#AND IT PULLED UP CAPITAL PUNISHMENT DEFINITION?????

[t4tstarvingdog]

thank you for posting . every single one is a hit i lobve you 🐺🐺🐺🐺 ( wolf emoji )

this is so beautiful i love you… 🐕🐕

[rizsu]

cashier's revenge gojo satoru.

sum. annoying ex!gojo gets his lick back. not beta read !

satoru's existence itself is a warning. is it a harzardous warning? not quite, but it's also not a good one. at this very moment, at this very precised second, gojo satoru is contemplating the consequences of clocking out of work before his shift is up. in his eyes, if it's executed properly, it can work. the only downside would be the possibility of getting fired.

he cannot afford such a tragedy. being a man in today's day and age comes at an expensive cost. one day satoru promises to find AND deliver punishment to whoever created the "men are the breadwinners." motion. he suffers from society's insane capitalism and boy might he just dive into hell. head first, even. perhaps even toes first, if he's feeling special.

satoru's current employment stems from two reasons. not one, not three, but two:

1. his urge to prove that he can be better off without you.

2. getō suguru, someone's that's just as bad as he is, told him he had the chance to do the funniest thing ever.

now, don't mistake him! gojo satoru is not easily influenced ( he is. ) he knows right from wrong ( sometimes. )

prior to him signing up as a cashier, your break-up was mutual. he agreed to let you go and you agreed that you weren't committed to being in a full relationship yet. on his vision, he hated that he had to let you go; his attachment grew and he couldn't go two days without bothering you.

it would've disgusted satoru if he made you stay with him but god he wished you would've done so.

bored and bothered, satoru fiddles with his fingers, unable to find entertainment elsewhere due to his phone's low battery warning.

"if no one enters in the next five minutes maybe i can — fuck," feeling his right eye twitch, satoru exhales a deep sigh. not only did someone enter but that unlucky customer happened to be you, y/n l/n.

his eyes following your body, praying that you magically decided to no longer buy anything. unfortunately for him, he cannot get everything he wants in life. watching you make your way to his position, he chants a line of curses before going into automatic-customer-service mode.

"hi," satoru begins, forcing his sunshine-like smile, "what would you have today? any menu specials?"

"hello! i'd like to have a — oh my god it's you.." stopping mid-sentence, you clutch the strap of your handbag. the odds weren't one hundred but they definitely weren't zero.

'am i a curse or what?' gojo thinks. your expressions most certainly didn't bypass his radar. setting his offense aside, he continues, "i'm sorry, we don't have an "oh my god it's you" on the menu!"

"sorry, i'll have the daily special," counting the money needed, you wait for him to finish his cashier duties.

"that'll be ten dollars and ninety-nine cents," satoru says, raising his hand to collect the money. for some rather peculiar reason, it seems as though a twenty dollar bill is stuck on its owner's hand.

"miss, please let go of the bill."

"whatever do you mean?"

scoffing, satoru yanks the bill out of your hand. he watches as you twist your face into disgust and shake your hand off. he's sorry, really, but he has to put himself first at times.

—

although satoru was set on escaping early, he now has a reason to stay longer. going out of his way to deliver your meal, satoru sits in front of you. he has the plot and the platform.

"here's your meal, bill, and change," sliding everything to you, he sits with folded arms. this position means business. formal business.

"thank you — but what are you doing there?" you question him, squinting your eyes at his choice of movement.

"don't question me. how have you been though?"

pulling out your fries, you tilt them to his direction, offering them to him. "i've been wonderful, you?"

"my life has been fine. i've recovered ever since you broke up with me," taking a single fry, he shakes his head as he munches.

"that's crazy but why're you even here?" you couldn't contain your curiosity.

"ever since you broke my heart, i needed to get my life back." gojo takes two fries this time, munching them in sadness.

"ah, i see." you reply.

"it's amazing that you can see ever since you broke up with—"

"do NOT finish that sentence." glaring at satoru, you shut down his pity party. whatever he has going on needs to stop.

"you stop me from doing stuff the same way you stopped my heart ever since you —" satoru tries to finish but was met with a burger being shoved in his mouth.

smiling to himself, he compliments himself as he managed to annoy you. satoru can only thank the gods that you don't despise him. even if you do then that's a problem for someone else.

on your side, you're regretting handing over your burger to him. you were sure that breaking up with him will cause a broken heart but it seems like someone's doing fine. taking a sip from your drink, you look at satoru who's happily eating your food. 'he looks cute' you think.

"satoru," you speak up, redirecting his attention from the burger and onto you.

"hm?" he hums, wiping away the sauces on his face.

inhaling a deep breath, you mentally prepare before asking him, "wanna come over tonight?"

satoru's mouth shaped like an 'O', he thinks for a while before agreeing, "i'd love to — especially after you broke up with me."

"i swear i will kill you, satoru."

[nari-writes]

Tim Drake has Problems and Issues, and Batman is a capital-B-bad word. (ft. Jason Peter Todd, The Second Robin and Incorrigible Creature of Sass and Child Protection). aka. Blogging (and other dangerous activities likely to get you adopted by the Batman) chapter 2 (HECK). Part one | Ao3 Link

Tim finds out the next morning that the hecking Batman stole his camera’s memory card. He hadn’t even seen Bruce take it! Granted, part of his distraction had been the dark and the late hour and the suddenly-woken-from-sleep by what could probably be constituted as someone’s sleep paralysis demon, but wow. The slight of hand required, when Tim’s attention had been worriedly and entirely focused on his camera? He’d been paranoid that Bruce would take the camera as punishment for his photos - but he hadn’t even noticed Batman stealing his SD card. 

He’s prepared to write it off as the price of his identity being discovered - because he’s got two others and can fetch a third next weekend for backup - when he has the sudden, horrified realisation that he hadn’t finished formatting the card last night. It had been cold and he’d wanted to make Jason smooshing into a snowbank into a gif for his blog, and by the time he’d finished that and posted it, his eyelids were basically shut and he’d still needed to pull the other photos off the card. He thought he’d have time to format it this morning because his dad had a golf thing early, and Tim and his mum were only going later for the brunch and the mingling after everyone had finished playing, but-  

But he doesn’t have time. Because Batman had stolen the card. The card he hadn’t finished formatting, and last night he’d been playing around with slow exposure shots and taking pictures of Wayne Manor. He'd been playing around with the long lens he doesn't get to use often because it was too bulky and he'd been taking pictures of Wayne Manor. 

Oh he’s so doomed. He’s got to get the card back before Bruce has time to look at it, if he hasn’t already. The photos are definitely going to be called creepy at best and at worst they’ll highlight Tim is well aware of his neighbour’s nighttime activities. Thankfully, the lack of alien mind-probing and Bruce Wayne at his doorstep at least indicate Bruce hasn’t had time to go through the photos. Yet. 

Probably.

Freaking heck, he's so screwed.

Plan one is to just...break into Wayne Manor. It's a stupid idea, so he doesn't even put it on a back burner to muse over and discard later because there are way too many problems with it. How is he going to break into a) the home of a billionaire and b) the home of the literal dang Batman, most paranoid and prepared person on planet Earth? It's not happening. It would be nice if it was that straight forward, but it's not happening.

Plan two is his parents. They are technically home this week, and he's pretty sure he can get them to invite themselves into Bruce Wayne's house if he pretends Bruce wants to talk business. He knows how to get into his dad's emails, and if he acts fast enough he can get them to organise some sort of business meeting before his parents jet off again at the end of mid-semester break. It's still dependent on his parents staying till the end of the mid-semester break, though, and also on Bruce not being suspicious that Tim Drake, guy he just stole a camera from and also threatened, is coming to his house. It’s a pretty bad plan.

Plan three makes him feel kind of slimy, but it's the one that's most likely to work if he can't get around his parents. 

Jason's self-defence classes, the ones Bruce totes as an ‘anti-kidnapping measure’, are run by the same person who teaches Tim’s classes on the other side of the city. He’s built up enough goodwill with her that he’s pretty sure if he looks dejected about his parents not being able to come to his Tuesday class to see his progress, she’ll let him join Jason’s Thursday class as a temporary measure, even though that class got booked out a day after Bruce’s kidnapping commentary.  

From there it’s just a matter of prior parkour practice making him a fun match for Jason and Jason’s Robin training, and then Jason enjoying his company enough to chat to him after class so they’re still together when Alfred or Dick comes to pick Jason up, and Tim then letting on that he lives next door and oh no, looks like his parents aren’t picking him up, would it be at all possible to be dropped off? Then pretending to forget his key and his parents not being home to let him in - which, at least, is the part of the plan most likely to succeed, and it makes him a bit miffed that there are so many other points of failure - and getting himself invited to stay at Wayne Manor until his parents are free to pick him up. 

On Thursday he’s pretty sure they have a dinner date with the Khadirs, and they actually like each other. It means his parents won’t be home till eleven at the earliest, which will give Tim plenty of time to search the manor. 

Unless, of course, Bruce didn’t take the memory card into the manor and has instead stored it in the Batcave, which Tim knows exists but has never been able to access, or he’s given it to Dick or Oracle to look into, or even just Tim not being enough to keep Jason's attention-

God, he’s going to have to figure out how to make plan one work, isn’t he. 

There just isn't time for plan three, because Bruce will totally have free time between now and Thursday and so much of it hinges on Jason wanting to talk to him when Tim's three years younger and five feet shorter, and it runs the risk of Jason recognising him from jaunts in Gotham. Plan two is better, but not by much, and he's concerned that Batman's legendary paranoia is going to have negative effects on Tim's success rate.

Plan one…maybe he can pretend to be selling cookies for the girl scouts? He's young enough to get away with it - but there's no way Mr. Pennyworth will let him inside, unless maybe it's raining. That'd be a weird situation to get into though - to walk between their properties when there's a better road, and to lug behind whatever eclectic collection of cookies he can find, and then invite himself into their house to get out of the rain. It'd look totally suspicious. And what respectable girl scout would sell things without the rest of their troupe? Or supervision. Or checking the weather. What respectable Gothamite would go out without checking the weather?

He would need it to be raining - which, to be fair, happens often enough in Gotham - but not have the day be dreary, so he has an excuse to have forgotten his umbrella. And, as everyone knows, when it rains on a day that's not dreary, it's normally acidic, and Tim's not keen on dealing with the raindrops burning scars into his scalp.

Scratch that, no girl scout impersonation is in his future. He could try and just break in and pretend a friend had dared him? But that wouldn't give him a lot of time to investigate, and no access to the Batcave.

Although. Why does he have to break into Wayne Manor? 

Tim's eyes narrow in the mirror, lips twitching upward. Why not use Batman's paranoia against him? If there's the risk his memory card will be in the Batcave, why not start in the Batcave? He'll have two perfect excuses either way - there's likely no way to tell the Batcave is under Wayne Manor, so he won't be risking his knowledge of their identities - and Batman stole his memory card, so why wouldn't he track down Batman to get it back? Plus if he needs to go upstairs to find the card, he can always claim pre-teen prankster status, or even just leave and get back into Wayne Manor some other way. His parents will kill him if he gets caught in Bruce Wayne's house, but he'd rather be 'grounded' for the rest of the break then let Batman realise Tim's a stalker. 

