webtoon #the remarried empress #for my derelict favorite #If I see anybody call her Trashta I will lose my fucking mind #Th point of this post is to stop seeing her as a punching bag and to analyze her as a character #I'm not analyzing 'Trashta'#I'm analyzing RASHTA

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fancyfeathers · 11 days ago

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Okay more thoughts on Trailblazer!Darling(s) for Yandere!Justice League

So just imagine if say all Justice League members had their own darlings and by some way the darlings ended up joining the Astral Express one way or another, like for perhaps some of them it was a way of escape, others it’s just where the trail of fate lead them; onto a life of adventure, and for some there have next to no idea how they ended up there but found a family none the less.

Life would be fine until they finished one trailblazing expedition and boarded the Astral Express, going off to wherever the next destination was until they stop at Earth with the Star Rail stability down and stuck there indefinitely until they seal the Stellaron which is blocking their path. Some of them are excited to be home, while others who are actively aware of the reason why they left are terrified…

To separate it down into just a few for now (saving more for later posts), I’d say Hal Jordan’s darling (who I wrote about here) and perhaps Diana Prince’s darling have no real fear. Like I said in the first post, Hal’s darling was found lost in space by the Astral Express with no clue how she got there and then I think Diana’s darling just saw the chance to join the Astral Express last time they stopped at earth and they took it, seeing what else life has to offer. (other darlings in this category probably include Barry Allen’s darling and Oliver Queen’s darling)

Others like Clark Kent’s darling and Bruce Wayne’s darling knew exactly what they were doing. Like Clark’s darling probably has been rescued enough times by Superman that something about their interactions just feel wrong, far to clingy and uncomfortable, not to mention her golden retriever colleague at the Daily Planet. She would quit and move but new jobs, especially in journalism, are getting harder to find and-

Then she has a chance encounter with a stranger brown haired man in the park, just silently observing everything around him as if something was off, not wrong, just off. He was Welt Yang, a former animator from a different earth and a member of the Astral Express and it was through him that she took his offer and hoped aboard the train that travels through space.

Bruce Wayne’s darling was far more aware on the other hand. Probably married to him and knew about his overprotective tendencies with her, not to mention that he is Batman and owns a multi billion dollar corporation so she was no way of getting out. That until she meets a dark haired aloof man, who certainly reminds her of the children her husband has taken in, when he is wandering about Gotham curiously. For some odd reason she confides in him and in return he introduces himself as Dan Heng, a member of the Astral Express, and invites her to join, and she does without a second thought. (I would also loop in Arthur Curry’s darling into this category as well)

For for darlings like them when they wake up and leave their train cabins and hear the shouts of…

“We’re going to Earth!”

They are terrified.

They stay back on the Astral Express when everyone leaves for the expedition and truly they have no intentions of getting off until they get a call that things have gone wrong, horribly wrong, and they need backup.

Then obviously the threat and disorder a Stellaron, cancer of planets, would bring to earth would not go unnoticed by the Justice League. So just imagine their faces when they witness their darlings, who they thought disappeared off of the face of the world a long time ago rushing into help their friends deal with this otherworldly threat without a second thought.

Then when the dust settles and the Stellaron is sealed they cannot avoid at least having a conversation, especially if it’s Bruce Wayne’s darling given the fact that they were (are?) married. Then they have to give the explanation of where they have been and what they do now, traveling the stars and sealing away planet destroying threats and how many times they have come into close contact with death or something worse- and oh one of their friends they travel with has a Stellaron sealed inside of them like a ticking time bomb.

Why would they let them leave again?

(Also idk why but there is this one line in HSR from one of your allies during the boss battle and it is literally chilling and it reminds me of this little series so much, “Witness… the will of the weak!”)

#yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #yandere justice league x reader #yandere justice league #yandere imagines #yanderecore #yancore #yandere core #yandere aesthetic

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astroa3h · 2 months ago

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Princess Diana’s Biggest Enemy in Life

In the grand tapestry of Princess Diana’s life, her biggest enemy wasn't just some distant figure or a nameless foe. It was someone much closer, embedded right within her world of power and prestige: Prince Charles. With Nemesis positioned in her 9th house in Libra, sitting at a critical 7 degree, a Libra degree that screams of legal battles (divorce ⚖️) and relationship turmoil—Diana’s greatest adversary was her very own husband, and this was no coincidence. I sense that Nemesis in the 9th house casts a shadow that brings conflict on a global scale, pulling in the themes of justice, truth, and public opinion, all while wrapped in the glittery veil of royalty.

