#being the one owned/dominated by her... except here it's a young man instead of a woman. shunsuke (the old writer) plans to use yuichi

[leatherbookmark]

okay, it seems reading from the “oh dear all those people are so fucked up” angle paid off, i’m barely 41 pages in (vs the book’s 428, that’s Nothing) but look at this quote (pgs 39, 41-42):

It happened that there was a black mirror stand opposite Yuichi. The round mirror had been knocked askew by the robe of someone walking past it, but there on its back, as it were, it reflected full in the face of Yuichi. While they talked, Yuichi felt as if his own face stared at him from time to time.

(...) All the while Yuichi was taken with the face of the beautiful youth that stared at him out of the mirror in the lamplight. The deep, mournful eyes under the intelligent brows stared fixedly in hsi direction.

Yuichi Minami tasted the mystery of that beauty. The face he had always known, filled with the energy of youth, carved with the depth of masculinity, bearing the unhappy bronze substance of youth -- it was his own. Until now Yuichi had felt only loathing in his consciousness of his own beauty. The beauty of the boys he loved, on the other hand, filled him with longing. As men in general do, Yuichi forbade himself ever to believe that he was beautiful. But the fervent praise of this old man before him now rang in his ears; and that artistic poison, the powerful poison of his words, loosened those inhibitions that had persisted so long. He now permitted himself to believe that he himself was beautiful. Now for the first time Yuichi saw himself in all his beauty. Within that little round mirror appeared the face of a surprisingly beautiful youth he had never seen before. The manly lips exposed a row of white teeth that involuntarily broke into a smile.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Shackles of Love ||

Summary: Your husband Pete reads the epilogue of the book you're on and there's only one way to keep him from spoiling it for you now… 

Pairing: Dark Husband!Pete Brenner | Naive Wife!You.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Pete Brenner. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Soft-dark!Pete Brenner, non-con/dub-con elements, boob play, humping, stockholm syndrome, age-gap, m!dom, f!sub, power imbalance, housewife kink, misogyny, bondage/chaining, brainwashing, choking, teeny bit of overstimulation. 

Note: I contemplated whether to make this dark or not but then said what the hell?! Shorter than usual (I think) because it's been a hot minute.

MASTERLIST

"Aw, thank you, baby." Pete flashed you the million dollar smile that had charmed you so much the first time you saw it that it had directly led to this very moment. 

"Honey~" you sweetly called out to your loving husband in that one tone he adored so much that he preferred you spoke to him in it all the time. "Here~" you held out the mini tray containing a chilled beer and loaded sandwich for him to snack on while he watched some old movie that you were frankly too young to know anything about.

You smiled and turned on your heels to place yourself next to him on the couch that faced the tv, feeling a tiny butterfly flutter in the base of your tummy due to how he patted the spot beside him for you to sit in that dominant way of his. The man could literally so much as breathe and have your whole stomach flip. He had you whipped. 

Not much interested in the rather vintage movie, you turned to your book that you had bookmarked before leaving to make your husband a sandwich because he liked a snack or two with his movies. Your fingers hurriedly turned the pages as you found your chapter, bottom lip moving itself between your teeth in excitement. You had been perfectly engrossed in a particularly thrilling part where a plot twist was unfolding when your husband had ordered- no, requested his craving. 

Why would Pete ever order you outside the bedroom? Pfft, no way. He was a very giving and kind husband who would never disrespect you!

Yes, maybe sometimes he was just a little mean during punishments but it was never not duly deserved. 

It wasn't unfair. Not by a long shot. Pete worked hard for the both of you and your future family throughout the week so you could stay at home in pretty dresses and do whatever you pleased. Your only jobs were to cook, clean and take care of his husbandly needs. 

And that was all!

You weren't the one who had to go out into the scary outside world and deal with all those dangerous people that lurked past the protective doors of your house! Honestly, if it weren't for Pete being such a supportive and devoted husband, you didn't know where you would be right now.  

You would be cold, alone and miserable with no one to protect you. His words from training time faintly rang in your ears.

Pete was right. 

He always was. 

Your love was the only one who meant you no harm and could keep you safe. 

Everyone else had already failed you or eventually would. Even your parents. Because seriously, what guardian is so careless as to take their child to baseball games where the ball could crack your skull open anytime! Honestly, how careless could your father be! Your mother was no different because, what kind of a woman encourages her daughter to have a career instead of teaching her the much needed and important domestic skills so she could keep her future family happy and healthy! Making you risk your precious life by letting you persue a career in law out of all! 

If this wasn't the prime example of the fact that no one except for Pete truly cared about your comfort and safety, you didn't know what was. 

Yes, so what if he had roofied your drink in the bar before taking you to your real home with him? He had only meant well! You had been far too headstrong and stupid a girl back then to know proper manners for someone your gender. But Pete had been very kind. Though you had fought relentlessly in the beginning and attempted to escape the premises of this house that was nothing but love and care, he forgave you for everything! 

How much more wonderful could this man get?! 

Your husband had smiled at every insult, laughed at every injury you had inflicted on his skin and heart, kissed away every tear you had so foolishly shed. 

And then he had taught you proper wife etiquette. 

Honestly, no one had ever bothered to put up with you that much. 

"Honey?" Pete called out to you in a semi-distracted tone, blue eyes still trained on the tv as you stared at the pages in front of you with wide eyes as a realization washed over you. But before you could communicate your thoughts like you had been taught to do so, your husband continued. You hummed for him to go on, mind still stuck on the page. "Want to know something real funny?" 

Obedience had been woven into every fiber of your existence. So you turned your head to look at him with curious eyes after making a mental note to tell him what you had realized just now later. Because Pete always came first. So you had to await your turn.

"Funny?" You tilted your head to the side, one arm looping around his arm as you perched your chin on his shoulder. "Sure, dear! I like funny…" Your nose crinkled a little as you smiled in the way he had taught you. 

A devious smile spread over your husband's lips. "I read the epilogue while you were in the kitchen" it took you a few moments to realize what he was hinting at. He had done it before and the way he finally turned his head to look at you with mischief dancing in his ocean blue eyes, placing the now empty tray on the table in front of the couch, you knew he was about to do it again. 

"No! You didn't!" You squealed as he laughed in the comic typical evil way, tackling you until your back was flat against the couch. "No! Please, honey! No!" You helplessly whined as you shook your head violently, tossing the book open and hurrying through the words. "I am almost at the epilogue! You cannot do this to me!" 

"That's just a shame, isn't it?" The protestant kicking of your feet that rested on his back now caused a clinking sound in the air due to the thick iron cuff enclasped around one of your ankles.

"Noooo! Pleeeeease!" You pouted as his goatee gently pricked your fingertips that were pressing against his mouth in a desperate attempt to quieten him. "Honey, please! I've been a good girl!" That was the reason why you had maintained your reading privileges for three straight weeks at this point. "You're being cruel for no reason!" 

"Aw. Don't you remember?" Prying your fingers off his mouth was no challenge to the older man. "Husbands can do whatever they want whenever they want…" You whined loudly as you ignored the tingle in your nether regions that his dark tone had caused, flipping the page and hurrying through the words, holding the book between your faces. "Okay, soooo… what happens is–"

"Ohmygosh you're so meeeean!" Now your free hand desperately darted to your own body before you fished out one of your boobs from the neckline of your dress. A whimper escaped from your lips when you reached for Pete's nape next before arching your back to further close the gap between your bodies. The action clasped the space of your husband's mouth shut as he hummed against your tender flesh now. 

Pete had this rather mean way (that you didn't actually mind) of torturing you when you were reading sometimes. He would sneakily read from a section way ahead of where you were and then tease you with spoilers until you shoved his mouth with one of your private parts. 

You faintly recalled being heavily opposed to it at one point.

But there was no other way to stop him when he was at this. 

And that was alright because he was your husband who loved you and loved him.

… Right?

"Hmmm~" you softly moaned in the way he liked. His clothed dick instantly stiffened under your pussy like it always did; a confirmation that you had done the right thing. Your hips that were not as securely clad as your husband's began to slowly piston against his crotch, the dress being the only cover for your bottom since you weren't allowed underwear inside the house. Pete liked you accessible 24/7. So he could bend you whenever he pleased over any surface with no hassle. 

It was the least you could do after all that he did for you. 

Your legs tightened around Pete's waist as did his arms around yours. It was crazy to you how easy it was for him to handle your body however he desired since he physically looked more on the lean side. But his strength was no joke, you were nothing but a doll between his fingers.

And the reminder always made your wifey parts quiver. 

"Hmmm… my perfect wife~" Pete's husky grunt caused your holes to clench around empty air as he latched onto your other boob that you had pushed out next. "Such a good slut… knows exactly what I like…" Your brows were furrowed and hands shaky, breaths hitting the paper that you struggled to both hold and read without dropping it on your face. "It's almost as if-" a loud sucking noise erupted in the air when he forcefully pulled his mouth away from your hardened nub, the feeling causing your back to arch as your hips increased their pace. "-As if you were only born so you could be my good little wife, huh baby?" His slightly rough hands were manly and strong against the soft skin of your chest, lips and teeth grazing against your sensitive skin while the goatee caused the tickles that never failed to tip you over the edge. 

"B- Because I was, hubby!" You whimpered submissively as you failed all your attempts to make sense of the words in front of you. Pete had already told you why this was and he was right. 

You were far too simple minded to multitask. 

"What was that?" As his hips started to work against yours, the soft burn of the expensive fabric of your dress rubbing against your throbbing and leaking pussy caused tiny droplets of sweat to form on your temples. The book fell from your hands and on the ground besides the couch at last. 

"I- I was only born s- so I could be your good little wife, hubby!" You cried out as you attempted to sink your nails in his shoulders but your husband beat you to it. 

"That's fuckin' right…" Pete's breaths were heavy as he reached for the chain that connected to your ankle cuff and pulled it upwards. It was locked around a sturdy hook hidden under the living room couch on the other end. Long enough to allow you to move around the house to perform your wifely tasks but not an inch longer to entertain any funny or rebellious– dangerous attempts that could be made while he was out earning your bread and butter. Only Pete had the key that could unlock it. 

You whined loudly when he deprived you from touching him while exposing your aching core in an even more intimate position at the same time by snaking the chain around your wrists and holding both your hands as well as your shackled ankle above your head. 

The new position further distanced your pussy lips as you rubbed your swollen flesh against the soft material of his trousers now, your dress a wrinkled mess in the middle of your body. 

"Mmm… I need you so bad, hubby…" You whispered out, throat dry and face twisted in need and want. "Please…" 

"Do you deserve it, huh baby?" Now he laid out some of the cold chain against your throat with his free hand, lips parted and eyes dark. "Have you been a good wife for me?" 

You vigorously nodded, clenching around air once more as your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he applied pressure to the makeshift leash against your windpipe, the loss of air and realization of the imbalance of power causing you to pant and hump the man harder. 

Pete could do to you literally anything that he desired and you would happily let him just to please him. 

That was your only priority after all; your real duty.

"You're gonna have to use your words, honey…" Your husband released your windpipe as he spoke, causing your back to arch once more to try and breathe better. 

"I… I…. deserve it, hubby. I really do… I've been s- so good… I promise…" Your chest rose and fell as it glistened under the lights due to the tiny beads of sweat coating it along with Pete's saliva. "I- I deserve you~" your last word was a gasp against his lips that he finally smashed against yours, chaining down your windpipe again as he helped stimulate your worked up pussy by moving his own hips in sync to yours. 

You were too close. It was dangerous. You had to break away and ask his permission if you didn't want to get punished. Cumming without Pete's permission was always followed by cruel edging that stretched on for weeks. Your husband was a master at taking you high to the point of utter dumbness only to leave you deprived and trembling at the last moment.

But you liked to kiss him so much…

That and you didn't want him to feel like you were prioritizing your pleasure over kissing him.

That would be such a selfish thing to do!

And good wives were supposed to be giving, understanding, patient and supportive.

It was a dilemma.

But as always, your knight came to your rescue and you knew you could never love him more than you did in this moment. "Cum for me and I'll consider…" It was like he could read your body and boy did you adore him for it.

Your air came back -or rather, was allowed to do so- just as fast as your vision went out when your tense insides finally bloomed open and went crashing over you the barrage of pleasure that had been building up inside of you. You moaned Pete's name along with heartfelt praises as you trembled, hips slowing down to avoid overstimulation as you blinked away the stars in your vision.

Rubbing and humping definitely had their own kinds of orgasms. 

"Atta girl… That's it… Just like that…" Your husband whispered in your ear, his still clothed cock now rock hard against your worked up pussy. "Good girl…" Though he still kept a firm hold on your ankle and wrists, Pete let go of the makeshift leash to reach for your marked boobs that he began to caress. "You feel that, baby?" A soft whine pushed past the pout that formed on your lips. "This is what you do to me…" His voice was strained as he held back a moan, his stiff crotch teasing you now as he let go of your breasts to open his fly.

It was then that it suddenly occurred to you. 

And though you knew from ample experience that it was never pleasant… you had to do the right thing. 

You owed it to your perfect husband. 

"U- Uh, honey…" You hissed out softly, trying to move your hips away from the torturous humping he was still subjecting you to. When Pete didn't respond, you tried again, only this time more timid because you knew too well how he responded to denial and rejection. "D- Darling…"

His nostrils flared as he exhaled loudly in annoyance. "What?" Your bottom lip wobbled at his snappish tone. 

The man of the house did not like to be delayed when he wished to wreck his lady apart. 

"I- I need to tell you s- something…" Pete gave up fiddling with the fly, looking up at you now. 

"And it can't wait?" Your eyes stung when he refused to mend his tone but you told yourself it was because he wanted you so bad that he didn't want anything to come between you two. 

Yes, that was it.

The truth. 

Pete had told you this many times. 

"I- I don't think you would like it…" Averting your gaze from his heated one and training it on his neck, you whimpered out your next words because of how his body had suddenly stiffened against yours. "I- I…" You bit your lip, already heightened heart rate refusing to slow down. Pete appreciated it when you were honest about this, you didn't understand why it was making you feel so panicked and sad.

Hopeless. 

"D- Dangerous memories have been r- resurfacing again…" His tone and expression instantly changed after hearing this. They were darker but less rude now. 

"Oh…" Pete stopped for a few moments to recollect himself. "F- For how long, baby?" 

"D- Dunno… didn't really notice it until I remembered a whole episode from my time in court in the m- morning…" You couldn't help but whimper when you looked back up at him. 

He seemed almost dumbfounded for a second before he spoke. "I see, honey…" Stopping for a few moments, Pete let go of your chains to caress your hair lovingly. "... And… What do we do when that happens, baby?" Your husband's voice was barely above a whisper as he peeked up at you with skeptical eyes. 

"W- We have to go downstairs to fix it so the dangerous memories cannot form any silly ideas in my simple baby mind, hubby…" The man's worried expression changed to one of surprise.  

And then the biggest smile made its way on his handsome face. 

"Aren't the most perfect little girl, huh?" You couldn't help but blush and relax when he went back to being nice.

Disappointed and angry Pete was one you preferred to avoid at all costs. 

"I just love you, hubby…" It came out the way the man had programmed you to say it before you gently pressed your mouth to his. "Wanna please you and make you happy…" Your husband pulled at one of your cheeks lovingly before he peppered soft kisses around your nose, making you giggle from how his goatee tickled your skin. 

"So, then… shall we?" The older looked almost proud and smug as he crawled off of you and undid your ankle cuff, softly caressing the slightly red skin before he offered you a hand to sit up. 

You smiled as you pushed away a rather unfamiliar stinging in your chest, focusing on the man in front of you instead as you took his hand and stood up, naively following him out of the living room and into the basement, hand in hand with your fingers intertwined.

Pete smirked to himself darkly as he turned the dial of the combination lock on the door of the basement cell before opening it for you to step in. He could still remember the time when you used to push all of your faculties to try and override the lock system somehow. 

All that fight to get out only to voluntarily step in with a smile now. 

You were definitely Pete's Magnum opus.

[justforbooks]

When Robert McCrum asked PD James if she believed in original sin, she replied: “I don’t think we come into the world as unselfish, kind and loving. I think we come in as selfish little animals.” This bleak assessment won’t surprise anyone who has read A Taste for Death, a book in which almost all of the characters are despised by their creator. Early on, we encounter the alcoholic mother of a young boy called Darren. She is portrayed as physically and morally repulsive: “She was lying on her back, naked except for a short wrap over dressing gown from which one blue-veined breast had escaped and lay quivering like a jellyfish against the pink satin.” She snores “with small guttural sounds”, we’re told she stinks. What we’re not told is how and why she ended up in such a mess – because the person telling the story doesn’t seem to give a damn.

James shows more concern for her villain, but only to the extent that he is someone who must be stopped. Dominic Swayne, killer of the MP Berowne, is cartoonish in his evil, veering on ridiculous. Here he is deciding to spare the life of poor Darren: “The boy would be allowed to live. He savoured for one extraordinary moment a new sensation of power, and it seemed to him sweeter, more exhilarating than even the moment when he had finally turned to gaze down on Berowne’s body. This was what it felt like to be a god. He had the power to take life or to bestow it. And this time he had chosen to be merciful …”

It’s not just that he can’t be counted among standard, safe, decent human beings – he’s inhuman. When James isn’t showing him as a conceited god, she’s dropping vaguely homophobic hints about his home life with the “disgusting” Bruno (“with his huge half-naked chest on which a lucky charm, a silver goat’s head on a chain, moved repulsively among the hairs”). There’s one brief flash of sympathy for Swayne when he explains that his father forced him to take part in a paternity test, but even this is immediately dismissed with his usual overpitched arrogance: “He was a terrible man,” he says, “but I got my own back.” The result is as flat and empty.

Swayne is supposed to be a monster. Maybe my complaint about James’s writing is no more than that James did what she set out to do. But she doesn’t limit her opprobrium to addicts and murderers, she also ignores the humanity of the average person: those working in public housing, or community social workers (“whatever that might mean,” writes James, who sat in the House of Lords as a Conservative). Her contempt leads her to clumsy writing – bad writing, even. There’s an absurd scene where a lefty careers adviser tries to persuade a young would-be detective not to become a policewoman. The dialogue reaches its cringe crescendo when the adviser says: “I’m afraid, Kate, that recent research shows that walking in safety has little to do with the level of policing. Why not read the pamphlet in the library, ‘Policing the inner city: a socialist solution’?”

It isn’t just that the lefty-bashing feels so gratuitously plonked into the narrative, or that libraries in the 1980s (of which I was zealous aficionado) contained no such leaflets. It’s that there’s no sense in the book that characters like the careers adviser might have any interior life that matters.

The apogee of absurdity comes in the final pages, when the same Kate (yes, she did become a policewoman) is taken hostage by Swayne. “His voice was high, brittle,” we are told, “the eyes large and bright as if he were on drugs.” He doesn’t start swinging on the chandeliers, but only because there aren’t any; instead he smashes all the crockery while gloating about his previous murders. Such melodrama feels a long way from the cold, matter-of-fact opening.

I didn’t really mind making the long journey to this silly ending. There’s enough good storytelling to make the 600 pages zip by. There are a few moments of real horror and some enjoyably snobby passages about architecture and coffee. But there are just too many failures in empathy and credibility to make A Taste for Death at all convincing.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[markantonys]

amol chapters 21-36, though once again contains major spoilers for character endgame fates that still haven’t happened yet as of chapter 36

so asha’man can compel aes sedai with the bond but aes sedai can’t compel asha’man? that’s rancid

“she also wanted to be done with the black tower” mood!

my man demandred shows up with the sharans, being very sexy as always. don’t lie, we all have our FILF (forsaken i’d like to fuck) demandred is mine 100%. i love an evil man with a weird nose and an antagonistic homoerotic obsession with the hero (see: francesco pazzi in i medici season 2). i hope he doesn’t get cut from the show and instead absorbs some of the less sexy forsaken’s plotlines so that he can have something to do prior to the final season lmao

he’s acting like a jilted ex by claiming that he has “crawled through the depths of sorrow and risen up to accept my glory,” asking people if they know anything about rand, saying that leane is beautiful but he doesn’t give a shit because he just wants her to deliver a message to rand. “tell him i will finally have satisfaction.” literally the gayest possible way you could’ve phrased that my dude

“i will slaughter and destroy. i will seize his people. i will enslave his children, i will take his women for my own. one by one, i will break, destroy, or dominate everything he has loved. the only way for him to avoid this is for him to come and face me.” somebody is not taking his recent breakup well! his recent 3000-years-ago breakup. on a more serious note, exhibit fucking A of how stupid it was for bashere to make elayne publicize that rand is the babies’ dad!

i’m laughing about all these gay dramatics because rand is literally about to go face the dark one, he does NOT have time for your shit demandred. he’s gonna hear this message and be like “oh my god why are you so obsessed with me” and then continue on to shayol ghul. the dark one is gonna be facepalming that demandred’s gay dramatics are trying to get in the way of his faceoff with rand.

previously we’ve discussed that demandred is mat’s foil, but he’s also gawyn’s foil: homoerotic obsession with rand that consumes their every waking thought meanwhile rand never thinks about them and has no idea they’re obsessed with him. but gawyn was able to get over his onesided breakup and find closure where demandred couldn’t. although rand DID have that angsty gay thought about how maybe demandred wouldn’t have turned to the shadow if rand/LTT had loved him instead of competed with him, so not quite as onesided as gawyn. we’ve also previously discussed mat and gawyn foiling each other (young extremely skilled military men thrust into leadership positions they didn’t want, wary of being used by aes sedai, complicated relationships with rand), so this is just a nice trio of foils here.

in conclusion, demandred and LTT are that post that’s like “characters that never dated but are definitely exes now”

when perrin vanishes graendal’s balefire in TAR: “the woman started. they always did that. didn’t they realize that nothing was real here except what you thought to be real?” i’m so sick of perrin reading 1 wikipedia article on TAR and then acting like he knows it better than women who’ve been studying it for years (he also kinda did this with the wise ones when they tried to warn him against going in the flesh and then once he did so he was like “this doesn’t feel evil, they’re wrong about that”)

“a warrior who will not strike a maiden is a warrior who refuses her honor.” king gaul!!! and we have quite a bit of both gaul and lanfear shaming perrin for Not Killing Women and perrin himself acknowledging that it was foolish of him not to kill graendal when he had the chance. this combined with lan’s scene in the last chapter chunk, i feel like sanderson is coming down hard on how stupid this rj attitude was lmao bless

lanfear says that graendal was invading bashere’s dreams oh no!!!! what did she do!!!! i’m remembering that min had some kinda Darkness viewing about bashere and biting my nails!!!

well, if bashere is under the influence of the shadow then at least that would explain why he made elayne endanger herself and the babies by making her tell everyone rand is the dad lmao idk if he WAS under the influence of the shadow back at that time, but i’m going to believe he was in order to rationalize that buckwild stupidity.

“[egwene] looked at [gawyn], a cold strength in her eyes, and nodded. light! how could she be so calm when he had to clench his teeth for fear they would start rattling together?” that’s our wife!!

gawyn is using the bloodknife rings oooh sexy

at the shayol ghul group, rand has placed aviendha in charge ❤️❤️ so we could’ve had rand facing off against the dark one, aviendha leading at shayol ghul, elayne leading the armies, and mat maybe helping her lead the armies if he was here instead of ebou dar. power polycule!!!

aviendha sees rand approaching the cavern: “he wore his coat of red and gold, but under it a simple two rivers shirt. what he had become and what he had been, wrapped together in one.” 😭 rand has two swords, callandor and laman’s sword. “he carried that because of her. fool man.” 😭😭 “aviendha raised her hand to him, and he raised his in return. that would be their only farewell if he failed in his task or she died during hers. with a last look, she turned away from him and toward her duty.” 😭😭😭😭😭

randlayne was given priority for a number of chapters, and then in this brief portion avirand got priority - avi is the last one to see rand here, and she’s also the last one who got an on-page Relationship Moment with him (a couple chapters ago when they were standing together after scoping out shayol ghul), not to mention the Romance of her being the one leading the group protecting him outside the cavern. meanwhile min has only exchanged about 3 words with rand in the entire book 😌 fueling my belief that min was just sex while rand was Going Through It and desperate for companionship and she was literally the only one available, but elayne and avi are his endgame. now that the end has come and he’s back with his other loved ones, min has all but vanished from his mind and from the book while elayne and avi are the ones he’s focused on and the ones who have onscreen Relationship Scenes with him. min didn’t even GET an onscreen goodbye with him at all lmao! cadsuane mentioned that rand had given min jewelry as a goodbye gift but we didn’t see the interaction! we love to see it! or not see it, in this case.

we have a battle scene here that i did enjoy because it was wonderful to see avi flexing her leadership AND channeling skills! a perfect culmination of her character arc!

moiraine on the shayol ghul cavern: “this is not the bore, this is not the dark one’s prison.” it’s not? oh. well then...................i don’t know what the bore is and at this point i’m too afraid to ask. (update: later on it’s mentioned how the bore is Outside The Pattern. i would very much enjoy seeing the show adapt this whole pit of doom confrontation because it’s hard for me to visualize so far in this chapter chunk.)

so moiraine and nynaeve will be the 2 women to use callandor with rand. awww i really think one should’ve been egwene since she and rand have been foils and two sides of the same coin and complements and yin and yang and co-protagonists for so long. bummer! i think her instead of nynaeve would’ve had more impact bc it would’ve shown how far rand has come out of his paranoia and self-isolation, if he was doing this with 2 aes sedai he strongly mistrusted for a long time rather than with nynaeve who was always the only one he never mistrusted or pushed away. and in fact it would’ve been such beautiful poetic cinema if callandor only required 1 man and 1 woman and it was just rand and egwene going into the cavern together. haha i was also thinking that egwene would’ve been better than perrin doing all the TAR stuff, so i guess my dream last battle would just be egwene doing EVERY task jkfjg it’s what she deserves!

nynaeve is wearing a beautiful dress because of course women be dressing to the nines to go BATTLE THE DARK ONE

i once saw someone say that the dark one’s all-caps dialogue makes them think of an old person on facebook accidentally writing things in all caps all the time and now that is always what i think of jkfgjh

rand is now entering the cave, so he officially has no time to deal with demandred’s gay dramatics and in fact has never even heard about them. god it would be so funny if demandred gets killed without ever coming face to face with rand in the entire series, that’s HUGE gawyn-onesided-homoerotic-rivalry-with-rand energy!

“an empress had to be crafty, strong, and skilled if she was to survive” and we have never actually seen tuon be any of those things, we’ve only been told that she is, so i guess that means she won’t be long for this world yeah baby!

“matrim would never be a rival...was not the prince of the ravens a check upon the empress, to keep her strong by providing a constant threat?” see, if the ship had been done well, i would be swooning over the romance of tuon being puzzled that for the first time she has a healthy relationship and a family member who won’t try to kill her, but it wasn’t, so instead i’m just like “yeah i WISH mat was a rival and a threat to her” (but i can soothe myself that maybe this is a sign that mat WILL someday be her and the empire’s downfall, and she’s just underestimating him here as usual)

wait shit tuon believes that rand knelt before the crystal throne, and now that i think about it he did do so literally and also kinda did do so metaphorically since he let her walk all over him in arranging their “alliance,” but the dragon kneeling before the crystal throne was a marker of the bad future in avi’s visions..............OH NO

tuon can you stop forcibly renaming mat FOR FIVE MINUTES

mat just says “knotai? i kind of like it” because by this point he has been officially slave-broken and happily accepts his new slave name

but again i can soothe myself that tuon naming him this as “a bringer of destruction” is a sign that someday it’ll backfire on her and he’ll bring destruction to the empire rather than to the empire’s enemies, as she believes here

mat tells tuon that they have to go help egwene’s army and has the audacity to be upset that she seems like she either might not help or might use the opportunity to enslave all the aes sedai. “i never thought the leopards would eat MY face,” sobs woman who voted for the Leopards Eating People’s Faces party.

“you gave your word.” “i signed a treaty. any treaty can be broken, particularly by the empress...the empress cannot be constrained by words on a paper.” LMAO wasn’t there a bit in a past book where she insisted that she was so honorable and always kept her promises? LMAOOO and she’s always pressed about the westlanders not keeping their oaths (that they never swore anywhere but in her deranged mind) and whatnot.

me after violating a legal document that i signed: i cannot be constrained by words on a paper 😌

she doesn’t Actually break the treaty yet because she decides it’s in her best interests to help the ~marath’damane army~ so she can use them to defeat the shadow (with the alternative being go back to seanchan right now, solidify her rule, and then come back to fight the shadow with her own forces. because obviously we totally have enough time for that, tuon, it’s not as if the last battle started DAYS ago or anything.) however, this just proves how fucking stupid and pointless the seanchan peace treaty is - tuon does not consider herself bound by it in any way and WILL violate it the SECOND it inconveniences her.

“the clouds had parted above them - they often did when [elayne] was near, one way the bond with rand manifested” ❤️❤️ romance!

just a week or two ago i saw someone shitting on elayne’s pre-battle speech in this book and saying it was lame, but i just read it and it rocks??? fuck off. elayne says “i am supposed to reassure you but i cannot...doing so would remove responsibility...this is not a day for empty promises” and people say it’s lame and not inspiring, but if she HAD hyped the soldiers up more with false positivity then people would’ve said she was being insensitive of the gravity of the situation and treating war as child’s play. there is literally no winning for elayne among Certain Readers.