…Okay he probably already thinks that, but still. Tim’s not letting the Batman know about his collection of Wayne family photos. He'll never be able to walk around Gotham again. 

He’ll never want to walk around Gotham again, on account of the fact that he’ll be dead from embarrassment. 

So…now he just needs to break into the Batmobile and get himself driven into the Batcave. He's totally got this.

—-

Several hours later he’s still sure he’s got it, even if it’s not at the same level of total assurance it was that morning. He’s followed Batman and Robin around all night and neither of them have caught even a glimpse of him, and he knows they were keeping an eye out because they swung past his usual haunts twice. As if he’d be dumb enough to use the same spot after it’d been blown. He’s young, not dumb. 

He’s also not dumb enough to beeline straight for the Batmobile the first time they leave it unattended, either. A few carefully thrown rocks from the fire escape reveal no perimeter alarms summoning Batman and Robin back if someone gets near the car, and even the ones he lets very carefully - he didn’t throw them hard at all, and made sure to stand closer he could aim better! - hit the tires and the door didn't set off an alarm. 

It’s kinda stupid, actually. When Tim gets his SD card back he’s gonna send Commissioner Gordan a message about it so the Commissioner can use the information to make fun of Batman. That’ll be a good revenge for taking Tim’s stuff. 

The lock’s harder than testing the perimeter alarms, though. His palms are so sweaty he has to keep wiping them on his hoodie to stop himself from leaving marks, and every noise makes him scamper back to hide behind a group of stacked cardboard boxes, just in case it’s Batman or Robin. It takes forever before he can get the trunk unlocked, but when he does he sighs in relief and quickly scampers inside. 

There is…very little space. It makes sense, all things considered - what's the best use for a car, bar travelling storage space? - but Tim's thankful he's small and flexible enough to fit around all the junk. His mother’s yoga obsession is serving him well right now, because he's got one foot pressed against a spare tire and the other wedged by his ear, and if he were any less dedicated to Dick Grayson’s gymnastics routines he'd have already started to cramp.

He really hopes they have a short patrol tonight. It is a Monday, so chances are good that Jason at least will be sent home, and Bruce at least visits the Manor to (presumably?) put Jason to bed and (probably?) drop off evidence, but that still means at least two hours of this squished discomfort.

Except also it’s winter break, so Jason doesn’t technically have to be back at the manor for school the next morning. Tim scowls at the realisation that he’s probably gonna be here for ages. He breathes deep, trying to relax so he doesn't cramp up, and then pauses.

How does the trunk of Batman's car smell better than his dumb gloves? 

There's a faint motor oil smell, but mostly it's just clean carpet and mint and a vague smoke, like the remnants of a campfire. It's nice, way nicer than the other times Tim has been shoved in a car boot (though at least he normally had more wiggle room when being kidnapped, even though handcuffs had made it impossible to utilise) and Tim's got plenty of time…his blink feels a little too long, but he doesn't bother to fight back a yawn. At least if he can get some sleep it'll make the time go faster and he can finally get to looking for his memory card.

His neck spasms, and Tim hisses between his teeth, awkwardly shifting his arm to try and ease the cramp. Sleep hovers out of his reach, but thankfully the pain eases and he slips into a drifting lull, the muted noise of late-night traffic enough to mimic the trees that normally rustle outside his bedroom window. 

By the time the engine rumbles under his cheek, Tim's stumbled through half-dreams of Robin and long exposure shots and his knee is stiff enough that he knows getting out of the car is going to be difficult. Still, he's been lucky enough so far that Batman hasn't found him, and he's not about to trade a sore leg for a frogmarch back to his parents. 

The pull of acceleration makes a tire press against his ribs, but bar the squish of things moving around, the actual drive is surprisingly smooth. He can't hear anything from the front seats, but it's still making his heart rabbit in excitement; he's so close to Batman and Robin, and they have no idea. 

…No wonder Rouges pull plots all the time, if this is the amount of giddy adrenaline that hits you when you get away with something under Batman's nose. Tim feels like he's going to jitter out of his skin, and it's only the lack of space in the car that's stopped some excited hand flapping and gleeful wiggles. He can’t help it. It’s just so exciting to know he’s so close to Batman and Robin, the shadowy vigilante heroes of Gotham. He’ll never be able to talk about it, but it’s exhilarating to know his classmates will never experience anything like this.

The car rumbles through Gotham, her engine a purr of power, and Tim feels every corner and twist, even if he can’t figure out the road they take back. It doesn’t matter, though: he still knows where he’s going, and he knows his plan for when they arrive. 

He needs to be careful. He has to wait. Tim tilts the edge of his watch towards his face and manages to wiggle it into the light coming through the brake light. It's just after 2am - but that doesn't mean Bruce has finished up his work as Batman. He'd made himself promise he wouldn't leave the car until 10am, which is when he normally sees Mr. Pennyworth drive Bruce into the city, presumably for work. 

Theoretically he could get out earlier, but he knows 10am is the only verifiable time, and points of failure decree that he should limit them with available evidence whenever possible. That's rule number one in making sure your plans work with minimal adjustment - and he's already gonna have to do major adjusting when he gets out of the car. Like, for example, do they have cameras? How will he access them to hide his presence? What if Jason or Dick is in the Batcave instead of the Manor? Tim will probably hear them, but things are pretty muffled in the car. 

Then the SD card itself - would Bruce put it somewhere logical, like near the computer? Should Tim check the computer to make sure no files have been copied across? Is what Tim considers logical going to be what Bruce considers logical?

And finally, getting out. Sure, they'll be way easier ways of getting from Batcave to Manor than vice versa, but what if someone sees him? Or what if there are extra cameras upstairs on a different security system? 

He hates not having every point of information available for easy access, but there's nothing he can do here but his best.

Which. Disgusting. He hates that he just said that to himself but it's all he has to combat his nerves right now so unfortunately his best will have to do. After all, it's not within his power to get a blueprint of the Batcave, or he'd have just hacked the batcomputer and deleted his photos manually.

He sighs to himself longingly at the thought and hears the tires change from pavement to stone, and then an echoing reverb of machinery. The Batcave; it must be. He’s in the freaking Batcave. His heart pounds in his chest and he grins to himself, a tiny noise of excitement squeaking out of his throat. This past day-and-change has sucked in terms of his stress levels, but holy heck the fact that he’s currently in the literal Batcave has almost made everything worth it. How could it not, when Tim is in a sanctum so very few get to see? He’ll never be able to tell anyone, but that’s just par the course at this point - and he likes getting to keep his secrets. 

Who cares if his parents never ask about what he’s been up to, when Tim can hold in his heart the knowledge that he is one of the privileged few that knows the Batman’s identity?

Sure, Bruce didn't tell him, but isn't it even cooler that Tim figured it out by himself? He'd only ever admit the daydreams on threat of telepath, but sometimes he's thought about Bruce finding out Tim knows and being impressed with him. Bruce would compliment him on his discovery, on the deductive reasoning and the evidence he collected to prove it; what else would impress the greatest detective in the world but someone of similar calibre? 

It'd be amazing to have Batman invite him into more secrets, impressed by his faithfulness, but...

Tim's not stupid. Kids are a seen-and-not-heard subsection of the human species, especially kids like him, and Batman would likely only be pissed at Tim for being an uncontrollable liability. Better to make sure that, like everything else Tim thought important, it was kept his own personal secret. No need for Batman to get involved with Tim Drake if Tim Drake is a normal kid, and no need for his parents to drop him off at another boarding school for bringing trouble to their door in Gotham. 

There's a sudden click, and Tim startles, head twisting as the trunk lifts. It gets him into the perfect position to be blinded as the trunk opens, and then-

“Ah,” he says, staring up at the cowl and cape, before swallowing thickly. “Hello.”

“This is breaking and entering,” says Batman, and Tim can't stop his scowl. 

“That's super hypocritical. You literally broke into my house yesterday.”

“Your window was unlocked.”

“That's not an invitation!”

Batman makes a noise in his throat, and Tim tries to wiggle out from around the spare gear and the tire he'd wedged himself around. His attempt ends when Batman takes him by both biceps and physically pulls him from the vehicle, sitting him against the ledge of the trunk when he's free. 

“I think breaking and entering requires you to not have driven him here,” says Jason, his voice a drawl of sarcastic displeasure, and Tim flushes and looks down at his shoes. Batman had known the whole time? He'd just…let Tim stay in the boot for the whole drive, and not done anything to stop him? How humiliating, to find out his oh-so-clever plan hadn't even survived first contact.

Batman's looking at him. Tim can feel eyes resting heavy on the back of his neck before Bruce says, “The Batmobile is well-outfitted with sensors and cameras to prevent theft or tampering. Prior experience assisted in advising me of the…issues with my security system.”

Jason's weight shifts, like he knows he's the ‘experience’ that highlighted the Batmobile’s weak spots, but Tim's stomach just feels wobbly. 

“Do you enjoy lying?” Batman asks, and Tim's head snaps up.

“What?”

His stomach no longer feels wobbly. Now it just feels…gone. Like it dropped into his feet and took his guts with it. Is his face pale? It certainly seems like it should be, with how his fingers have begun to tingle, the too-hard pulse of his heart depriving him of oxygen. 

“I distinctly remember you saying that I wouldn't see you out again at night-”

“You weren’t going to,” Tim says, feeling light-headed, the sentence cut off by his own recognition of a pitiful defence. Bruce’s mouth is a hard, flat line. 

“Did you or did you not understand the intent behind the instructions I provided, Tim Drake?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, shoulders hunching. Because yeah, he had, but Batman hadn’t caught him in three years and he’d figured that his lucky streak would continue. Especially if he didn’t post anything on the blog, and Batman had no further proof of his existence and/or his defiance of Batman’s rule. 

“Then, with that in mind, do you understand that your behaviour directly violates the rules we discussed, and additionally endangers your safety?”

He’s been scolded before. It still hadn’t felt like this, with humiliation making heat prick at his eyes. Batman's impassive, but you never look at Batman to know how he feels: you look at Robin. Tim chances a glance and sees Robin’s shifted on his heels, looking awkward and unhappy. 

Bruce must be so mad. 

“We didn’t discuss anything,” Tim says softly, his throat tight and his hands shaking as he tries to keep his emotions under control. “I’m careful. You just - you just ordered me around, but you don’t know me.”

“Kid,” Jason says, and Tim’s nails bite into his palm. “It’s our job to protect the people of Gotham-”

“You stole my stuff! You stole my stuff and deleted my archive and do you know how many people were upset? Twitter blew up about it. They like you! They like seeing you. It was important to them! It was important to me.”