The 9th house is all about beliefs, legalities, and far-reaching influence. And when Nemesis parks itself here, it doesn’t just whisper betrayal—it shouts it from the rooftops, demanding you see the truth no matter how painful. In Libra, a sign ruled by Venus, the planet of love and relationships, Diana’s battles were always rooted in her partnerships, most notably her marriage. Libra craves harmony, but when Nemesis stands guard, it’s like there’s a constant fight for balance that never quite settles. Diana’s marriage to Charles was a dance of public appearances and private wounds, all unfolding under the watchful eyes of the world. This placement alone tells us she was destined to face public scrutiny, often finding herself at odds with the legal and moral constructs of her time.

When you add the square from the Sun in her 7th house, things get even more intense. The Sun, representing her core essence, in the 7th house of partnerships, puts the spotlight on her relationships. This square to Nemesis isn’t just tension; it’s outright conflict, a battle of wills. The Sun square Nemesis aspect can’t be ignored—it’s a clash that speaks of ongoing strife, but not the kind you can easily escape. It’s like a boxing ring where one’s own light and essence are pitted against an invisible, constant critic. Prince Charles, with his own set of expectations, rules, and personal demons, became the living embodiment of this placement. He wasn’t just her partner; he was her mirror and her opposition, the one who both challenged and misunderstood her at every turn.

I sense that with the Sun squared to Nemesis, Diana’s very identity was constantly at war with the roles she was expected to play. She wanted to be the compassionate, caring figure we all saw, but Charles represented the rules, the duty, and the cold, harsh realities that came with royal life. The square between these two forces meant that any attempt Diana made to shine in her own light was often met with resistance, creating a dynamic where she felt perpetually at odds not just with Charles but with the whole establishment he represented.

Yet, there’s a twist. Nemesis isn’t just about downfall; it’s about the lessons learned from confronting one’s greatest challenges. Diana’s Nemesis was also trine to her Jupiter in the 2nd house, a saving grace that provided her a way out, a path toward growth and self-worth. Jupiter, the planet of expansion and luck, in her house of values, gave Diana the resilience to turn her pain into purpose. She didn’t just survive these battles; she thrived in spite of them, using her experiences to redefine her worth and her place in the world. The trine here is a cosmic nod that says, “Even in the face of your greatest enemy, there is hope, there is growth.” It was this trine that allowed Diana to connect with people in ways that transcended her royal role, showing that even in the harshest of circumstances, there was always a bigger, more meaningful narrative to her life.

Charles, with his constant pressure and control, was Diana’s Nemesis personified. But rather than break her, he became the catalyst that pushed her to find her voice, her independence, and her legacy. He wasn’t just an enemy; he was a necessary force in her story, the one who forced her to confront the harshest truths about love, loyalty, and self-respect. Nemesis tells us that Diana’s battles were public, legal, and painfully personal. And while Charles may have been the face of her struggles, he was also the unwitting teacher of her most profound lessons.

Blessings,

Ash ✨

Get your own Nemesis "Enemy in Life" reading at astroash.net

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bruciemilf · 2 years ago

Note

wait I have got to hear your thoughts on bruce being lottie!!

Rewatching Princess and The Frog has got me in a chokehold! But basically, the AU as of now;

It's a well established, well know, well respected fact from the White House to the Bayou; If you ain't Wayne rich, you ain't rich at all.

But you won't catch Thomas Wayne bragging and boosting and yapping about hot cars, or big mansions, or pearly white yachts.

Thomas' pride and joy is one tiny, fawn eyed, overly energetic boy that made Gotham collectively swoon.

"And I want a princess when I grows up!" Bruce is just prancing around in his pink prince costume, adjusting a paper crown that Alfred made, " Or a prince! Can you get me a prince, papa?"

"You know the deal, Bruce; You wish it, daddy grands it; Ain't that right, Martha?"

Martha Kent chuckles in that warm, knowing way of hers. Her friend is infamous for the way he spoils his boy. But the Waynes are good people. And not just because they keep her farm afloat.

"Yeah, you're good on that front. But you know, sweetheart; It doesn't matter if you marry a prince or princess. As long as they make you smile, that's all that matters."

Lois, just a bit older than Bruce, makes a disgusted noise, " I don't want no prince or princess. I just want Princess money."

Bruce squeals, " But a PRINCE. I'd love to marry a Prince. We'd have a big big wedding and the sweetest cake in the world, and everyone would have fun, -- Clark! You gonna be at my wedding, right?"