“birgitte, i am in command, and you are my soldier. you will obey...i’m one of the few channelers of any strength this army has, and i’ll be drawn and quartered before i let myself sit out the fight. i’m easily worth a thousand soldiers on this battlefield.” GO OFF!!!!!!

birgitte tries to protest about the babies, because as we know those are the people she actually cares about and elayne is just a vessel for them in her eyes, and elayne claps back with “even if min hadn’t had that viewing, i’d still insist on fighting. you think the babes of these soldiers aren’t at risk? many of them line the walls of that city! if we fail here, they will be slaughtered. no, i will not keep myself out of danger, and no, i will not sit back and wait. if you think it’s your duty as my warder to stop me, then i will bloody sever this bond right here and now and send you to someone else! i’m not gong to spend the last battle lounging on a chaise and drinking goat’s milk!” YES!!! 👏👏👏👏👏 CHEERING AND PUMPING MY FIST

also, this is another example of there being no winning for elayne among Certain Readers: she does stuff like this and they complain that she’s reckless and gets people killed and Doesn’t Listen To Birgitte, but if she were to spend the last battle lounging on a chaise and drinking goat’s milk they’d complain about her doing nothing and letting everyone else die in her place.

mark my words, lounging on a chaise and drinking goat’s milk is exactly how tuon will spend the last battle. probably min too.

“an odd sensation came to mind. one of the women was in trouble. was it elayne? aviendha? he could not tell.” when rand senses one of his bondholders is in trouble, elayne and aviendha are the only two he cares about 😌 either that or he doesn’t even consider min could be in danger because she’s not doing anything in the battle lmao

moridin arrives. “you could step aside. if my victory is not assured, neither is your fall. let me pass. for once, make the choice you know you should.” “now? now you beg me to return to the light? i have been promised oblivion. finally, nothing, a destruction of my entire being. an end. you will not steal that from me, lews therin! by my grave, you will not!” and they start swordfighting. poor demandred, he wants what ishamael has with rand. demandred and gawyn shaking on the gates yelling “let me in!” whilst rand is too busy in his intense and complicated *and reciprocal* relationships with ishamael and mat.

also, like lanfear, ishamael hovers just on the edge of being a really interesting and complex villain and character, and i hope the show will bring out his motives and psychology more especially through use of AOL flashbacks. it already did a great job establishing “i just want existence to end” as a motive for joining the shadow via dana.

perrin sees the cavern battle from TAR: “two men, locked in battle. two women, as if frozen.” if moiraine and nynaeve spend the entire battle just frozen and not doing anything i’ll be so mad lmao i guess it’s actually good that egwene wasn’t wasted here

perrin and gaul are attacked by aiel male channelers who have been turned to the shadow. this is so interesting, why the hell is it just kind of a 5-page footnote in the final book of the series? why didn’t we get any aiel asha’man? that would’ve been so cool!

“i killed two of those myself, perrin aybara. one could channel. i think myself great with honor, then you slide in and take two captive. bain would laugh herself all the way back to the three-fold land if she saw this.” aw a tidbit of gaul-bain banter/friendship! it should be gaul and bain who are first-siblings rather than bain and chiad. like maybe bain and chiad are already lovers, gaul and chiad start falling for each other, and bain’s resistance is to taking gaul as her first-brother and sharing chiad with him, and then they get a nice little rivals to friends to first-siblings arc. it would’ve made so much more sense! i’m hoping the show will give us mixed gender first-siblings in general (and first-brothers, getting rid of the nonsense that men are worse at being close friends with each other than women are lmao)

“i don’t like fighting beside those seanchan” king gawyn strikes again! and egwene thinks that she “should be fighting the seanchan with every breath, not allying with them. her instincts rebelled as she approached the gathering of seanchan.” i swear to god gawyn and egwene are the only people who still remember that the seanchan suck (and elayne, i believe she was resistant to the idea of allying with them back in the big meeting?)

“egwene’s chances depended on the seanchan joining the battle and engaging the sharan channelers. her stomach twisted...the seanchan damane were not free women; they could not choose to fight. from what she’d seen of the sharan male channelers, they were little more than animals themselves.” queen egwene being the only one to acknowledge this!

“egwene revised her expectations. she’d imagined fortuona as a spoiled adolescent, the product of a coddled lifetime.” no yeah you were right on the money there egwene no revisions needed

egwene absolutely OWNS tuon throughout this conversation and it gives me so much life!!!!!! it is so goddamn satisfying to see someone FINALLY stand up to tuon, given the way she carries a spine-removal kit around (to use @butterflydm​’s extremely apt analogy) for use on literally every single other character who has interacted with her thus far.

now i am going to take a pause simply to record some epic egwene quotes before going back to analysis mode

when tuon says she’d considered whether it would be appropriate for her to speak to egwene with her own voice: “i have considered myself whether it would be appropriate to speak to one such as yourself, who has committed such terrible atrocities.” OOH

when tuon decides oh so generously to see egwene as a queen rather than as a marath’damane for this conversation: “no. you will see me for what i am, woman. i demand it.” OOOH

when tuon agrees and says that she’s spoken to marath’damane before, as it’s allowed for an empress to speak with her pet hounds: “then i will speak with you directly as well. for the amyrlin judges many trials. she must be able to speak to murderers and rapists in order to pass sentence upon them. i think you would be at home in their company, though i suspect they would find you nauseating.” OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH a worthy successor to that epic elaida clapback

“i represent the ultimate proof that your society and empire are built upon falsehoods. here i stand, a woman you insist should be collared for the common good. and yet i display none of the wild or dangerous tendencies that you claim i should have. so long as i am free from your collars, i prove to every man and woman who draws breath that you are a liar.” OOOOOHHH and the other seanchan murmur at this!

there will be more epic quotes coming but now i want to analyze. suffice it to say that this was me throughout this scene:

tuon insists that egwene wouldn’t criticize the collar if she’d known its peace and whatever nauseating shit, and egwene reveals to everybody that she WAS collared and she HATED IT!! tuon is big mad because she didn’t know this so now egwene’s made her look like a fool (and undermined the damane system and her authority) in front of a lot of people.

tuon rounds on mat to demand why he never told her that egwene was collared. he replies, “i didn’t think too much about it. she wasn’t one for very long.” boy i bet egwene wishes SHE was able to not think too much about it! mat has deadass been mooning over the head slaver for all these books with that one time his best friend was enslaved by these people just completely slipping his mind. he also chimes in with an obedient little “may she live forever” when tuon ends a sentence with “the empress” which is sickening.

egwene’s FIRST assumptions when she sees mat among the seanchan are that he’s undercover and they don’t know who he really is or that he’s a captive, that he’s in danger, and that she needs to save him from them. i think this is supposed to be a humorous role reversal of mat thinking these things about egwene being amyrlin when he first arrives in salidar, but it’s absolutely heartbreaking. egwene sees her close friend all buddy-buddy with the people who enslaved her and who have enslaved or murdered countless of her sisters and allies, and she assumes that mat must be there for an ulterior motive or not of his own free will, but nope, he voluntarily threw himself in with them because he was into tuon’s ~mysterious eyes.~ and how can i laugh at egwene ~presumptively~ thinking mat needs a rescue, when he DOES need a rescue before he spends the rest of his life miserable and under tuon’s thumb?

egwene says that their marriage was a result of tuon getting caught up in mat’s ta’veren pull (which tuon denies). “‘being ta’veren never did get me much,’ mat said sourly.” so is he admitting that he doesn’t want this marriage or this life?

tuon is mad at mat for not telling her about egwene’s stint as a damane and says “we will speak of this on another occasion. it will not be pleasant.” and later in the scene when he displeases her, “we will have many words about this tonight” 🚩🚩🚩

“egwene regarded the woman, baffled. light! these people were completely insane.” YES. YES THEY ARE. what a breath of fresh air to see a pov character FINALLY acknowledge this. egwene you’re the only bitch in this house i ever respected.

“oh, light, rand. what did you promise them?” mood

egwene actually makes an effort to get concessions from tuon AND SUCCEEDS (tuon agrees to give up tremalking) unlike rand just going “oh well there’s nothing i can do” the second tuon counters him and mat just standing there silently not even trying. because egwene is the only bitch in this house i ever respected.

me @ every character but egwene, gawyn, and elayne: you have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair

egwene announces that all sul’dam can channel. tuon tells her not to spread such lies. “oh? shall we test it, fortuona? you said you trained them yourself. you are a sul’dam, i presume? put the a’dam on your neck. i dare you. if i am wrong, it will do nothing to you. if i am right, you will be subject to its power, and will prove to be marath’damane...let us do it and test the real strength of your commitment. if you prove to be able to channel, will you do as you claim others should? will you stroll up to the collar and snap it around your own neck, fortuona? will you obey your own laws?” i am screaming and hollering in approval, but then, for some GODFORSAKEN reason, this DOES NOT HAPPEN. at this point being collared and forced to channel is literally the only thing that could possibly force tuon into any sort of character development, so WHY in the name of the light would you set this up so perfectly and then wuss out of following through???????????? what’s the point????????? i’m so mad!!!!!!!!! just when i think tuon might finally be forced to face a consequence for the first time in her life!!!

“‘i plan to live centuries,’ egwene hissed. ‘i will watch your empire crumble, fortuona. i will watch it with joy.’” AND YET EGWENE FUCKING DIES IN THE LAST BATTLE AND TUON’S EVIL ASS GETS TO LIVE!!!! IT’S SO UNFAIR I HATE IT!!!!!!!!!! nobody is going to stand up to the seanchan once egwene, possessor of the sole backbone in the westlands, is gone!!!! i’m sure egwene’s death will be a moving Heroic Sacrifice moment, but my god it’s the worst thing that could’ve possibly happened for the upcoming fourth age. the world doesn’t need rand or perrin or mat or nynaeve anymore after the last battle, but it needs egwene DESPERATELY. if an ef5 had to die, why couldn’t it have been literally any of them except egwene? except i don’t want rand to die because he deserves a second chance at life, and i don’t want nynaeve to die because she deserves her happy ending with lan after they’ve had a Doomed Relationship for so much of the series, and i don’t want mat to die because he needs to overthrow the seanchan empire and then go back to the westlands to marry rand and elayne. so, i will amend my statement: if an ef5 had to die, why couldn’t it have been perrin? lmao (tho i do stand by the fact that rand or nynaeve not making it would’ve been better For The World than egwene even if i would’ve been sad personally, and possibly mat as well unless i really AM meant to believe that he’ll destroy seanchan, in which case he needs to survive to the fourth age too)

mat intervenes and pushes them apart. “let’s be civil, ladies. don’t make me throw the pair of you over my knee.” i am going to strangle him and make it stick this time. my earlier-in-this-book sympathy for mat is over now, fuck post-WH mat all my homies hate post-WH mat. like can you IMAGINE a woman with no political authority saying this to two extremely powerful male rulers/leaders while they’re arguing about serious political and human rights topics? ..........okay cadsuane would absolutely do this, but aside from her.

“the people of the world need you two, and they need you levelheaded, you hear me?” they literally do not need tuon mat they would literally be so much better off without her. “this is bigger than any of us. when you fight each other, the dark one wins, and that is that. so stop behaving like children.” and so we have the culmination of the gross ass “one side wanting to enslave the other vs. the other not wanting to be enslaved being treated as equally petty, selfish, and in the wrong” theme that’s been present ever since COT. i’m fuming!!!! chewing rocks!!!!!!!!

“when you fight each other the dark one wins” would’ve been an effective line to use when the world leaders were squabbling in the big meeting scene or when rand and egwene were arguing, NOT when tuon is threatening to enslave egwene and egwene is saying she wants to see her slaver empire destroyed!

although at least mat does chide tuon a little bit extra and tell her that she needs egwene, and doesn’t say anything more to egwene or try to tell her that she needs tuon, so that’s a small mercy

the meeting ends and egwene returns to “where gawyn waited for her” sanderson couldn’t have gawyn present for/within earshot of the meeting because gawyn would’ve beat mat’s ass for treating egwene like that, and rightfully so. also because he would’ve just straight up killed tuon using his bloodknife ring abilities the second she threatened egwene. egwene wouldn’t kill tuon because she’s too practical and levelheaded, but gawyn would’ve snapped and taken her head off, my impulsive boy.

elayne’s exhausted herself channeling in battle, and birgitte actually admits that elayne was right to want to fight and that she did well and that seeing her fight right on the front lines inspired the soldiers, thank god.

elayne realizes that bashere’s been spreading misinformation, which led to them being taken by surprise by a second trolloc army, and concludes that he’s a darkfriend and fires him from being her general and puts him under guard. lan’s been noticing agelmar making mistakes too, so i’m guessing graendal’s messing with all the generals’ dreams.

i’m sad because i always was fond of bashere, but i’m also thrilled because now elayne is in charge and flexes her military general muscles and puts together a good battle plan on the spot! that’s my girl! fuck perrin and everyone else who claimed she’s only a good leader because she sits quietly and lets the male generals do all the work.

“the one power flooded into her, though she could hold only a trickle. she could act as if she weren’t exhausted, but her body knew the truth. she would lead them anyway.” ❤️❤️

min gets sent as a messenger from bryne to tuon. the aes sedai doing gateways have to make them as small as possible since they need to conserve their strength, and min is annoyed that they make her one so small she has to crawl through it. why don’t you do something useful rather than complaining that other people don’t have enough energy left to do things, min?

she mentions that one of the aes sedai notes her “breeches and curls” do NOT tell me min has been curling her hair even during the last fucking battle????? 💀💀 i hope that sanderson just forgot or didn’t realize that her hair wasn’t naturally curly (and it isn’t - there were multiple times in rj’s books where she mentioned that she started curling it For Rand) because otherwise, oh my god.

she’s been doing odd jobs in the camp for a week. interesting that a week has passed since the day before rand went to the pit of doom. “it wasn’t work that had required her, specifically, but it was better than sitting in tear and worrying about rand...or being angry at him for forbidding her to go to shayol ghul.” meanwhile, avi was briefly disappointed that rand wouldn’t take her but accepted immediately that it was the right course of action. “you’d have been a liability there, min told herself. you know it. he couldn’t worry about saving the world and protecting her from the forsaken at the same time.” at least she admits it. “sometimes, it was hard not to feel insignificant in a world of channelers like rand, elayne, and aviendha.” that’s because you ARE insignificant 😌 like, there are so many ways to pull off “non-magical non-warrior character has strength in other areas” and none of them were used with min. her viewings are useless and the emotional support she allegedly provides for rand is either nonexistent or detrimental 90% of the time.

like what’s going on???? lmao anyway

min was just internally moping about being useless but when mat says “hey i could use you” she gets offended that he phrased it rudely or something??? not sure if you noticed but we’re in the middle of a WAR here min, people don’t have time to waste on making sure their requests are phrased politely enough so as not to hurt your feelings.

min even seems to know about mat’s luck??? you’ve met him ONCE and it was before he had that luck! elayne doesn’t even know about it and she’s his bestie! what’s going on??? i would say rand told her, but i’m not sure even rand is aware of mat’s luck? totally possible that he could be, i just don’t remember.

“they’re insane, min. they’re all bloody insane.” “i’m sure egwene would help you escape if you ask, mat.” “well, i didn’t say they weren’t fun. just insane.” mat name ONE time that the seanchan, infamous war criminals and human rights abusers in whose company you’ve been constantly miserable and fearing for your life and your freedom, have been “fun”

“gritting her teeth, min went down on one knee. the woman was the empress, after all. min wouldn’t bow to mat or the generals, but it was only proper to show respect to fortuona.” literally why??? she’s not YOUR empress!

“who is this one, knotai? she thinks herself high.” “oh, well, she’s just the dragon reborn’s woman.” “how curious. that would make her your equal, knotai.” DJFKGJKJHJKDFHGLJ tuon is calling mat rand’s lover and you can’t change my mind

also, it’s making me completely insane yet again that mat is fully aware that min is rand’s girlfriend and is also fully aware that rand is elayne’s babydaddy and we just do not ever see him have any reaction to that or wonder what’s going on. and we can’t even say “maybe rand explained it to him offscreen while they were catching up” because they didn’t GET one of those catchups like rand & perrin and mat & perrin got.

mat tries to hustle min out: “just keep moving. don’t risk her deciding to snatch you up. she’s not particularly good at letting things go, once she has them in hand.” i was all prepared to feel sorry for him, but then, “he actually sounded proud, saying that.” sigh. “you’re as crazy as they are, min thought.” for once something we can agree on. i am trying so hard to interpret everything as mat having been brainwashed and psychologically beaten into submission, but at times it is difficult.

“i don’t belong to anyone. except maybe rand, and him to me.” compare with aviendha: “he did not own her, and she did not own him.” HMMM. very telling. we now have this, avi shunning the thought of possessive public touching while min drapes herself over rand in public constantly, avi accepting immediately that rand has his duty and she has hers while min mopes over rand not taking her to shayol ghul, avi thinking that she couldn’t be with rand until she knew who she was while min thinks she’ll be whatever rand wants her to be.............the two of them are truly at polar opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of how they view relationships, with min being the end of “painfully insecure, possessive, and monogamous.” “we belong to each other” is probably meant to feel romantic, and if used it a different moment maybe it would be, but the fact that we had avi thinking mere CHAPTERS ago that she and rand don’t own each other really throws this line into sharp relief.

oh wack tuon declares that min is her truthspeaker now. is something interesting and non-rand-related finally happening to min for the first time in 14 books? also, note that it’s something interesting happening TO her rather than her DOING something interesting. that’s the real reason she’s insignificant compared to rand, elayne, and aviendha: not because she isn’t a channeler, but because she’s a passive character. things happen TO her, she doesn’t MAKE things happen.

“loial fought on. this song was not a song of victory. it was a song of life. loial did not intend to die here on this hillside. by the light, he had a book to finish before he went!” 😭❤️

mat is weirdly into min all of a sudden lmao hate that. although it IS further evidence for the “mat is gonna cheat on tuon so fast” folder, and that’s always a good thing. and i guess i shouldn’t have expected anything different when the “thinks of all women in terms of whether they’re fuckable” character and the “exists solely to cater to the straight male gaze” character met up.

“she was with rand, so that made her practically his sister.” so you’re saying that min is your sister-wife, because you are also with rand? also, contrast to in LOC when he was like “elayne is so hot, but i wouldn’t kiss her, not because she’s with rand, just because she’s annoying” mat was 100% willing to homewreck rand with elayne, make of that what you will jkjfgh

mat managed to retain his old clothes and puts them on now! phew

it’s so wild that tuon can just go “you’re my truthspeaker now” and snatch min???? and no one does anything about it???? well min, i guess you’re headed off to seanchan forever after the last battle. sucks for her and i’m not necessarily glad about someone else falling into seanchan hands.............but this DOES clear the way for avirandlayne throuple raising their six (6) babies in caemlyn endgame to happen, it has to be said.

mat mentions that he burned the ugly ratty coat he wore to visit elayne in TOM, aw he was so upset that she made fun of it djkfgj

“mat grinned at tuon, and she favored him with a smile. light, but he liked those smiles.” sigh. though this does absolutely read like a fully brainwashed damane being happy to receive a sul’dam’s approval, which..........well, it sure doesn’t SOOTHE me, but it’s better for mat’s characterization to believe that he’s been brainwashed and slave-broken rather than that he’s just fully bought into all this while in his right mind.

“gawyn stepped up to her side, faithful as always.” ❤️❤️ THIS loyal husband DOES spark joy.

egwene notes that gawyn is looking pale, as if at the start of a sickness. oh no!!!!! i think i remember it was mentioned that you don’t live long after activating the bloodknife rings, but idk if that was just because people only activate them to go on suicide missions or if it means that the rings themselves will actually kill you after a certain point. i do know already that gawyn dies (sob) but i don’t know how or when it will happen (same with egwene’s death, i only know the bare fact and not any details).

lan ousts agelmar and mat ousts bryne later in the chapter. and tenobia dies in the battle, so with her gone and bashere currently unfit to rule, does that mean my girl faile is now queen of saldaea? nice! i mean, rip tenobia and everything, but all hail queen faile.

“‘he seems to be yelling for the dragon reborn,’ galgan said. demandred’s voice boomed across the battlefield right then, enhanced by the one power. he was demanding that the dragon come and face him in a duel.” THIS IS SO FUNNY TO ME KJFGKHJ the Unhinged Ex energy of it all! the dragon is a little busy battling the dark one, demandred, read the room! i can’t tell you how much this is making me laugh!!

“mat inspected the fellow through the glass. ‘demandred, eh? has he gone a bit dotty, or what?’” mat watching demandred and going “imagine being so obsessed with rand. could not be me!”

in worse news, mat ends up getting his very own slave due to Can’t Kill A Woman behavior, so that’s fun. (he didn’t explicitly reference Can’t Kill A Woman or give any reason for saving the sharan channeler’s life, but i assume this is the reason.) his response to realizing he accidentally enslaved someone: 1) tells tuon she can have her (because slavery is fine as long as HE’S not the one doing it, i guess), and when tuon insists that the channeler is his, 2) “mat shrugged. what else could he do?” i can think of a few things, mat. just a few. “maybe, if the damane belonged to him, he could let her free or something.” all right that’s something at least. now to see if he actually follows through on that after the last battle or if he simply grows ambivalent enough to let her remain damane.........

“has he punished you for that?” “yes. he returned me to life.” wow moridin needs even MORE therapy than rand does

logain’s contingent arrives on elayne’s battlefied. “we came to you first. the black tower stands with the lion of andor.” fistpump! they may have given up on their deadbeat dad, but they went straight to stepmommy elayne the second they had the chance.

“the woman approaching wore fine seanchan silks, and egwene’s stomach turned at the sight. that finery existed because of a foundation of enslaved channelers, forced into obedience to the crystal throne.” GO OFF QUEEN!!!!! but then it turns out that the woman is min, so idk if that’s supposed to make egwene’s moral rant feel humorous or something? also, the narrative has definitely 100% forgotten that da’covale, aka regular non-channeling people, are also slaves (earlier in this book a westlander referred to them as “servants” which i remember seeing quite a bit in the late rj books too)

“‘you should see the things [the seanchan] drink, egwene.’ ‘i’ve seen them,’ egwene said, unable to keep her tone from coldness. ‘oh. yes. i suppose you have.’” absolute dick move by min here. wasn’t she in falme for a long period of time trying to help rescue egwene?? she should be even more aware of egwene’s captivity than mat! why does everybody have such an easy time just Forgetting that their friend was enslaved and traumatized?

“‘i suppose i’m better off with fortuona. she...knows about a certain talent of mine, thanks to mat, and it might let me help her. and you.’ the statement was laden with meaning.” is min actually going to try to use her newfound influence with tuon to take seanchan down from the inside? now that would be an interesting plotline for her. why didn’t this happen to her 7 books ago? i say, axe min as rand’s love interest and instead send her into tuon’s path MUCH earlier on so that she can use her viewings to influence her into having a little smidge of character development, and plus min has known the sul’dam secret since TGH and so might make more headway with tuon there than mat ever bothered to. then have mat stay with rand instead, being his general and a childhood friend to remind him of who he used to be (since mat actually knows the shepherd boy and min does not). they would both be way more useful in the other’s plotline. hell, we can even switch the romances and make min tuon’s love interest and mat rand’s!

egwene on mat: “a carouser, leering at every pretty woman he met. treating her like a painting and not a person.” i’m probably supposed to think egwene is being unfair to mat and misjudging him, but this is literally exactly how he’s been treating women in his own narration ever since WH and even ACOS. since then, every single woman he meets, he describes in terms of whether or not she’s fuckable. this was not the case in the first 6 books.

“he’d jumped into the river to save kiem lewin from drowning. of course, she hadn’t been drowning. she’d merely been dunked under the water by a friend, and mat had come running, throwing himself into the water to help. the men of emond’s field had made sport of him for months about that. the next spring, mat had pulled jer al’hune from the same river, saving the boy’s life...that was how mat was. he’d grumbled and muttered all winter about how people made sport of him, insisting that next time, he’d just let them drown. then the moment he’d seen someone in danger, he’d gone splashing right back in. egwene could remember gangly mat stumbling from the river, little jer clinging to him and gasping, a look of pure terror in his eyes.” 😭😭😭😭😭

“he was a scoundrel and a fool, but she trusted him. light help her, but she did. she’d trust him with her life.” ❤️❤️❤️ i remember when they parted in LOC being so afraid that that was the last time they’d ever see each other, so i’m so happy to see them interact again in this book! even if their one interaction thus far was mat being shitty to egwene. but i have hope that there will be more and better interactions coming.

once again we have mat fretting over how he married an “aes sedai” and not the fact that he married a slaver

“she was something incredible, though. he felt a thrill each time she gave orders; she did it so naturally. elayne and nynaeve could take lessons. tuon did look very nice on that throne.” 🙄🙄🙄 and once again we have mat gushing over how good tuon is at bossing people around, but failing to provide us with any examples of her showing ACTUAL leadership skills. and gushing over how good tuon is at bossing people around when he constantly shits on the wondergirls for a non-malicious and less extreme version of the same behavior. elayne could take lessons? please. unlike tuon and mat, elayne knows that being a ruler is about more than giving orders and looking good on a throne. mat’s “coming to respect nobility” arc, if it had to happen at all, should’ve been him realizing that being a monarch is hard fucking work, rather than declaring that tuon is Not Like Other Nobles when she embodies every single one of his original negative perceptions of them.

but the good part of this passage is that it gives grounds for mat to have a Queen Elayne kink in a better universe, god bless. getting railed by elayne would honestly do him so much good.

“the sul’dam, catrona, almost choked on the words ‘aes sedai.’ mat couldn’t blame her. those could be tough words to speak.” and once again we have mat showing more empathy for the sul’dam than for the aes sedai they think should be enslaved.

“he didn’t look too hard at the damane [whom he accidentally captured]. mat was responsible for her being captured. it was better than her fighting for the shadow, wasn’t it? blood and bloody ashes, he thought to himself. you are doing a fine job of persuading tuon not to use damane, matrim cauthon. capturing one yourself...” sorry, have you EVER tried to persuade tuon not to use damane? this is literally the first time i’ve seen any indication of that, mat. at least he’s feeling some guilt and sense of responsibility right now, for a whole 3 sentences.

“it was unnerving how quickly the sharan woman had taken to her captivity. the sul’dam had all remarked upon it. barely a moment of struggle, then complete subservience.” AKA EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED TO MAT IN COT

“demandred - despite continuing to rave about the dragon reborn - was continually testing mat’s defenses.” JKJDFGKJJKH KILLING ME AGAIN rafe please give demandred a canon messy gay backstory with LTT because no other justification for this behavior would be as good.

more lines of mat gushing over tuon’s pretty eyes and how much he likes it when she's pleased with him

mat just referred to the sharan channelers as “marath’damane” ugh. but then a paragraph later he mentions “[the seanchan] had started using the term [aes sedai] instead of marath’damane by mat’s order” so that’s good. maybe the prior line i’ll chalk up to it originally being galgan’s line which sanderson then gave to mat and forgot to change “marath’damane” to “channelers” or something.

“he had an inkling of what tuon might be capable of, if she grew displeased with min. he loved her - light, he was pretty sure he did. but he also let himself be a little afraid of her. he’d have to keep watch so that tuon didn’t decide to ‘educate’ min.” okay this is bone chilling. mat is SO CLEARLY in an abusive marriage and a subconscious part of him KNOWS it and is trying to protect min from tuon, though he’s resigned to the thought that it’s too late to protect himself. but the conscious part of him is insisting that he loves tuon, he really does! heartbreaking.

mat spends a whole paragraph talking about how it sucks that seanchan women’s armor doesn’t show boobs and how he ACTUALLY ASKED the armorer if that should be changed. “light, these people had no sense of morality. a fellow needed to know if he was fighting a woman on the battlefield. it was only right.” i’m thinking that in addition to Objectifying Women and Can’t Kill A Woman nonsense, mat is also afraid he might be like “ooh that soldier’s hot!” and then realize it’s a man jdfkjg just accept it mat it’s okay.

“tuon blinked once, looking straight at min. the room seemed to drop into shade, feeling colder. mat shivered. he didn’t like it when tuon got like this. that stare of hers...it seemed like the stare of another person. a person without compassion.” i mean this is literally how she always is? name ONE time when tuon has displayed compassion. also, more “mat being trapped in an abusive marriage and trying to convince himself that it isn’t so and that this isn’t the ~real~ tuon” vibes here.

really interesting scene between tuon and min regarding min’s viewings. tuon attempts to take advantage of the viewings and prevent them from happening, which is a refreshing change from how everyone else just immediately accepted “ah well they can’t be changed, no point trying.” and min stands up to tuon and refuses to share her viewings anymore if tuon will just use them to execute people she suspects of future treason, which is a refreshing change from everyone else having their spine removed when tuon is in the room. see? these two characters play off each other quite well and this plotline/dynamic should’ve been set up way sooner! my 2 most hated characters in the series, yet when they’re together i actually kinda enjoy their interactions lmao it’s witchcraft! probably because min is finally showing an actual personality outside of loving rand now that she’s been separated from him, and because she argues with and challenges tuon and tuon actually listens to her (to an extent) since she’s her truthspeaker.