…But why should Batman care? Tim’s long since learnt that things that are important to him don’t get to be in plain sight - his dad has broken his stuff before, and Tim’s not let that happen to anything he actually cares about for so long that he’s forgotten what it feels like. The feeling that he’s stupid for letting it get to him, when it doesn’t even really matter, the helpless, melancholic kick of being unable to change anyone’s mind-

“Aw, kid, hey,” Robin’s kneeling in front of him now, hands on Tim’s shoulders, and Tim’s mortified to realise he’s been sniffling. Can this day get any worse? Bad enough that his clever checks and foolproof plan were literally ignored by Batman so that Tim would stay out of the way tonight, now he’s crying? Like a child too emotional to be up past his bedtime? “Come on now, squirt, B-man’s an overbearing prick but the translation here is he’s terrified for you. It was dangerous for the site to stay up. Your photos were amazing - but you were so close to us. ”

“I wasn’t,” Tim says, wiping his runny nose across his sleeve, and then suddenly a black handkerchief drops into his eyeline. He pauses, tracing it up to Batman’s hand, and then pettily says, “...if this smells as bad as your gloves I don’t wanna use it.” Jason snorts and mumbles something that may have been a proud, I told you so.

(He still takes it. He’s not petty enough to refuse having a handkerchief from the Batman. This night has been a nightmare - at least he can still have the world’s most pity-present souvenir.)

“Distance,” Batman says softly, “was not the problem.”

“Okay,” Robin says, when Tim’s expression takes on a mutinous edge, “think of it this way for me, yeah? There’s a blog that’s gotten crazy popular because it’s started semi-regularly posting really good photos of us. Batman and Robin. And you, you’re Penguin or Riddler or Marone, whatever, you wanna know how the blog gets good pictures of us. Wondering how the photographer knows where we are. You start thinking maybe Batman’s trying to drum up good PR and then suddenly you’re thinking: hey, maybe this blogger knows the Bats.”

“I don’t!” Tim says quickly, and Jason looks over his shoulder at Bruce. Tim, desperate, follows his gaze, and-

Batman’s holding his SD card. 

“Don’t you?”

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

Roses

Harry gets Uma some flowers.

Uma just locked up the restaurant – alone, for once.

Harry didn’t come, which was weird, he always came, and besides: „Just wait tonight, darling,“ he said to her when she left for her shift, „I’ll have a surprise for you.“

So there was that, and it really left three options:

First, something happened to him, something horrible enough to stop him from coming to her – and Uma firmly refuses to entertain that current of thoughts.

So that leaves two options:

A mean-spirited prank, which is the only type of prank the Isle has anyway, in which case he probably never intended to come; or he just forgot how time works, again. That would be nothing new, and Uma finds that she can be pissed at him in both of these options.

Anger is, after all, so much easier than worry.

So Uma sets her steps sure and her eyes sure in front of herself as she walks through the docks to her ship, the usually swift walk dragging like misfortune without her first mate to keep her company.

She makes a face at that and kicks an empty bottle, just because she can. the flask clatters and thuds about, and gods, she hopes it breaks–

She breathes through her teeth (when it doesn’t break) when footsteps join the noise, and she whirls around to meet them. She already knows whom she’ll see, she could pick up these footsteps anywhere.

„Harry,“ she greets her insufferable first mate.

„Uma,“ he says back, leaning against the half-rotten wall by the corner. His hook glistens in one of his hands while the other is draped casually behind his back. He’s smirking. „Missed me, darling?“

Missed me – as if! Uma would rather had her left foot amputated than admit that.

And so she says: „Your loud mouth, or your blinding ego? In your dreams, Hook.“

He smirks more, of course he does, the handsome son of a bitch. „My mouth can do more than just talk, Captain, I’m sure you would like to know in yourdreams.

Uma makes a face at the low blow, and he laughs, finally sauntering closer; he still keeps his hand behind his back. Thus, he touches her waist with his hook – very carefully so – which she doesn’t mind in the slightest. She pulls him a bit closer, which is only partly an attempt to discover what he’s hiding.

„So, this surprise that you’ve been talking about, Hook,“ she says, „Is that just you showing up late? Keeping me waiting?“

He slides his hook over her body, her hip, her shoulder, her cheek, as he brags: „Why, Captain, what else could you want? I am truly the greatest gift you could ever get.“

He’s so lucky he’s pretty, and – and most definitely hiding something from her reach. Not that she’d been trying particularly hard, but you’ll have to forgive a girl for being distracted.

She pushes him away in mock-offense anyway.

„Harry Hook, you’re a narcissist!“ she exclaims, a smile tugging at her lips, as she can see his arms moving, actually his whole body–

He falls to his knees as he says: „That might be so, darling, but I brought you these.“

In front of himself, he holds a bouquet of blood-red roses, for her to take; he even wrapped a paper around the stems. Probably with a page torn from a horribly sappy poetry book, as she knows him.

She takes the flowers.

She gestures for him to get up barely a heartbeat later and he does so instantly, standing even closer to her than before. She doesn’t mind.

„Do you like them?“ he asks, so damn hopeful.

She nods, looking at the flowers still. The rich red colour and petals in curious shapes, whispering in wind that isn’t there. Only one person on the Isle has such roses.

„Are these…?“ she asks, and she doesn’t even need to finish the question for him to answer.

„Aye, from the Queen of Hearts,“ he says, „She has the best ones.“

She has, that’s true, and she’d never ever let go of them under the threat of death, nevermind the capital punishment for even breathing too hard in the direction of her gardens. Not that that would stop her first mate, not at all.

She lets out a quiet laugh. „You’re crazy, Harry Hook,“ she informs him.

„Crazy for you,“ he answers, and she doesn’t know why she’s surprised at all.

[odinsblog]

Tankies be tripping like a mf

Sometimes I see tankies posting their usual bullshit and I’m just endlessly smh hard enough to cause myself brain damage

I could, if I wanted, make a dozen social media accounts across various platforms and proceed to talk as much shit about Joe Biden or Donald Trump as I want. I could do that 24/7/365, all day, every day and every night, and do nothing else but that. I mean, I could talk straight up bullshit about either of them or both of them, and their spouses and their families, and as long as I don’t make any threats against their lives, guess what would happen to me?? NOTHING. Not a goddamn thing

I know this for a fact because I’ve done it (talk shit about them, not make troll accounts), and I see people do it every fucking day

Meanwhile, in “glorious” communist countries™ like Russia or China or North Korea, if anyone dares to publicly say anything even slightly unflattering about those country’s leaders, they will be punished, arrested, jailed, disappeared or murdered. And God forbid if you’re an actual journalist or dissident or a political activist trying to speak out against Putin, or Kim Jong Un, or Xi Jinping — your corpse will never be found (except maybe for Russia, where you would either “accidentally” fall out of a window, or “accidentally” ingest a rare but deadly radioactive material) ☢️ 🙃

Look, this isn’t me going, “America is soooo great and everywhere else sucks,” because as a Black man living in America, I’m well aware of how thoroughly anti Blackness is weaved into our society, and as someone who has LGBTQ loved ones, I am also aware of how homophobia and transphobia are also woven into American culture. So no, America was never great. But anti Blackness, homophobia, and transphobia exist everyfuckingwhere. And yes, that most definitely includes the tankie fantasyland utopias of Russia, China and North Korea

Anyway, I’m just blowing off some online steam because every time I see a tankie profess how communism™ will make everything equal and just sO much better, and how Russia, China and North fucking Korea! are heavens for love peace + equality, every fucking time I see that BULLSHIT on tumblrdotcom I wanna pull my teeth out with a rusty pair of pliers 🤬

I just do not get it

Only tankies could look at murderous dictatorial authoritarian regimes and go, yeah that seems much better

LOL, I could almost overlook Russia and China, but when I see tankies defending N. Korea?? I’m like, that mf is farther gone than the Voyager space probes

SN: I know that despite their political party names, Russia and China aren’t really “communist” countries, but I often wonder if tankies understand that fact

And please don’t get me started on the allegedly “pro-Black” tankies who stayed on mute about Brittney Griner, because I guess saying anything would have made Putin look bad 😒

I mean don’t get me wrong, I dO understand that capitalism has utterly failed people so thoroughly and so fucking completely that literally anything else might seem preferable by comparison, but ☭ ain’t it, fam

To be crystal clear: I hate capitalism as much as the next compassionate human being and I know capitalism ain’t it, but neither is communism, sorry

I genuinely do believe that a better world is possible, but seeing people (surprise - disproportionately white dudes) constantly blathering on and on about how good Russia is, makes me feel like 🤮

[cerunilea]

Ok, so if we're under the assumption that Cellbit is the one killing the Federation workers and purposely leaving those messages for Cucurucho, I am (even more) so incredibly excited to see what the eventual "consequences" Cucurucho spoke of will end up being. Even before the murders he was going to face some sort of punishment, but adding on the steadily increasing list of things he is doing to destabilize and spread fear through the working class of the organization, I shudder to think how drastic and hard-hitting that punishment will actually end up being — I am very, VERY curious as to what they have in store for him (hopefully incredibly traumatic with lasting, emotionally painful damage... it's been so long since the feral wet cat has been properly put through the horrors and quite frankly I do kind of miss it).

Man knows he was going to take the fall, actively trying to put all of the blame onto himself to pull the brunt of the consequences of some of the recent major hijinks pulled by his fellow islanders, and now he's using this last bit of time to sow as much chaos and thin the workforce, in a way that would not bring negative fallout on the people he cares about (which Bagi is... kind of complicating as she is trying to do the exact same thing for him) as he goes out with a bang.

Obviously there's more nuances to the situation, with Cellbit definitely also using all this to... let go of his carefully crafted emotional limits (and sanity) for a bit(?), the ongoing actions of the other islanders contributing to the chaos (ex. Etoiles killing like 20 guards in his recent infiltration mission, Quackity kidnapping Fred, Foolish getting stuck in his office for several days making his coworkers think he was killed off too, and Bagi and Roier gearing up to support Cellbit in his killing spree, etc.), Cucuruchito's probable role in temporarily distracting the islanders while the Feds try to wrestle everything under control and deal with the black concrete/missing eggs situation, and more that I can't think of offhand. But, from what I can tell, the Federation is probably the most disarrayed that they've ever been since the players first arrived 7 months ago, and Cellbit is capitalizing off that moment of weakness to magnify the chaos severalfold while getting some revenge in the process before he is once again ensnared by their chains, potentially to a permanent detriment depending on what "consequences" the Federation decides to impose on him.

[ramayantika]

Ch-4: Meeting the Bride

// Krishna fics masterlist //

The wedding celebrations were over and all the esteemed guests were preparing to leave for their respective kingdoms except a choice few guests who were close to Krishna stayed back, including Aarnika who was specifically requested to stay for a few more days to meet the new bride. 

The Vidharban princess looked more angelic even closer and as blessed as she was with good looks, the princess's soft demeanor and kind heart won Aarnika's heart too. 