Clark, dressed up in his blue overalls and paper sword, to fit the knight Bruce always calls him, nods, with a smile that doesn't match his words, " Course I will, Bruce. If you'll have me."

Now. Bruce is so very good at forging fantasies. But when a princess from a far away island rumoured to be populated entirely by women comes into town, it doesn't look like make believe at all.

"Women only? Lucky."

Lois doesn't have the time for dreams; She's a bonafide, concise, straight to the point realist. Taking truth by the throat and brings it to light.

And often enough, truth isn't pretty. And ugly truth, as Parry said, right before booting her right out of her job, doesn't sell.

Luckily, Clark's folks were nice enough to give her a delivery job cause Clark can't drive worth a damn. Still. If she's gonna watch him contain another dreamy sigh for Bruce, she'll blow chunks.

"Did you see her in them papers?! That's the prettiest woman I ever did see!"

Mr. Wayne growls behind his newspaper (that Lois could've written better than fucking JIMMY) and Bruce doubles down, " Um. After mama."

Mr Thomas smiles. "Hm. Guess you're finally getting that princess, huh, Brucie?"

Even in adulthood, Bruce squeals like a strangled kitten, " Where's Clark? Can't have the perfect wedding without the perfect best man!" Lois bites her lip and stacks up the peaches in Mrs. Wayne's Cafe.

After all these years, she just refuses to let that old place go. Lois has to respect that. Martha gives her a sympathetic look, warms her up with a mother's love. " How's work, Lo?"

"It's work, Mrs. Wayne. Thank you for that big order for the masquerade ball. At this point, you're the only ones keeping that farm alive..."

"Give those apples some credit," she winks, but squeezes Lois' hand, " If you ever need anything..."

"Thank you. But I don't take handouts."

"Pride won't buy you food, honey. But I guess I gotta wait for you to open your own newspaper. Then I'll make you rich. You'll see."

Bruce is just hugging and squeezing on Clark's arm, ranting a mile a minute about his wedding colors, his cake flavor, the honeymoon, all while nuzzling Clark's toned arm.

And Clark does what he does best; Hide behind a smile.

Alfred sighs, " If he wasn't mine, I'd whack that boy's head with a pan."

"You'll do no such thing, or so help me!"

"Save it for the after party, Tommy dear," Martha chuckles, " But I gotta understand, -- this Diana lady's making waves. I never even seen a woman talk to the mayor before. Let alone yell at 'Im."

"That's cause Tommy Elliot only wants women under his desk," A roll of the eye, a coil of disgust fanning resentment In her gut, Lois takes the box. "Sides, little miss princess probably ain't better than he is. "

The problem with always looking back is you're never ready for the forward.

When Lois bumps up in something tall, solid, and warm, she thinks its Clark. Except neither she or Clark smell like vanilla ice cream and clean air and blue oceans.

Clark certainly doesn't have long, majestic hair gracefully dancing in the winds. He doesn't have blood red lips, or strong blue eyes.

Clark's eyes were summer sky blue. Not a blue Medusa herself couldn't stone.

And he certainly doesn't make her heart stop with a smirk.

"Well," Diana Fucking Prince says, voice satin and velvet, "I don't know about being a better. But I could change your mind about that."

#dc #bruce wayne #clark kent #lois lane #dc comics #superbat #diana prince #diana of themyscira #lois x diana #basically diana goes undercover as a civilian to see how the mayor treats his citizens or maybe shes running from something and lois #has to help take your pic!!!#text #text post #also bruce has little babies!! jay and dickie ^^ lois employes their help to stop wonderbat from happening bc clearly CLARK should marry #the princess and save the farm #jay isnt down!! she wants the cool lady as his mom! and dick wants uncle clark as his dad!

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 2 years ago

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Having read the whole book (poor Plant) would you like to take a shot at calculating how much of it is pure fiction ?

Oh, like 90% of it. He flat out tells you at the beginning of the book that his memory is Swiss cheese and he has been living in a drug-induced dissociative state (with frequent hallucinatory and delusional episodes!) since his mum died when he was 12 years old. Plus the paranoia is evident.

I’m surprised that anyone is treating him as a reliable narrator about anything. He admits most of his childhood memories—like the funeral, South Africa trip and the Xbox—are based on tabloid accounts. He just picks which tabloid stories he likes and which ones he dislikes and chooses to remember the ones he likes.