“if only min would learn a little respect.” mat is literally so scared of his friend getting abused the same way he is, he wants her to just keep her head down.

i love egwene and mat talking in code about his medallion! “do you still have your pet fox?” “i do. he’s snuggled up nice and warm.” “take care of him. i would not see you suffer gareth bryne’s fate.”

mat says “what does elayne want to do? isn’t she in charge?” king shit! respecting her authority and wanting her input, unlike perrin! and then he asks them to make another gateway to get elayne to this meeting so she can discuss with them!

“elayne strode through, thick with child, eyes practically on fire.” mat shaking hands meme with rand and aviendha over commenting on the fire in elayne’s eyes

“she maintained the posture of a queen, but her disheveled hair and clothing burned in several places indicated what she’d been through.” and his earlier description of egwene: “blood and bloody ashes - if he had a soldier with that cast to his skin and that look in his eyes, mat would send the fellow to bed rest for a week.” see, mat? this is what ACTUAL leadership looks like, while tuon has been sitting cozy on her throne letting everyone else do the fighting.

i love to see mat and elayne making battle plans together!!!! power couple!!!!!! tuon could never (she’s just sitting there silently for the whole discussion)

“now, if only [galad] could right [elayne’s] moral compass. she wasn’t a bad person, but galad wished that she - like other monarchs - could see as clearly as he did. he was beginning to accept that they didn’t. he was beginning to accept that it was all right, so long as they tried their best. whatever he had inside of him that allowed him to see the right of things was obviously a gift of the light, and holding others to scorn because they had not been born with it was wrong. just as it would be wrong to hold a man to scorn because he had been born with only one hand, and was therefore an inferior swordsman.” y’all are really trying to tell me that gawyn is the worse trakand brother when galad’s self-righteous holier-than-thou superiority-complex christian-fundamentalist ass is out here behaving like this??? unreal. galad fucking sucks!!!!!!! and has learned absolutely nothing from what morgase was trying to teach him in the last book - his arc should’ve been coming to realize that his view of what’s right isn’t absolute truth, but instead it was coming to accept that it’s okay if other people aren’t as good and perfect as he is because they have not been blessed by the light like he has. bonkers!!!!

like, this is VERY close to how tuon thinks in her povs. this sense of entitlement and enlightenment, this conviction that they are the only ones who know what’s truly right and they must help the ignorant rest of the world see it too - that is BANG ON seanchan thinking.

“he had stopped worrying that his words offended [elayne] long ago. it seemed he couldn’t claim that a day was pleasant or his tea warm without her taking offense somehow. it would have been nice if aybara hadn’t run off. that man was a leader - one of the few that galad had ever met - that one could actually talk to without worrying that he’d take offense.” galad literally being a rightwinger complaining about how easily offended everybody is these days by harmless little things such as being part of a group trying to take away their rights! clearly, elayne is just a special snowflake who’s too sensitive, it’s so unfair that she’s mean to galad! 

no wonder reddit is on galad’s side and whines so much about how immature and prejudiced elayne’s behavior towards him is

the virgin galad (religious zealot, misogynist, joins a group dedicated to oppressing people like his sister and then complains about how mean she is to him about it) vs. the chad gawyn (respects women, devoted his life to protecting his wife, switched sides when he realized that his original side was actively bringing harm to his loved ones)

in conclusion, fuck galad all my homies hate galad. except all my homies DON’T hate galad and so i am alone being old man yells at cloud meme! wake up, my homies! he’s the worst!

there IS a small moment where he instinctively thinks of the whitecloaks as “the whitecloaks” instead of “the children” and is shocked with himself about it, so i guess that’s something. too little too late!

we catch up with faile retrieving the horn from tar valon! wow i completely forgot about that. their conversation at the beginning of the book where they sent her to get it feels like it was 5 books ago.

and aviendha is attacked by some of the aiel male channelers! turns out that when an aiel man can channel they send him to the blight (i’m sure this was mentioned before, i just forgot) and that’s how they all got corrupted by the dark one.

“mat had run off to the seanchan, talmanes to fight alongside queen elayne. one by one, everyone in this group was being eaten by trees, mud, or monsters. why did they all leave olver alone?” “noal...dead. would mat die too?” 😭😭😭

“i am not spending the last battle clinging to a rock! [nynaeve] thought.” my mood exactly lmao we’re on page 600 and she and moiraine have not done anything yet!

it turns out that alanna is in the cavern and is dying, and rand will snap and go crazy if she dies, so nynaeve has to save her but she can’t use saidar because she’s still linked with rand. oh shit!!! it’s nice to see alanna’s bond with rand FINALLY be relevant and have narrative payoff.

egwene is still so ready to help mat escape tuon and the seanchan 😭

mat complains that tuon wants him to sit in judgment. “mat was not going to order men to be executed, and that was that.” okay so then you should sit in judgment and pronounce them innocent rather than avoid jury duty and let other people pronounce them guilty and have them executed? obvious solution here, mat. he complains about elayne and other nobles (gawyn here in this passage) being entitled, yet when HE is given power and privilege that he could potentially use to help others, he does nothing with it. (obviously he’s too busy preparing for the battle to sit in judgment right at this very moment, so that’s fair enough, but his objection IS that he doesn’t want to execute people rather than that he has more pressing duties right now.)

we get 2 little nuggets of the mat-gawyn interactions i’d hoped for in the previous book and didn’t get and i’m delighted!!! “gawyn trakand was apparently practicing to be an aes sedai sometime, because he kept giving mat glares that would have made moiraine proud.” “‘burn me, first rand, then you [egwene]. is everybody going to chivy me about these days? gawyn, you want a turn?’ ‘yes, please.’ he sounded eager. ‘shut up,’ mat said.” JDFGJKHKJHJFG that’s one of my top 10 interactions in the book so far, why did it make me laugh so hard!! could’ve been even better if mat had married elayne and he and gawyn were now annoyed brothers-in-law!

“he could feel something pulling on him, tugging him northward. rand would need him soon.” “he narrowed his eye. rand was tugging on him.” one more cauthor ta’veren pull instance for the road!

“this is it, egwene. take a deep breath, a last pull on the brandy, or burn your final pinch of tabac. have a good look at the ground before you, as it’s soon going to be covered in blood. in an hour, we’ll be in the thick of it. the light watch over us all.” dun dun duuuuuuuun!!!! and the next chapter, titled “the last battle,” is TWO HUNDRED PAGES so i’m calling it a day for this recap.

[skiller0dani]

Sinful | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | sub!spencer x bau!reader requests info summary | when spencer decides to let the witness flirt with him, you decide to have some fun of your own with derek. it becomes obvious that it's a mistake.

this was sitting in my drafts unedited!! I'm still trying to finish up Amortentia part 2 & the Ethan AU. They'll be up I promise, until then.. enjoy Sub!Spencer! This is my first real stab at a dom reader so I hope I did okay. I've read fics about face slapping as a kink and I just wanna let you guys know that I am not comfortable writing that so I probably never will include that.

Also I hate saliva so I probably wont write about spitting either. Sorry lololol

thanks @imagining-in-the-margins for the inspiration! (was totally inspired by "messy lessons" if you guys haven't read it...you should!)

At first you doubted he knew what he was even doing.

At first.

Maybe he wasn't trying to get in her pants, and maybe he wasn't trying to lead her on. But he was still letting her shamelessly flirt with him. You'd been with the FBI for years and made the silly mistake of assuming that working in the same department as your boyfriend would make things easier on you. Being able to see him everyday is a definite plus, seeing him in danger every time you're in the field is definitely not a plus. Watching a busty blonde witness flirt with him is certainly not a plus, especially when he lets her throw herself into his chest. Supposedly "distraught" but you see the cheeky smile peeking at the corner of her lips.

You see the thing about Spencer that nobody except for you knows, is that deep down he's a very naughty boy. The little mischievous glint in his eyes when his eyes meet yours from across the interrogation room proved that. You were professional however, so you were forced to stand by and watch him comfort her. Bitch.

"C-Could you get me some water?" Her voice was shaky, you still didn't buy it.

"Sure, Doctor-"

"Agent Y/L/N if you wouldn't mind?" Spencer's much more dominating voice cut through yours. Your eyebrows flew up as you shared a millisecond stare down with him. You could see the playful look in his eyes, flashed by the brattiest smile you'd ever seen grace his lips. Your lips stretched in a tight smile before you nodded and turned out of the room.

When JJ joined you near the kitchenette she opened her mouth to say something, but once she'd noticed you white knuckle gripping the faucet handle she changed her mind. She continued with whatever she was doing, not looking at you. It was a tense few minutes until she turned out of the room. While everyone in the BAU knew you and Spencer were together, it was easy for them to forget seeing as you never acted as a couple at work. For obvious reasons. Only in moments of danger, like when Spencer's helicopter went down and there were panicked tears streaming down your cheeks did they remember that you were in fact, together.

Apparently your usually good boy seems to have forgotten who he belongs to as well. The sight you returned to left tendrils of anger licking at the pit of your stomach.

"Oh really, that is so cool! I'll bet you're so strong!" The witness had perked up considerably since you'd left the room. Her hand reached up to curl at his bicep, and he didn't stop her. What a brat. Spencer sat next to her rather than across from her at the table, presumably to console her. Spencer beamed at her praise, an action you did not miss.

"Yeah, actually FBI agents are required to pass a variety of physical exams to insure they're physically healthy enough to chase down an unsub if need be-"

"Here's your water." Your voice was tense and you had to resist the urge to "accidentally" spill the water on her as you set the glass down. You didn't meet Spencer's eye as he stood to follow you out of the room. You could see the naughty façade fading as soon as he'd left the room.

"Y/N?" His voice was soft and his big brown eyes wide when you turned to glance at him. Your heart melted at the sight of those sad puppy dog eyes but you're not going to give in when baby boy broke so many rules.

"Shush." Is all you say, your voice sharp. You're not going to hide the fact that you're mad at him. And you're going to stay mad at him, no matter how cute he is.

"Yes ma'am." Spencer mumbles as he follows you towards the room Hotch is waiting in with the whiteboard. You try your hardest to focus on whatever Hotch is saying but all you can think about is that stupid witness pressing her chest up against Spencer, and the fact that he was practically bathing in the attention she gave him. You hated the fact that Spencer was getting exactly what he wants, he lives for your punishments. In a way, punishing him was also rewarding him but it was rewarding for you too.

After vaguely remembering Hotch asking for Spencer, you watched him scramble forward. You don't miss the fact that he nearly stops to ask for your permission to do so, you have him trained so well. A smile quirks at the corner of your mouth and you almost feel like forgiving him until Hotch speaks again.

"Reid, I want you to take Allison Calloway home..." he lists off where the rest of you will go but at that point you're no longer listening. You hear Hotch pair your name with Derek, which sparks a wicked idea in your head. He's having Spencer take the witness home? Is the world punishing you? You see Spencer steal one nervous glance at you before rushing to get Allison. You tongue your cheek before reluctantly following Derek out of the precinct.

//

You and Derek were apparently instructed by Hotch to go investigate the second crime scene, where a young man with his hands missing was found earlier this morning. You peek at Derek out of the corner of your eye, Derek is one of your close friends and he knows more than he should about yours and Spencer's...extracurricular activities. He seems to be in a good mood today, and he's unlikely to think anything of it. He'll definitely tell Spencer about it, which is sort of what you're hoping for. While this is hardly the place for you to "come on" to Derek, you're willing to do it. Spencer needs a taste of his own medicine.

"Odd, that the unsub removes the hands but repositions the watch around the victims ankle." Derek muses, his hand coming up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. Luckily the officers sent to patrol the crime scene are nowhere nearby. You circle Derek, trying to formulate the perfect sentence in your mind. It can't be too much, but definitely enough for him to inform Spencer. Derek is used to more lewd phrases coming from yours and Penelope's mouth, so surprising him enough to tattle to your boyfriend will be a challenge.

It can't be anything that would hurt Spencer however.

Derek views Spencer as his little brother and would never hurt him, and you wouldn't want to hurt Spencer either this is all in good filthy fun. It has to be a little risky, but not so risky that Derek would prefer keeping it from Spencer to protect him. If its too much Derek will approach you directly about it which would be humiliating and would entirely miss the point. This is a very delicate operation.

"Oh Derek, have you been working out?" You decide to take the easy route, adding a dash of sultry to your tone.

"Occasionally." Derek doesn't turn his head towards you, you haven't quite captured his attention yet.

"Firm is a good look on you." You tease, you'll need to ease him into it because he's going to have the wind knocked out of him when you finally lay it on him.

"Easy girly, you're venturing into dangerous territory." You hear the lilt to his tone letting you know that he's joking. You need to push it further.

"No I'm serious," you need to tread very carefully. You don't want to ruin a friendship you still want to keep, "it's a really good look on you."

Derek turns to you then, an eyebrow raised as he watches you trail your eyes down his body. While Derek isn't a bad looking guy, he doesn't even come close to comparing to your beautiful boy. Spencer is easily the cutest and sexiest man you've ever had the privilege of standing in the same room with.

"What's with you?" He asks, keeping the smile on his face so he doesn't alert you that he's concerned. You're on the right track but if you leave it here Derek will let it go. You need to drop that mini bomb on him, just a little more. You trail a finger down his shoulder, towards his bicep.

"Nothing, just admiring the view. The big, strong, sexy, view. What I wouldn't give to have you in bed Derek Morgan." There's the bomb. Your words have an immediate effect over him. The half-lidded sultry look in your eyes is enough for him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Usually he can tell if you're joking but now he really can't tell. He's speechless, which doesn't happen to Derek Morgan very often.

"Y/N..."

"Call me if you wanna take me up on my offer." You send a wink at him before turning to head towards the black SUV. That should be enough for him to tattle.

//

When you return to the precinct, you watch with pleased eyes as Derek immediately pulls Spencer into a side room. Derek briefly glances at you, and you send him a smile but do not receive on in return. You don't think anything of it, Derek will get over it eventually with an explanation. You watch carefully as Derek begins to speak and an unreadable expression crosses onto Spencer's face, you expect he's just absorbing what Derek is telling him. Any minute now that look will cross onto his face, those dark eyes that warn you that you've officially annoyed him.

Derek keeps speaking, you can see his lips moving. What are they talking about? It shouldn't be taking this long. You're too far away to really make out their faces, so you subtly sneak closer when Spencer's eyes flash to meet yours and you gasp. There is no anger on his face, no playful annoyance, instead you see pain. Hurt. Betrayal. Derek tries to reach out to grab Spencer but the door to that side room opens and Spencer comes rushing out of it. Not bothering a side glance at you as he makes his hasty exit.

"I was only kidding." You explain quickly as Derek emerges. He doesn't look amused.

"It was too far Y/N. He's crushed." Derek snaps, brushing past you. Immediately you turn and exit the precinct, quickly finding Spencer tucked away in a secluded corner. He's sitting against the building, his head tucked into his knees and the absolute worst part is the fact that he's softly crying. You kneel in front of him in an instant, although you're not sure what to even say.

"Oh baby boy, I was only kidding. I didn't mean it, I said it because you flirted with that blonde witness!" You explain in a hurry, trying to reach out to take him in your arms. Spencer resists, instead lifting his head to look at you. His eyes are glossy and red rimmed, "kidding?"

"Yes precious, I was kidding."

"But Derek is more...attractive then I am." Spencer whimpers softly. You reach forward to firmly grasp Spencer's chin, ensuring he looks at you.

"Spencer Walter Reid you look at me," You order, and hesitantly Spencer lifts his watery eyes to meet yours. "There is not a single person who is more attractive then you are, you are flawless."

"But deep down you want Derek-"

"I was kidding Spencer. I only want you, my good boy." You purr, and you see a shiver run down his spine. You lean forward to press your lips to his before your thumbs come up to swipe away your tears.

"I'm not a good boy, I don't deserve it." Spencer whimpers once you help him stand up. Even though you're looking up at him, it's still very clear that you're the one in charge. "I flirted with Allison."

"You're right, you haven't been very good have you? I'm sure you'll make it up to me in the hotel room." You smile pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. He nods immediately, it warms your heart.

"I love you." Spencer whispers after he catches your hand as you're about to open the door. You press a kiss to his palm, "I love you precious."

//

You could feel the nerves rolling off of him when you opened the door to your shared hotel room. The door shut with a soft click as you kicked off your shoes. Spencer remained at the hotel room door curled in on himself and wringing his hands together. You have to hide the smile as you shed your jacket from your shoulders, beginning to reach for your jeans when you pause. You take a seat on the bed, watching Spencer eye you carefully from his spot by the door.

"Come here." There isn't a question in your tone, it's more of an order. An order Spencer hastily obeys as he scrambles to stand before you.

"Undress me." You instruct, and Spencer kneels immediately to grab at the hem of your shirt. He carefully lifts the fabric off your body and tosses it aside before reaching around your body to unclip your bra. "No touching baby boy, you were naughty remember?" You snapped, and you saw him turn his head down in shame before turning his attention towards your pants. He unbuttons your jeans and helps pull them down your legs. Spencer's breath gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on your clothed pussy.

"Like what you see precious? Maybe if you were a good boy and didn't let that woman run her hands all over you, maybe I'd let you touch." You purr watching the disdain in his eyes when he realizes what his punishment is going to be.

"Tell me the truth baby boy, did you let her touch you in the car?"

He nods, but that's not good enough for you. You reach down to roughly palm him through his slacks.

"I said did you let her touch you?" You punctuate every word with a gentle squeeze around his cock. Finally, Spencer seems to find his voice.

"Y-Yes!"

"Where? Show me where she marked what's mine." You hiss, not even attempting to disguise your frustration. Spencer lifts one hand to his chest and trails it down his stomach, dangerously close to the hem of his pants before thankfully he stops.

"You let her touch you, this close to your cock?" You snap, tearing your hand away from him.

"I-I'm sorry!" He stammers, his eyes wide and his hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Boy does he look pretty on his knees before you. Not pretty enough for mercy however. There's a pleading look in his eyes, and a desperation. A desperation to please you.

"Make it up to me." You snap and as soon as the words leave your lips, Spencer's fingers are curling around the waistband of your underwear and tearing them off your body.

"Y-Yes ma'am." You lean back on your elbows as Spencer lowers his head between your legs, his eyes flickering to yours briefly. With a nod of your head, Spencer is delving between your legs with the enthusiasm of sex deprived teenager. Your head tosses back immediately as you feel his tongue licking thick stripes over your entrance. He continues to lap at you, his tongue teasing your entrance before he returns to his heavy licking. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his curls and pulling his head closer.

"Just like that, you're being such a good boy." You praise through breathy moans, and Spencer can feel his chest swell with pride. He loves being your good boy. But he isn't your baby boy all the time, sometimes, with a bit of coaxing, he becomes daddy. Spencer reaches up to prod a finger at your entrance before he's sinking in knuckle deep, his mouth curling around your clit. Spencer pumps on finger, to stretch you a little before slowly working a second finger into your suffocatingly tight heat.

"Yes Spencer, don't stop." You beg, feeling yourself climbing closer to reaching the peak, especially when his tongue flicks expertly against your clit while his fingers pump steadily into you. "Oh God, my good boy-" You praise again, and this time Spencer moans against you. Your toes curl as the vibrations send a course of pleasure through you, you've got to make him do that again.

"Do you like being my good boy Spencer? My good, obedient boy. So eager to please me, to make me feel good. And you do, you make me feel so good because you're such a good, good, boy." Your heavy praise causes Spencer to release a low groan, and the feeling is enough to launch you over the edge. Spencer keeps pumping is fingers into you, his tongue swirling soft circles over your clit to help you through your orgasm. Once your body has stopped jerking, you finally pull him off you.

"I forgive you precious, but unfortunately I still have to punish you." You inform him as you pull him back up to his feet. You hear him whine as you push his chest to lay him back against the bed.

"Do you have to?"

"Are you talking back to me baby boy?"

"N-No!" He squeaks instantly, his cheeks painted red. You stand over him, laying beneath you and you can't fight the soft moan that escapes your lips upon seeing him. His hair is disheveled from you raking your fingers through his, his brown eyes are wide and innocent as he looks up at you, and his cheeks are dusted such a beautiful shade of pink.

"Take off your clothes precious, I want to see all of you." You instruct, and you love the shy look on his face as he reaches up to remove his shirt. You let your eyes shamelessly roam his body as he slowly exposes more skin to you. Despite having been together for a few years now, Spencer is still incredibly insecure. Deep down he's worried you'll grow tired of him. Worried that you'll seek out other men despite being with him. Spencer is worried he's not enough to keep you interested. Which is wildly untrue, it's already been over 3 years and if anything you become more interested as time goes on.

"So beautiful baby boy, your body is a work of art." You breathe under your breath. Spencer blushes even deeper then he was before as he nervously fidgets underneath. You swing your legs on either side of his waist, your palms on the bed next to his head. "Your punishment, precious boy," your hands drift to his that are resting on your hips, "is that you can't touch me." You finish, moving his hands to the bed.

Spencer's eyes widen as his head drops back. A whine escapes his lips, but like a good boy, he grasps tightly at the sheets. You reach between your bodies to grasp his cock, pressing the head against your entrance before you teasingly lower onto him. Spencer's eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of your velvety walls around him- it's almost too much for the poor boy. It doesn't help that it's been a few weeks since you two last had sex, meaning you're tighter then you normally are. In fact you're so tight that Spencer can't even breathe properly while he's stretching you open.

"Oh baby boy, you feel absolutely wonderful. Your cock stretches me open so good." You purr, your hands landing on his chest for leverage so you can bounce on him faster. Spencer whimpers softly, the feeling is overwhelming, you can tell he's struggling to contain himself. Your hair drifts down your back when you throw your head back, his cock hitting places deep inside you.

"Getting close," You moan and Spencer knows that's his cue to reach down and begin rubbing circles over your clit. As soon as his thumb makes contact you're moaning loudly, your free hand digging into his hair to hold onto tightly. "Yes Spencer, yes." The phrase becomes a chant you repeat in your head over and over again. Spencer continues to rub you, desperate to help you find your release. When you slam down on him again, his cock hits the place deep inside you that makes your toes curl. You cum instantaneously, your body nearly falling top of Spencer's from the sheer force of it. Spencer's arms come up to steady you, offering shallow thrusts into you to chase his own release.

"Y/N...c-can I?" His voice is wrought, and you smile weakly.

"Yes precious, you can cum." As soon as you give him permission, he's cumming in hot gushes into you, his face buried in your neck. You run your hand down his back as his heart rate slows back to normal, and Spencer's arms stay curled around your waist.

"Spence?"

"Hm?" You can hear the lazy drawl in his voice that lets you know he's getting very sleepy.

"Don't ever break my rules again, or your punishment will be much worse."

"Yes ma'am." You press a kiss to his lips before pulling off him, and curling yourself into his side.

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

You Are More Than Enough ⚡️🧱

Alpha Kirishima x F! Beta Reader x Alpha Kaminari

Requested by @lizwello

Words: 4K

Summary: Your two alphas, Kaminari and Kirishima, ease your insecurities due to your Beta status

⚠️NSFW⚠️

(Not my art. Please credit the artist if you know their handle💕)

Biology failed you; instead of having a mouthwatering scent like an Omega or the strong presence of an Alpha, you were born a Beta. That means that you were normally the third choice for everyone (even for your fellow Betas). 

Your entire life you’ve always felt like a secondary character in the lives of your friends (which was somewhat expected but it still hurt) and even yourself. Your omega friends were being courted while your alpha friends were doing the courting. Where did that leave you? Alone. Unwanted. 

Media and schooling has a lot to do with your low self-confidence. Betas make up 90% of the population yet, alphas and omegas are the ones that get the glory. The media portrays the alpha as a possessive lover over the meek, submissive omega. The media romanticizes it so much that it becomes the ideal relationship. The media doesn’t show Betas being with omegas or alphas. No, Betas must mate with Betas. 

Sometimes, there are exceptions to everything. Alphas can be with alphas. Omegas can be with Betas. Omegas can be with Omegas (it’s rare but it has happened once before). Naturally, you expected you’d end up with another Beta. How could you not?

It makes sense; from a biological standpoint, omegas bodies and pheromones are meant for an alpha. Alphas knots are meant to be taken by an omega’s sweet body. 

Shiketsu High School was a relatively peaceful school (which was completely different from U.A. when you had been in attendance). You had graduated at the top of your class, alongside Inasa, and had been invited to join All Might’s hero agency. You supposed it was only a matter of time before pro-heroes started to approach you with job opportunities given your quirk. 

Born with the power of fear manipulation, you’d think you had a better grip of your own fears. Everyday, you went into the minds of villains and used their weaknesses against them however, you never thought about your own. You didn’t fear anything physical so, you suppose you’d call your fear mental-maybe emotional. A fear of not being good enough. 

So, when you started the job, you were fearful of what to expect. How would your co-workers treat you? Would anyone be interested in you? 

You know you may sound desperate but you can’t help it. Maybe it was the lack of experience from your youth or your pessimistic view of the world but, you wanted the same love you saw around you. After all, isn’t that what everyone wants? To feel loved? 

Your first day at All Might’s agency was something you’ll never forget. He wanted you there early so you could meet your comrades before they started their patrolling. You remember how he dwarfed you even in his skinny stature. 

“Do you have any questions?” His hand was softly ushering you into one of the debriefing rooms. “Don’t be afraid to ask. Anything to do with your quirk? Or, maybe work hours? Or-“

“Sir, I think you’re more nervous than I am,” perhaps it’s because he’s an alpha. It’s his preposition to fret about the health and comfort of others. 

“Sorry,” he laughs and rubs the back of his neck, cerulean eyes glancing down at you. “Young Midoriya always tells me I’m like a mother hen. I just want you to feel comfortable. Most of everyone that works here went to U.A. so I know you may feel singled out.” 

A silence was the only response he got; you’d be damned if you ever said anything for him or anyone else to pity you. You didn’t get to be this strong because of pity. 

“EVERYONE, GATHER AROUND. THE NEW HERO IS HERE,” everyone came rushing in with their colorful costumes on display. The pro-hero ‘Deku’ was the first to greet you in an excited frenzy.��

“Y/N, I’m Deku. Well, Izuku Midoriya but everyone calls me Deku. What’s your quirk? All Might wouldn’t tell us,” you know notice the notebook he holds in his hand. 

“Why do you need to know? You want to know my weaknesses?” You quirk your brow and feel your guard going back up. Behind you, All Might was noticing your combative attitude, noting it will definitely take a while for you to fit in. 

“Wha-no, no, no. Nothing like that. I-I just wanted to know,” he’s sputtering when a brown-haired woman comes to his side. 

“You’ll have to excuse Deku. He just gets excited about quirks. He’s documented all of ours so he can analyze them and give us suggestions to help us reach our greatest potential,” the woman smiles at the blubbering greenette. “I’m Uraraka.” 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” 

“Stop hogging her,” it’s like time started lagging. Your eyes fell on a blonde with a fringe, his fringe having a black light night strip. He’s lean in stature but, his eyes are the type of honey blonde that could stop anyone in their tracks (although it’s a shame he’s wearing blue tinted glasses that simmer the color). “Woah.” 

“Woah?” You cross your arms across your chest. 

“Yes, woah. You’re beautiful,” you turn bright red. “And, responsive. You smell good too.” 

The next moment he’s stuck on your neck, pulling you by the back of your head so he can expose more of your scent to his nose. Your mouth waters at how good he smells as well. 

“DENKI! You can’t go around smelling and scenting people without their permission,” from what you can see, the man admonishing the alpha on your neck has fire engine red eyes and bright red hair. You can catch glimpses of his sharp teeth when he speaks but your mind focuses on his lips. You look further down to see his torso exposed, body hard with muscle. “Woah.” 

“This is Y/N. The new hero I was telling you all about last week. Please treat her with respect and make her feel at home,” All Might was smiling down at you. 

“I’m Kirishima. The one scenting you is Kaminari,” you just nod till Kaminari is finished and let’s go. Even if it’s only for a second, Kirishima replaces Kaminari’s place on your body, fogging your mind up once again. You want to whine at the strong scents but you keep that to yourself. They’re probably just playing with you. 

“Both of you, give her some space,” All Might’s demand is enough for them to take a few steps back but, you can still smell them as if they’re still on you. “You okay, Y/N?”

“I’m fine.” 

And, you were fine for a while till, you kept getting closer with the two alphas that scented you on your first day. You knew they were special. They were close, not mates but, close enough for anyone that didn’t know them to think so. You couldn’t tell what their relationship was but, they welcomed you into their duo with no questions asked, making their duo a trio. 

“She’s the one,” even without knowing you for long, Kirishima can tell you’re meant for him and Kaminari. 

“Just look at how perfect she is,” Denki fawns at you from across the room. “She doesn’t smile much. Luckily, I have so many jokes for her,” Kirishima facepalms as Kaminari gives him his signature thumbs up. 

“I have a feeling you’re going to drive her up a tree, aren’t you?” Kaminari nods. “Well, at least make sure you don’t push her too much.” 

“I won’t, scouts honor. Sooo, which one of us is going to ask her out?” Kaminari already has a few ideas of how to ask her but he doubts Kirishima will trust him with speaking to her without scenting her for the next few times he encounters her. 