"It must be adventurous and a little liberating, isn't it Rajkumari? You get to rule an entire city on your own terms," Rukmini said. 

Aarnika smiled and thought about her father's punishment that had given her this indepent ruleship to her and said, "I agree, princess. I am glad that my people support me and help me handle things there. I am glad to find a place in their heart, and though it's a small city, my city is growing which makes me proud." She held Rukmini's hand. "Do come to Kanakgarh sometime. We would love to have you and your family, besides," she winked, "my city will be the talk of Aryavarta if the royal family of Dwaraka arrives."

Rukmini laughed and nodded, "The queen of Kanakgarh must not request us, and certainly not her friend now. I will definitely ask Krishna and plan a visit there soon." Pretending to whisper, she continued, "You are anyway a wild topic in Aryavarta. A woman single handedly running a kingdom is unheard of."

"It's a small city, Rukmini, not a kingdom."

"I believe, a kingdom doesn't have to be large to house too many provinces and grandeur. A small place with the right ruler, for whom people have immense love in their hearts to help their land prosper is a kingdom." Rukmini patted Aarnika's shoulder. "I have been talking to you since the past two days, and the time we have spent together is enough for me to know that you are and will be a great ruler, no matter how large or small the province is."

The princess's words made Aarnika beam with pride and happiness. Nobody in her family except her mother had acknowledged her abilities and talents. Hearing Rukmini after spending only a brief amount of time was an achievement for her.

"And in what deep conversation have you pulled my dear wife into, sakhi?" asked a honeyed voice.

"Nothing much. The princess was bestowing some generous compliments over my rulership over Kanakgarh," said Aarnika.

Krishna passed a bright smile and sat beside Rukmini who blushed when surrounded by him. "You give yourself too less credit, Aarnika. The feats you have managed are a wonder. You paved the way for women to be a part of the workforce. Trade and businesses are flourishing. I think it will rival your capital city in the next few years."

A bubbly Subhadra in orange garments twirled and entered the chamber, saying, "But won't Aarnika didi be married off? How will she keep developing her city then? Would her husband allow her?" She held her ear and looked at Aarnika. "Sorry, I overheard you all."

Aarnika gently pulled Subhadra's nose. "My choti sakhi, don't worry about that. I am not marrying for a very long time so I am going to keep developing my city."

"But didi, do you have someone in mind whom you want to marry?"

Krishna cleared his throat and said, "Subhadre, it is not appropriate to ask such questions. She is older than you."

Pouting, the little darling of Dwaraka looked at Krishna and finally at Aarnika. Her eyes lit up with brightness and said, "Well, you can always count on me. I might help fix an alliance."

Krishna pulled Subhadra's ear, making her wince, saying, "You never listen to me, do you?"

"As if you listen to Balaram dau?"

Rukmini laughed and commented, "Now Subhadra won. Fair and square."

Warmth seeped into Aarnika's heart as she watched the siblings and Rukmini interact. If only her household could have been like them – full of love, fun and friendly banter.

***

"I wish you stayed with us for some more time didi," muttered a sad Subhadra hugging Aarnika. "Especially with me."

Aarnika ruffled the young princess's head and patted her cheek. "You know that my doors will always be open for you. If you are ever bored of Dwaraka, my city would provide you a wonderful retreat."

Revati too had come to see off Aarnika. Both of them did not get much time with each other due to the wedding work and other queenly duties the former had to carry, but she had found time to bid farewell to Krishna's special guest. In three days, the princess of Mahishaka had charmed her way into the hearts of the family of Dwaraka. Her simplicity and humble personality was endearing to all. 

"Do visit Dwarka again, princess. You spent time with Rukmini and our dearest Subhadra, but not with me. I shall hold it against you," Revati said, as she hugged Aarnika. 

Aarnika's heart was full. She climbed into her palanquin and replied, "The Queen must not be crossed. I shall come back soon and I believe you all must too."

"As for me, I will keep writing letters sakhi. You must be updated with Dwarka's latest gossip." Aarnika chuckled and nodded at Krishna. "Yes, your highness, I shall await the latest gossip in your letters."

"Take care, Aarnika."

The princess looked up at Krishna for one last time. His eyes as gentle as the moon, looked into hers and a friendly smile curved its way on his lips causing her to smile too. A slight pang in her chest, and a lone tear burning in the corner of her eye, Aarnika whispered, "You too, Krishna."

He left his hand from the palanquin and waved at her. Following him was Subhadra who had already begun to shed tears and waved frantically at Aarnika as if her didi sakhi would immediately stop and return back. 

The ever so graceful Rukmini hugged Subhadra and waved at Aarnika who bowed and covered her palanquin with curtains. Each step took her away from the land of her beloved, but she was happy to find new friends in Subhadra and Rukmini. 

Who knows when this alliance would play a role in her future? 

By the end of the first prahar, her entourage had reached the beautiful green hills on the borders of Dwaraka which made Aarnika feel nostalgic about the moment she had first arrived here and witnessed their majestic beauty. 

The morning sun fell on a slope of one of the hills, illuminating that section. The trees on the hill gently swayed with the soft sea breeze and its leaves shone bright under the rays of Surya. The sea breeze allowed its into the palanquin and gently blew over Aarnika's face. She closed her eyes and imagined the sea waters of Dwarka. She hadn't found time to visit the sea shore. 

The gentle sea breeze slowly lulled her eyes to sleep with fun filled memories of the wedding and new companions until she would find herself back home in her palace, devoid of those friendships. Aarnika loved Kanakgarh and her people. She also had some of her trusted handmaidens who would swear their lives on her, but she also yearned for such loving friendships in her lives, for people to be with her and not only in curved letters of a letter on paper. 

Maybe someday I wouldn't be this alone. 

*** **** ****** *** ** **** **** *** ***** **** ****

This was a filler chapter because I wanted to wrap up the wedding so we can get back to aarnika's work life in her city, Kanakgarh.

Also do read and tell me how it was I wrote it after a long time so maybe it won't be that good but I would still love your reblogs and comments.

Have a good day! 🌸💕

Taglist: @ma-douce-souffrance @ishoulnotbehere @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @krishna-priyatama @morally-gayy @bambioleo @jessbeinme15 @arachneofthoughts @reallythoughtfulwizard @kaal-naagin (if I have missed anyone or if anybody would want to be a part of the taglist, do tell me in the comments or send an ask. I might have forgotten some too because the list was saved in my old phone which I don't have right now)

[distortedclouds]

Annie's bonus PoV of Black Water

Set: Chapter 20

Word count: 2k

Tags: Angst

“You know,” Annie murmurs, letting one of her hands trace a line from the center of his abdomen, up the ridges of his muscles to the midpoint of his chest, and then a little to the side. “I’ve been saying shit like ‘I had doubts’ and ‘I wasn’t sure’ and… while that’s all true, I… for a few days back then, I really thought I was pregnant, Armin,” she says, catching the violent thumbing of his heart beneath her palm, a storm just for her. Annie wishes she could see his face right now, but looking into his eyes, she’d probably not be able to find any of the right words, let alone the courage to speak them.

They were only four days. Four short days that Annie would look at herself in the bathroom mirror, meet her own wide-eyed gaze, almost panicked, and then glance down. It had all felt so real back then. The possibility was a reality in some parts of her brain, and that was more than enough for her; that she was going to become a parent in a few months’ time.

Her and Armin.

“I actually started counting the days,” she muses with a small laugh. Maybe that was actually ridiculous of her, a little too hopeful and all up in her own head over a small possibility. “It felt a bit weird, overwhelming, maybe, that in less than nine months, I’d be able to hold her in my arms.”

“Her?” The question comes out almost instantaneously, only mildly muted against the fluff of the pillow.

“Problem?” On his chest and through his ribs, Annie can feel the racing of his heart. Whether it’s excitement or horror, she can’t tell-

“None,” he rasps out, breathless, which is easy to explain, since he’d stopped breathing for a moment there, relying on the air pulled in through a single gasp.

She can now swallow the lump in her throat, lips pulling into a soft smile and she sighs; the tension in her shoulders draws out of her like a single, loose string as she reaches to intertwine their fingers together, feeling his slightly bigger hands in hers. To think that both her and Armin had shared a similar vision on opposite ends of the spectrum. That had she actually told him back then of who she thought she was growing in her abdomen, he would’ve had an identical reaction. A type of love and curiosity for the unknown that she’d only ever seen in Armin’s blue eyes. Ones she hopes he’d pass down.

“I think she’s gonna end up really short,” she holds back her excitement but still ends up with a small laugh that flutters in her chest. His lungs jump under her palm in a similar gesture.

“She’ll have tall uncles to sit on their shoulders.” Annie thinks of how Reiner easily towers over both her and Armin. How, despite him being a bit of an asshole, he seems to be good with young kids. At least, if she’s gonna go by how much those two—Falco and Gabi—seem to like and look up to him. “She’d have no problem seeing over large crowds.”

“I know Hitch’s gonna spoil her rotten, if given the chance,” she grumbles, trying to convince herself it’s a bad thing, but maybe it won’t be. Maybe having a vaguely corrupt aunt would help her gain confidence and raise her voice when necessary, not taking anyone’s bullshit to heart.

“Mikasa will tell her plenty of stories,” Armin says and Annie hums in approval. She’d never known Mikasa to be of the talkative type, but if there was anyone she was going to trust her daughter to—other than Armin—it’ll definitely be Mikasa.

Annie taps her fingers repeatedly against his chest; counting. She’s going to be surrounded by so many people that love and cherish her. Although, if she catches on to Connie’s awful sense of humor, Annie might actually have to resort to capital punishment.

The world isn’t perfect, far from it, but they might be able to carve out a small space for her to live a good life. She’ll have everything: “She’ll have an amazing father who’ll kiss her goodnight after checking under her bed and closet for monsters.” 

Armin’s going to be there. At the very center of her world. He’s going to make sure she’s alright; she’s safe and sound and loved. His soft eyes and gentle hands fend away all nightmares and worrisome thoughts. Annie would be able to stand by the door, a little to the side, and watch little eyes skitter to him at the clap of thunder in the distance or a creaky floorboard in the attic, he’ll smile and reassure her every time, and she’s going to believe him.

“He’ll teach her everything about this world so she doesn’t fear it,” she says, almost in a dreamy haze, squeezing at his fingers for emphasis when she feels his breathing becoming airy, like he, too, isn’t entirely here in this very moment.

“She’ll also have the most wonderful mother,” Her fingers inadvertently twitch between his. “Who’ll take her on long walks and carry her back home when she’s tired.”

… of course, yeah! Annie will… also be there.

She won’t be a distant spectator to her and Armin. She’d also be there. She’d be her mother.

Annie nods with a small hum, though he can’t see it.

“I’ll tell her of how her mother loved and adored her before she even got here,” Armin says, almost singing out the words as they sound like honey dripping from his mouth. How come he always knows everything?