The book is fascinating in that it’s the story of someone who was raised in a panopticon with few close/intimate relationships (basically just an eccentric father, an absentee brother, and employees who were just doing their job) and essentially crafted a personal narrative and an identity based on the feedback he was getting from the people surveilling him. Before Meghan, that identity was mostly negative—the naughty one, Spare, Prince Dunce, etc… Meghan, however, allowed him to change that identity and narrative, at least for a while. That’s why he ends the book with her quote. “This a MAN, this is no Spare.”

But the new identity and narrative is just as fake as the old one. As other anons have noted, he wasn’t actually there during Meghan’s supposed traumas. He’s on the phone, or he’s in England, or she’s out shopping. She just collapses into a teary puddle as soon as he arrives, so he can “save” her. He’s not protecting her from an evil press because that evil press doesn’t exist. He’s not defending her from Charles’ leaks or Camilla’s machinations because those don’t exist either. They are mirages, just like Ghost Leopard Diana and the singing seals. He essentially lives in a self-created magic reality world.

That’s why the Taliban are chess pieces, the paps are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and the aides are wasps, flies, and bees. That’s also why Meghan is a faery silkie princess sent by Diana who the seals sing it to. He lives in a fantasy world BY HIS OWN admission. He documents the whole thing, thoroughly. ALL OF IT is fake. Well, Kate may actually own lip gloss and Charles probably does love Shakespeare and Classical music, but you really have to discern which details are true and which ones are just flat out fantasy.

And he believes the whole thing. He doesn’t think he’s lying. He believes the Whole Food shoppers swarmed around Meghan like hungry hyenas. He believes he shopped at the TJ Maxx annual sale that never existed. He believes they booked Thomas an Air New Zealand flight that never was. He believes Di got him an XBox years before it was released. He believes he was at Eton when the Queen Mum died.

But it’s all a fantasy. It’s not exactly a lie because he believes it wholeheartedly, but it’s still not real. And the weirdest part is that he thinks that WE are the delusional ones. WE are the ones living in the “tabloid reality.” His mission is to destroy the British Press and the tabloid reality they have created and have his own reality reign supreme. It’s wild.

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brf-rumortrackinganon · 10 months ago

Text

Timeline: Part 5 - August 2017

Previously:

2015 - April 2017 | An Update

May 2017 - June 2017

July 2017

This piece features events, press, and PR from the summer of 2017. You will see competing narratives - the Daily Mail leaking Meghan's dossier drip by drip by drip and Meghan's team counterattacking with engagement rumors.

There are two main stories in the royal sphere during this time that we know Meghan is paying attention to, as these most definitely shape her understanding of what it means to be royal: royals taking glamorous summer vacations and daily coverage of Diana's life, the impact of her death, and her lasting legacy to the world.

Fasten your seatbelts!

(Note - this was initially meant to be in the same post as the July 2017 events but Tumblr was having problems saving the post.)

August 2017: Throughout the month, there are frequent articles about the various royal families having glamorous vacations in luxurious tropical resorts. Here is a selection of them:

Charles and Camilla vacationing in Greece on a superyacht.

Felipe and Letizia vacationing in Mallorca.

Prince and Princess Michael of Kent vacationing in St. Tropez.

Mary and Frederik vacationing in Greece on a private yacht.

Princes Caroline of Monaco vacationing with Karl Lagerfield in St. Tropez.

August 2017: Throughout the month, there are tons of articles about Diana as it is the twentieth anniversary of her death. Here's a selection of them. (Most of the ones I've chosen to list here are ones that Meghan most likely paid attention to.)

Diana speaks from the grave to say she loves Kate but doesn't think Meghan is right for Harry. (August 2)

Diana was into alternative medicine and was worried about the royal family taking her children. (August 4; in hindsight, it reads like a Meghan plant.)

Mohamed Fayed still mourns Dodi and Diana, still believes the BRF ordered their deaths to keep Diana from marrying a Muslim. (August 4)

How Diana worked with the paparazzi and knew how to take a good picture. (August 6)

Diana's jewelry collection (August 6)

Diana's Kensington Palace apartment (August 7)

Diana's iconic hairstyles (August 13)

How Diana's shoes charted her happiness in marriage (August 14)

Media preview/announcement of the new Diana documentary, which has footage from/about William and Harry. Their footage in the documentary includes them discussing Philip's "If you walk, I'll walk" promise.

Diana's parenting practices (August 19)

The Queen cried for Diana (August 25)

August 2, 2017: E News (a confirmed Meghan mouthpiece) publishes a timeline of the Harkle relationship, hinting something big is coming for her birthday.