“I think we both know I’ll be the one to ask her. We need to get her familiar with us before you start sending shocks up her legs,” they both smirk at the pun. 

And, so, an unlikely (in your opinion) friendship began to form between you, Kaminari, and Kirishima. Both alphas pursued you no matter how much you insisted their efforts would be appreciated somewhere else. Albeit, you did enjoy the attention they gave you. 

“Y/N, come here so we can cuddle,” you barely have any time to yourself as they both grab you and tuck you under their arm (truthfully, you don’t mind the attention). Either you sit on their lap willingly or they’ll grab you and put you there on their own accord. 

It doesn’t take much time for them to ask for your friendship to be morphed into something more. Despite your outward disparity, you’re elated when they ask you to be with them. Maybe it’s because you’re selfish and wouldn’t be able to bare them treating someone else the way they’ve treated you. 

‘Pro-Heroes ‘Chargebolt’ and ‘Red Riot’ Take New Beta Hero ‘Y/N’ As A Mate.’ The press had a field day when you first confirmed the rumors circulating about what was going on amongst the three of you. Some approved the relationship while most asked the obvious question: Why were eligible alphas such as Chargebolt and Red Riot wasting their time on a Beta? 

It just didn’t make much sense. They had the cream of the crop, omegas throwing themselves at the heroes left and right, matchmakers contacting them to find them an omega for free. Hell, some even tried to discredit them as alphas, saying they had to settle for a Beta. That type of response made you weary (well, you’d always been weary no matter how much they tried to dispel your fears).

They made sure to take you out every other day, sometimes they’d do individual dates but most of the time it was the three of you. Their embraces always made you comfortable, almost like you belonged with them. However, you still couldn’t ignore that inkling in your mind that made you doubt the likelihood of your relationship. 

Your doubts often consumed your thoughts, which pissed Kaminari and Kirishima off to no end. 

Kaminari was much more direct with his approach to your insecurities. He’d talk your ear off, send a few shocks to your core, and give you a faux innocent smile. “You’re so perfect for us, Y/N. There’s no need to be scared that you’re not enough.” 

Surprisingly, Kirishima is something else entirely in his wake to assure you. He’s dominant and domineering (which often ends up with you on your belly with your ass up as he spanks his words into your mind). It’s like night and day between the two of them. “Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you you’re meant for us? Or, maybe you like being spanked like this?” 

Eventually, you move in with them. It seemed natural at the time to be with them in that aspect so you could be with them every moment of the day. However, you still have your reservations. 

One day, you’re sitting on the couch in the living room watching some rom com when an advertisement pops on the screen. You knew you should’ve turned the channel but, you couldn’t help yourself as you felt enticed by what they were selling. 

Created specifically for Betas, a perfume that will make your scent more enticing to alphas. The perfect way to capture the attention of that special alpha you’ve been wanting. Guaranteed happiness for both you and your partner. How could you not put in an order for the scent? 

You didn’t really think it out, didn’t consider that Kaminari and Kirishima adore the way you smell. You just wanted to make them happy and you thought this was the easiest way. 

It took two long months for the perfume to be shipped out and one more month for it to be mailed to the correct address (apparently, a lot of other Betas had the same idea as yourself). The stuff was expensive, coming in at thirty-one thousand yen a bottle. 

‘This shit better work. I could’ve bought so much food with that money,’ you stare at the bottle as you contemplate whether or not you should really do it. ‘If this doesn’t work, they’ll be really pissed off.’

“Kirishima will be home early, SparkPlug. I have to stay behind for a mission. You sure you’ll be okay alone?” Kaminari had your face between his hands and your foreheads rested against one another’s. 

“Yes, Sparky. I’ll be fine. Go do your job,” you were going to enjoy this day off. You had worked double shifts the past month for this moment. 

He smirked, slowly brought your lips to his, and shocked you with his tongue, making your eyes dilate. “Be a good girl for us while we’re gone.” 

He left and you were not a good girl. You spent the whole day dousing yourself in the perfume (i.e. you literally dumped half the bottle into some bath water so it could fuse with your skin). You even bought a new babydoll negligee for when they came home. So, when Kirishima walked through the front door, you were walking around in your silk robe. 

“Kiri, babe I missed you,” you were waiting for him on the side of the door, legs exposed and your creamy skin distracting him for a few moments. 

“I-Uh missed you too, RockCandy,” he lifts you into his large arms, nuzzling your neck. He’s always called you RockCandy since he picked up the habit from Fatgum. “W-what is that smell?” Kirishima’s nose twitched at the obnoxious sweet scent that seemed to ooze out of your pores. 

“It’s a new perfume. How does it smell?” You were optimistic that he’d like it. That would mean that Kaminari would enjoy it too. And, that would mean that you could finally please them. 

“Sweetheart, honey, baby, love-“ 

“Just spit it out.” 

“I hate it,” Kirishima rubs your back to comfort you. 

“Oh,” you rest your head on his shoulder, wanting to cry. “Well, I’ll go take a shower.” 

You walk off before he can stop you, storming to the bathroom where the first thing you did was throw that stupid fucking bottle of lousy perfume in the small trash can near your bed. 

You’re pretty sure you heard the negligee rip a bit with how hard you pulled it off of your body and hopped into the shower. 

You’re crying out of frustration. Why did you think that was going to work? Were you really that desperate with changing yourself that you really did that? Who in their right mind does-

“Beta, what is this?” 

Huh? 

“What the fuck is this?” You peep your head from behind the curtain to see Kirishima holding the scent change bottle. 

“Uh it-it’s...y-you know! It’s on the damn bottle Kiri!” He grabs your face in his hand, squishing your cheeks together. 

“What did you just say to me?” Kirishima’s face was close, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Are you challenging me, baby?” 

“Nooooo, no. Definitely not trying to challenge you at all. I’m just frustrated,” you pout. 

“That pout isn’t gonna help you. You think it’s okay to cuss at me just because you're frustrated?” You shake your head. “You think it’s okay to change yourself?” 

You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, you can deny it but he’s seen the proof. On the other hand, you can come clean however, you doubt that you’ll get away with this unscathed. What to do?

“I just wanted to be better for the both of you. I know that I don’t smell the best and I know that you both could’ve done better,” you sniffle. 

“Y/N, get your ass in that shower and wash that shit off. I wanna smell what’s mine. Better hurry. Kaminari is on his way home,” you jump to action. You’re scrubbing your body with a loofa (it’s most likely one of your alphas). Apparently, he’s not gonna give you any sympathy. 

Kirishima sits on the toilet beside the shower, watching you like a hawk. Whenever you scrub between your legs, he licks his lips and his sharp teeth are exposed. He notices you staring at them and runs his teeth along the top. 

You want to draw the shower out but, you know Kirishima will pull you out once he knows that you are milking it. Plus, you want to get out before Kaminari gets home. 

You step out into the cold air and you’re wrapped in a towel by Kiri. His arms keep you caged against his broad chest, making you melt at the contact. The towel is the only thing separating him from seeing your naked body. 

“Kiri, I’ve got to get dressed.” 

“No, you get on the bed and take that towel off. I want you on your back with your legs spread, pussy open for me to eat. I’m sure Kaminari would love that too,” he pushes you forward, spanking your ass before you're completely away from his touch. 

So, yeah that’s how you ended up in that position, waiting for Kaminari to get home while Kirishima was leaving bite marks on your inner thighs. You grip the sheets while your face contorts with pleasure, his mouth dangerously close to the place you need him most but still denying you the pleasure you want. 

“Ohhh, Sparkplug, you couldn’t wait for me to get home?” You didn’t even hear the front door open as Kaminari came home. He sniffed as he crossed the threshold, something disgusting in the air, but he quickly tossed that aside when he heard your moans. 

Just imagine how good it felt for him to see you on your shared bed, pussy glistening with juices that he knows will soon be his meal, nipples pointing to the sky, face so beautiful and pleasured. 

“Kami, guess what our little girl did this time?” You tense a bit. 

“Must have been something good for this type of treatment,” Kaminari shed his clothes as he stepped further into the room, clothes beneath him as he settled next to Kirishima, spreading your legs even further to accommodate both of them. 

“Quite the opposite. This one decided to change her scent. Fucking nasty. Smelled nothing like her. She tried to change what we like,” and suddenly you're looking into the eyes of two alphas that are ready to punish their mate. 

“Did she?” 

“I’m sure you smelled it.”

“I did but, I assumed I was just smelling something wrong,” Kaminari drags his pinky against your clit, a small shock making you cry out. 

“Daddy, pleaseee,” drool is pooling a bit on the side of your mouth. 

“You’re not in any position to ask anything. Now, shush, the alphas are speaking,” you’re flooding the sheets with arousal, wetness slipping down the crack of your ass. “What do you think we should do to her?”

“I say we eat first then fuck her so hard she can’t question anything,” Kirishima has a dark small on his face. “She needs some good ole’ DP therapy.” 

“I was just thinking the same thing,” they both flatten their tongue and lick on your outer lips at the same time, holding one of your legs on each of their shoulders for some stability. Kaminari’s tongue stiffens to push into your weeping hole while Kirishima nibbles softly on your clit. Their saliva makes you wetter than you already were. 

Both groan at the taste of you when they first make contact. Your sweet tang is something neither of them will ever tire of. Both of them hold your legs open as they feast, your juices rushing down their chins as you can feel some of your essence squirt when the pleasure keeps building up. It was hard enough trying not to cum since you didn’t have permission but it seemed like they didn’t care as they didn’t even slow down. They licked up your juice, Kaminari sucking on your clit while Kirishima speared his tongue into your hole, hardening his tongue when he got far enough to touch that special spot within you.

Your legs are shaking, your vision dotted black as they draw away from you, making you think that maybe they will have mercy on you. Not even close. Kaminari laid down on the bed, your juices against his back as Kirishima settled your core over his mouth, essentially putting you in a position to ride Kaminari’s face. His tongue continued its work as Kirishma pushed you over a bit, exposing your backhole to him. He licked his lips with anticipation, thinking about the last time you allowed him to do this. 

‘It’s been too long,’ Kirishima thinks to himself as he starts to slowly prod at your asshole with his tongue, his hands spreading your ass so he can push his tongue in further. At the same time, Kaminari sent a spark on your clit, the feeling making you clench your toes as you rocked back onto Kirishima’s tongue. 

“Pleaseeee, don’t wanna wait any longer. Please, fuck me,” Kirishima laughed at your begging. “Kiri, pleasee.”

“What’s my name?” Kirishima leaned over to the nightstand beside the bed to pull out some lube, squirting some onto his cock and onto your hole. He knew he would have to prep you, so he slipped one finger into your hole, meeting little resistance. Another two were pushed in and you squealed as you felt his fingers stretch you further. “You’re crying already, baby? I haven’t even got myself in you yet.” 

“Daddy, please,” your throat was feeling raw from all the crying you were doing.

“Want your daddies to fuck your slutty holes?” you nodded fervently. “I need vocal confirmation.”

“Fuck your slutty holes! Aghh fuck yes please,” that was enough confimation for Kaminari to slide you down his body, stuffing you full of his cock with no warning, You groaned as you felt Kirishima withdraw his fingers and replace them with his girthy cock, pushing into you inch by inch. You were now panting like a bitch in heat as Kaminari pumped into you, his cock bumping into Kirishima’s within you. 

“Fuck, I can feel you bro,” Kaminari didn’t slow down as he kissed your neck and fucked into you. He groaned as Kirishima started to move, pushing in whenever he pulled out. They were working in synchrony. 

“Bro, look at our baby. No omega could ever take our knots like this. Isn’t that right?” Kaminari held your throat in his hands, cock pumping your pussy from beneath you. 

“So fucking tight baby. Doing a good job for your alphas,” you lean down to kiss him, whining into his mouth as Kirishima spreads your ass to spear his cock into your ass at a deeper angle. Every stroke hits your walls from both holes, making your legs shake at the intensity. 

You scream as you feel another orgasm attacking you, its ferocity ripping you apart as you could do nothing but lay there and cry on your alphas cocks. All the sensations were becoming too much as you tried to squirm away, making both alphas grip onto you. 

“Don’t fucking run,” Kaminari growled into your ear.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re gonna lay here and take what we fucking give you,” Kirishima breathed into your ear as he leaned over your body, his sweaty chest on your sweaty back. True to his word, they continued to fuck you through your orgasms, calling you their perfect little slut. 

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last,” Kaminari was the first to cum in your pussy, making a delicious creamipe from Kirishima’s view. He reached down to your clit, stroking it hard as he groaned. 

“One last time baby. I know you can uhahhh fuck fuck yes there ya go baby. All over daddy's cock,” you came over both of them, Kirishima erupting in your ass as he laid down on your back, squishing you between them as their cocks kept their cum in you. 

“Don’t ever think you aren’t enough for us. You’ll always be more than enough.” 

[a-room-of-my-own]

A while before the latest hoo-ha about Judith Butler, I had just been reading her again. Though she claims her critics have not read her, this simply isn’t the case. I read Gender Trouble when it first came out and it was important at the time . That time was long,long ago. She was just one of the many ‘post-structuralist’ thinkers I was into. I would trip off to see  Luce Irigaray or Derrida whenever they appeared.

I got an interview  with Baudrillard and tried to sell it to The Guardian but they  didn’t know who he was so its fair to say I was fairly immersed in that world of theory.  For a while, I had a part time lecturing job so I had to keep on top of it. Though Butler’s idea of gender as performance was not new , it was interesting.  RuPaul said it so much more clearly in a  quote nicked from  someone else “Honey ,we are born naked, the rest is drag”

What I was looking for again , I guess is not any clarity – her writing is famously and deliberately difficult-�� but whether there was ever any sense of the material body. She wrote herself in 2004 “I confess however I am not a very good materialist. Every time I try to write about the body, the writing ends up being about language” . 

Butler from on high ,cannot really think about the body at all which is why they (Butler’s chosen pronoun) are now the high priestess of a particular kind of trans ideology.  The men who worship Butler are not versed in high theory. The fox botherer had a “brain swoon” at some very ordinary things Butler said. Mr Right Side of history nodded along in an interview. Clearly neither of these men are versed in any of this philosophy and would be better off sticking to tax law and the decline of the Labour Party. Butler is simply a totem for them.

Butler said in the Guardian interview for instance  “Gender is an assignment that does not just happen once: it is ongoing. We are assigned a sex at birth and then a slew of expectations follow which continue to “assign” gender to us.”

So yeah? That’s a fairly basic view of the social construction of gender though I take issue with the assigned at birth thing ,which I will come back to and why I started reading her again in the first place.

This phrase “Assigned sex at birth” is now common parlance but simply does not make sense  to me. I am living with someone who is pregnant. I have given birth three times and been a birthing  partner. I know where babies come from. There is a deep disconnect here between language and reality which no amount of academic jargon can obliterate. 

Babies  come from bodies. Not any bodies but bodies that have a uterus. They grew inside a woman’s body until they  get pushed out or dragged out into the world. 

The facts of life that we are now to be liberated from in the form of denial. Only one sex can have babies but we must now somehow not say that. The pregnant “people” of Texas will now be forced into giving birth to children they don’t want because they are simply “host bodies”. The language of patriarchal supremacy and that of some of the trans ideologues is remarkably close, as is their biological ignorance.

There is no foetal heatbeat at six weeks for instance. When a baby is born , doctors and midwives do not randomly assign a sex, they observe it and they do it though genitalia. 

There is a question over a tiny percentage of babies ,less that one percent with DSDs but even then they are sexed with doctors having  difficult conversations with parents about what may happen later.

Somehow, though when I read the way in which this is now all discussed it is clear to me that the people talking have never been pregnant, never had a foetal scan, never been near a birth , never miscarried, do not understand that even with a still birth babies are still sexed and often named. 

If you want to know the sex of your baby you can pay privately and know at 7 weeks ((*49-56 days from the first day of the mother’s last menstrual cycle). A 12 week scan will show it. That is why so many female foetuses are aborted . I have reported on this. 

Talking to paediatricians about this is interesting because they do indeed have to think through these things that we are being told are not real eg. that sex is just a by-product of colonialism for instance.  Sometimes pre-conception , geneticists will be looking at chromosomes because certain diseases are more likely in men or women. Males have a higher risk of haemophilia for instance.  

One doctor told me “When babies are premature, the survival advantage of females over males is well known throughout neonatology. This is sometimes something we talk about with parents when there is threatened premature labour around 23 weeks' gestation and options to discuss about resuscitation and medical interventions. In fertility treatment (or counselling around fertility in the context of medical treatments) it is pretty inherent to know whether we need to plan around sperm, or ova + pregnancy.”

She also said that if she involved in a birth that “assigning” isn’t the word she world use. “Observed genitals a highly reliable observation, just like measuring weight or head circumference which is also done at this time. “ Another doctor said that anyone involved with a trans man giving birth  would be doing the best for the patient in front  of them. 

Sex then is biological fact. A female baby will have all the eggs she will ever have when she is first born which is kind of amazing. It is not bio-essentialist to say that our sexed bodies are different nor is it transphobic to recognise it.

Except of course in my old newspaper ,The Guardian who are now so hamstrung by their  own ideology they have got their knickers in such a twist they can barely walk.  They completely misreported the WiSpa incident , basically ignored the Sonia  Appleby  judgement at the Tavistock. Appleby was a whistle blower ,a respected professional concerned with safe guarding. She won her case. The cherry on the cake this week was an interview with Butler, themselves (?) in which they went on about Terfs being fascists and needing to extend the category of women.

Does anyone EVER stop to think that most gender critical women are of the left, supporters of gay rights, often lesbian and that this is not America? We are not in bed with the far right. This is bollocks. Just another way to dismiss us.  

As we watch Afghanistan and Texas ,to say Butler’s words were tone deaf is to say the least. But they didn’t even have the guts to keep the most offensive stuff in the piece and overnight edited it out without really explaining why : the bits where Butler described gender critical people as fascist. Perhaps because the person their “reporters” had  defended against  transphobia at WiSpa turned out to be a known sex offender,  perhaps because someone pointed out that Butler was throwing around the word fascist rather like Rik Mayall used to do in the Young Ones. 

All of this is rather desperate and readers deserve better. When I left that newspaper I said that I thought and expected editors to stand up for their writers in public. Instead they go into some catatonic paralysis. I may have not liked this interview but it should never have been cut. Stand by what you publish or your credibility is shot.

But this is about more than Judith Butler and their refusal to support women . Butler is not really any kind of feminist at all. What this is about is the large edifice of trans ideology  crumbling when any real analysis is applied. Yes, I have read Shon Faye’s book and there are some interesting points in it and I totally agree that the lives of trans people should be easier and health care better . I have never said anything but that.

What Faye does in the book is say that there can be no trans liberation under capitalism so there will be a bit of a wait I suspect. 

Yet surely it is the other way round and what we are seeing is that trans ideology (not trans people – I am making a distinction here ) represent the apex of capitalism .

For it means that the individual decides their own gendered essence and then spends a fortune on surgery and a lifetime on medication to achieve the appearance of it. Of course lots of people spend a lifetime  on medication but not out of choice.  Marx understood very well that the abolition of our system of production would free up women.

Now it is all about freeing up men. Who say they are women. Quelle surprise.  

 Nussbaum’s famous take down of Butler is premised exactly on the sense of individual versus collective struggle “ The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler’s self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. “

Such thinking now dominates academia. There is simply an unquestioning  rehearsal of something most of know not to be true thus Amia Srinivasan writes in The Right to Sex  “At birth, bodies are sorted as ‘male’ or ‘female’, though many bodies must be mutilated to fit one category or the other, and many bodies will later protest against the decision that was made. This originary division determines what social purpose a body will be assigned.”

What does ‘sorted’ mean here? A tiny number of intersex babies are born. A tiny number of people are trans and decide to change their bodies. The feminist demand to challenge gender norms without mutilating any one’s body no longer matters. What matters now is this retrograde return  to some gendered soul. This is not something any decent Marxist would have any truck with . Of course one may change over a lifetime and of course gender is never ‘settled.’ We are complex people who inhabit bodies that often don’t work or appear as we want them to.

But not only is there a denial of basic Marxism going on here , what becomes ever more apparent is  that there is a denial of motherhood. Butler said “Yet gender is also what is made along the way – we can take over the power of assignment, make it into self-assignment, which can include sex reassignment at a legal and medical level.”

Self-assignment is key . One may birth oneself. No longer of woman born but self -made. This is a theoretical leap but it also one that has profound implications for women as a sex class. We are really then, just the  host bodies to a new breed of people who self-assign.

Maybe that is the future although look around the word and there isn’t a lot of self-assignment going on. There are simply women shot and beaten in the street, choked to death or having  their rights taken  away. There is no identifying out of this , there is no fluidity here . This is not discourse. It is brutality and do we not have some responsibility to other women to confront male violence ?

Instead the hatred is aided and abetted by so called philosophers describing  other women as Terfs. It is utterly depressing.

The sexed body. The pregnant body. The dying body. The body is in trouble when we can’t talk about it . I thought of Margaret Mary O’Hara’s  beautiful and  strange lyrics and what they might mean. I await my child’s return from the hospital as hers is a difficult pregnancy and thank god they are on the case. The sex of the child she carries does not matter to me at all .

It simply exists. Not in language but within a body. 

Why is that so difficult to acknowledge? 

[jj-babebank]

Room 107 // chapter III // JJ Maybank (smut)

This story picks up where season 2 leaves us.

TW: May contain mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CAN BE FOUND HERE: one ; two

Chapter 3 - La Ganga

Samara’s hand was still resting on JJ’s knee as her eyes sultrily bored into his, waiting for his response. JJ’s head was spinning in a thousand different directions, trying to assess what exactly was going on. The main issue he had with this whole ordeal was that she didn’t in fact invite him over because she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. The sad truth, as JJ came to realise, was that this annoyingly attractive girl had simply overheard him boasting to his friends about the gold that they had found, and respectively lost, and now she wanted a piece of that instead. JJ sighed loudly. As much as he hated to admit that this was a bad idea, he pushed that thought very far to the side and tried to negotiate with the part of his brain that didn’t think logically, which in his case was the dominating one. What exactly could he lose here? The chances of them finding the Royal Merchant gold were extremely low, to the point where they were almost non-existent. This girl was voluntarily offering to help them find it, and she was also willingly to let them stay in her family’s hotel for free until further notice. How JJ saw this was extremely straight-forward and simple - Samara asks for part of the gold, Samara offers her help in return for the gold, JJ accepts said offer and lets her help, growing closer to her in the meantime, seducing her and eventually winning her over, so that even they don’t find the actual treasure, she realises that the real treasure was right there with her all along, at it wore worn down biker boots and went by the name of JJ Maybank. Yep, that sounded like a great plan, one of his best plans yet, if he did say so himself. He looked down at Samara’s hand still on his knee, a ball of excitement growing in his stomach just at the sight of it being there, then he looked up at her face, twisting the corners of his thin lips into a smirk. “You have yourself a deal, gorgeous,” he said, his confidence suddenly returning to his body. The old JJ senses were coming back headfirst and he was feeling great about it. Samara smiled in return, raising her glass for a toast, “To working together,” JJ clinked his glass with hers, sending her a wink, “To working with each other,” The pair sat in silence for a moment, JJ mostly admiring the girl sitting next to him, before she broke the silence, “Where did you say you were from, JJ?” “We never got to that part, actually,” he answered, glad that Samara was taking interest in him, “I’m from a place called the Outer Banks, more specifically Kildare. It’s in North Carolina, right by the coast.” He explained, painting an imaginary picture of what he was saying with his hands, "You know, prior to ending up here, which was a total coincidence by the way, the furthest I’d been from Kildare was Charleston. I, uh, I haven’t really been anywhere.” Samara was studying his face while he was talking. She had asked him a simple question and was expecting a simple answer, yet this boy could just seemingly not stop talking. She couldn’t decide whether it was annoying, or strangely endearing. She almost felt bad for having to shut him up to change the topic to what she had actually called him over for, “So tell me about this gold,” Lucky for her, JJ didn’t seem to mind her direct approach to the change of subject, instantly going into another story - the one that interested her the most. “Funny you ask,” he said enthusiastically, taking a rather big sip of his wine, “So as I said, I’m from the Outer Banks. Let me describe the OBX to you - it’s an odd place, you see, a place much like any other in the sense that it’s divided into rich and poor, however that divide is a suuuuper big deal to us. You’ve got the rich and elite bastards called the Kooks, and you’ve also got the not so lucky ones who work for them - the Pogues. Me and those guys you so kindly invited into your home, are, well, were Pogues. Except for Sarah, she was rich-rich.” There it was again - JJ getting completely side-tracked in his own thoughts, talking about irrelevant to the topic of conversation things.

Samara somehow found it entertaining and she wasn’t particularly bothered by it so she just let him speak, hoping that he’d eventually get to the point. “- so one day, it turned out that John B’s old man was dead, although he’d left behind all these clues and well, one thing lead to another, we found the gold, except we weren’t the only people looking for it, obviously,” Bingo, there it was - the gold. Samara knew this was her cue to focus, “- so when we were finally within touching distance of the gold and the cross - boom - we threw ourselves of the ship to dodge getting totally killed, and, well, here we are.” JJ wrapped up his story, leaning back into the couch and sighing contently with what he believed to be a great short summary of what had happened to him and his friends, finishing the rest of his wine. Samara frowned as she did the same, “Hold that thought,” she said, standing up and disappearing into the diner for a brief moment, before coming back with a bottle of the infamous whiskey from earlier, it had just enough contents to fill up one more glass each. JJ smirked at the sight of her when she sat back down next to him and she frowned dramatically, “What? I thought this called for something a bit stronger.” JJ didn’t protest as the pretty brunette refilled their wine glasses with the harder liquor, “I have a cousin up in Daytona,” she said as matter-of-factly, “He owns a motel in the Holly Hill area. We can crash up there while we head up north. We’ll leave first thing Thursday morning, before my aunt and cousin come back. I’ll make sure we have everything we need by then, we have just enough time.” “Why are we heading up north?” JJ looked puzzled, “And how many cousins with hotels do you have?” “Seeing as we know virtually nothing about where these people were heading, the most logical thing that we can do is go back to the Outer Banks and try finding out as much as we can from there. There must be someone who knows.” The more she spoke, the more it made sense to JJ. Ward would have made sure to erase all of his traces by now, Rafe would have tried his best to follow in his father’s footsteps, however there was one member of the Cameron family who was, for the lack of a better word, messy. And that was Wheezie Cameron, Sarah’s younger sister. JJ was sure that Ward would have changed all of their phone numbers, if they were even still allowed to have a phone, however the thought of Wheezie Cameron totally removing herself from social media was by far absurd to JJ. He was sure that they would be able to somehow trace her even without having to go all the way back to the OBX, but before they could do that, this was their only option. Samara had turned out smarter than he had made her out to be initially. She was cunning, generous and helpful, all traits that JJ never thought he’d find this attractive in a woman. Hell, up until now he’d never even looked for any traits in women beyond their physical appearance, yet here he was - a changed man. “You, miss,” he pointed at her with the hand he held his wine glass in, “Are a genius. Has anyone ever told you that?” Samara snickered, although she couldn’t help the slight blush that was painting itself across her tanned cheeks, “Don’t push your luck too much, JJ, we’ve only just met,” she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, almost appearing shy for a split second. This didn’t go unnoticed by JJ and he took it as a green light to scoot a bit closer to her, to the point where their faces were inches apart. He couldn’t help but breathe her scent in, and boy did she smell alluring, her perfume heavy and somewhat oriental, at least that’s how JJ would describe it. It reminded him of all the times he’d served tables down on Figure Eight and rich Kook girls would walk past him, leaving behind a scent of expensive designer perfume. Samara almost reminded him of a rich Kook girl, she looked so well put together and so on top of her shit. Good thing they weren’t in the OBX anymore, otherwise his friends would grill him for breaking the one promise he had made to himself

long, long ago - never getting with a Kook. Except she wasn’t a Kook, they weren’t in the OBX and much to his dismay - him and her were hardly getting with each other. He realised that winning Samara over would take time, and lucky for him, he had all the time in the world. Finding Ward and the gold would take a while and he was up for an adventure, especially since it included this gorgeous young lady. He studied her some more. Her skin looked so soft, and so did her lips - so soft, so inviting. Her eyes were dark and mysterious, shaped like almonds, and the way she batted her luscious lashes almost made her seem like she was keeping a number of dark and dangerous secrets. JJ knew that deep down she saw something in him, too. She just needed the right push to admit it. A stray strand of her hair fell in her face and before she could react, JJ gently tucked it away behind her ear, taking his time when his fingers met her face. He let them linger there for a second before pulling his hand away. “Thanks,” was all that she could say. “Don’t mention it,” he said gently, “We’re gonna be partners after all, we’ve gotta help each other out, right?” Samara almost rolled her eyes at the sound of JJ referring to them as ‘partners’, but she withheld from it. Something about this boy was very endearing to her, in a lost puppy type of way, and she didn’t want to admit it, but she didn’t entirely dislike his company. Au contraire, it had been a while since she had had someone around. This didn’t seem all bad to her - she would go for a little adventure, make some friends, and if all goes to plan, she’ll come home with a bag full of gold. Hell, if she felt frisky enough she could even JJ the time of day once or twice - no strings attached, of course. He seemed keen enough, that much she knew. And she had never been with anyone in that way before, much to everyone’s disbelief. She wasn’t going to tell him that, of course, especially not now. Perhaps it was the alcohol speaking, but she suddenly found him so attractive. He was her usual type - seemed like the local bad boy back home, the one who didn’t abide by the rules and got himself in trouble more often than not - and only God knew just how much Samara liked the bad boys. His fingers, although rough and calloused, left the softest touch, and she was ashamed to admit she wished he’d left them there for a moment longer. She crossed her legs and sat up straighter, trying to regain her composure. She knew she’d had enough to drink. She couldn’t do this here, especially not tonight, not in her aunt’s hotel. She knew that if she didn’t call quits to the night now, things might get ugly and she didn’t want to lose her composure with JJ yet. “Shall we?” She said, trying her hardest to sound as confident and unfazed as she could, “Head to bed I mean,” She quickly added, mentally kicking herself for not clearing it up and potentially giving JJ the wrong idea. Judging by the growing smirk on the boy’s face she realised she’d just dug herself a hole. “I thought we’d only just met, Miss La Guardiana,” he winked, standing up and offering his hand to help her up. She accepted it and turned on her heel towards the stairs as soon as she was on her feet, sassily flipping her hair as she did so. JJ followed after her, smirk only growing as they walked up the stairs and into the hallway to their respective rooms. When they reached JJ’s room, they both stopped, Samara leaning against the wall. “Fill your friends in on our plan so far,” she said, “About heading up to Daytona, I mean. I’ll take care of everything else until then.” JJ raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure what she meant by ‘everything else’. She noticed his confusion and decided to clear it up, “I’ll sort out some clothes for all of you, food is on the house, we’ll also need some cash so…” she eyed JJ up and down, an idea forming in her head, “Perhaps you could be useful while we’re still here and work for it, I’m thinking… waiter?” JJ almost laughed, “Baby girl, you name it - I’ve probably done it. Back home, there isn’t a job I

haven’t worked, just to make enough to put food on the table. Besides, serving food and drinks is the least I could do to repay your kindness,” his eyes darkened as he took a step closer to Samara. His face was getting dangerously close to hers, never breaking eye contact, “It’ll be my pleasure to work for you, miss La Guardiana,” Samara held her ground, trying to keep her cool as much as she physically could. On the inside, she was on fire. “Likewise, mister Kildare,” she whispered, inching her body closer to JJ’s; she wanted to push his buttons as far as she could in the moment. They stood there in silence for a moment; they didn’t need to say anything - their eyes were doing all the talking. JJ couldn’t keep his eyes off Samara’s lips, though when he finally gave in and leaned forward, the girl took a sudden step backwards towards her room, leaving him breathless. “Make sure you wake all of your friends up early tomorrow,” she simply said, “You didn’t think you’d be the only one who’d have to work for a living around here did you? “ she faked a grimace, still stepping backwards towards her room, “Meet me tomorrow in the lobby at 8. We’ve got work to do,” she stopped in front of her door, pressing her key into the lock, “Oh, and JJ?” Her door clicked open, “I really enjoyed tonight. Looking forward to our next date. Goodnight,” with that, she was gone. Did she say date? JJ stood in the hallway for a moment before going into his room. He couldn’t hide the grin on his face even if he wanted to. Samara totally had a thing for him and he couldn’t wait to dive into this new adventure - the gold being the last thing on his mind, because maybe, just maybe, Samara wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.02

10/19/2020

No Lies in a Marriage

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,150

Warnings: angst, anxiety, panic attack, language

A/N: As I said in the post earlier today, you’ll probably see updates for this story often right now because it’s at the beginning and I know where I’m going pretty clearly and how to get there and it’s kinda just writing itself for right now. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I love writing this reader with Thor...but I think it’s just because I love writing Thor. haha If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

You sit up most of the night after talking to David, staring out your bedroom window at the small plot of land you call your own.