She slips one of her hands from his gentle grip, watching the motion intently as she meets her palm to her stomach. Beyond the initial inhale, Annie can’t breathe.

It no longer feels as painful, thinking about the possibility of growing a life inside her, now that she knows Armin’s going to be alongside her every step of the way. Those four days might’ve not been this torturous had she had his hand on her stomach, right next to hers; reading to her, kissing her, and leaning down to listen when there was nothing to yet hear.

Perhaps, it would be so easy to let affection swell in her chest when she finally gets to hold her in her arms, a small body that fits just right in the crooks of her elbows and a small head that’d find warmth and peace against her chest. Small eyes, as bright blue as Armin’s, would look up at her, hair a rich, golden yellow that’d beautifully reflect the rays of sunlight, a cute button nose that she’d kiss with every chance she gets.

Pause.

A child… can’t be an identical copy of their father. Annie’s going to be there, too. She’ll see bits of herself, maybe in pale blonde hair, a strong nose, or a-

No.

Absolutely not!

When people look at her—at her daughter—if they’re constantly reminded she’s Armin’s then… maybe they wouldn’t be as harsh. Perhaps, they’d be reminded that this little girl will smile and laugh a lot. That she’ll be curious and kind and gentle and-

And nothing like Annie. She-

“She’ll be good,” Annie says out loud once her lungs capture enough air to wheeze out her narrow throat.

“Annie?” His free hand beelines to the pillow still on his face, but Annie, in her rising panic, moves faster, pressing it down and keeping it on place with both hands.

“I’ll… do my best,” her voice is so small it’s unable to withstand the journey up her constricting airway, crumbling at the edges by the time it reaches the room’s ambient air. Her hands on the pillow begin to shake, arms growing weak, muscles that have long served as her source of pride now fail her. A couple of failed inhales, her vision becomes blurry she might as well be looking through a rain-soaked glass window. “She’ll be good, I promise.”

Maybe if, for once, fate is on their side—or just plain luck—they’d have a daughter that’s the spitting image of her father. One that’s bright and loud. One that’s courageous and adventurous and curious. One that’s easy to love.

In one fell swoop motion, the pillow is snatched from under her hands and then she can see him.

And Armin sees her.

Her arms retreat to herself, her shoulders almost snapping her collarbones as they attempt to fold inward. Tighter, tighter, tighter trying to constrict herself to a smaller space. Smaller things are harder to grab, but Annie knows that’s not true.

One glance confirms that he’s not looking away, eyes wide, deep blue hiding behind the stark black of enlarged pupils, as he begins to push himself up but Annie wants him to stop. She can’t—she shouldn’t—continue looking at him knowing what she’d do to his daughter. How he’d trust her to be the mother of his child when Annie might doom her to a wretched fate before she even took her very first breath.

“H-Hey…” he whispers, tentatively reaching a hand towards her, but Annie flinches away.

No, not yet! He needs- Armin needs to understand that she’s going to do her absolute best! That Annie won’t half-ass it, that she means it- “I promise.”

Armin shakes his head, left to right, right to left, slowly, eyes not leaving hers.

He doesn’t believe her.

Annie nods, arms dropping to wrap tightly around her stomach, where her own very first sin was going to manifest, but she needs him to believe her! To trust her! “Armin, I promise. She’ll be good.”

It gets frightening when she can no longer see him. Her vision growing fully blurry and distorted around the edges with tears. She won’t be able to tell whether he’s angry with her or not. She won’t be able to tell when it’ll finally dawn on him, that Annie isn’t making shit up, that she’s being serious in both her caution and her promise. She won’t be able to see the moment in his eyes when he agrees.

Her legs refuse to move, so do her arms, and Annie remains frozen when the shadow of his image approaches her, closer and closer until his face slips beyond her line of vision to the side and his arms wrap around her shoulders. She still quivers even when it makes her feel a little better, somewhat safer and she wishes—and hopes and prays and begs—he’d do the same with her daughter whenever she’s afraid, so she never has to cry or tremble alone. She can. She absolutely can, just- “She’ll be nothing like me.”

“Don’t say that,” his voice, raw and wounded and a shaky whisper in her ear and she wonders when it became like that. His arms circle her middle and support her back and Annie can’t breathe, relying instead on sobs that tear at her throat for whatever air she could get. “Annie, don’t say that.”

“I don’t- hic! I don’t want her to grow up thinking,” her voice seems to be breaking out of her chest in shattered cries and weeps, but she can barely hear herself over the sharp beating in her ears, over the blood deafening her and the turmoil fogging her very thoughts, “that she needs to be useful just for us to want and love her.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Yeah…, because she’ll be a good kid,” Annie breaks down sobbing against his shoulder, finally ripping her hands from her middle to wrap around him, instead, a plea for him not to leave her; not now and not when he eventually realizes she’d not what he wants. Pushing her front as flush as possible against his, maybe she’ll feel less lost and less terrified and less of everything if her heart can listen to his and mimic its rhythm, oh, so full of love and adoration. Maybe if he holds her hard enough, this will all go away and she wouldn’t have to worry about the world outside of these four walls if Armin’s here with her. If Armin’s here with them- “it’ll be easy for you to love her. She won’t-- She won’t deserve a life like ours!”

There’s a pause, where only one hand glides in repeating lines up and down her spine and she refuses to open her eyes to ask what it was that Armin whispered in a low response, mouth pressed against her shoulder as she continues to grieve.

[moralesispunk]

Kinktober Day Ten - Spanking // Agent Whiskey

Kinktober Masterlist / @the-purity-pen​

Warnings: female reader, daddy kink, dom/sub relationship, spanking, unprotected sex, praise, jealous/ over-protective Jack

Word Count: 1.8k

A/n: Jack two days in a row, aren’t we lucky

“You know Daddy doesn’t like it when you misbehave, baby.”

The room had been silent until Jack’s deep voice came and it made you jump; you had been waiting here in the quiet for so long and hadn’t even heard him walk into the room with your back turned from the door as you bent over the bed just like he had asked you to.

“I don’t know why you did that,” he mumbled. “You’re usually my good girl…”

“I’m sorry,” you whined into the comforter, wanting to turn and face him to gauge how upset he was but deciding that it was best to stay put as he had asked.

Jack tutted under his breath, the sound of his belt unbuckling following quickly after and the sound made your thighs clench together. You really wished you could turn around for a peek but instead you stayed focused on the dark wood headboard and the pale wall behind it, the rustic decorations that Jack had filled your New York apartment with for a taste of home.

“No use apologizing now. I gave you the chance to stop acting up but you didn’t. You know I don’t like brats, baby. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” you mumbled.

“Yes… what?”

Oh shit. His voice was sterner than you think you have ever heard it. He was pissed with a capital P.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s better,” he coos, his warm palm coming to rest on your hip and sliding up your back. “Hands behind your back.”

You did as he said, pressing your wrists together before he gathered them in one of his large palms and tightened his belt around your wrists. It wasn’t tight enough to dig into your skin, Jack slipping two fingers between the leather and your skin to make sure, but it was enough to hold you like this - completely at his mercy.

You hadn’t really meant to rile him up this much. Well, not completely.

Jack was right when he said you’re always good for him and that’s because it’s the way you both like it. He never usually had to go as far as punishing you, a good stern stare or hand at the bottom of your back was enough of a warning for you to put your best behavior on for him. 

He was a dom yes, but very rarely was he into the whole brat taming thing. Luckily on the night you decided to be a brat, when you needed his attention while he had been too busy to give it to you, Jack had decided he was going to give you the attention you needed with some punishment.

A gala for the Statesmen meant a dinner filled with agents and their partners and while usually Jack stuck to your side and showed you off to the rest of the guests, he had been pulled in for a two hour conversation with donors and had barely glanced your way. You had tried maybe half a dozen times to subtly get his attention but he had been so enamored in the conversation that you couldn’t be surprised when he didn’t turn to you.

It’s why you had ended up at the bar alone before one of the other agents came to take the seat next to you and started up a conversation. The conversation quickly turned into the younger agent, who obviously didn’t recognise you as Jack’s girl, trying his best flirting moves and instead of completely rejecting him you moved your chair so you were directly in Jack’s line of sight and leaned against the bar by the man, letting him buy you a drink.

And that was exactly how Jack had found you. 

You had caught his dark eyes across the room and he had raised an eyebrow at you; a questioning glare that would usually have you behaving but instead had you shuffling your stool closer to the agent and laughing louder at his not-so-funny joke. That was enough to have Jack standing up altogether, a mumbled apology to the donors before walking across the room and coming by your side with a hand on your arm that you subtly shook off - only enough for him and no-one else to notice.

You weren’t flirting with the agent but you were definitely letting him flirt with you and that had Jack stepping in, one comment from him having the other agent scurrying off as Jack’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“What do you think you’re doing over here, hm?”

You stood up from the chair and leveled Jack with a sharp glare, one that was met with confusion flashing through his eyes before he schooled his expression and glared back.

“At least someone was giving me attention,” you muttered and Jack’s hand wrapped around your upper arm as he leant down to whisper in your ear again.

“Get our coats. We’re leaving.”

The drive home had been silent and your confidence at being bratty was slowly giving way to nerves as you thought about what Jack was going to do. You couldn’t stop your knee from bouncing until Jack had the car parked in the underground garage and with a hand on the bottom of your back he guided you into the elevator and all the way to the top floor where he finally let his touch drop as you turned around to face him.

His hat was removed from the top of his head to be placed on the rack by the door before he shrugged his jacket off and your throat was going dry as he focused on slipping his cufflinks out the wrists of his shirt before rolling the white sleeves up his forearms.

“Go to the bedroom. Strip out of everything but those heels. Bend over the bed and wait for me.” His eyes still hadn’t looked up to yours and you found yourself frozen in place, only when he looked up and raised an eyebrow did you turn and rush to the master bedroom. 

You quickly slipped out of your dress and underwear and bent over the bed with your heels giving you enough height to rest comfortably with your hips on the edge and the top half of your body pressed against the comforter. You stayed like that for ten minutes, though it felt like ten hours, before Jack finally walked into the room.

“I think maybe you need to be reminded of what happens to bad girls, don’t you?”

His warm palm ran down your spine, resting on your right ass cheek as he waited for an answer, one that would let him know whether or not you wanted this. And for the first time in a while, you really, really wanted Jack to punish you.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“What do you think? Do you think you’ll remember how to behave if I give you ten?”

You nodded, the comforter wrinkling under your cheek, and you were surprised when he let you off with a wordless response. Jack instead bent over your body, the first sign that he was as naked as you were when his skin pressed against yours and you felt his hard cock press against your ass as he drawled quietly in your ear making you shiver.

“Count them for me.”

When he stood up the cool air of the room hit your body once more and your skin erupted in goosebumps. His hand was massaging your ass cheek and your whole body was tense as you waited for the sting of pain to come before he finally raised his hand and slapped it down against your ass, starting off not-too-harsh.

“One,” you gasped.