August 3, 2017: Daily Mail begins recapping Suits; in today's episode, Rachel Zane has trouble planning her wedding and her father tells her "Whatever Rachel wants, Rachel gets."

August 4, 2017: Meghan's 36th birthday and she gets the full-court press coverage of her dreams:

Meghan tells E News that she and Doria have been visiting London. They stayed for a week at the end of July when she had a break from filming Suits.

Meghan hints to People that they're engaged, and People speculates about the royal engagement ring.

A timeline is published of how Meghan's celebrity evolved to the sophisticated fashionist she is now.

Harry whisks Meghan away to Africa. She calls the paps, who takes photos of Harry and Meghan being escorted by airport security as they walk on the runway. In the photos, Meghan is carrying two hats and a large paper-wrapped gift. She hints to friendly publications that the wrapped gift is her birthday present from Harry. Speculation begins that Meghan, who is almost always papped carrying a hat or wearing one, uses the hats to signal to the paps where she is (it's a common tactic in Hollywood).

August 5, 2017: Daily Mail publishes a story about all the girls Harry has taken to Africa.

August 6, 2017: It's revealed Harry attended a three-day Google "summer camp" in Italy earlier in the summer. (I couldn't find specific dates for Google Camp, but I found several other articles that suggested Google Camp was the week of July 30, 2017. Also, Oprah Winfrey and Gayle King were at the very same Google Camp that Harry attended...)

Also on August 6, 2017, Penny Junor waxes poetic on how much Harry hs changed since dating Meghan and everything the couple has in common. including how much 'at home' they are in Africa where their celebrity doesn't matter.

August 7, 2017: Dan Wooten advises Meghan to learn from Diana's mistake and not confirm to the firm; she should be unapologetically herself. Meghan gets the cover of Hello Magazine and the Harkles merch their houseboat safari to the Mirror.

August 8, 2017: Laine has the scoop on Harry and Meghan's African holiday and she "speculates" on the timing of their engagement and when they would announce it. Paul Burrell, Diana's infamous ex-butler, says Kate doesn't have Diana's magic star quality and immediately the mainstream British press rises to Kate's defense.

August 11, 2017:

The British public wants William to be King next, not Charles.

The Daily Mail publishes another expose of Meghan and includes the revelation that Trevor thinks she cheated on him in Toronto. This leads to more rumors that Meghan isn't a good fit to the royal family and that she's hiding many more skeletons.

August 12, 2017: Gossip gets printed that Meghan doesn't want to marry Harry and she is only using him to boost her career prospects.

August 13, 2017:

It's confirmed that the ratings for Suits have increased enormously since the Harkle relationship was revealed.

Later, Hollywood industry gossip hints that Suits was "on the bubble" (i.e., in danger of being cancelled) due to poor ratings but the new blockbuster ratings following the Harkle relationship reveal stayed their execution.

The Daily Mail calls Meghan a "princess in waiting," all but confirming an engagement, and continues to drip more information about Meghan in another expose, this one about her relationship with Cory.

Harry gets a 'Hero Harry' PR piece published about his work in mental health.

Meghan leaks to the Daily Star that Harry proposed and she has accepted.

Also on August 13, 2017, Mike Tindall gives an interview in which he speaks about Meghan. He gives her the stamp of approval and says they (he and Zara, but probably all of the Phillipses, including Anne) haven't met her yet. The Daily Mail's story about Mike's comments also includes the first reporting that Harry treated Meghan to a weekend stay at a friend's house in the Hollywood Hills at some point in Fall 2016 (we know now this to be the Beckhams' house, but there some split of opinion on when this visit took place - some say Thanksgiving, some say Christmas, others say it wasn't tied to a holiday). The article also shares some details about the relationship that are inconsistent with their narrative as we know now (and knew back then).

Harry and Meghan had a date at Wimbledon and sat together in the royal box. (Didn't happen, becuase it would've been all over the papers if it did.)

Harry and Meghan spent all of July 2016 and August 2016 apart because Harry was in Africa. Meghan flew to London in September 2016 because she missed him too much. (This debunks the Harkles's own claim that they met in July and that Meghan went to Africa with Harry in August.)

August 14, 2017: The Daily Mail discusses Meghan's ancestry and geneaology; her father's family is Irish and Dutch, her mother is descended from American slaves.