Your belonging. The only true one you’ve ever had.

It’s a small inheritance, sure but it’s yours. Yours alone. A sanctuary from the feeling of emptiness that you’d once felt wishing for something that felt like home. It’s more than even some will ever have.

You’re lucky.

And now you have to leave it behind?

There’s no denying your own part in this mess. You’d been given a choice and you’d made it, believe this outcome would never come. Yet here you are, betrothed and fated to be Queen of Asgard.

David comes to help you pack because he knows that you’ll be wallowing.

In shock you pack just as asked, essentials only which means for you, only your clothing, your laptop, and a very small collection of books are chosen.

You have no pictures to take with you. No family heirlooms or sentimental possessions. You fit it all into one large suitcase.

Funny. As you pack, you can’t help but imagine the lives your nomadic ancestors had lived. Much like you in these moments as you pack what little you have of your life away; they must have left everything behind over and over in their search for their own belonging.

It only takes you two hours to pack once David arrives and together you lug the suitcase down your little hallway to the front door.

There, a beautiful Asgardian stands waiting, her eyes on your own foggy expression with slight concern as David joins her and they lapse into quiet conversation as you continue to space out, thinking about the life you’re leaving behind.

Really, if you’re honest, it isn’t much of a life.

Yes, you have your routine. This is your house. Your things. But aside from that, there’s nothing here. Nothing but independence and solitude.

That’s enough, some would say. Others would wonder what you do with all your time.

Why hadn’t you found someone to share this life with? Someone who could appreciate the coziness of this place with you.

“Are you ready?” The Asgardian asks, Brunnhilde, her voice smooth but stern, yet not unkind.

You turn to look at her, hair gathered up on her head in a large bun. She’s dressed for the Norwegian weather she’s come from despite it being significantly hotter here.

She’s not bothered by it. Or if she is, she hides it well.

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“No.” She smiles at you, cheek bones so rounded and pretty you almost want to stroke them because you’ve rarely seen anyone so beautiful.

All of the Asgardians are beyond compare when it comes to looks. Even those that are plain radiate a golden aura. Godlike. Thor’s is the strongest and he’s most certainly the most beautiful to look at.

You’d been too afraid to admit it to yourself before because you’d been so decided against marrying him, but Thor is by far the loveliest man you’ve ever seen. Ideal. He’s exquisite.

And you get to marry him. Which doesn’t exactly feel like a bad thing.

Being chosen to marry Thor would be amazing, given the fantasies you’ve allowed yourself to indulge in since the day you met with him, if not for the fact that you know he’s in love with someone else. Someone who won’t marry him. Someone stupid, obviously.

And those fantasies you’d indulged in would never happen with someone else in his heart. So without that, all you have left is duty. Duty to Earth and its people, ensuring their safety and though you honestly don’t think Earth needs it, the assurance from the Asgardians that they will respect humans as the dominant lifeform on the planet.

Yes, the whole Queen of Asgard thing is a little daunting and will probably take over your life, so you can’t blame this mystery woman for not wanting to give up her own pursuits to take care of an entire people. To give up one identity for another? Yours is close enough to blank—your life nearly empty—that for you, this might not be such a great loss and yet, this leaves you wondering what this will do for you career.

Small as it is, you’ve had two books published. Limited releases with not much traction. Still, the accomplishment is your own. One you’re proud of.

Will you have to stop writing?

“There will be a dinner, to introduce you to Thor’s inner circle. Myself, Loki, a few others that serve directly under him.” Brunnhilde is saying, pulling you back to reality.

You look around, having zoned out so thoroughly that you hadn’t even realized you’d boarded a plane and taken off.

“The only one you’ll have to watch out for is Sif. She’s usually pretty nice, but she’s a little miffed about the whole marriage situation. From what I’ve heard, she’s had a thing for Thor since they were children. She’s a fierce warrior. Might want to avoid her altogether if possible. Asgardian women can be a little territorial.”

Lovely, another rival.

“So can human women.” You grumble, already hating the looks of what you suppose will be an onslaught of distractions for your future husband in the forms of beautiful women.

Brunnhilde quirks a brow, raising it high as she considers your words but doesn’t comment further.

“He’s never seen her as more than a comrade in arms. Or so he says.” She sounds unconvinced, but you recognize her attempt to calm you.

You stare, saying nothing more as your world is overturned.

“After dinner, you’ll spend some time with Thor. He wants to talk to you a bit. The wedding will be on Thursday. Thor’s idea. Full of himself, the idiot.” She’s smiling as she insults him, flipping the page of a magazine she’d grabbed from the pocket of the seat in front of her and you realize they must be close friends.

“Did he really pick me?” You wonder, knowing that her personality will only let her answer one way.

Brutally honest.

“Against all our recommendations.” She tells you. “Most of us were pulling for the Hungarian one. She had the schooling and the training. A little too eager for Thor, or so he said. And Loki. Loki was also in favor of you.”

“Loki?!” You gasp, remembering with great detail your chance meeting with the Asgardian prince.

“Oh yeah.”

Why would Loki want Thor to choose you? You weren’t exactly nice to him. Then again, you weren’t really mean either. Just…blunt.

More importantly, after the awkward conversation with Thor and his admission to marrying despite his feelings for someone else, his choice is the most confusing.

“Why did he pick me?” You plead. “Thor.”

“You’ll have to ask him tonight after dinner. I couldn’t tell you other than that he said he wanted someone real. Someone who knew what it’s like to be a normal person. Whatever that means.” Brunnhilde shrugs. “Normal is all relative. Odin, I need a drink.”

The plane ride is over too quickly and the ride to New Asgard even shorter. The village is large but not much larger than the town you’d grown up in. Plenty of houses and public spaces but nothing like a cityscape.

You’re surprised by the more modest choices they’ve made for their homes. Simple houses with wood siding and strong rooftops.

That is, most of the village is modest. Almost at the center of the largest grouping of buildings is a large multi-storied palace.

Just as it did the first time you saw it when you’d been brought for the meeting, you gasp when you see it, admiring the beauty of the structure bathed in afternoon sunlight.

It reminds you of an old Nordic home you’d seen online only on steroids. Four, maybe five stories? All roofs are tall and sharp, parts covered with moss.

Brunnhilde shows you into the main foyer, large and tall room that allows space large enough for people to stand and chat. Here she leaves you and David with a young Asgardian woman. She looks as if she can’t be more than seventeen but from what you know about Asgardian aging, she’s probably hundreds of years old.

She escorts you both to your new room, and you and David gasp at the sight.

Even though it’s smaller than the sitting room you’d been in when you met with Thor before, there’s a large bed immediately to the right, covered in luxurious plum and silver silk sheets. A large dark brown bear skin rug covers the center of the floor. To the left is an extravagant dark oak armoire, beside it a matching vanity with a low cushioned and backless seat.

On the far wall, between two sets of heavy wooden double doors that lead out to a balcony sits a desk and another seat with a black cushion, the same style as the vanity’s chair.

There’s a low hanging chandelier made of intricately twisted wood, reinforced with dark steel. The design of it makes you think there should be candles, but instead you find it furnished with small flame-shaped lightbulbs.

Along each of the walls are beautiful artworks, one of a singular mountain you’ve never seen on Earth. Another a golden palace with a sky of literal space above and behind it. There’s a smaller painting almost right above the bed and the likeness of it is so precise, you gasp again.

David follows your gaze with his mouth hanging open a little but then he chuckles. It’s a throaty sound as he turns away from you and moves further into the room with your bag while you deposit your purse on the bed, eyes glued to the painting.

“These Asgardians seem to be experts at everything.” David says, conversationally. “Their architecture, their music, their wits in battle. It seems even their art is exceptional.”

You’re still too busy staring to reply.

When David speaks again, he’s right beside you, voice dropped in volume.

“It must really look like him, to have you rendered speechless.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Just like him. Only now he has the eyepatch. He looks the same with two eyes. Less rugged but the same.”

“And he will remain the same, long after you’ve died, I think.” David admits.

“Yeah…” You swallow, looking down at the bottom of the frame.

The thought had only begun to occur to you when you’d been making your way through the city after Brunnhilde had confessed to being over a thousand years older than Thor and Loki.

“For Thor, this marriage will pass in the blink of an eye.” You sigh, feeling a little saddened by truth of that.

You turn around and sit down on the bed, resting your hands on your knees limply as you stare at the floor.

David squats before you, forearms on his knees.

“You’re serving a great purpose.” He tells you. “Ensuring the safety of the human race. You’re the white flag the Asgardians are waving. History will remember you, Y/N. It will not be in vain.”

Your eyes begin to water, and you nod, knowing he’s right.

“I know I just…” Your head gives an involuntary turn towards Thor’s portrait, but you manage to keep yourself from looking. “He’s in love with someone already. And, yeah, I’d never thought about being with someone before. But now that I’m faced with it, now that I know I’ll be his wife—I don’t know that I don’t want him to like me.”

“He may come around.” David consoles. “You’re a pretty girl and nice, even though you bite.”

His teasing draw a small curve of your lips. The levity however is quickly lost at the prospect of your life stretched out before you, never knowing love as your husband covets another woman.

This isn’t what you’d expected. To be fair you hadn’t expected anything, but now the idea of being married to Thor knowing that he’d much prefer if you were someone else hurts you in a way you didn’t know had been possible.

This ache in your chest feels strange and vivid and unbearable.

Your tears flow. David sighs and reaches up to wipe your cheeks, pulling you in for a hug.

Taking his offered comfort, you hide your face against his shoulder, allowing yourself these few moments to really feel the anxiety and sadness this whole thing has brought.

“I’m sorry.” David tells you, his voice steady but sad. “I wish I could give you a better life. I know that this is not what you parents would have wanted.”

You pull back, shaking your head as you gather yourself. “No, David. You’ve been the most supportive person in my life. This is how it’s supposed to be. Otherwise, why would I have the ancestors I have, right?”

David sighs, reaching up to wipe at your cheek.

“Besides, it’s not like I’ll be truly suffering. Not like other people do. I’ll have a good roof over my head, food, money won’t be a worry. How many other people my age can say that?”

David’s gaze becomes skeptical and he purses his thin lips a little. “Is that really how you feel?”

“Fuck no. This whole thing is complete shit.” You argue, then laugh as David chuckles too.

“There’s that fighting spirit. Keep that fire, Princess, and you’ll find a way through this.” He says, and the way the word Princess rolls of his lips makes you feel the way you’d always thought you’d feel had your dad lived to be a part of your life.

“You say that like it’s easy.” You sigh.

Before he can answer, there’s a knock on the door and it opens.

Both you and David shoot up to your feet as Loki walks in.

He’s smiling politely until he sees your face.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding?” Loki wonders, as you quickly wipe away the tears left on your cheeks.

“No.” You shake your head quickly, voice thicker than when you arrived because of your break down. “No. Of course not. Come in.”

He doesn’t look convinced and his brow is furrowed as he looks you both over then stands with his hands behind his back. He looks neat and exotic wearing a pair of dark pants, a black top with embellishments in stunning emerald, a thin golden chain connecting each side of his high collar to the other.

“I’ve come to make sure that you find the clothing we’ve left for you.” Loki gestures at the armoire.

“I’m-I can’t wear what I brought?” You ask, pressing your hand to your chest, unintentionally sniffing.

“Tonight, you will meet with my brother’s court. It is a formal event that you must attend wearing slightly more traditional Asgardian garb.” Loki replaces his hands behind his back. “Brunnhilde has chosen something she thought would be your color. You have an hour then we’ll send your maid in to fetch you.”

You nod.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Loki asks again.

“You’re surprisingly worried.” You tell him, David moving to open the armoire and get a look at what you’re going to have to wear.

Loki’s face quickly shifts into a smile, his eyes averted as he nods.

“I hear you were the only person other than Thor who chose me.” You sit back down slowly, your hands softly skating over the cool silky sheets. “Why?”

“You were a breath of fresh air.” He admits. “Compared to the other candidates, you seemed the only one with her feet on the ground.”

Looking away from him you pinch the plum sheets.

“Is that why Thor chose me too?” You ask, knowing it isn’t the reason he chose you.

“Whatever the reason,” Loki begins, and his voice is stern enough to draw your gaze. “I’m certain my brother has nothing but honorable intentions. He’s always been the good one.”

“I think that’s true.” You nod, “He has always been the good one, if the stories are to be believed.”

“I make no excuses for who I was.” Loki assures you.

“But I think you and I both know that Thor’s intentions when it comes to me are anything but honorable.” You smile sadly. “I really hate lying. Let’s not lie to each other. We’re family, right? Or will be.”

Loki’s look remains somber, his eyes far away for a moment.

“You’re the right woman for the job. That is the truth.” Loki admits.

“I guess we’ll see.”

Loki nods. “One hour, your highness.”

His words give you a shock, and your left gaping at him as he leaves and shuts the door behind him.

“Well, that sounded strange.” David admits, “But not as strange as this dress. Well, perhaps strange is not the right word.”

You’re still reeling from the your highness as you get and walk to David that it takes your eyes a moment to process the sight before you.

“I am not wearing that.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t breathe in this thing!” You whine, hooking your fingers into the ultra-high neckline of your dress.

It’s more like a cage, this piece that goes around your throat and shoulders. It connects to a slightly see-through bodice with soft split threads lining the length of the dress, underneath the top, silver layer is a soft pink one that stands pretty against your skin. It gives the dress depth and offers a pleasant backdrop for the waterfall skirt as it fans out around your feet.

The lattice neckpiece connects to the dress’s neckline with four stiff wire connectors wrapped in the same silver fabric as the rest of the dress.

Your hair, your maid expertly gathered atop your head, shaping it to look as much like you as it can but also keeping it contained with several silver Celtic knot-looking clips. She’d added very little color to your face, telling you that Thor had requested you look as much like yourself as possible so that his court could see the real you.

Even so, you’re overwhelmed by what you see in the mirror as you pass a particularly large one as you and David make your way to the dining hall.

“Don’t fret.” David tells you, reaching over to stop your wringing hands. “Just be yourself. That’s why he chose you.”

“So, what you’re saying is to not be myself.” You nod. “Got it.”

David pulls you to a stop, turning you to face him. Your maid, Estrid, keeps walking a bit then stops leaving you both some space.

“I want you to remember something, Y/N.” David says, low and quiet so that only you can hear him. Well, he doesn’t know that Asgardians have better than human hearing, but whatever. “These people, they need you. They need you. More than you will ever need them.

“Without you, they might have to leave Earth because Thor will never turn against the human race. I don’t know why. We’re not that great.” David shrugs, and your mouth pops open as you breathe a pained gasp.

In this moment, with David’s helpful words, you’re provided with astounding clarity.

“She’s human.” You realize, eyes watering.

It happens so quickly, your breath catches, brain in a frenzy, hands shaking, sweating, your tears flow freely.

You’ve never cried so much in your life and you understand now that this will be your new state of being because what else can you do when you’ve knowingly given your life to a man who loves another human woman which only means that she will also only live for a short time and that means that Thor doesn’t have a lot of time with her so, of course he’ll want to be with her until the day she dies, because she’s the one he really wants to be with, and you’re just the tool to use so that he can stay here with her.

What kind of life have you fated yourself to?

“Your Highness?” Estrid asks, concern painting her voice as you shake your head, too panicked to speak.

David moves you towards the wall, pressing you against it to lean as Estrid moves closer to peek at you.

“Might I be of assistance?” She offers and David turns a smile on her.

“A glass of water, perhaps?”

Estrid hurries away giving you and David the hallway.

“Y/N?” He says, voice hard. “Breathe.”

You look at him, focus on the streak of white in his hair as it falls forward to hang across his brow.

It helps and you shut your mouth and breathe in deep through your nose.

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls from it a white handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he coaxes your face up so that he can carefully wipe the tear stains from your cheeks. He takes a bit of the blush they’d put on you, but you don’t care, and he doesn’t either.

“What is it that troubles you? Tell me.” He urges you.

“Um…” You begin, chin quivering and making your voice shake a little. “…I-I-I don’t know how I’m going to be married to him when I kn-know that he really wants to be with s-someone else. I don’t know how…how…how…”

David sighs, shaking his head as he caresses yours. “Then you look elsewhere too. If he sees fit to be with someone else while you’re married, then you deserve to experience love too. Take a lover. Be discreet. No one will know and you will both get what you want.”

“Isn’t that wrong?” You half cry. “I mean, aren’t wives and husbands s-supposed to be faithful?”

David smiles, pulling your head down to kiss your forehead. “Then give him a chance to change his mind. If he doesn’t love you by the end of the year, then he’s a bigger fool than I already think he is. A downright dumbass.”

“I don’t like the idea of someone being with me when they don’t want to be.” You admit.

And David doesn’t need you to explain that this stems from living in the school, waiting for adoption only to never be chosen.

You’ve finally been picked, and this is what it’s for?

“Do you want me to come to dinner? I can insist on it.” He promises. “I’ll even make a scene.”

You shut your eyes and sob once, David pulls you against his chest and once more you hide your face against his shoulder.

Both of you hear her steps before you see her and yet, when you turn to accept your water, you’re frozen as you find yourself face to face with Thor.

He’s dressed beautifully, in black leather trousers, stitched with thick visible charcoal colored strips of more leather. His torso is covered in what you’d consider light armor. More leather pieces in deep gold tones except for the arms which are covered in metallic scales that shine under the hallway lights. His shoulders are draped in a floor length cape, black, thinner than the one you’ve seen him wear before.

A more casual cape, you suppose.

Both you and David are absolutely still, confused by Thor’s sudden appearance.

“I uh…” Thor looks uncomfortable, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gestures behind him with his right hand, in his left a glass of water. “Estrid looked upset. She said you weren’t feeling well?”

There’s genuine concern in his voice and it surprises you enough to wipe away most of your worries for now.

“I’m fine.” You assure him.

David clears his throat. “I should go. I have my own dinner to eat.”

“No, please. Join us.” Thor rushes to invite him, gesturing back towards the dining hall again.

“No, no. Really.” David uses his hand to refuse, then reaches down to give your hand a squeeze. “Can I trust you to escort Y/N to dinner?”

Your heart swells for David, once again, the father you never had.

“Of course.” Thor nods, smiling at David before moving to you, seeing this as permission to move closer maybe? “I take full responsibility.”

There’s a twinge of bitterness in your chest, a rolling in your stomach as you see David narrow his eyes at Thor.

“I’m going to hold you to that, God of Thunder.” He threatens, and Thor seems to realize it’s a threat because he looks startled. However, he smiles and plays it off quickly, nodding. “Have a good dinner, princess.”

David gives your hand one more squeeze before leaving you and Thor to whatever awkward conversation you’re about to have.

Thor waits until you’re both alone in the hallway before he holds out the glass of water he’d brought for you.

“Have you been crying?” He wonders, voice soft and gentle. Deep too, it settles in your chest and makes you feel stupid for liking it.

“Just a little.” You admit.

“Why?”

“I’m nervous.” And that isn’t a lie. “And apprehensive.”

Also, not a lie.

“And I don’t trust you.” You confess, feeling no qualms about the shock that flits across his rugged face.

“What did I do?” He cries.

“You told me you’re in love with someone else who won’t marry you.” You sigh, taking a long drink of your water. “I’m not exactly excited to be marrying someone who already wants to be with someone else.”

Understanding shifts his expression and he nods, reaching up to scratch at the side of his chin.

“I’ll be honest,” He begins, offering you his arm as you lower your glass. “It was never something I expected either. After watching my parents love each other for many years, their marriage was something I hoped I could experience.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder for this woman you love? Convince your court! She’s human, right? I’m sure the Earth Ambassadors would be happy to have you marry any human.” You reason, still hoping to get out of this even if the only thing you hate about this now is the fact that he’s in love with someone else.

That fantasy marriage you’d painted for yourself has taken over your inexperienced brain and planted a seed within your heart and you feel like a fool for it.

“They were fine with it. Jane is not ready for marriage and I cannot force her to marry me if she doesn’t want to.” Thor laments, truly sounding sad about her refusal.

“Doesn’t she care that you’re marrying someone else?” You wonder, watching his expression as he begins to lead you towards the dining hall.

“In a way.” Thor nods. “She and I want to be together, but Jane is devoted to her work. She could not make the time for the obligations marrying me would entail.”

“Sounds selfish.” You observe, hating Jane a bit because she has what you didn’t know you wanted. Maybe not exactly Thor himself yet, but the love he has for her.

Thor says nothing for a moment, thinking probably. He stops walking and you stop beside him.

“I would not want her to give up her passions. In marrying me, Jane would lose her identity. Which is too important to her to give up. I could never ask her to do it.”

“Because you love her.” You agree.

“Yes.”

“Which is why you find it so easy to do it to me.” You explain, realizing it as you speak it. “Because you don’t care about me. Therefore, my identity has little value. To you.”

Thor’s speechless, staring at you as your own heart pounds. You don’t know where you conjured the audacity to say the words out loud as they came to you, but they’re true. Truer than even you know.

“I do care.” Thor argues softly, looking at your hand wrapped around his bicep.

“You don’t, Thor.” You shake your head, politely disagreeing.

“Yes, I do!” He argues, this time a little more heated.

“What do I do for a living?” You challenge and he stutters, thinking hard.

He furrows his brow, crinkly creases at the corners of his eyes as he ponders.

You observe it’s loveliness. Truly a creature of perfection even with the gold and black metal patch over his eye. If he cared about you, you might actually fall for him. If he gave two shits, you might be a goner.

“Your family left you an inheritance!” He points out, as if this is what you do.

“You don’t remember?” You ask, knowing the answer. “I told you when we met, though I only mentioned it in passing.”

“How am I expected to remember then? If you were not specific?” He retorts.

“If I’d been Jane, you would have remembered.” You tell him.

“No.” He disagrees. “I’m always this inattentive.”

You laugh once, shocked by his candor. “You’re such a liar.”

“I’m not! Ask anyone once we’re seated. They’ll all tell you that I never pay attention or listen. To anyone!” He insists, and you laugh again because he’s being sincere.

His gaze is slight shock as he looks at you, then it softens, and he chuckles with you.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask him.

“I don’t know.” He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, I suppose.”

This sobers you and your laugh dies off.

“Can I ask a favor?” You look at him, trying to read him like you’ve never tried to do so to anyone before.

“Of course.” He nods.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know that the likelihood of you loving me at any point in our marriage is nonexistent, but I really want to try and make this marriage work. I want it to be as real as possible.

“Which means I want you to be honest with me about everything. I don’t want any secrets. I don’t want to think you’re talking to or meeting Jane because you’re acting suspicious. If you have to see her,” And he seems to understand that you mean, if he feels like he needs to for his own sake, because he loves her. “I want to know that’s what you’re doing. Please, don’t make a fool of me, Thor.”

Thor considers you for a moment, absorbing your words as you wait for his response.

Instead of giving you what you want, he gives you a long head-to-toe. “I was right to choose this gown.”

He chose it?

“You look exquisite. Just as a princess should.” He admires. “Come, let’s go introduce you to my friends.”

As he pulls you towards the dining hall, your heart begins to pound again as nervous energy courses through your veins setting your limbs to white noise again. Tingly.

“They’re all very eager to meet the woman who will be Queen of Asgard.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” You worry.

Thor chuckles.

“I’m right there with you.”

[mrs-hyperfixed-writes]

Are You Single - 2

Tag List: @becomeunsolved @ambiguous-g @favorite-slytherin-weirdo @a-weirdperson @artist-bby

The reader makes their way through Castle Dimitrescu, encountering the Lady and her daughters. Heisenberg might just have to re-evaluate his opinion of you when you're the unexpected victor of the battles with them.

You had ran through the glorified saw trap, avoiding Lycans and giants alike as you listened to Heisenberg’s taunting. Evidently he was an asshole, but that didn’t seem to be stopping the butterflies in your stomach going mad at the way he spoke to you. Fear had briefly crawled up your spine when he had dropped the spinning log of spikes, blocking your exit and apparently sealing your fate. Thankfully there had been a crevice in the wall, big enough to drop your backpack down by your side and protect yourself. The only thing that took damage was the handcuffs. It had briefly occurred to you that it seemed a very convenient hiding space in an otherwise foolproof killing room.

You ended up back at the gate that you had been captured at, looking over your shoulder this time as you pulled the lever up. Not that you could do anything if Heisenberg or his overgrown sister decided to double check. It seemed unlikely that either of them would treat you to a meal, but you could hope. If you were being honest with yourself though, Heisenberg hardly screamed refined dining.

No, he seemed more like a man who would order a McDonalds or a Burgerking after he’d been working tirelessly all day on a machine in a tank top. All sweaty. . . you smacked yourself in the face, snapping yourself out of your fantasy. You needed to get a grip. Preferably around his throat or his-

You slapped yourself again.

You left through the gate, coming out to an unpleasant looking vineyard. Of course, Dimitrescu was far too high and mighty to get her hands dirty doing manual labour, and any staff that she may of had to maintain the vineyard were probably dead. You shuddered at the thought of so many deaths. You didn’t know any of those people, didn’t know anyone in this godforsaken village that had been put in the middle of nowhere except for the few that had just survived long enough to be brutally killed in front of you. No one would remember any of the dead. It was as if they never existed. And if you died here - which you likely would - you would likely not be remembered. Not with fondness anyway.