His hand came down quickly two more times and you counted them out, Jack staying silent behind you until the fourth one came slightly harder than the ones before it and you felt your skin heat under the sting of pain.

“Four!” Your body jumped up the bed before Jack gripped your hip and pulled you hard back against him.

“If you wanted my attention you should have just asked for it,” he ground out through gritted teeth, his hand coming down against your skin once more.

“Five!”

“Would you have preferred to go home with that other man? Do you think he would’a treated you better than I could?”

“No-”

You were cut off with another slap, even harder and you bit down on your bottom lip as tears sprung to your eyes. It felt so bad but so good. So good, in fact, that you had forgotten to count and his hand cracked against your skin harder again.

“I said…count,” he growled out and you gasped.

“S-seven.”

His hand rubbed over your heated skin, his hard cock grinding into your dripping folds as the head of his cock slipped inside and he held it there. His hand came down and you called out again.

“Fuck, can feel you clenching around me,” he groaned, his cock slipping in another few inches before he pulled back until just the tip was still in. “Do you think you can be good for me?”

He spanked you again.

“Eight! Yes!”

“And do you think you’ve learned your lesson?”

His hand slapped against you.

“Nine! Yes, I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Do you think you deserve my cock now?”

His hand came down against you a final time, your cheeks stinging and your hips rocking back to take more of his cock.

“Ten! Please, Daddy. Please, please, please-”

You cut off with a moan when he thrust all the way in until his hips were pressed against yours. A choked gasp was punched out of you as he withdrew his hips and thrust back in, his cock pressing against something deep inside you that made your mouth hang open as he continued to drill his cock into you.

You were both so on edge, you from the perfect balance of pain and pleasure Jack always managed to find with you and him from the sight of your body squirming beneath his touch, that it didn’t take long for you both to tumble over the edge; a wordless cry leaving your mouth as he groaned your name and bent his body over yours as he kissed the back of your neck and his fingers removed the belt from around your wrists.

You turned and met his mouth in a kiss over your shoulder, a throaty hum coming from Jack as his cock slipped out and he moved to lie on the bed, pulling you up and onto his chest. You knew that soon he would get up to clean you and apply some aloe to your burning cheeks but you were happy to stay like this for now with his arms wrapping around your body.

“Hmmm, I’m sorry for being bad,” you mumbled, kissing over his heart as he kissed your forehead.

“You’re never bad, angel. Just naughty,” he said and you laughed. “I know you’re my good girl.”

You lifted your head and looked into his eyes, his frown completely gone now and a soft expression on his face as he came to hold your cheek.

“I am? Your good girl?”

He lifted his head and pressed his lips softly to yours. “Always. You’re always my good girl.”

[assortedvillainvault]

Can I get more headcanons about the DV'Cule messing with the waiter? How often would they go back to the restaurant and would they insist that the reader serve every time?

Ehehehehehe Yeeeesssssss..!

So they're not going to come back as a whole group often, resturant owners to be kinda twitchy after the last incident and they all have busy schedules being evil and sexy and whatnot, but you definitely notice an uptick of villainous attendance when you're on shift.

ONLY when you're on shift.

Your Manager crumbles like a wet paper napkin when you confront him about it. He asks what else he was supposed to do other than hand your shift schedule over when villains come knocking???

Maybe not fucking do that becuase it's seven shades of illegal but hey here we are. You get a new phone and resolve to move apartments asap just in case he handed out anything more than your abhorrent working hours to nine of the worst villains in the 'Verse.

Maleficent and Ursula come for lunch semi regularly and have all but staked a claim on a booth in the back. You're semi sure one of them cursed it.

You have never fucking seen Facilier use the front door or come in through the lobby. You turn around sometimes and he's just there with a rackish smile and a drinks menu and you just have to go with the flow. You're getting pretty good at avoiding Shadow's attempts to trip you at least.

(On days where sunlight is particularly bright you'll 'lose' the curtain hooks closest to his table. Bokor and his shadow get antsy otherwise and appreciate the shade.)

Ooogie Boogie is Banned. Banned with a capital B becuase unleashing a swarm of cockroaches when you were too busy to serve him nearly caused a stampede. You will not hesitate to get the bug spray and/or a makeshift flamethrower if you see that hessian sack come within three feet of the building and you're damn lucky that the other villains find this hilarious enough to let it slide.

Hades is perhaps the sole member of the DV'Cule to utilise a 'take out' service. An order will materialise in a burst of blue fire, smack you in the forehead, and hover over your shoulder until you appear with the requested food. Said food will also burst into blue flames and teleport presumably to the underworld. Chances of a bill and/or tip appearing shortly thereafter are 50/50.

Hook is one of the only members you almost look forward to seeing. He's polite, appreciative of your efforts (provided everything goes smoothly) and tends to leave a tip more often than not. The rest of the staff have learned to fear your sign language for 'Rum' though.

Jafar will usually arrive with either Hook or Maleficent, and on these occasions you're beneath his notice enough that he's only mildly infuriating. When he's alone you've learned to yeet yourself across the resturant and serve him first, before he hypnotises another poor server into giving him free drinks. Will deliberately drive you mad for his own amusement, worst customer, creepy in all the wrong ways.

It's very rare that you will see the Headless Horseman or the Horned King. And when you do, they're almost always together. They're a quiet couple that prefer a back table and the Good Wine, and despite their affect on the ambient temperature (it's almost always cold near them) you find the dullahan and the King to be by far the easiest customers of the bunch. Just leave them to it and try not to drop their food. And don't be Larry, who cracked one too many jokes about skeleton anatomy and is still in the hospital for strangling

It's not so much that they demand you serve them every time, some get irriated that you don't scare as easily anymore and try for staff with less backbone, but the other staff aren't exactly being team players about serving them so you end up doing it anyway. Being good at your job feels like a punishment sometimes, eh?

Just wait until they start pulling you in for henchman wrangling and home service-! Haha jk, unless....

[jackdoe]

Beast Boy Headcanon/Vignette

He's going to outlive everyone.

Gar thinks its rather typical of his luck that he watches all his friends grow old and leave him. Dick goes peacefully in his sleep at the respectable age of 81. Vic manages to live for a good 112 years, but prosthetics can only push a lifespan so long, and ultimately he's human under all that metal. Star lives to the venerable age of 155. But Gar can always see it coming, he can tell his friends are slowing down for years hence, forgetting things. It's all part of life, a force he's intimately familiar with.

But Raven? Raven hurts.

They have a good run, not as long as some, but they make it work for 30 years, have a few kids and help shape the future of heroes. But when her time comes, Gar is inconsolable.

It's important to note that she never technically died, in truth she ascended, becoming a being of pure cosmic good. Overcoming her demonic heritage and trans-substantiating into a goddess of healing and light, but it hurts all the same, and Gar is never quite the same again. He sits and waits for his number to come up.

It never does.

He reaches his 100th birthday, than 150, than 211? Maybe. Gar stops keeping track after a while. He can tell he's getting older based on what he sees in the mirror, but it's slow. Whatever age he is, he looks middle aged at best. Just his luck, of course he'd be immortal to some degree, one last way for the universe to punish ol' Gar.

He decides to wander the world. It doesn't look anything like when he was a kid, old Nations that seemed indomitable have long since collapsed. New Nations now fight to be heard and bargain for their place in the world. Metropolis and Gotham decided to bite the bullet and become one city, after flirting for years they realize they're stronger together, and it becomes the new capital of Delmarva, one of those new Nations. It's actually nice now, if you can believe it.

Gar visits New York most often while he wanders, It was where he first met Raven, and it never ceases to amaze. That's where he first comes face to face with a Ravenist, a new (well New when he first meets them) Religious movement, that worships the "Bright Daughter" as they call her.

Gar can see the appeal. A story of redemption, a woman fated to be a destroyer instead turning from the dark to walk her own path and eventually, ascending to godliness? You could definitely make a religion out of that. It's just weird when you knew them personally.

He's maybe 600 now, give or take. Gar stays in contact with the Ravanists for decades, giving them first hand accounts of time before the Great Collapse, of the age of Superheroes. He leaves out his relationship with Raven, it would make things too complicated, and he's not comfortable with them potentially working him into their religious doctrine. He's just happy to know that Raven is remembered as a hero.

Then one day, he dreams of her, which is a regular occurrence for Gar, but this time it's different. This time it's really her, he can feel it. From then on, he can feel her just on the edges of his perception, a presents all around him and within him, pushing him to help and to find joy in the world. Maybe those Ravenists were on to something?

It's the 31st millennium, he's starting to show some real age now. His hair had long ago fallen out, but that's alright, Gar actually thinks he pulls off the bald look rather well. He has wandered the Earth for 1000 years now, giving wisdom and a helping hand where ever he goes. Most people don't really know him. They tell stories, of course, of the Green Man, a shape-shifter and trickster. He's become a bit of a legend of his own. But something pulls him away from the Earth, the home he's known all this time, up and away into the stars. To a planet far away from Sol, a deserted world, parched and lifeless.

Gar doesn't question it, Raven works in mysterious ways, and she's always nudged him in the right direction. He can feel himself slowing down, forgetting things, it feels like this might be his last journey. He's not sure if he'll ever come back to Earth.

One last time, he walks around the globe and says good by to the place where they met.

After 1115 years, Garfield Logan dies. Although it's important to note that he doesn't technically die. Upon the crack soil of a deserted planet, Gar meditates and reaches enlightenment. And one last time, he changes shape, letting go of his consciousness and disseminating his form across an entire world.

There, hanging in a distant corner of space is an entirely green planet. Now full of new life. An oddity to the rest of Known Space, as the planet has no plant life to speak of, no fungus or molds, but an entire ecosystem of animals. All in various shades of green from chartreuse to sage. A fully working environment, each life form living and breathing and growing in sync. a wild world.

One last trick.

The sun rises on an alien beach, the new day buzzing with life and possibility. In the rays of light one might think they see two figures walking along, hand in hand, leaving no foot prints behind in the gray sands. One a vibrant purple and the other and dark green. As the sun rises the figures disappear from view, perhaps they are a trick of the light?

Light blankets the new world, watched over and tended by two spirits of life, Planet Rae.

[mollywog]

Career Training

So in the world of The Hunger Game books, Career training really isn’t explored in much detail. We know it happens and typically in Districts 1, 2, and 4 to some extent. So I was thinking of an alternate to the commonly held Fanon and would like to posit a new idea…

No Career Academies. Instead

Some wealthy families pay for personal trainers to work with their children individually or in a small group. Trainers may even be past Victors.

Capital sponsored scouts tour the districts or attend the annual Combine (see below) to select children to train at the sponsor’s expense in hopes of finding the next Victor.

Once a year, before the reaping, there’s a scouting combine type event. It’s open to anyone, but obviously those with trainers are at an advantage.

The ‘Potentials’ run a series of events that are timed and scored. A panel of judges makes the ultimate decision on who will be this year’s Volunteers.