Also on August 14th, the Daily Mail publishes an article about whether it's appropriate to ask someone if they're pregnant. It has nothing to do with Meghan, but it does cause some speculation that the press knows something they're not telling (i.e., Meghan's so insistent pushing Harry to the altar because of a bun in the oven). It's probably a coincidence, but I'll let you decide.

August 15, 2017: The mother of a childhood friend of Meghan revealed that Meghan was obsessed with her video recording of Charles and Diana's 1981 wedding and that Meghan was inspired by Diana's humanitarian work. Serena Williams does an interview and photoshoot with Vogue Magazine, and Meghan is asked for quotes about Serena to use in the story.

Also on August 15, Meghan publishes the "10 Women Who Changed My Life" essay for Glamour Magazine. #7 on her list is the actress Julia Roberts. Later in 2023, it's speculated that Meghan uses Julia Roberts for style inspiration when she wants to appear relatable or is doing an "America's Sweetheart" PR campaign because many of her outfits are copies of Julia Roberts' costumes.

August 16, 2017: British oddsmakers have opened bets for Harry and Meghan getting engaged and when the wedding would take place. The article says Meghan hasn't yet met The Queen.

August 17, 2017: The Daily Mail continues to recap Suits. In today's episode, Rachel Zane rows with Mike Ross over his lies.

August 18, 2017: It's confirmed that William and Harry have cameos as stormtroopers in the new Star Wars film.

August 20, 2017: The royal family is papped at Balmoral going to church. Plant does a three-part feature on how Meghan's PR has completely torpedoed Harry's "Hero Harry" PR and turned him into a rich celebrity.

August 21, 2017: Harry leaks to Camilla Tominey that he picks Meghan up from the airport all the time because he's worried about her security and privacy. The Daily Mail writes that Kate's jewelry collection is a tribute to Diana.

Also on August 21st, a royal blogger writes about Meghan's faith and religious history following conversations she had with Samantha Markle. She concludes that Meghan has never been a faithful person (the Markles aren't a religious sort) and that Meghan has never been baptized or confirmed into any faith, not even Judaism as Meghan claimed she was when she was married to Trevor. Her research indicates that Meghan needs to be baptized and confirmed into the Church of England per royal protocol to marry Harry. This causes discussion in the royal fandom about whether The Queen could withhold consent unless Meghan is baptized and confirmed.

August 24, 2017: Meghan hints to Harper's Bazaar that she and Harry are engaged.

August 25, 2017: Meghan leaks that the African holiday is over and that the trip ended at Victoria Falls.

August 28, 2017: Well-wishers begin leaving flowers outside the Kensington Palace gates for the anniversary of Diana's death. William and Harry later view the tributes (on August 30th).

August 29, 2017: The Cambridges have officially moved back to London and Kensington Palace. William and Kate to be full-time royals as George goes off to school. The Express continues hyping up an engagement.

August 30, 2017

The 100th episode of Suits airs. According to the Daily Mail recaps, Rachel Zane and Mike row again. (They're not a very happy couple, are they?)

The royal family uses the Balmoral Test against prospective new family members. Wallis Simpson bombed it.

William, Kate, and Harry visit the new Diana memorial garden at Kensington Palace. It's Harry's first Court Circular appearance since July 28, 2017, and Kate's last appearance before her third pregnancy is announced.

***********

A couple of things about Botswana in response to some of the royal-watching commentary that I rediscovered on the Botswana airport pap pics:

There was a great deal of special treatment by the airport because they were escorted by airport workers across the tarmac. This is standard practice in most of the smaller African airports. I went to Africa for vacation in June this past year and traveled between several countries. All of the airports we went through (in Johannesburg, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe), we had to walk on the tarmac to embark and disembark and each time, we were escorted by airport workers for security reasons. The only thing "unique" about Harry and Meghan's security escort was that it was just the two of them on their flight, rather than the 30/40/50-person larger group most of us fly in. (In fact, the only airport where we didn't have to exit the facilities was Johannesburg when we arrived from the US and were departing back to the US.)

There was a lot of "they can't possibly be in Africa now because they're wearing summer clothes and it's winter!" commentary because in the pap pics, Meghan and Harry are in summery casual clothing - shorts, flip-flops, tank top/t-shirt. Botswana doesn't get winter the way we do; their winter feels more like our spring, with temperatures in the 50s/60s. Someone who was used to harsh Canadian winters, like Meghan was at the time, would have thought a Botswanan winter was absolutely balmy and would have been perfectly comfortable in a tank top and flip-flops.

#brf #timeline #sussexes #pr shenanigans

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