You were brought out of your dark thoughts by the sound of a man groaning and wood creaking. You looked up, and to your surprise found an old-fashioned wagon settled in front of the entrance to Castle Dimitrescu. The doors swung open, and someone all but rolled out. The man was massive, both in height and weight.

“I’ve been waiting for you, my friend,” he said with the attitude of someone who was excited to get down to business.

You stopped a couple of metres away, taking it all in. How was this man even alive? Then again, Dimitrescu was nine feet tall and she seemed like she was functioning better than most people. Especially given that the tallest man in history was nearly nine foot and died super young. You could come to terms with this mans existence in no time.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” You let the uncertainty show in your voice.

“Me? I am but a humble merchant,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “And you’ve been the talk of the town recently! An unknown human outsider making their way through hordes of creatures with nothing but an axe and some second hand guns? Remarkable.”

You hated yourself for the light blush that crept up your neck at the compliment. You never blushed.

“What can I call you?”

“Ah, forgive my manners. You can call me the Duke. Your name please?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I already know it, but some people prefer to tell others their name rather than have the introduction stolen from them.”

You chuckled, deciding to bridge the few metres of distance. “(Y/n).”

“Pleasure. Now, would you like to purchase anything for the journey ahead? Medicine? Ammunition?”

“Can you tell me what’s happened here?”

“Ah, information. All I can tell you now is that Mother Miranda has seemingly abandoned the village she has spent a century ruling. Slaughtered the villagers.” He took a long drag of a cigar he had lit before releasing the smoke into the air. “It seems she’s done it for her daughter.”

“Her daughter? Dimitrescu? Or the woman in the veil?”

“Ah, Lady Donna. But no, neither of those are her real daughters. It’s doubtful she even considers them such. The same for her sons.”

Your thoughts drifted back to Heisenberg. Did he hate her for that? For not considering him her child? Questions for later.

“Then who?”

The Duke regarded you for a second. “Sell me those crystal skulls you’ve collected, make a purchase and find me in the castle, and perhaps I’ll know more.”

You blinked in surprise, briefly wondering how he knew that you had been collecting the crystallised remains of those Lycans. Truthfully you just thought they were pretty.

After selling the remains and buying yourself some extra ammo, as well as some of the strange medicine the Duke advertised that was supposed to encourage cell division, you nodded to him in thanks and turned to face the castle.

“Although I must say,” The Duke called out before you could make much progress, “why do you wish to go into that castle? You are a stranger. There is no stake in this for you.”

You took a deep breath. Why were you doing this? That beast under your skin wanted to answer. To find and tear them apart. For revenge for all the dead. To satisfy my own need for blood and pain.

Instead you said, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

You walked towards the doors.

***

The inside of the castle was. . . beautiful. Definitely a place a lady would live. Perhaps a place you would live in another life. It seemed as though everything was trimmed with gold, including the beautiful waist high vases decorated with beautiful women. The furniture was of the highest quality, the rugs and carpets plush enough to sleep comfortably on. They looked expensive enough to cost more money than you’d ever had in your entire life. You wiped your muddy boot on the rug you were standing on, leaving a dark smear.

The thing that drew your attention most of all was the portrait that dominated the opposite wall. Three women, admittedly indistinguishable from one another, sat in big dresses. The plaque identified them as the three daughters. Three daughters that loved entertaining foreigners.

A bad feeling overcame you, and you decided to tuck your handgun into your boot, regardless of the discomfort. You covered it with your jeans.

You pressed on until you came to a main chamber that had another set of double doors decorating the walls. A scream rang out, clear as day and stopping you in your tracks. The scream of a woman in terrible pain. Part of you thought that maybe you should try to find her, but something in you knew that it had been a death scream. The agonised scream of someone who wanted to live and was denied.

You swallowed, instead making your way to the double doors, wondering where they lead.

“Well, who’s this then?” an upbeat female voice asked.

You turned to look, and only found three swarms of flies buzzing closer. And right before your eyes, they materialised into three beautiful young women. The daughters. The first thought in your head was how the painting didn’t do any of them justice.

You didn’t even have time to take your gun out of your backpack before the woman on the left - a tall blonde with blood on her mouth - grabbed you by the throat and lifted you clean off the floor, slamming you against the door. She pressed her face closer to your shoulder and took a deep sniff. You shuddered against the feeling of her nose tickling your neck.

“Fresh blood,” she said, voice dripping with a desire that put you on edge.

“Mother says you have to share, sister,” said the redhead with a childish delight, the brunette nodding in agreement with a sadistic grin on her face.

That scream echoed through your head again. The blonde stared into your face, looking for the traces of fear that likely coated their usual victims. She was going to come up empty. You cleared your throat, looking down into beautiful but evil eyes that had probably been the last thing that so many had seen, and spit right in her face.

The grin on her face froze as the glob made contact with her cheek, and then dropped off altogether when her sisters roared in laughter, one of them doubling at the waist and clutching her stomach.

She threw you to the floor, tossing your backpack aside and growling at her sisters to silence them. You leaped towards it with the intention of pulling your shotgun out, deciding to keep the handgun a secret. But she grabbed a fistful of your hair, most of her materialising back into that swarm as she did so. She dragged you through the halls, her sisters flanking you. You clawed at her hand, but to no avail.

Another swarm got too close, a face materialising. The brunette. She ripped one of your arms off of where it was clawing at the hand that felt as if it was going to rip your scalp off. She held it up to her mouth and grinned. You didn’t even have the chance to scream as she sank her teeth into the side of your forearm, digging in deep. Then she pulled back, laughing. She hadn’t done it to feed, only to hurt you. The other sister came forward, her face materialising as well to lick up the blood that was leaking down your arm. She left little bites of her own up your arm. But these were more like love bites.

Suddenly they stopped, and the oldest released the grip on your hair, using her momentum to throw you into a wall.

“Mother,” she started, “I bring you fresh prey.”

Oh no.

You turned, out of breath from the hurt your body had suffered.

“You are so kind to me, daughters.” She took a deep drink of wine and rose from her chair. “Now, let's take a look at them.”

You didn’t get up from the floor, not having the energy or the stupidity to make a scene right now. Not as she fully turned and looked down at you.

“Well, well. A nobody with no name worth knowing or manners to speak of makes their way to my castle do they? Well, you escaped my little brother's idiot games did you? Let’s see how special you are.”

She beckoned to the blonde and the redhead. They each grabbed an arm, forcefully hoisting you to your feet. You squirmed a little, but their grip was like iron as they held up the arm with the bleeding bite mark. Lady Dimitrescu raised a brow and looked back at the remaining daughter.

“Cassandra? What did I say about waiting?”

Cassandra looked down at her feet, almost seeming to be ashamed. “Apologies Mother.”

Dimitrescu gripped you by the wrist and lifted you off the ground. You gritted your teeth. She closed her mouth over the wound and sucked. If you were being honest with yourself most of your blood at this point had either transferred to your face or. . .

It wasn’t important. But apparently you needed therapy.

She dropped you suddenly, and you couldn’t help the shout that escaped your lips when your knees made impact with the floor.

“Just as I thought, nothing special.”

“May we devour their flesh now Mother-”

“But I am the one who captured them-”

“Now, now girls. First I must inform Mother Miranda of Heisenberg’s failure. But soon there will be enough for everyone.” She turned to the blonde daughter. “Bela, take them to the dungeons and shove them in a cell.”

Bela grinned at you, seizing your hair again as she dragged you along, leaving the laughter of her mother and her sisters behind.

***

Heisenberg was fuming. Not that you had escaped his trap. To be perfectly honest there were several design flaws that he wasn’t going to admit to and he really couldn’t have cared less if you had exploited them to get away. If you were running through the village, then something was bound to get you eventually. That was what he had figured anyway.

No, Heisenberg was angry because that overgrown, egocentric, glorified vampire bitch had ratted him out to Mother Miranda. He could just imagine the smug way she had said it over the phone. That grin she would have. He wished he could have buried his hammer into her face.

Miranda had expressed her disappointment in him, not that he gave a shit. But it would likely mean that she would watch him for a while, at least while she had time to spare. Preparing that stupid ceremony would take her a few days at the very least. And in that time she could do anything.

He slammed his fist down on the table. With you in Castle Dimitrescu he couldn’t even entertain himself watching you scramble around the village. Couldn’t taunt you. And he didn’t want to risk working on his army, just on the off chance that Miranda caught wind.

He hadn’t even seen you before that confrontation in front of the castle gate, and he just assumed it was blind luck you’d made it that far.

He’d probably never know how you got on in the Castle, because there was no way you were leaving that place alive.

He looked at the yellow jar on his desk, tempted to just throw it and it’s contents into a pit of molten metal. It would be kinder to the kid than whatever Miranda had planned.

***

You had been shoved in the most stereotypical dungeon in the world. It was something straight out of some Frankenstein-ish novel. Bela had left, promising that she would come back soon to retrieve you for dinner. You had given her your most hate filled look, your eyes promising nothing but violence.

That must have been ten minutes ago, and you were furiously searching the cell. You had found a gap in the wall, and in it a crumpled sheet of paper. You straightened it out, beginning to read.

To whomever is trying to escape this place,

I hope this note will be of some assistance. You don’t know me but you will have to trust me if you want to survive.

First, you need to get out of this cell. Look around for the way, get on your hands and knees if you must.

Then, search for the thing you’ll need to

escape. It will be hidden where they’ll

least suspect, soaked in blood.

The rest of the note was illegible, at some point being soaked with dry blood. You hoped that whoever had written it had gotten out.

You took the notes' advice, getting on your hands and knees. There! Under the wooden board attached to the wall there was a hole that you could crawl through. You got on your belly and went through, ending up in the next cell. You tried the door, and to your relief it opened.

You took your gun out of your boot, preparing to go into the dungeon deeper for your way out.

***

Monsters had patrolled the dungeon. Horrible emaciated monsters that held swords. The first one you had encountered held a sword, and you shot it with glee, picking the sword up. A perfect chance to conserve ammo. It was in good condition too. You sliced and hacked your way through, making it to the second part of the dungeon. You could see the stairwell at the end. Your heart soared. At least until you had to wave a fly out of your face.

“I can’t believe Cassandra caused all this mess.”

Bela. Part of you wanted to turn around and fight her, but you were sadistic not stupid. Bullets against a swarm would be pointless. Instead you ran for the stairs, shooting up them until you came to an entrance that was boarded up. Because of course it was. You attempted to hack at the boards with the sword, but it was already too late.

“Where are you going little one?”

“Oh for fucks-”

You turned to be confronted by Bela, her white teeth stark against the drying blood coating the lower half of her face. She picked you up by the neck again, throwing you through the wooden boards. You lost the sword to the far wall, instead bringing out your handgun as she mounted you, desperately trying to inflict some damage on her even when you knew the bullets would be useless. She just laughed at you.

“Bullets cannot harm-”

CRACK.

You both looked off to the side, just in time to see a window shatter and let in all the cold air. She jumped off and you skittered back, getting to your feet. She was. . . solidifying, only a few lone flies breaking away from her before the cold killed them.

And she was angry.

“You stupid-”

You shot her.

She reeled back in pain, screeching. You smiled, and shot her again.

She charged at you, raising her sickle over her head to slice at you. You ducked away from her and grabbed your sword, swinging it to block her next swing. You kicked her in the stomach, putting some distance between the two of you. Then you shot her again. And again. You could tell that she was almost done. One more bullet or swing of the sword and she’d probably shatter.

You put your gun down on a table, the sword following it.

She was doubled over in agony for the moment, but she still managed to look at you with eyes filled with hatred. The perfect mirror of the look you had given her when she had tossed you in a cell. You laughed at her again, the sound ringing right through the room. You didn’t care if it could even be heard throughout the castle. The daughters had a weakness, and if they wanted to fuck around and find out how you could exploit it then that was their problem.

“It’s funny how things just switch around isn’t it?” You asked her between manic bursts of laughter.

You charged at her suddenly, tackling her to the ground. She wasn’t nearly as strong as she had been. She clawed desperately at your thighs, screaming again as the force she was using caused them to begin to crumble. It was childish, but you got a grip on her hair and pulled as hard as you could, laughing at the screams she made as cracks spiderwebbed down from her hairline down to her eyes. Then you reeled your fist back, gave her one final smirk, and punched her in the face. Her head practically exploded into pieces. You felt yourself drop to the floor as most of her crumbled. Except for one thing. The upper half of her torso had crystallized into something beautiful. You picked it up, wondering if the Duke would buy it.

***

As it turned out, the Duke had his own special room in the castle, and he did buy the torso and the sword. You also managed to retrieve your backpack. It turned out that that medicine was bordering on magical, as the only thing left of the horrible bite Cassandra had left was a scar. Even Daniela’s hickeys were gone.

To your chagrin, if you wanted to open those double doors in the hall you were going to need four masks. The Duke provided the first one, The Mask of Sorrow. He had winked at you, telling you that this would avoid another encounter with the Lady. But when you had asked for his explanation about the events in the village, he simply told you he didn’t have it all yet, but he would at your next encounter. You thought that was bullshit. But you gave him the benefit of the doubt.

And now here you were, reaching for the animal's skull off the wall, hoping that maybe it would have the solution to opening that grate without having to replace the mask.

“I was worried my sisters had gotten to you first.”

Fuck. You froze. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She was by the door. You looked around the room, desperate to find a solution. You had only narrowly escaped her getting into the room. Trying to get past her while stuck in here would be impossible. Then you felt it. A draft. There was a gap in the wall being concealed by a bookshelf. You moved it, looking around for Cassandra. She was still by the door, taking her sweet time getting to you. You examined the gap. There was no way this was going to be enough to petrify Cassandra. Then you remembered the weight in your pocket. You had picked it up in the dungeon. A pipe bomb.

You felt the air shift, and had just enough time to duck as Cassandra swung at you. Taking cover on the other side of the room, you threw the bomb and covered your ears. Cassandra screamed at the bite of the cold air, somehow being louder than the initial boom the bomb had made.

“You’ve ruined the hunt!”

“I wouldn’t say that,” you said happily. “I’m having tons of fun.”

You pointed the shotgun at her as she charged, unloading it into her face. She stumbled back. And you did it again, not giving her time to recover. The shotgun was much more powerful than the pistol had been taking care of Bela, so it wasn’t long before Cassandra was at the same stage Bela had been before you had killed her.

“I take it back. That was kind of disappointing. I thought you’d have more in ya.”

And you don’t know if she just realised she was dying, or if she just wanted to kill you so bad that she threw common sense out of the window, but she charged at you with her weapon raised. You didn’t even move out of the way, just caught he raised wrist and squeezed. It crumbled beneath your hands. She tried to hit you with her other wrist only for you to do the same thing.

“Mother!” She cried out with all the emotion of a scared little girl. “Mother!”

You grabbed her by the front of her dress, letting her see into your eyes. Letting her see the toothy grin you were giving her that was more like a snarl. The irony of the situation struck you. Whereas it would have been her eyes brimming with cruelty and madness before, now it was yours. But you had never been afraid. Not for one second. But she was. And it made you grin even wider.

She called out for her mother again as you dragged her to the wall. You kissed her on the nose, giving her a smile that someone might give a lover, and used all your innate anger and cruelty to shove the bitch against the wall.

She shattered, leaving behind only that crystallised torso.

***

His sister had said she would call Miranda when the outsider had been killed. Well, her words were dealt with properly. Emphasis on the properly apparently. Miranda was supposed to let the rest of them know when the outsider had decided to stop being a nuisance and finally bit the dust.

But no call came. From either of them. Hell, Heisenberg hadn’t heard a goddamn thing from anyone. So. . . was the outsider still alive?

He had to admit, he didn’t expect that.

Maybe he needed to change up his expectations.

***

“So you finally came to see me?”

The final daughter. Daniela. You would have preferred not to deal with her right now, given that her mother had just surprised you and evading her through her music hall had been no small task. She had been angry and seething with bloodlust. You supposed she had learned about the deaths of her older daughters. The fact that she had sent Daniela up against you after you had proved that they were practically useless against you wasn’t scoring Dimitrescu any good mother points.

You shot at the window above. But it refused to break, and the swarms had blocked the doors. You looked around, noting that on the other side, on one of the pillars was a handle.

“Everyone always falls for me.”

You ran around her, gripping the handle and swinging it down with all your might. She screamed in agony, running to get out of the direct frozen wind. To your dismay the handle slowly turned up. Who designed this?

She was running through the bookshelves, trying to hide from you. So deranged, but slightly smarter than her sisters it seemed.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I- Why are you doing this?!” you retorted.

You pumped the handle down again before chasing her, shooting her in the back. She darted around a bookcase, circling around you and trying to get the jump on you. But you were ready, giving her another one. You were beginning to get bored of these sisters.

“You three don’t really put up much of a fight do you?”

“I thought you loved me,” she snarled.

“What the fuck has that got to do with anything I just said?”

You shot her again. Then once more for good measure. You got up close and used the butt of your shotgun wo hit her in the stomach, forcing her back.

“I don’t wanna die,” she cried out, almost begging you not to go any further with the tone she was using.

“Well you know, neither did anyone in this village or this castle but shit happens I guess.”

You threw the gun down and got a grip on her throat, dragging her to the handle where you pumped it down again. Her attempts to get away from you and out of the cold were desperate, but you maintained that grip on her neck. Slowly, your grip tightened, and you thought you could see the beginning of tears in her eyes as cracks started to multiply on her throat. You did it slowly, savouring the way her throat gave under your hand. The window was nearly shut now. You blew her a kiss, then you balled your fist, crushing her throat completely.

The window shut.

***

“The entire bloodline of House Dimitrescu is done in by the likes of you?”

You smiled at her, even as she stalked you with her claws out. She had caught you while you were figuring out which mask went where. Luckily, being so big meant she was slow.

“Damn right it is.”

“Have much blood and sweat do you think it took to raise those daughter?” She swiped. “You have incurred an impossible debt!”

The genuine sadness and pain in her voice was something that might have swayed someone else, but not you. Not after the Duke had explained what those monsters in the dungeon had really been. Not when you knew the secret ingredient of that wine. Not when that scream rattled around inside your skull.

“What? You want me to feel sorry for you? Want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness while you slice me apart? How many daughters have you murdered and turned to slaves?” You slotted the third mask in before darting just out of her reach. “You didn’t consider how many fathers and husbands you bled dry in your dungeons. Your daughters deserved to die! You deserve to die! None of you get a free pass just because I’d have sex with you!”

She made a noise of disgust and sliced downwards, narrowly missing you. You darted to the last statue, putting the mask in. The door opened and you bolted.

***

You pushed open the coffin, finding an old corpse clutching a beautiful knife. You picked it up, testing the weight. That is, before you were spun around and lifted by the neck again. Evidently this family had a choking kink.

“You ruined everything!” She screamed.

She got ready to plunge her claws deep into your stomach, but you were faster, instead driving the knife into her chest. She screamed, throwing you through the window behind you. You accidentally let go of the knife, and it tumbled off the side of the building.

You looked back at Dimitrescu. She was in pain, and obviously weakening. But large, fleshy wings sprouted out from her back, a tail soon following.

And then she was crashing through the wall, nothing but a female torso and head on the back of what looked like a dragon straight out of one of your nightmares.

“Flesh! Bones! I will devour all of you!”

“Bring it on, bitch!”

***

“Curse you.”

And those were her last words. It hadn’t been easy, but you had done it. And you smiled at her as you did so. Given that same demented smile you’d given her daughters. You still wore it.

You looked around, still half mad from the bloodlust. The only thing of note was a yellow flask, so you snatched it up, grinning even wider as the wall opened into the outside.

***

Dimitrescu was dead. Heisenberg grinned. Well, he certainly didn’t expect to watch you walk out of the castle through the camera he’d placed in the area. He hadn’t even expected you to have lasted five minutes, but evidently you were made of sterner stuff. He was impressed.

You were covered in the dust of her dead daughters, as well as Dimitrescu's own blood. It made your damaged clothes cling to your form, and as you got closer he could see the grin you were wearing, could see that deranged look in your eye. And then you looked up at him. Not just at his camera, but at him. As if you knew he was watching. Your grin turned into something else, and you brought your palm to your mouth, kissed it, and then blew the kiss at him.

He didn’t expect that to get his blood pumping. Didn’t expect watching you walk away coated in blood get it pumping even harder. What was this feeling? It wasn’t fear. It was almost like adrenaline. Almost like-

He looked down at his lap. “Fuck.”

He needed to talk to you. He would talk to you.

Hopefully he could lick the blood off of you after.

[preciousthingsareprecious]

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra's Al Ghuls Entire Empire Part 1

So. I wrote something very silly. The title says it all, except it doesn't because this bad boy spiraled out to being over 10k and deserving of 2 chapters. Anyway, here is the first chapter featuring all the times Ra's kidnapped Tim because he wanted to recruit him.

Summary:

"Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.” Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

AO3 Link

~

Tim wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. No really. One moment he’d been in Gotham, crouched behind an old BMW that had been in the same spot for a month, waiting on Batman’s signal, the next he’d woken up in some lavishly decorated room. Was that silk? Or maybe velvet? He had no idea what was hanging around the bed he was laying in, but Tim really didn’t care.

What he was concerned about was his own personal state. He raised his arms --that alone was a good sign-- and confirmed that his mask was in place. He pushed himself up on the ridiculously plush bed, -which was unreasonably plush by the standards of a kid who'd grown up rich, and then gone to live with a guy who had both more money and even better beds.

The point was, the bed was so soft Tim actually had a bit of trouble sitting up.

When he did manage to right himself, he finished taking stock of his own situation and his surroundings. His Robin uniform was intact aside from his belt, but he saw that set on a trunk that looked at least as old as Bruce, a few feet away. The room was, as he already determined, lavishly decorated.

Tim pushed himself out of the bed and onto a carpet so thick he kind of wanted to pull off his shoes and curl his toes in it, but seeing as he still had no idea where he was, who took him, or why, he figured that was probably out of the question. He did make a mental note to ask Bruce for some better carpet when he got home. As a kind of gift for surviving a very weird kidnapping.

Instead, he moved to walk carefully around the room. He found no obvious traps, no cameras or speakers or microphones that were either hidden or out in the open, and both doors were unlocked.

The first he opened revealed a bathroom. The second he cracked open to peer out of. His eyes locked on that of an honest to goodness ninja standing guard outside the door. The man locked eyes with him and Tim snapped the door shut with a click.

Welp, that answered the who and maybe even the where of Tim’s abduction. Ra’s Al Ghul. He was pretty sure if he gave the ninja ten minutes to go find Mr. al Ghul himself, he’d have the why too.

While he waited, Tim snapped his belt back around his waist, comfortable to have its weight back, even if being in a League stronghold meant all the tricks in his pockets were basically useless on his own. Still, it was nice to feel fully like Robin again.

After that it was a matter of waiting.

Tim paced an actual trench into the thick carpet as he waited. Batman was of course looking for him. That was a given, he just had to wait for the man to find him. Or for Ra’s to send him home? He really wasn’t sure why the Eco-terrorist would have taken him in the first place beyond a really weird obsession with Batman's various sidekicks.

How come all of Bruce’s baddies seemed to have a strange fixation on Robins? It was weird how many went out of their way to kidnap and attempt to recruit him, Dick, and if the stories were to be believed, Jason too.

Just as Tim was starting to turn that particular thought over in his head, the door to his room opened and Ra’s himself strolled in.

“Timothy.” the man drawled.

“Ra’s.” Tim replied, suddenly totally and completely unsure what to do with his hands, voice, feet, and general self. This wasn’t a fight after all.

He settled for crossing his arms and being terribly glad his domino hid his eyes.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here.” Ra’s said.

Tim shrugged, “It doesn’t take the world’s greatest detective to guess that.”

The man frowned at him, and Tim started to wonder if maybe he should be watching his words a bit. He wasn’t in Gotham with Batman at his back after all. But then again, Ra’s must need something from him right? So a little sass was okay, what was Robin without a smart mouth after all?

“I mean--” Tim started, unable to stop himself now that he was thinking about it, “I can probably start to guess. You didn’t kill me and I’m not in a dungeon so you’ve got to want something from me right? I bet this is some blend of trying to win me over and also hold me above Batman because you--” he paused for a moment trying to remember if Bruce had been on Ra’s’ trail at all lately.

He dropped his arms and clapped, remembering, “You’ve been trying to break into energy and you want Wayne Enterprise to back you and legitimize your business. So you’re holding Tim over Bruce, but you probably want Robin because you and like half of Batman’s rogues have this weird obsession with teen heroes for some reason."

At some point he’d stopped looking at Ra’s and actually started pacing again. When he stopped talking his feet stilled and he looked back up at Ra's and grinned, ""So, am I hot or freezing cold?”

He expected Ra's to looked angry or irritated, instead he looked amused.

“You are quite warm. Though I would contend the assertion that I have a weird obsession with teen heroes. I am only interested in the exceptional, and you Timothy, are exceptional indeed.”

Tim gulped, “I mean--not really? But thanks.”

Ra’s waved him off, “We will speak more later. You are correct, I do intend to use you as a bargaining chip against your guardian--”

“Dad.” Tim interjected.

The man raised an eyebrow but continued, “However you are not a prisoner in the traditional sense. You may wander the compound with one of my men by your side to ensure you do not get into trouble. If all goes well you will be returned to Batman within a reasonable amount of time. Unless, of course, you do decide you would like to stay and learn from me.”

“I don’t really see that happening.” Tim said, “But I'll be sure and let you know if I make a sudden turn towards world domination.”

Again, Tim expected some kind of retaliation, but he was thankfully ignored. Ra’s left him with a warning not to cause undue trouble and soon Tim was alone in the room again.

He spent the next couple days wandering the compound somewhat aimlessly. He had a phone call with Bruce where he promised his dad that he was totally fine if a little bored, and spent the rest of his time trying to avoid Ra’s. The man was kind of relentless in his attempts at winning Tim over to his side and sought him out at meals, when Tim was trying to train a bit at one of the many gyms, and even once while Tim was wandering a rather fantastic garden. Each time, Tim did his best to wiggle out of the man's suggestions and just get back to wiling away the time between then and getting home.

Thankfully, it was all over in four days when Batman came crashing in with Nightwing and Batwoman to rescue him, and soon Tim was home and settling back into normal life.

He’d actually almost forgotten about the whole Ra’s kidnapping him until it happened again. Once had been a surprise, two times was starting to look deliberate.

This one lasted a week with Ra’s claiming it was because he still really wanted that energy deal and he just couldn’t understand why Bruce wasn’t willing to trade that for his ward (son Tim had ground out in irritation).

Tim almost believed him, until he woke one morning to find a pamphlet had been slipped under his door, it was literally a flyer promoting hiring in the League. Tim looked over it and had to laugh out loud. The text was done in a mix of papyrus and other fonts and whoever made it had used clip art. It looked like someone had typed it up in Microsoft word in like half an hour.

He spent the rest of his time there re-designing the flyer, with a ninja hanging over his shoulder as he used one of the League computers. The new one wasn’t the best flyer in the world, but Tim was pretty proud of it, and it was much better than the first draft.

When he was done, he pocketed the original, then pinned a note to the new one that said: Ha! Not until you get better designers.

Batman rescued him again, and Tim pushed the double kidnapping and Ra’s’ weird obsession to the back of his mind until the next time he was with Steph.

They were in the manor watching a Chopped marathon and Tim was telling her about both kidnappings.

“So he’s super into energy? How come he didn’t nab Dick? We all know he’s Bruce’s favorite.” Steph teased, popping a chip into her mouth.

“Setting aside that obvious lie, that’s the thing,” Tim continued, digging out the flyer he’d kept, “It has nothing to do with energy or Dick. I’m pretty sure Ra’s is trying to recruit me.”

He showed her the paper and Steph snorted, spraying chips out as she laughed, “No. Freaking. Way. I have to tell Cass. Let me show her this, please I’m begging you.”

Tim groaned, “Yeah, sure, but don’t you think it’s weird?”

She shrugged, taking the flyer to look it over, “Of course, but the B-man attracts weird like ice cream dropped on the ground attracts ants. Give him six months, and Ra’s will move onto a different way of trying to piss off Batman.”

“I hope so.” Tim said.

The third time Tim woke up in the elaborate room he was getting really sick of the decor and the headache that came with being knocked out and dragged halfway across the world.

“You know.” Tim started, the moment Ra's walked into his room (and it was actually Tim’s room he’d learned from one of the ninja guards), “You could have waited a month this time, to at least pretend this wasn’t all about your super weird plan to try and convince me into letting you adopt me.”

Ra’s opened his mouth to respond, but Tim wasn’t done.

“Which, by the way, I’m taken already. B did the whole adopting thing, so you missed that window. Though, I guess that probably doesn't really matter to you in the grand scheme of things since you keep kidnapping me. You are aware that kidnapping isn’t the best way to convince someone that your way is the right one, right?”

“Also, would it kill you to pick up some --I don’t know-- books on recruitment or something? I don’t understand how you’ve managed to get so many guys on your side it’s--” Tim started, but Ra’s had caught on to Tim’s mood at this point, conceded temporary defeat, and made a hasty retreat.

Tim didn't see him the whole rest of the day, and by the next morning Batman showed up, swinging in for another rescue and all was fine and good and normal for a while.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

It was the fourth kidnapping that really set Tim off.