Younger kids come in hopes of catching the eye of a Capital Sponsored recruiter to train them for future games.

If you are 18 and not the chosen Volunteer, there are also reps there scouting Peacekeeping recruits. Recruits from the Combine are put on a ‘management’ type track vs District citizens who voluntarily sign on to be Peacekeepers (because there is definitely a hierarchy within the system.)

The Capital wants a good show and this ensures they’ll at least have a handful of skilled fighters to keep the Games entertaining.

What we know from the books

How Volunteering works

There’s some confusion on the stage. District 12 hasn’t had a volunteer in decades and the protocol has become rusty. The rule is that once a tribute’s name has been pulled from the ball, another eligible boy, if a boy’s name has been read, or girl, if a girl’s name has been read, can step forward to take his or her place. In some districts, in which winning the reaping is such a great honor, people are eager to risk their lives, the volunteering is complicated. But in District 12, where the word tribute is pretty much synonymous with the word corpse, volunteers are all but extinct.

Introduction to the idea of Careers

The exceptions are the kids from the wealthier districts, the volunteers, the ones who have been fed and trained throughout their lives for this moment. The tributes from 1, 2, and 4 traditionally have this look about them. It’s technically against the rules to train tributes before they reach the Capitol but it happens every year. In District 12, we call them the Career Tributes, or just the Careers. And like as not, the winner will be one of them.

District 12’s version of Training like Careers

Every morning we do exercises to strengthen our bodies. We run and lift things and stretch our muscles. Every afternoon we work on combat skills, throwing knives, fighting hand to hand; I even teach them to climb trees. Officially, tributes aren’t supposed to train, but no one tries to stop us. Even in regular years, the tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 show up able to wield spears and swords. This is nothing by comparison.

Some Peacekeepers come from District 2

“You mean . . . some of the Peacekeepers are born in Two?” I ask. “I thought they all came from the Capitol.”

Plutarch nods. “That’s what you’re supposed to think. And some do come from the Capitol. But its population could never sustain a force that size. Then there’s the problem of recruiting Capitol-raised citizens for a dull life of deprivation in the districts. A twenty-year commitment to the Peacekeepers, no marriage, no children allowed. Some buy into it for the honor of the thing, others take it on as an alternative to punishment. For instance, join the Peacekeepers and your debts are forgiven. Many people are swamped in debt in the Capitol, but not all of them are fit for military duty. So District Two is where we turn for additional troops. It’s a way for their people to escape poverty and a life in the quarries. They’re raised with a warrior mind-set. You’ve seen how eager their children are to volunteer to be tributes.”

District 12 at a disadvantage because of their

Despite her annoyance at Wiress, Johanna’s as happy as I’ve seen her in the arena. While I’m adding to my stock of arrows, she pokes around until she comes up with a pair of lethal-looking axes. It seems an odd choice until I see her throw one with such force it sticks in the sun-softened gold of the Cornucopia. Of course. Johanna Mason. District 7. Lumber. I bet she’s been tossing around axes since she could toddle. It’s like Finnick with his trident. Or Beetee with his wire. Rue with her knowledge of plants. I realize it’s just another disadvantage the District 12 tributes have faced over the years. We don’t go down in the mines until we’re eighteen. It looks like most of the other tributes learn something about their trades early on. There are things you do in a mine that could come in handy in the Games. Wielding a pick. Blowing things up. Give you an edge. The way my hunting did. But we learn them too late.

[meekmedea]

Medea/Grant - Hunger Games AU

With the ballad of songbirds and snakes coming out, I'm literally obsessed with the hunger games again

So...like a story prompt came to mind, and I couldn't not write it out here. No clue if I'd ever fully make it into a story tho

Ok, in this the 2 come from the same district, I'm thinking a career district - maybe District 2? Since they are in charge of training a lot of the peacekeepers there.

Grant is the son of a previous victor (Slade) and he's kind of into the idea of following in his father's footsteps. So much so he wants to volunteer.

Despite being a victor, Slade doesn't really want his children to follow his footsteps. And Slade being Slade - he isn't a great communicator. This translates to things like "You're better off as a peacekeeper" when he really means, "I don't want to see you die."

The career districts have their academies to train these kids, and let's say they start at 12 years old. So of course, this kid is gonna sign up. Even if Grant didn't want to, people in the district/capitol would pull strings to get him there - because who doesn't want to see a victor's kid compete?

Slade pretty much has no way of not letting Grant be in the academy. And he's so harsh on Grant in the academy because he doesn't want his son to excel - not if it means they'd probably groom him into being a volunteer at the age of 18

Medea - I see her family not being as well off. Willis is dead in this AU lol, but Catherine is alive (at least for a little longer)

I think same with Grant, the capital/district glorifying being a victor is definitely there, but there's the added layer that Medea thinks if she becomes a victor - then Catherine and her don't have to struggle to make ends meet.

Catherine is a little frightened of the idea, because she doesn't want to see her daughter die. "No, darling. Promise me, you won't ever volunteer."

I don't see Catherine being a peacekeeper or anything similar. Maybe working in a bakery? But yeah, she isn't the epitome of health.

These 2 probably meet as children (in school - prior to their academy days)

Though the 2 are different ages (Grant being a year older), they become fast friends when they are forced to run laps or something as punishment - Grant, for beating someone up who made fun of Joey; Medea, standing up against a bully.

It's literally love friendship at first sight - they get in their fair share of trouble/mischief (fights) together - maybe Grant more so than Medea.

Their families do interact to an extent with one another but not by much. TBH Catherine/Slade/Adeline probably all have to interact when Grant & Medea get in trouble.

Fast forward to their academy days

Grant enters first- after all he's a year older.

Catherine is still struggling to make ends meet, but refuses for Medea to drop out for school to help. Secretly, Medea wants to take out the tessera to help (which she'd be viable for at the age of 12), but Catherine dies before then.

Medea's devastated and there's little options for an 11 year old to go to. She ends up at the academy like Grant (she's sort of recruited into it too, because if they had their eye on Grant, they probs had an eye on his friends as well) - and hey maybe they provide dorms + food for kids that aren't as well off. Because they don't want any of their trainees to be at a disadvantage, and everything makes a difference when you're sending out kids to compete in the games.

they go through the years, at the top of their classes and they're both 'potential' tributes when they graduate.

It's pretty much determined by the teachers that Grant will go when he's 18, and Medea the following year when she's 18. This way the academy doesn't have to waste their talent.

Then everything goes horribly wrong

It's the year Grant and another girl are chosen to volunteer (in the case their names aren't picked out) - traditions says the female tribute gets picked first. And what do you know? It's Medea :) The girl who should volunteer chickens out.

My HC is that if you don't volunteer (esp when you've been selected as that year's tributes by the academy) - there's definitely some shaming. And while Grant would definitely volunteer, he gets selected anyways.

Slade is more or less made to be their mentor for that year (even if the capitol didn't insist, he probably would have demanded the position). It's still a living nightmare for him though. One he's been dreading since Grant was 12.

This is getting a little long, so I think I'll make a part two.

[k1d1c4rus]

sweet user @cryptophasiac tagged me in the writing patterns tag

rules: list the first lines(s) of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern.

1) All things considered, the studio’s a lot classier than he expected.

2) Patrick plays shows so he can make records. That's how this works.

3) In someone’s defence, though definitely not your own, it was your idea.

4) They get into Berlin gone one in the morning. The plane has to circle round for a while, cause there’s snow already on the ground, and Pete tries not to fall asleep as they hover.

5) Poison likes to punish himself and honestly, it would be capital R Romantic, if it wasn't so fucking exhausting.

6) Poison’s been fucking on one all day. Ghoul can’t describe it any better than that.

7) The thing about werewolves, Gerard has found, is that they’re stubbornly, deliberately irrational. Also, that the lead up to the full moon is a bitch.

8) It’s not that Patrick’s easy.

9) Gerard comes to him, as he does on most occasions, in the middle of the night. It’s unsurprising, all things considered.

10) Poison's been in the bathroom for nearly an hour and, much as Ghoul appreciates his thorough, if unusual, attention to cleanliness, he's starting to get a little worried.

this is a hilarious tag for right now bc every time I skim cboyz i get self conscious abt how much i love a short snappy little hook sentence for an opening line lmao. i guess other observations are that I love to open with Names. i love to tell u a Statement about a Character which i think pretty neatly sums up that i rlly do love Characterisation, its pretty much the most important thing in my fic and something i rlly like to challenge myself on. also the other thing i discovered is i only have 11 bandom fics posted on ao3 ?!??!?! which is a little crazy to me considering the volume of my drafts 🫣 I gotta pull my head out of my ass and get posting.........

tagging anyone who fancies it sorry I'm such a tag game killer but !!! go for it !!

[being-of-rain]

A torrent of random thoughts from my Classic Who watch, this time the first half of season 20.

I don’t know what fandom wisdom says abut Arc of Infinity (fandom wisdom isn’t something I give a lot of credit to anyway), but I’m not really a bit fan. The story structure is so weird, having a plot going on in Amsterdam and the Gallifreyan Capitol that don’t converge apart from the odd phone call until the final part. That said, the scene were the attack on the Tardis is intercut with the boys sleeping uneasily in a crypt was delightfully gothic. But apart from the production team once again taking as many opportunities as possible to show off their overseas location filming, most of the story was some rather dull Gallifreyan politics. It definitely felt like the Doctor should’ve ended up on Earth sooner. Nyssa almost feels like a new character with all the focus she’s forced to get when she’s the Doctor’s only companion. I don’t think she was written or acted as emotionally before she is when the Doctor is in danger on Gallifrey. Plus, it was cool to see her go on a killing spree (or stunning spree, whatever), which is a visual which sticks out in my mind when I think about this story. It’s cool to see Tegan investigating things on her own too, and cute to see the two companions happy to meet up at the end, even if the Doctor is hilariously but obviously annoyed at her rejoining them. That adds to my theory that he kinda left Tegan behind on purpose last story, an action that for some reason goes unaddressed and unexplained, but honestly it was probably good for Tegan to get some time to grieve Adric without the Doctor forcing her to repress everything. Do I just not like the Fifth Doctor? No, I think I just don’t like it when main characters have flaws that go so blatantly ignored. It’s nice to get a Leela reference and a Romana reference! I know the Doctor must have friends on Gallifrey, but it feels weird that Damon and Hedin are treated almost like characters we should know. Maybe it feels particularly weird because the story goes so unnecessarily hard on the ‘good guys are actually the bad guys’ fake-out. Also, some truly weird and unbelievable statistics are pulled out about the Time Lords. I know it feels extra weird now with all the EU content out there, but even for just the show thus far they felt silly. A Tardis recall circuit has apparently only been used twice before in Time Lord history. A Time Lord has only been destroyed (legally executed, presumably?) once before. And Borusa says “You know that capital punishment has long been abolished here in Gallifrey.” Didn’t the Doctor literally get put on death row previously in The Deadly Assassin?? Any other random points? Well, I don’t like to nitpick- no that’s not true, everyone likes to nitpick. I don’t like to let nickpicking ruin my enjoyment, but if a story brings up so many small points that it doesn’t satisfactorily answer, it starts to weigh it down. What exactly is the Ergon? How does the Doctor know about it and its name? What does the Ergon’s gun do to Tegan- teleport her dramatically? If so, why doesn’t it do the same to the Ergon later? The Ergon in general just looked funny enough to kind of ruin the aesthetic of the crypt scenes, sorry, which is a shame because the crypt aesthetic was one of the only things the story had going for it for me. I don’t know where ‘the spacetime element’ is an interesting or bad name for a piece of the Tardis console. Similarly, I don’t know whether I like the title Arc of Infinity- it’s a good title, but the arc is something that isn’t explained very well and doesn’t really have a large part in the story. Is there a little cafe on a walkway of the Capitol? Fun. And everyone talks about “No not the mind probe,” but nobody talks about the even flatter delivery of “Impulse laser?” near the start of this story from a guy who is about to be shot by an impulse laser. Finally, Omega himself looks great when he takes off his mask- gotta love Peter Davison in a black turtleneck. But things take such a turn in the last 10 minutes of the story. Omega has a quick scene where he simply enjoys some organ music and the view of a canal. It adds such a (sudden) tragic element to him, of a man who just wants to live in the real world again. Which is amplified when his final scene is played (again suddenly) extremely gritty, with the Doctor having to shoot him and cause his apparently agonising death. The last-minute tone shift is even more jarring when the show feels like it immediately chickens out on it, with the Doctor almost immediately after saying Omega might not be dead then ending the episode on a light-hearted note. I don’t often criticise the genius of author Nev Fountain, but I can’t help but feel he missed some obvious hooks there in his sequel audio Omega, in which Omega suddenly wants to return to his antimatter universe and leave the real one behind.