He woke up back in that stupid room with it’s stupid decor and those stupid posters ready to burn the place to the ground. But something stopped him, a premonition. Like if he was patient for just a little longer he’d find a good and proper form of revenge to take on Ra’s for his total inability to take a hint.

At some point two ninja came by to take Tim to meet with Ra’s. As they walked Tim couldn’t help but notice the posters literally lining the hallways they walked through.

They were of two wildly different styles, but both struck a thought of familiarity in his mind. One was obviously a play on the classic “I want you in the army” poster. The other ripped off old “pin up” recruitment posters. Both made him laugh, and Tim pulled a couple of each down to save to show the Titans. He had a feeling Bart and Kon would lose their minds over these.

He had just folded them up and shoved them in his back pocket when they reached an office. Inside, Ra’s sat in a chair and motioned Tim to sit in one across from him.

“Thank you for joining me, Timothy.”

Tim sat and shrugged, “Not like I had much of a choice.”

Ra’s waved him off. As he did, a different ninja from either of the ones who’d escorted Tim to the office came in with a tray of tea. He handed Ra’s a cup, then gave one to Tim, and left the set on a table between them.

The whole vibe was kind of awkward and strange. Tim felt very much like he had one time a year ago when he’d realized halfway through a date that things were not going to work out. He hadn’t been able to end the date then and there, and had spent another two hours awkwardly making small talk and trying to avoid promising a second date.

“Let us not beat around the bush,” Ra’s started, after taking a sip from his tea, “I have brought you here to make you an offer.”

Tim nodded, that was obvious enough. Ra's had no reason to kidnap him this time beyond something like this.

“As you know, I’m always on the lookout for enterprising young individuals with both leadership and fighting experience to join the League of Assassins. Right now I’ve been on the hunt for the perfect person to fill a brand new executive role in a new chapter of my organization.”

Tim took a sip of his tea in an attempt at avoiding having his mouth drop open in shock. Ra’s sounded like something out of a “Executive success seminar” that was just a veiled multilevel marketing scheme.

“To put it plainly, Timothy, I want you to become my apprentice. I know you and assume you might be hesitant to accept this lifestyle so I’ve prepared for you something of a presentation on what that might entail.”

Tim couldn’t stop a laugh from bursting out of him, but he did manage to turn it into a kind of cough.

“Wait--wait.” he said, almost choking on his tea, “Are you about to show me a powerpoint?”

Ra’s looked a bit put out at that suggestion, almost like he wanted to sigh, “Of course not, it’s more interactive than that.”

Tim held up his free hand, incredulous, “Is this--a job interview Ra’s? I thought you were pitching this to me.”

“No, no. It’s an interactive presentation designed to show you just what you have to gain from joining me.” Ra’s explained, as he did so Tim took another sip of his tea.

He lifted his cup and waved it lightly, “Oh yeah, so I’m just in one of those fairy tales then where you make me do three impossible tasks and at the end I get the happily ever after dip in the lazarus pit?”

“It’s only one trial--”

“So it is a task!” Tim declared, almost standing.

“Timothy.” Ra’s snapped, sounding a bit like Bruce whenever Tim and Steph’s antics pushed him a bit too far.

Tim crossed his legs and leaned back into the chair, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Irritating the man was a bad idea, Tim knew that, but this was just ridiculous. He wasn’t going to be sent on a wild quest that might end up with him dunked in a Lazarus Pit or whatever else Ra’s had in mind that would supposedly prove how great it would be to work for him.

“If you are not going to take this seriously, then there are other ways of showing you why joining me is a good idea that are not nearly as pleasant.” Ra’s growled.

Tim held up his free hand, “I’d rather not find out, give me your pitch or send me off with your best ninja or whatever you were planning.”

He figured playing along would work for now. He could put off giving Ra’s an answer until Bruce came in for a third rescue. When he was home, they were going to have a serious conversation about ninja proofing the manor. Ra’s could not keep kidnapping him like this, they had to have some kind of security measures in place.

“Wonderful. I’m sure after your tour you’ll have a better understanding of what I have to offer you.”

Tim ended up following someone Ra’s called his “best general” around the compound for an hour. The guy showed Tim the training rooms, the medical suite, sparring rings, a variety of ninja’s actually practicing, and at one point they even ended up in the library. The general had been given instructions to pause anywhere Tim wanted him to, and so they lingered in the library for a bit.

He had to admit, Ra’s had a fantastic library.

The general didn’t seem worried about Tim getting lost, or escaping, and waited by the door while he wandered the massive room.

And boy was it huge. It was bigger than the main floor of the cave, with stacks and stacks of books on two floors. Some of the volumes looked ancient, and there were even scrolls shelved on the second floor.

He gingerly pulled one out to examine.

“That is worth more than you could ever imagine.” a sharp, young voice, declared, behind him.

Startled, Tim dropped it back onto the shelf and spun. Before him stood a kid, probably 8 years old, with tousled dark hair, dark skin, and a face that almost echoed some of Bruce’s school photos. It was startling.

“Hi.” Tim said, dumbly, “I know, it’s Ancient Sumarian right?”

“Tt.” the boy crossed his arms, “You are not an idiot then.”

Tim shook his head, “Nah, apparently I’m smart enough to be selected for recruitment.”

The kid nodded, “So you are Grandfather’s young detective. He speaks highly of you.”

Grandfather? Tim’s brain spun. This kid was Ra’s al Ghul’s grandkid? He ran the numbers, the kid’s mom was either Talia or Nyssa. If he had to put money on it, Tim figured the boy before him looked more like Talia than her sister. And his other features--like Bruce’s?

No.

No.

No. Freaking. Way.

“That is hardly language to use here.” The boy said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Tim hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud, but apparently his surprise had been so great he had. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, I just never expected Ra’s to have a grandkid.”

“It is not surprising to me, I am his heir. Born to inherit the League and rule the world one day.”

Okay, that was a lot to unpack. Just a totally wild amount, but Tim wasn’t super focused on the world domination thing just yet (maybe later when he had a chance to process all of--well, all of it), “Sorry to keep pressing but, doesn’t having an heir kind of--I don’t know, put his whole Eternal Ruler of the League thing in jeopardy?”

“Tt. It is not my place to question my Grandfather’s plans. I simply know what I have been told, that I will inherit the League one day in his stead.”

“Well,” Tim rocked back on his heels casually and grinned, “That might be a long loooong time.”

The kid’s brows furrowed as if he had not really considered that idea before. He opened his mouth to say something else, but seemed to decide against it, dropping his arms to his sides to shrug, “If that is his wish then so be it.”

“True.” Tim said, not really knowing what to say. Instead he settled on changing the subject, “You know, if your grandfather gets his way I’ll be spending more time here, so I guess introductions are in order. I’m Timothy Drake-Wayne, but most people just call me Tim.”

He held his hand out to the kid, smiling at him. If he really was Bruce’s then they’d be getting to know each other for sure. Just not here. Tim had zero intentions on letting Bruce’s child stay with the League. Did B he even know he had a kid? Tim thought he’d better figure that out first before kidnapping his little brother.

Little brother. Just that idea made something flutter in Tim’s chest. He’d always wanted a little brother.

The boy scowled at his hand, and did not take it, “You may be correct, even if I do not see what Grandfather seems to. I am Damian al Ghul, heir to the Demon’s Head.”

Tim bit back a grin at just how serious this kid was. He sounded like a little prince, all imperious and haughty. Damian, even his name fit him. He wondered how Damian would do around Dick? Or Stephanie. They’d figure out how to bring a smile out of him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Damian.” Tim said, “I know we’ve really only just met, but I’m sure you’ll see what Ra’s does in time.”

Damian looked him over again, then gave a sharp nod, “I am interested in seeing what you have to offer.”

“Damian, I found it, where’d you go?” A voice sounded from deeper within the stacks.

Tim started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Knew it from nights spent chasing shadows, from recording’s Bruce had watched a hundred times when he didn’t think Tim was watching. From Tim’s own desire to know and learn more about his predecessor. It was Jason Todd’s voice.

But that couldn’t be. Jason was dead.

“I am coming.” Damian returned, his tone more childlike than Tim had heard in their whole conversation. He turned back to Tim, “Do not ruin that scroll, I will see you later.”

Then he spun on his heel and walked away.

Tim stepped forward, reaching out for the kid, “Wai--”

“Master Tim, we really must be going.” Tim’s guide was back, stepping into his view as if from nowhere, and stopping Tim’s chase as short as it had been.

“Can we wait just one more second?” he asked, “I wanted to ask Damian something else.”

The man’s mouth turned down in a frown, “I do not have clearance to let you speak with Master Damian. Come, we have more to see.”

Frustration bubbled up in Tim, but unless he wanted to start a fight he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Damian right then. The kid had promised to see him later, so maybe he’d seek Tim out. If not, Tim would find a way.

As he followed the man out of the library, he kept searching the stacks of books for a sign of the others. It wasn’t until they’d left the room that Tim caught sight of Damian again, his small form waving animated at a taller, broader one. One that, while older, was unmistakably Jason.

Before Tim could say screw everything, the two turned around a corner, and someone else was clearing their throat. His guide seemed eager to move on, and so they did.

Tim tuned out most of the rest of the tour, and eventually found himself back in the office from before, once again seated across from Ra’s.

“Timothy, I hear you have met my grandson on your tour.” Ra’s started.

“I did.” Tim said, a bit hesitant to go into detail, his guide had seemed like talking to Damian was a pretty serious thing, and suddenly Tim was afraid he’d gotten the kid in trouble.

Ra’s smiled, “He is magnificent is he not? Already he is a skilled warrior, and well trained in his studies.”

“He said he was your heir?” Tim ventured.

The man waved a hand dismissively, “Of course he is, he is my grandson, but that does not mean he will inherit. The boy is valuable to me, for many reasons. He is an excellent tool to wield against my enemies already, and will only become more so as he grows.”

Anger bubbled up in Tim. There was something in Ra’s’ tone that made Tim sick, to call a kid a tool. To plan to just use him his whole life?

“And what, do you want to do that with me too? You said you wanted me to be your apprentice, but if your Heir is just a tool then--”

“No, as I said I want you to take over a branch of the League. You have talents and skills Damian will not. The boy is--” Ra’s shrugged, “Let us call him a vessel. A shell for me to wield in one way or another.”

Well, that just made Tim even more angry. Damian was his grandkid. What Tim wouldn't have given to still have his grandparents, and for Ra’s to just--If Tim wasn’t already dead set on getting Damian home, he would be after this conversation.

“You know what, Ra’s. Let me think on it a while. I’ll get back to you on my answer. I kind of want to see Damian in action a bit, learn what this training looks like in someone closer to my age.”

The man considered this for a moment before nodding, “I will let you watch his sparring session tomorrow. For now, I think we’re done. Have a good evening, Timothy.”

Tim nodded, and left. His mind was racing, he wanted another look at Jason. Wanted to tell Damian about his dad. Wanted to make sure both his brothers were okay.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, he missed the black and blue clad arm that reached out from behind a curtain and yanked him back. Nightwing put a hand over Tim’s mouth to quiet him, and then pulled him out the window the curtain had been hiding. They dropped, into nothing--except it was solid?

Tim found himself inside the invisible jet. Inside, and flying away from his newly discovered siblings before he could even argue they needed to be rescued too.

One flight with Wonder Woman and Nightwing later, and Tim was home again, being told in stern tones by both Batman and Nightwing that he really needed to stop allowing himself to be kidnapped by ninjas (like he didn’t know that).

Then he was in his room, in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind whirring. He had learned two things on this trip. Two impossible things. Two things he was going to leverage as soon as he could.

It was late, and he should be sleeping, but instead he texted Steph and Cass in their little group chat.

Tim: Want to cause some chaos?

Immediately he received a response:

Steph: Always

Cass: Who are we going after?

Tim smiled, his fingers dancing over his phone:

Tim: Ra’s.

Cass: Time to teach him a lesson?

Steph: I've been waiting for this, I’ll get the kerosene

Tim: There’s more.

Cass: Tell.

The light flashed on out in the hallway, Tim could see it flicker to life under his door.

Tim: Tomorrow, lunch at that place with the sweet potato fries. Come ready to plan a kidnapping or two.

The next day Tim found both Steph and Cass waiting eagerly for him at the restaurant, a heaping plate of sweet potato fries between them.

“Spill, Bird Brain.” Stephanie said, as he sat down, pushing some fries towards him, “I want to hear everything about this crusade against Ra’s.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and snagged a fry, dipping it in one of the sauces they’d gotten to accompany it.

“As you’ve probably already guessed, I had another visit to the League compound yesterday.” Tim started, “It was more of a day trip this time, but Ra’s did his very best to sell me on signing up.”

“More posters?” Cass guessed, then shook her head seeing Tim’s expression, “What did he do?”

Tim snagged another fry, “Yes more posters, but more than that he gave me a speech right out of a How to Recruit for Dummies book, then sent me on a tour of the building.”

Steph snorted, “Please tell me you recorded it.”

“I did not, but you will never believe what I found on my tour, or to be precise who.”

Both girls paused their snacking, waiting on him to continue.

Tim dropped the first bomb, “Jason Todd, alive and breathing.”

“What, no way.” Steph said, “How’d he even get there? I thought He was buried here?”

He shrugged, “I don’t have any of the details, but they’ve got a Lazarus pit, and Ra’s is weirdly obsessed with recruiting Robin’s, so I’d say his resurrection tracks.”

“Who else was there?” Cass asked, brow furrowed.

Now this he knew neither of them would be expecting. Tim hadn’t expected it. He still couldn’t believe it.

“Ra’s al Ghul’s grandson, Damian.” Tim said, watched both girls look even more confused, then added, “The son of Bruce and Talia. At least, I’m pretty sure he’s their kid.”

The fry Stephanie was holding dropped out of her hand.

Tim watched Cass processing the information, saw her realization that there was another child being raised in the League, then saw the determination cross her face at her own personal decision.

“We are taking them both, correct?” Cass asked.

“We’re taking them both, and burning the place down.” Tim confirmed, “That should properly pay him back for all the time’s he’s kidnapped me this year.”

Steph’s lips turned up into a sharp grin, “The law of equivalent exchange.”

Tim laughed, “You’ve been watching too much tv.”

“It’s prepped me for this very moment.” she shot back, voice falsely grave.

“Batman prepared you for this very moment.” Cass elbowed her.

“No.” Tim said, “I’m going to prep you. And then we’re going to put everything in action.”

They talked, and planned, and debated the pros and cons of letting Tim get nabbed again over just going himself, and eventually after many many sweet potato fries and sodas they were ready.

It was to be infiltration first, fire and kerosene second. Obviously the place was going to go up, but only after they set the stage for rebellion and convinced Damian and Jason to go home with them. Tim didn’t think it’d be a hard sell for Jason, but the kid was another matter altogether. If Tim couldn’t convince him to come along, they may actually end up having to kidnap Damian.

A key to the plan was that only Tim, Steph, and Cass were in on it. There was no way Bruce was giving the green light for such a thing. Besides, Tim wanted to see his face when they presented him with not one, but two, rescued sons from the League.

Over the next week Tim made himself the most kidnappable he’d ever been. He wandered outside, kept to himself, and tried to look as wide eyed as possible. He lingered in parking lots, and took shortcuts down empty alleyways. Basically, he did everything he could to signal he was alone and vulnerable besides hanging a sign around his neck that said “Take me to your (ninja) leader”.

At one point he even stopped, dead center in the middle of an alley and declared, “Wow this sure is a dangerous place to be! I hope I don’t get attacked and kidnapped by ninjas!”

The only response he got that time was from an older woman who stopped at the edge of the alley and very seriously called out, “Careful, young man. Don’t you know there are killer clowns out? You best be on your way before you get hurt.”

Then, at long last, Tim caught sight of one of the League members ducking behind a shadow. He paused his walk, and leaned over as if fascinated by something on the sidewalk in front of him. By the time he’d stood, the ninja was in front of him.

Tim held up his hands in surrender, doing his best not to actually look excited. Then, he was successfully kidnapped for the fifth --and if Tim’s plan worked successfully-- final time.

[charlieconwayy]

D3: The Mighty Ducks (1996) is the best Ducks movie and a flawless coming of age movie

It’s no secret that The Mighty Ducks are a beloved trilogy. The three films spawned a professional NHL team named in their honor, 2021 sequel series, as well as many knockoff films released in the 1990s. But with any movie series, fans tend to rank the films and have passionate opinions on which is the best. For most Ducks fans, the answer is simple: D2. It has the Bash Brothers, Team USA dominating, the iconic “Ducks Fly Together” scene and two Queen songs. What’s not to love? But upon a rewatch of the trilogy, I came to realize that it’s not D2, or even the original, that is the best in the series.

It’s the criminally underrated 1996 D3 that for me, is the most mature and has the most heart. Perhaps it’s that the Ducks are now old enough to carry their own weight on screen. Perhaps it’s that the film takes a look at trauma, specifically trauma in teenagers, and how that manifests itself. Perhaps it’s that the film is maybe ahead of its time, in the way it discusses classism, racism and sexism. There is so much about this overly hated film that makes it the best Ducks movie and a perfect coming of age film.

The movie starts presumably a few years following the Ducks’ win against Iceland. They all look noticeably older - definitely older than the middle schoolers we left behind in 1994 - and all of the male Ducks’ voices have dropped a few octaves. Gordon Bombay, played by Emilio Estevez, is presenting the team (except for unfortunately, Jesse Hall, a leader among the Ducks who would’ve made for a strong presence in this mature film, as well as Portman, but we’ll get to him later) with scholarships to his alma mater, Eden Hall, a preparatory high school in Minnesota. Charlie Conway, played by a young, pre-Dawson’s Creek Joshua Jackson, is the Ducks’ captain and unspoken leader. There’s been much debate over the years over whether or not Charlie is the true captain of the Ducks. Adam Banks, played by Vincent Larusso, is far and away better than practically every Duck combined. Fulton Reed, played by Elden Henson, has shown more maturity and leadership at this point. It’s probably true that the Ducks as a team think that Charlie is Captain because of Bombay’s favoritism towards him (and his mother), but I think that this film makes it abundantly clear why Charlie is the captain. 

D3 is Charlie’s story. We see that in the opening scene, when Bombay tells Charlie he will not be following the team to Eden Hall, accepting a job instead in California. We learned in the original Mighty Ducks film, that Charlie and his mother left a bad situation in Charlie’s father when Charlie was very young. We also hear about Charlie’s mother, Casey’s marriage to a new man in the D2, who we can assume from what Jan says, that Charlie doesn’t like. We see in that first film, Charlie’s reaction to Bombay announcing that he is leaving the Ducks after the two of them have formed a bond. It is very clear that Charlie deals with abandonment issues, stemming from trauma in his early childhood. Charlie freaks out when a D3 Bombay announces the same thing, and storms off. 

Change is the biggest theme in D3. We see how change affects each of the Ducks, even those who don’t get many lines. Some, like Russ Tyler, played by SNL’s Kenan Thompson, think it’s a good thing. All of the Ducks don’t come from good neighborhoods and we assume that most of them don’t have the best home lives, especially when Charlie tells their new coach, Orion, played by Jeffrey Nordling, that the Ducks are the only good thing that any of them have had. Going to a preparatory school should be a good thing for them. But for most of them, it’s not. The new Ducks (who by the way, three of which are people of color, and one of which, is a woman) are immediately told that “their kind” is not welcome at Eden Hall. The Varsity team claim that they feel this way because the captain’s younger brother was not admitted onto the JV team because of the Ducks’ scholarships, but it’s very clear what they really mean. Russ commented that he’s the only black person on the whole campus earlier, and he, Luis Mendoza (The Sandlot’s Mike Vitar) and Ken Wu (Justin Wong) are the only people of color we see in the film. Change takes a toll on each member of the team. We see it the most in Charlie, but we also hear from Fulton on how the separation from his best friend, Dean Portman (Aaron Lohr), who decided not to enroll at Eden Hall, is taking a toll on him. Connie (Margerite Moreau) and Guy (Garrette Henson) have presumably broken up, as the two small scenes we get of them, they are arguing. It’s a transition period, one that the first year of high school often is. But it’s also a look on how a rich, white privileged world is vastly different than the one that the Ducks are used to. 

Coach Orion seems like a hardass, especially when he tells Charlie at their first practice that he will no longer be “Captain Duck” (as coined by D2’s Gunnar Stahl, played by Scott Whyte, who now plays the level-headed Varsity goalie Scooter). This, to the Ducks, is a line in the sand. Ever since Bombay turned District 5 into the Ducks four years previous, Charlie has been their captain. They’re in a whole new environment, where the man who gave them so much happiness and so many friendships isn’t, and their “little Duck tricks” won’t work anymore. Orion thinks Charlie is a showoff, and perhaps he is. This Charlie is vastly different than the sweet, shy Charlie we see in D1 and D2. But this Charlie is older, has just been abandoned by a man he considered a father, and is being harassed on a daily basis for being, as Varsity Captain Reilly puts it, “white trash.” I find it hard to believe sometimes that fans can look at Charlie from the outside, and not see who he is on the inside. All of Charlie’s closest relationships that we see portrayed in this movie, are with women. His mother (who he, as a teenage boy, says “I love you” to in the final scene of the movie), his teammates, Connie and Julie, who he gets a lot more screentime with, and with new love interest, Linda (Margot Finley).

I think now is a great time to talk about the shockingly impressive way all of the female characters are portrayed in this series, particularly this movie, especially for a 90s sports film. Connie has always been a leader on and off the ice. She’s in a relationship with Guy, but it’s not her only character trait. Dubbed “the Velvet Hammer” by Averman (Matt Doherty), she stands up for herself, and for her shy teammates (she literally shoves Peter Mark - a character cut out of D2 and D3 for good reason - in D1 when he insults Charlie) and stands up to the entire Varsity team despite them telling her that they hope they can “fight” with her later. Julie “The Cat” Gaffney (Columbe Jacobsen) is the second best player on the Ducks, despite the little ice time (thanks, Bombay) we see her have. She is the first person to tell of the Varsity, telling Captain Reilly that his little brother “just wasn’t good enough.” She’s a huge facilitator in the fire ant prank and despite the very weird and out of character game she had against the Blake Bears, shows that she deserves the number one goalie slot that Reilly gives her - despite what Goldberg, and the obvious underlying sexism there, have to say. I’ve also always been very impressed with Charlie’s mother, Casey (Heidi Kling). Although she has a romance with Bombay in D1, she makes it clear from the get go that her first priority is Charlie. We know that she took the two of them away from an abusive situation, and she’s a goddamn hero for that. Her scenes in D3 are limited, but they always show her chastising Charlie’s antics and encouraging him to stay in school. It goes unsaid, but it’s clear that she knows that he’s not going to get an education this good in the problematic public school system. But according to Linda, Charlie’s love interest, the private school system is no better. The first time we see Linda, she is protesting the “outdated” Warriors team name. This was in a 1996 kids movie, no less. She holds her own against Charlie, calling him out when he’s wrong. No one aside from Charlie, and maybe Fulton, get much screentime or lines aside from Bombay and Orion, but her presence and the point of her character is clear - not every rich person agrees with the horrible things that wealthy people do. 

Back to the plot.

When the Ducks receive their positions, they learn that Banks, as a freshman, has made Varsity. From an outside perspective, they seems obvious. Banks is the best player we see in any of the films, definitely miles better than the losers on Varsity, so it seems obvious that he would be promoted. But Banks is unhappy with this. Adam Banks is a fan favorite character, definitely due to the sweet, understated performance by Larusso, but we don’t see much of him. From what we do see of him though, he underwent a huge character arc from D1 to now. In D1, Banks goes against his father’s protests and joins the Ducks, claiming that he “just wants to play hockey.” Here in D3, we see that Banks is utterly miserable despite playing with some of the best players in the state, purely because he’s not with his friends. At the end of the film, he makes the (questionable) decision to rejoin the Ducks and go against the Varsity. But Varsity seems to feel that Banks fits in with them, for obvious reasons. He’s the only Duck who comes from an affluent background, and he’s definitely the most clean cut. Captain Reilly is visibly angry in the final showdown with the Ducks that they no longer have Banks on their side, as if he’s betrayed “his kind.”

The turning point of the film comes when after Charlie has quit the freshman team (no longer the Ducks), Hans, a father figure to the Ducks and Bombay, suddenly passes away. It’s an insanely dark moment for a Disney film, especially when Bombay returns to the funeral and reminds the Ducks that it was “Hans who taught them to fly” and Charlie storms off, crying. I think Joshua Jackson, in the Ducks films, as well as in Dawson’s Creek, is phenomenally good at portraying teenagers who wouldn’t normally be seen as leading men. Who let their emotions overtake them, who have anger issues, who deal with familial problems. Characters like that in leading roles were almost unheard of in the 90s, and in the upcoming scenes, it reminds us why this side of Charlie that we’ve seen throughout the movie is not the only side of Charlie.

Bombay takes Charlie to the rink to see Orion skating with his disabled daughter, who was injured in a car accident. He reveals to Charlie that Orion quit the NHL to take care of her, and this immediately changes Charlie’s opinion of him, but he’s still unconvinced about rejoining the team. The next scene is without question, the greatest and most important scene of the trilogy. The last two films spent way too much time telling us how great of a person Bombay was, how he was the Minnesota Miracle Man,despite us seeing so little of that onscreen. We see him making mistake after mistake, hurting the team, being an unjustified dick to those around him. But this scene more than makes up for all of that. I’ve put the quote from this scene below.

Bombay: I was like you, Charlie. When I played hockey, I was a total hot shot. I tried to take control of every game. I wound up quitting. So I tried the law. I ruled the courtroom, but inside, I’m a mess. Start drinking. Man, I was going down. But then this great thing happened, maybe the best thing ever - I got arrested and sentenced to community service. And there you were - Charlie and the Ducks. And as hard as I fought it, there you were. You gave me a life, Charlie, and I want to say thank you. I told Orion about all of this when I talked to him about taking over. I told him that you were the heart of the team and that you would learn something from each other. I told him that you were the real Minnesota Miracle Man. 

Charlie: You did?

Bombay: I did. So be that man, Charlie. Be that man.

It’s a callback to D2, when Jan tells Bombay “Be that man, Gordon. Be that man.” This scene is flawless. Every good thing that has happened to the Ducks, came because of Charlie’s heart. It came because of that game when Charlie refused to cheat, and made Bombay see his wrongs. It came because of when Bombay first tried to quit the team, and seeing how hurt Charlie was, agreed to stay. It was Charlie who stepped out of the game against Iceland so that Banks could play. It was Charlie who found them Russ. Giving the credit to a young, emotionally unstable teenager, rather than their Emilio Estevez, hotshot Bombay, is the best thing this series ever did.

This movie, in my opinion, is nearly flawless. Every moment has been planned to make the same point - change sucks. Especially when you’re a teenager. Even more so when you’re a teenager with trauma.

[joachimnapoleon]

I was asked by @tairin​ to write about Murat’s personality.

This is going to be a bit long and in no particular order whatsoever.

Occasionally his personality seems like a jumble of contradictions. He never fell out of love with being a soldier, grew restless and bored during times of peace, always eager to be back in the field, but then, once there, hoping to get back home to his family as soon as possible and never having to leave them again. He became a king, and viewed his authority in Naples as absolute (or as absolute as it could be with Napoleon constantly breathing down his neck), yet he never fully shed the republican principles he eagerly adopted as a young man during the French Revolution. Bold, confident, and determined on the battlefield, he was often vacillating, indecisive, and unsure of himself in politics; yet in both circumstances he was also capable of extreme rashness, and his hasty judgments often led him to taking regrettable actions.

He was, like Napoleon, bursting with energy. He always had to be doing something. Upon taking the throne of Naples, he worked so tirelessly, day and night, trying to sort through the affairs of his predecessor and get his new kingdom in order, that for a time his wife Caroline was scarcely able to see him. This energy never dissipated, even into his forties; one English visitor to Naples in 1814 described him as "endowed with a large amount of pure animal vitality, which pleasureably expended itself in the active deeds of war, but found no sufficient vent in peace." (Cole, The Betrayers, 212)

Also like Napoleon, he could be very short-tempered; but unlike Napoleon, he never quite learned to contain his rages. When Napoleon threw one of his notorious temper tantrums complete with the hurling and stomping of his hat, it was generally done for show. On the other hand, I've come across multiple anecdotes of Murat, having to be physically restrained by either his staff or his ministers from attacking someone (one of these instances occurred during the 1812 campaign, when only the exertions of his chief of staff, General Belliard, prevented him from stalking out, armed, to the tent of Marshal Davout after the two had engaged in a bitter quarrel in front of Napoleon earlier). That being said, Murat's rages, like Napoleon's, were usually of short duration, often burning out within minutes. Caroline was well aware of her husband's temperament, and did her best to try to help him keep it in check; in one letter, she gently chides him to "calm a little your head, which gets hot so easily."

He was very opinionated, open, and frank--for better or worse. Some of his letters to Napoleon are honestly just breathtaking in their forthrightness; while as a general rule he bent to his brother-in-law's will (however begrudgingly), when provoked he was not afraid to express his discontent or disagreement with a brutal honesty which undoubtedly rankled Napoleon at times. Alone among the Bonaparte family, he spoke out vigorously against Napoleon's plan to take an Austrian bride as his second wife, and urged Napoleon to marry a Russian princess instead. When it became apparent that the decision had already been decided upon beforehand, he angrily accused Napoleon of setting him up with the intention of rendering the soon-to-be empress, and by extension the Austrian royal family, hostile to him. In short, he was far from being the groveler to Napoleon some have made him out to be.