Snakedance! I think it’s not quite as good as Kinda, but it’s still really good! The way it creates a very believable and relatable world is so neat (maybe helped by my own interest in archaeology and ancient history studies which is represented in this). There’s always very realistic dialogue and acting. The plot is a little slower and more meandering than Kinda, and it’s a shame Tegan isn’t in it more (a downside Kinda shared). I don’t really have as much to say about the themes of this one like I did with the previous Mara story, though I’m sure they’re there. I’m left with just things to list off that I liked about the story. Part one has another fantastic cliffhanger, made better by the Fifth Doctor theme tune. Some of the Mara moments are genuinely unnerving, like Lon talking with Tegan’s voice. Lon is a great character, and I wish he was in more of it without being possessed tbh. But I did like how sometimes the Mara possessed people, and sometimes it likes to play on the temptations of people in order to manipulate them. I also liked the creepy moment that the carnival man is standing still in the dark cave to surprise someone, with the added irony that that’s what he suggested Tegan do at his hall of mirrors earlier. There’s a lot of altered states in this one; dreams, the sound machine, the snake poison, possession. And the use of sound could be very striking. The cutting between the noise of the ceremony and the calm of the Doctor meditating with Dojjen is very striking. And the same things with the fucking killer ending which goes from the intensity of the Mara trying to manifest to the silent horror of everyone recovering from it, followed by the end credits screaming in before you barely get a moment to process it all. I’m still not sure if I love it or not, but it sure as heck leaves an impression.

I spent ages looking for Mawdryn Undead and Terminus without the optional CGI special effects that were included on the DVD, because for some reason they’re hard to find online. I don’t know why people would prefer those versions: to me the old practical methods and less sophisticated special effects are not only part of the charm, but part of the original production and storytelling. It’s the same reason I enjoy the original versions of the Star Wars films rather than the many re-edits. Not so much because I’m a purist (at least I hope not), but because I like watching these things as products of their historical times as well as for their stories. Besides, the added CGI effects can often break my suspension of disbelief more than bad practical effects (even if it’s good CGI, which is not guaranteed) because it simply doesn’t look like it fits with the rest of the show. Also, literally who would want to watch Mawdryn Undead without the eye-wateringly horrendous original ‘80s training video effect behind Turlough and the Black Guardian when they make their dark deal. The new effect is the most boring thing ever and actually looks halfway good. Get that shit outtahere.

ANYWAY. Mawdryn Undead is a story of many different tones for me. This bit will mostly be me listing off random things in the story in roughly chronological order. The first episode almost felt like it could be a pantomime, though that’s probably mostly because of the Black Guardian in all his crow-headed glory, and the sometimes hysterical background music. If you haven’t watched the scene in the first few minutes when Turlough steals and then crashes the Brigadier’s car, please god look it up. Bloody iconic. It’s hilarious watching how quickly and thoroughly Turlough throws Hippo under the bus for stealing the car, but very satisfying for me personally who wants more deeply flawed and antagonistic companions. Also, my longest-running DnD character is called Hippo, so hearing the name bandied about felt so weird jsldkfj. It was kind of surprising how rude the Brig could be to students, but maybe that’s just what you’d expect to hear at a British public school. Considering how the Black Guardian pretended to have pure intentions, it was also kind of surprising to hear him shout “In the name of all that is evil!” at the end of the episode, but again maybe that’s just what you’d expect to hear at a British public school. I started vibing with the story way more than I expected when it became the Brigadier recounting to the Doctor the events of 6 years ago, which was when the Doctor’s present companions met him, and for the audience both plots were unwinding simultaneously. I love that kind of plotting in a time travel story. Makes it extremely satisfying to follow when the plots effect each other and weave together (eg when the Brigadier says he remembers the Tardis leaving without him, when actually his past self didn’t see that happen until part four). I also liked how the Doctor figures out something’s up with Turlough very quickly and takes a moment to show that he disapproves, but still keeps him around anyway. I imagine it’s a mix of wanting Turlough where he can see him, and wanting to help him. Speaking of what Turlough has going on, is it just me who thought it wasn’t made very clear that he’s an alien in his first story? There’s maybe a few lines that suggest it, and it was obviously the plan from the beginning since the following stories reference it, but honestly if I went into this not knowing he was an alien I’m not sure I would’ve figured it out by the end of this one. Why would Tegan and Nyssa assume that the burnt figure they find is the Doctor? It’s a kinda fun mistaken identity plot that adds to the many moving parts of this story, but obviously the burnt figure was imagined to be a lot harder to identify in the script. But I don’t mind too much when it’s followed up by Tegan’s healthy scepticism in the face of Nyssa’s panicked belief, and the Brigadier’s hesitant attempts to keep both sides happy. Tegan’s honestly very on point in this story. Watching through her episodes make me feel like she gets flanderised a bit in the audios as an argumentative woman who can’t follow a sci-fi plot. As time goes on, she’s shown a lot to be an extremely competent companion in the face of the Doctor’s adventures: see also Earthshock. The backhalf of the story gets a bit bogged down with everyone wandering around Mawdryn’s spaceship. Makes me feel like this would’ve been a very tight three-parter. But it is hilarious that there’s like half a dozen different factions with their own goals, and literally all of them want the past Brigadier to leave. So he spends ages getting shuffled round and out of the way, but he still ends up doing exactly what nobody wanted him to do at the end. The brigadiers creating their own temporal energy is a clever way to end the plot, but the fact that they coincidentally do it at the exact microsecond they needed to feels a bit too contrived. It feels like this could’ve been one of the best plots in Classic Who with just a few tweaks. Finally, the moral dilemma in this story is very interesting, but the Doctor’s response to it is even more so. It’s never brought up that killing Mawdryn’s crew is what he objects to, only that he doesn’t want to sacrifice his own future regenerations. He repeatedly objects to that aspect, and specifically phrases it as the end of him as a Time Lord. Could you say something about the Doctor preaching against the superiority of his people but then hesitating to give up their benefits? Maybe link it to this Doctor’s rather old world British aesthetic? I’m sure there’s other ways you could look at this situation too, since it’s such a complex moral issue.

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

(Note: All of these asks are before episode 206 (Season 2 finale) so some may be dated.) 1. lmao the episodes right before the mid season finale look way better than the current ones despite time off. how is that even possible.

2. nah but its funny rachel was like wait i cant have him send demeter's a baby shower gift and cut minthe off financially thatll make him look bad! but instead adding him being AWARE shes 19 and still chasing after her "tiny pink body" and "ass shaped like an upside down heart" and having him brag about owning countless slaves makes him look better? the logic is flawless here /sarcasm

3. I mean even beyond the fact the citizens dont like him nor do the old underworld gods, how does rachel expect us to buy hades causing economical collapse in ALL the realms and causing shit with the other kings over ONE PERSON HE KNEW A MONTH doesn't make him look like an thin-skinned, oppressive dictator? why should anyone support this? he's raging out like trump when he lost the 2020 election. just because rachel keeps insisting hes in the right doesnt actually mean he is.

4. Fp- is the joke with the fur supposed to be funny? Cause it wasn't. It just shows 1 AGAIN(after buying stuff while complaining about capitalism) that Perse is a hypocrite, she knows it & doesn't care 2 Hades doesn't really care about animals beside his dogs, it's just adding to him being horrible person. If the fur was artificial she wouldn't feel bad about wearing it & it would be mentioned. Also feelings since 4th day? Creepy. Definitely that girl understands you the most after 4 days...

5. how could olympus and the underworld turn into a shitshow after persephone left? literally tho, she should have been a nobody. all the citizens should only know is that 1) hades ripped a guys eye out for her and 2) she killed humans and didn't report it to zeus. if anything, the citizens should've believed persephone deserved to be punished, and that hades is an immature manchild for what he pulled in the court,,,

6. Why doesn’t Cerberus have three heads. I’m sure this has been asked before but how you gonna write Cerberus without three heads—the one defining trait this dog has. Where are the other heads. Where are they

7. this is such a minor thing but WHY ARE NONE OF THE EYES IN LO LINED UP PROPERLY. I have a lazy eye and if I don't focus on it long enough it can go out of focus/look elsewhere, but I don't think that's what happening?? Why are their eyes always looking in different directions 😭

8. what I don't think Rachel gets this, but having Persephone and Hades cling to someone they barely know from a decade+ ago shows a huge lack of mental and emotional maturity on their ends. I realize it's a bit more complicated because we do know they end up together, but that's why placing it before they even start dating is just a bad idea. This isnt a case of lovers/spouses longing to see each other again, it's two grown adults with the emotional maturity of 15 year olds.

9. Rachel don't draw women with heart shaped faces, hourglass bodies, and huge eyes challenge (impossible for her specifically difficulty)

10. why would hebe even want to be like her mom anyway? hera was emotionally and mentally neglectful of her, abandoned her so zeus presumably raised her himself, and hera is a hypocritical, racist jerk who cheats on her husband, is misogynistic to other women, openly married zeus for power, told others about persephone's assault without her consent, mistreats her own "friend", and abuses her power of everyone else. rachel really wants us to buy she's a ~complicated woman~ over just being an asshole.