He didn't handle high-stress situations particularly well. One theory I've read is that he suffered from psychosomatic illness, and I'm inclined to believe it. In Spain in 1808, when the people began to revolt and the situation rapidly spiraled out of his control, Murat fell ill--deathly ill, to the point where it was thought he might've been poisoned. His health experienced a similar collapse during the calamitous retreat from Russia in 1812, when he was placed in charge of the disintegrating Grande Armée. And a year prior to that, in the wake of an exceptionally bad quarrel with Napoleon over Neapolitan affairs, his mental state became so bad that Caroline kept his ministers away from him for days, and his overall health suffered throughout that summer.

His general demeanor was upbeat and happy, though I would argue that this was considerably less so during the last few years of his life. But he seems to have always at least tried to preserve a cheerful outward demeanor, and numerous memoirists have remarked on his happy nature.

He could be vain and boastful; he loved telling people about his exploits in war (and with women). He did make an effort to cultivate the manners of the nobility though, wanting to fit in as well as possible after his meteoric rise into the upper echelons of society. But he seems to have gone a bit overboard with it all. Hortense de Beauharnais writes in her memoirs that

He sought to have good manners and overdid them. One saw by his exaggerated dress and his attentions to the ladies that he wished to resemble the Villarceaux and Sévignés of the days of Louis XIV. These famous courtiers were the models he had chosen, but the rough hearty republican could not be completely hidden, and the mixture of the two opposite types of character would have been ridiculous at times if one had not been conscious of the honest, frank soldier in the background who reconciled the puppets one to the other. (The Memoirs of Queen Hortense, Vol. 2)

A less charitable contemporary, the Countess Potocka, whom Murat tried and failed to seduce in 1807, writes of her first encounter with him:

It was easily seen that his manners were sham, and that he usually had others. He did not talk badly, for he watched himself carefully; but his Gascon accent and some too soldierlike phrases belied the “prince” a little. He was fond of telling of his feats of arms, and talked war to us for over an hour. (Memoirs of the Countess Potocka)

He was, as even Napoleon described him, generous and kindhearted. When he became a king, he was so eager to bestow his Order of the Two Sicilies on anyone and everyone, that Caroline chided him that he must stop doing so, as it was becoming a joke in Paris. General Pépé writes of Murat's generosity in granting the petitions of the common people, describing one instance in which Murat was thrown from his horse while in the middle of receiving a petition from a woman begging for the life of her husband; after getting back to his feet and "cursing roundly in the French fashion," Murat promptly signed the petition to spare the life of the man. However, Pépé also points out that Murat's generosity and compassion occasionally worked against his own interests:

People of all classes, and even officers in the army, were in the habit of presenting themselves to the King, as he passed through the streets, with a petition in one hand and an ink-stand in the other. The good King Joachim granted those requests with too much facility, not considering that far from increasing his popularity by such conduct, he drew upon himself feelings of hatred, since the petitions so granted were for the part such as ought not to have been entertained. His too easy compliance, therefore, was calculated to awaken discontent and distrust of the efficiency of the laws. (Memoirs of General Pépé, Vol I)

He was also extremely prone to flattery (this ties into his earlier-mentioned vanity), and apt to reward and promote those of his generals who succeeded at ingratiating themselves with him but who may not have been the best commanders in the field.

He was very independent and chafed at being under the command of someone else. This was the case for the entire duration of his military career: he was discharged from his initial enlistment for apparently participating (and possibly leading) a "mutiny" against some officers; his stint in the National Guard was brief, and he wrote to condemn the officers over him for being "royalists;" in the 21st Chasseurs à Cheval, he quickly found himself at odds with his commanding officer, Landrieux, which devolved into an ugly affair with Murat going on trial before the Committee of Public Safety; he would likewise chafe under the commands of Brune and Berthier in Italy, and, for almost the rest of his life, he would chafe under the domination of Napoleon. Especially after being made a king, which he seems to have naively believed would grant him some amount of independence from the Emperor; in reality he merely became one of Napoleon's satellites, and became increasingly embittered by it.

He could be very politically naive (see 1814 and his belief that he could keep his throne by separating himself from Napoleon). He could also be extremely paranoid. His correspondence is replete with references to "my enemies." With the exceptions of Josephine and Savary, I've never come across the names of this mysterious cabal of enemies Murat believed to be actively undermining him and turning Napoleon against him in Paris while he ruled in Naples. His paranoia occasionally extended to his wife, whom he accused at least once of being in league with his enemies--this was in a letter written during another time when Murat was under extreme stress, during his failing Sicilian campaign. In 1815, his paranoia led him to abandoning his new allies, who he believed were on the brink of turning against him; so it can be argued that this aspect of his personality, combined with his hastiness, played a large part in his final ruin. (In the wake of Napoleon's escape from Elba, the English and Austrians both, out of desperation, hurried to send Murat guarantees for his throne if he would stay true to the alliance; but they arrived too late.)

He was extremely flirtatious, loved dancing and the company of women in general, sexual or otherwise. (See here for my post on Murat and women.)

He was a doting father, obsessed with his children; and an affectionate, if not always faithful, husband.

I'm probably forgetting some stuff, but I'll leave off here. Hopefully this provides a pretty good overall understanding of Murat's personality. Feel free to toss me some asks if there's anything you'd like me to expand on, I'm always happy to talk about Murat. :)

[blkmxrvel]

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (24) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

She had expected the courtroom to look… just like that, a courtroom. A vast expanse of rule and punishment, dark woods and a high bench in the center from which the judge would condemn them all.

She had probably watched way too much television, Kara decided, or it could be because only the major cases were tried in the main courtroom down the hall. Most, such as domestic disputes or “severed claims” (such a distasteful phrase, Kara thought) were heard in 203Left. It was little more than a boardroom, with 3 tables pushed together in an open-ended square, and the gallery was three or four rows of metal chairs sat towards the back of the room. Two members of the council sat in the very back row, a presence Kara noticed with a slight tinge of fear.

“Are you sure I can’t go up there with her?” she whispered to Lena, who was sat beside her in the first row.

She looked so vulnerable, Kara thought, flanked on either side by her lawyer and Sam… and him directly in front of her.

James Olsen didn’t look like a man capable of making a young girl’s life a living hell, and that, Kara knew, was because Alex had done a good job prepping him. Clean-shaven, hair cut short. His suit was dark, but not so dark as to give off the impression of “bad guy,” impeccably tailored and well-fitting. He sat ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly against the wood table the only indication that he was the accused.

He looked, Kara thought, like a little boy in a man’s clothes. And that, she knew, was what had started it all.

She shook her head and turned her attention back to the girl who mattered most, the girl who was staring at her with eyes wide and somewhat fearful. Kara smiled reassuringly, wishing with everything she had that she could go up there to her, to hold her in her arms and whisper that it was all going to turn out all right.

Except she didn’t know if it would.

Sam had helped Y/N dress for the trial as well, a move that Kara knew was just as calculated as Alex’s. She didn’t like it, because the white short-sleeve peasant shirt and black pants, along with a simple pair of black tennis shoes and Y/N’s hair held back on one side by a bow-shaped clip, made Y/N look even younger, smaller, more lost than what Kara knew she was.

Even if, just two nights ago, she’d been afraid Y/N had become lost to her forever.

Kara had known, from the moment she’d walked down the hall to her bedroom and found Y/N staring at her collection of punishment implements, hand held fast but shaking against the cabinet door, what the young woman had been thinking of. It had tempered Kara’s anger, somewhat, at her things having been gone through without permission, but it had been exacerbated, too, by the fact that Y/N still didn’t trust her.

It had made her irrationally frustrated, in those few short seconds standing there watching Y/N struggle with her own emotions, that after all this time, after all the care and devotion Kara had thought she’d provided, Y/N was still afraid of her. Hadn’t she done well? Kara thought to herself, after Y/N had gone to the living room and she was gathering up the paddle, the belt, the strap, the hairbrush, the crop in her hands and walking back down the hall herself, formulating the plan in her mind. Hadn’t she praised Y/N at every turn, hadn’t she made sure to call her good girl after every punishment, hadn’t she held her and loved her after every punishment, made sure that Y/N knew it was a clean slate, that everything was forgiven?

Hadn’t she been unlike James Olsen at every possible opportunity?

She’d wanted to call Lena, to call and ask what she should do, because why should she have to keep proving herself over and over again? But she knew what Lena would say, yet another lesson Kara had learned while kneeling at the woman’s feet.

A Dominant will prove herself worthy every day if her submissive needs it. Because the submissive deserves nothing less.

Kara hadn’t meant for things to be as intense as they were with Y/N’s punishment. She’d even momentarily forgotten the significance of the fire, until she’d taken the blindfold off Y/N and the poor girl had reacted to it with a heart-rending moan. Kara would have ended it right there, but she had to prove a point; she had to make Y/N see that Kara was determined never to be like him.

And then Y/N had safe worded.

Later that night, after dinner and as they lay together inside the blanket fort, Y/N had become uncharacteristically quiet. They had been talking and laughing together, making plans for the next day, but then Kara had lain down and taken Y/N into her arms. What she had thought was blissful, comfortable silence was apparently Y/N lost in her own thoughts, thoughts that she wasn’t inviting Kara to share. Kara had waited patiently, content to hold the girl close to her, rubbing her back gently and offering the occasional soft kiss, but still Y/N said nothing.

“Out with it,” Kara had finally ordered gently. “What’s bothering you?” Y/N shook her head.

“Y/N.” There was a note of warning, an edged reminder of the consequence of defiance.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Kara said, tipping her chin up to kiss Y/N again. “And I said you were forgiven for going through my things.”

“No. Not about that.”

Kara tilted her head. “Then…?”

It hurt when Y/N rolled over on her side, away from Kara, drawing her knees up and curling in on herself as if she was remembering being asleep on the floor, with nothing but a thin sheet for comfort. And then Kara was alarmed, because the quiet sniffling even as she reached out for Y/N told her the girl was crying.

“For safe wording.”

She didn’t pull Y/N back around to her; instead, Kara wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist and scooted herself closer so they were pressed back to front. “Why,” she asked softly, nuzzling her chin onto the girl’s shoulder and breathing in the scent of the shampoo that still lingered, “Would you apologize for that?”

“Because i-it made you angry.”

Now Kara was even more confused, and she wanted to roll Y/N over so that she could see her face, search her eyes for something, anything that would be the reasoning behind the girl’s emotions. But she knew Y/N, knew her boundaries, and knew the girl was lost inside something that it would be dangerous to pull her out of too soon, so Kara simply held her.

“I couldn’t be more proud of you for safe wording,” she explained. “You finally understand that it’s okay to safe word, that you have that right, that you will always have that right. And that makes me so happy.”

“I wasn’t a good girl.”

“What?”

Y/N drew herself up further, so that her knees were practically at her chest. “You always say I’m a good girl… after. This time, you didn’t. Because I’m n-not a good girl.”

“Y/N, no-“

“I safe worded. I’m weak, I didn’t trust you. I’m a b-bad girl.”

“No.” This time, Kara did turn Y/N over in her arms; Y/N didn’t protest, her limbs slack like a rag doll’s, and Kara sighed inwardly. She moved up against the pillows so that Y/N was laid a little lower than she was, with her head against Kara’s chest; Kara tightened her arms. She took a deep breath, letting go of the thoughts of how could I have been so stupid? and allowing her nature to flow through her, to take control. The need to dominate and care, to protect and train. She ran her fingers through Y/N’s hair, loosely, lovingly.

“For a person who has never had a safe word,” she said firmly, “and who has always been afraid to use a safe word because she thought it might result in worse punishment, to actually use a safe word…” Kara shook her head; this was no time for a lecture with big words.

“You’re the bravest girl I know,” she whispered, lowering her lips to the top of Y/N’s head, holding her close as the girl shook with silent sobs. “You’re the bravest girl I know, and the strongest, and I am so proud of you.” She cupped Y/N’s face in her hands, raising it so the girl was looking at her. “Don’t ever let me hear you say you’re a bad girl again, is that clear? That is unacceptable. You may be naughty, you may make bad choices, but you are never bad. Do you understand me?”

Y/N swallowed, her eyes locked on Kara’s. “Yes, Miss Kara.”

“I am so sorry for forgetting to say it,” Kara said, regret coating her voice. “Even a Dominant can make mistakes, and forget things. I am so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Y/N was looking at her with an expression of wonder; Kara knew it was because a Dominant actually apologizing was a foreign concept to her. Still, she nodded, slowly. “I forgive you, Miss Kara.”

Kara smiled, and kissed her. “What a strong, brave, good girl you are,” she affirmed, and kissed her again. Y/N offered her a watery smile in response, and Kara brushed the tears away from her cheeks with her thumbs. “Good girl,” she cooed, tucking Y/N’s head back against her chest. “My good girl. My good, good girl.”

“She’ll need you more after than during,” Lena said, watching Sam with no small amount of pride on her face. “You know, she’s so hot like this.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Now is really not the time, horndog,” she said affectionately, then paled when Lena turned to her with a glare in her eyes. “Sorry, Miss Lena,” Kara squeaked.

Really, it was ridiculous that that woman could still make her feel like a 16 year old sometimes.

Lena smirked, and patted Kara’s knee.

Both women tensed when the door to the front of the courtroom opened, and The Honorable Judge Winston Schott entered to take his place at the head table.

Kara knew as soon as she saw him that all was lost.

It wasn’t that he was particularly menacing or intimidating; in fact, with his sweater vest and his unruly, curly hair he looked more like a high school teacher than a judge. But it was in the way he walked, in the way he smiled and greeted James Olsen hello while merely nodding at Y/N, in the way he seated himself and rustled through the papers but not even giving them so much as a glance that told Kara he had most likely made up his mind before he’d even walked in the door.

“Right then,” he said, settling back in his chair and uncapping his pen, tapping it annoyingly against the table. “This is case oh three four dash three two six. I’m Judge Winston Schott; let’s have the introductions, please.”

“Lucy Lane and Sam Luthor-Arias, representation and advocate for Y/N Hastings, plaintiff, Your Honor.”

Kara wasn’t too sure about Y/N’s lawyer; the woman had her hair up in pigtails and was wearing an outlandish jacket topped with a feather boa. But Sam insisted she was the best, and Lena insisted that Sam knew what she was talking about. So Kara pushed aside her nervousness and smiled when Y/N managed a glance and subtle wave at her, then she turned her attention to the men sitting on the opposite side.

“Iris West-Allen and Alex Danvers, representation and advocate for James Olsen, defendant, Your Honor.”

Kara fought back a giggle as she caught sight of Maggie, sat just behind Alex’s table, pointing at her Ma’am and mouthing “She is so hot.” She shook her head at her and she grinned, giving a thumbs up before quickly slipping into what she termed “behave mode.”

Her nerves were quickly getting the best of her though, as the introductions ceased and it was time for the trial of Y/N Hastings-Olsen v. James Olsen to get underway. They were going to lose, she was sure of it, and everything Y/N had to go through would have been for nothing, because James Olsen was going to get a slap on the wrist.

“Right,” Schott was saying, sounding bored. “James Olsen, defendant, Y/N Hastings-Olsen, plain—“

“Hastings, Your Honor,” Ms. Lane interrupted, her tone clipped and determined. “Her name is Y/N Hastings.”

“Mm,” Judge Schott hummed. “Hastings-Olsen, plaintiff. Let’s beg—“

“Objection!”

All eyes turned to her.

“Kara, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Lena hissed. “You can’t object; you’re not part of the trial!”

Alex looked as if she was about to come out of her seat at her; Kara sank down into hers, watching as Y/N raised a single eyebrow at her.

That eyebrow was really, really hot.

“There will be silence in the gallery,” Judge Schott reprimanded sternly, glaring at Kara. “Unless you are—“

“Oh I’m not a lawyer,” Kara explained hastily. “Though I have played one in a local theater production.”

Lena dropped her face into her palm as Sam snorted.

“There will be silence in the gallery,” Judge Schott said again with a sigh of exasperation. “Are we clear?”

Kara nodded, embarrassed that she’d let her nerves get the best of her so soon. “Yes, Your Honor, sorry.”

He looked at her for a long moment, and then nodded. “We will proceed. As is always the case, the defense shall be presented first.”

Kara managed not to groan; she hated that so far, efforts in court reform had been rejected by the government, and so trials nearly always ended up skewed towards the accused. Proponents of the current system said it actually worked in the plaintiff’s favor, because theirs was the last testimony heard, and would therefore remain fresher in the judge or jury’s mind, but Kara wasn’t so sure she bought that. She only hoped it would be true, for Y/N’s sake.

She noticed that James was leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table in front of him, and his eyes glued to Y/N. She for her part wasn’t looking at him; she was staring down at the table. Kara wondered if she’d ever been permitted to really look at James.

“Hold on, angel,” Kara whispered. “Just hold on.” Lena shot her a look, and Kara quieted so she could hear the questions from James’s lawyer.

“Will you tell us, please, James,” began West-Allen, “How you feel about your submissive?”

“She’s not yours,” Kara muttered. “She’s mi—“

“Kara, shut up,” Lena said softly. “Remember, everything has to go perfectly.”

“I didn’t—“ he paused, as if fumbling for the words. “I never meant to hurt he—“ James Olsen stopped again. “Y/N. Y/N, look at me. Look at me.”

She didn’t, and Kara felt her heart swell as instead, the girl looked at her. She nodded at Y/N, who reluctantly turned back to James.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, and Kara rolled her eyes, only to have her mouth drop open in shock at his next words.

“Y/N, I love you.”

Kara felt sick. She had to lean forward a little, her arms pressed against her stomach; Lena laid a reassuring hand on her back. The words were… everything Kara knew Y/N had wanted to hear from James. Kara knew the power behind those words, knew how much she wanted to hear them herself. But would it make everything okay, she wondered. Would Y/N… leave her and go back to James, forget everything he’d put her through, just because he said he loved her? She sniffed, unaware until then that she was crying; she swiped the back of her hand over her eyes.

“Easy,” Lena murmured. “It’s not going to change anything, Kara. Easy now.”

“Do you deny doing the things that you are accused of?”

James Olsen shook his head. “No,” he said, and Kara heard herself gasp. She’d never expected him to actually admit it.

“But I never meant to hurt her, I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought—“

“What did you think justified your treatment of someone you say you love?”

This was what Kara had been waiting to hear. The explanation, the reasoning behind it all. Not that it would change her opinion of him, or make it all right, but if she didn’t get to hear it she’d be wondering for the rest of her life what had led James to be so brutal to one of the sweetest creatures she had ever known in her life.

She still wanted him to suffer everything Y/N had suffered, but more than that, she wanted to know why.

“I—my dad was a sub,” James said with a shrug. Before Kara had a chance to blurt out what’s that got to do with anything? he continued. “My dad was a sub, and my mom was his Dominant. I mean yeah that’s how it works so of course she was but… and he was a good sub, when he was around. At least what I can remember, I was pretty young when he left.”

“He left?” Mrs. West-Allenpressed, one hand scratching notes onto the pad in front of her, the other playing with the tie at her neck.

“Yeah he… got into some stuff, drugs I guess? I don’t really know, I was just a kid. He’d… go out all the time, come home… different. And my mom, she tried, you know, she’d punish him. Spank him, make him do chores, not let him leave the house. But she was kind of soft, she didn’t like punishing him and he got away with a lot of stuff. So he’d leave anyway.”

“And one day…?”

James shrugged, twisting his hands together as he looked at Y/N. “I love you,” he said, the words sounding gentle. “I love you, and I’m sorry.”

Kara fought back the urge to retch; Lena’s hand was soothing against her back. He didn’t mean any of it. She knew he didn’t. Not after all this time, not after everything he’d done to her. Don’t believe him, she tried to send to Y/N. Please don’t believe him, I love you…

“James.”

“Right, sorry.” Olsen took another deep breath and went on with a glance at Alex, who smiled encouragingly at him.

For a split second, Kara hated her again.

“One day he… went somewhere. Told my mom he was going shopping. ‘I’ll be back with dinner, Mistress,’ he said. ‘Take care of Mom,’ he said.” Olsen struck the table with his fist and everyone jumped; Y/N let out a whimper and in a heartbeat Sam had her arm around the girl, whispering words into her ear. Kara clenched her hands to keep from jumping out of her seat; Lena slipped her arm around her shoulders.

“Be strong, that’s what she needs right now,” she soothed. Kara swallowed around the lump in her throat and nodded.

“We waited for hours,” James said through clenched teeth. “Mom paced back and forth, kept saying that this time he’d learn his lesson, this time he’d see that his place was at home with his family. And me, I just sat on the steps watching the door. Must’ve fallen asleep ‘cause when I woke up it was morning and I was still on the steps. Mom was on the couch crying and he never came back.”

West-Allen nodded, looking thoughtful; Judge Schott was staring as if he wanted to cuddle Olsen on his lap. “Can you explain,” James’s lawyer said, “How that affected your relationship with Y/N?”

“My mom… she was such a pushover, you know? She let him get away with everything. She’s the Domme, she’s supposed to be in control, show him who’s boss, but she kept letting him walk out. And I’m just 16, you know? I’m a 16 year old kid and my mom was so obsessed with finding him that… I didn’t know much. But I knew I wasn’t going to do that with you,” he said to Y/N, and she glanced away.

“I’m not weak. I’m the Dom, I control you and you’re going to do what I say. I love you, and I have to keep you safe. She didn’t keep him safe, and now he’s gone. We don’t even know if he’s still alive. You’re not safe out there, you belong to me and your place is at home, and if I have to beat and burn that into you every day then I’m going to fucking do it.”

She’d had enough. Kara jumped out of her chair and ran into the hall, with Lena right behind. She barely made it to the restroom, dropping to her knees in one of the stalls and emptying her stomach of all the contents from breakfast earlier that morning. Lena knelt behind her, holding Kara’s hair back with one hand, again rubbing her back with the other.

“How,” Kara croaked, shaking slightly, “How can any of that justify what he did to her?”

“It doesn’t,” Lena said matter-of-factly. “I don’t care how much of a scared, fatherless 16 year old boy he was, there comes a point when immaturity stops being an explanation and it becomes a get out of jail free card, an unfair justification for despicable behavior. Hey, I can imitate you pretty well, can’t I?”

Kara smiled weakly and stood up, brushing off her clothes and accepting the mint gum Lena held out to her, then allowing herself to be pulled into the other woman’s arms.

“We’re going to lose,” Kara said softly, leaning in.

Lena sighed and squeezed her. “I know.” She pushed back and looked directly into Kara’s eyes. “Which is why I said she’ll need you more after. Come on, it’s almost her turn to testify.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Kara admitted, tugging at the black skirt she wore and nervously adjusting the white top. It occurred to her that she and Y/N had somehow managed to color coordinate, though neither of them had discussed what they were going to wear.

It was… hopeful, she thought.

“Yes you can.” Lena had already turned away from Kara and was walking out the door, her heels sounding loudly on the floor. Kara shook her head slightly, recognizing that the encouragement was also an order, and she quickly followed her back into the courtroom.

Y/N looked worriedly at her as Kara settled back in her seat; Kara just winked at her and waved slightly before realizing that Schott was speaking to her.

“I trust there will be no more disturbances during these proceedings?” he said, once again sounding bored. “Honestly, if you were going to be this emotional you ought to have stayed home.”

Kara growled low in her throat, but managed to sound pleasant as she said, “No more disturbances, Your Honor, you can continue.”

“Well, thank you for your permission.” Judge Schott turned to Y/N’s lawyer. “Miss Lane, are you ready to cross-examine the defendant?”

“Ready, Your Honor.”

All doubts about Y/N’s lawyer’s qualifications disappeared as soon as Lucy Lane leaned forward in her seat, her eyes boring into James’s as she asked “Mr. Olsen… just who the hell do you think you are?” Kara smirked, and she even caught Y/N smiling slightly. Every question was on-point, every counter of his answers left the young man squirming in his seat, and Kara began to think that maybe, just maybe, they might have a shot at winning. By the time Lane said she had no further questions, James Olsen had been reduced to stuttering his answers.

“Miss Lane, are you and Miss Hastings-Olsen ready to present your own case?”

“Hastings, Your Honor.”

Kara’s head shot up at Y/N’s voice, even as a slow smile began to spread over her face.

Judge Schott regarded her coolly. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s Y/N Hastings,” she said, her voice low, but confident. “My name is Y/N Hastings.”

Lucy Lane was smiling; Kara caught Sam pumping her fist under the table and next to her, Lena chuckled.

“Very well, then,” he said, with a dismissing wave of his head. “Can we get on with this?”

“I believe we can,” Miss Lane said. “Y/N?”

Y/N hesitated, and Kara’s heart filled with pride as she looked at her, then nodded. “I’m ready.”

[ladyloptr]

•The Noisy Neighbor•

Request: twt@LOKIBARBZ (So, we literally had a whole discussion over this, therefore, I’ll just make a summmary of this.) Loki moves into an apartment in NYC, recently being officiated as an Avenger after some pleading from Thor. He is comfortable in his apartment, as it’s nice and quiet, until a loud new neighbor moves in next door. He slowly goes mad, until one day he seeks to end the nonsense once and for all.

Fandom: MCU AU

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Hate-Sex, Rough-Sex, Angry-Sex, Hair Pulling, Scratching, Choking, Degradation/Name Calling.

{————}

Loki isn’t sure what he expected to be greeted with when he returned to Midgard with his older brother. After the attack on New York City, he wasn’t foolish enough to think they’d welcome him with open arms.

Then again, it’s not like he had much of a choice in coming here.

After waiting in his cell for nearly a year, he was finally placed on trial. They sentenced him to serve his punishment on Midgard, to help The Avengers in their efforts to protect their realm. Among the many different options that the Æsir courts could’ve picked, he’s merely grateful to still be alive.

The Avengers, of course, wouldn’t allow him to take up residency in the tower as a result of his last visit ending in Tony being tossed out of a window. Thankfully, Tony, at the very least, agreed to find him his own apartment somewhere nearby and pay his rent, so long as he behaves himself.

The apartment complex is very nice, and most importantly, quiet. Tony rightfully assumed that it would be wiser to house the God of Chaos in a quiet environment where he’d be least likely to interact with neighbors. The last thing they need right now is for Loki to take it upon himself to permanently silence his Midgardian neighbors for making too much noise.

For a long time, this arrangement worked. Loki typically walks to the tower with headphones in, playing an array of Norwegian music, most of it sung by the artist Aurora. Her music reminds him of home, so he is quite appreciative of her work.

Thor sometimes questions his reasoning for walking instead of teleporting, but Loki finds the walk to be very calming, considering he leaves the apartment early enough to avoid pedestrian traffic. Then late at night, he walks back to his apartment, headphones in, still somewhat aware of his surroundings. Despite what The Avengers constantly say about the city at nighttime, robbery or any kind of assault is of little concern to Loki, considering-well-he’s a literal deity.

Slowly, The Avengers began to warm up to him, with the obvious exception of Natasha and Clint, who are always suspicious of everything. Loki eventually found that he favors the company of Bucky and Wanda, as opposed to the constantly annoying presence of Tony or the self-righteousness of Steve. He also prefers to keep a fair distance from Bruce, much to Bruce’s understanding.

Nothing was amiss, everything was going pretty well.

Until, a new neighbor moves in next door.

Generally, Loki doesn’t care for the ordinary Midgardians that roam the city, he finds them to be incredibly shallow and rather dull. None of them intrigue him in the slightest, and he finds that many of them have an ornate ability to talk much, but at the same time say absolutely nothing.

However, he swears to The Norns that you, the girl who just moved in next door, have been designed specifically to get a rise out of him.

Loki has always been known for his patience and tolerance of others. Even at this chaotic stage in his life, it still truly takes much to get him to snap, but you seem to be naturally gifted at winding him up.

For one, you purposely went out of your way to introduce yourself to him. You went out of your way to bother him, when none of the other neighbors dared to acknowledged him.

Maybe if he were younger he would’ve enjoyed the attention, but now? This Loki likes not being acknowledged, he likes being left alone, and doesn’t care about whoever else is living in this apartment complex.

He doesn’t even really remember what you were saying to him, he just remembers blankly staring down at you for a few minutes and then impolitely shutting the door in your face.

(Unbeknownst to either of you, back on the Bifrost, Heimdall let out a chuckle of amusement.)

Secondly, you’re just too bloody loud. You talk loud, your footsteps are loud, and you play loud music well into the night until one of the other neighbors have to come knocking on your door to tell you to keep it down.

He overheard you rattling off to one of your neighbors in the lobby, and unsurprising to him, you’re pretty young, twenty four, just graduated from NYU, and you have a degree in fashion design-whatever that means. Loki isn’t well informed on Midgardian credentials, and he’d rather not ask Thor (who has a better grasp on degrees thanks to Jane), lest his brother misunderstand his curiosity for infatuation.

Mentally childish, cheery, loud, and obnoxious.

All the things Loki doesn’t like, compressed into one tiny person.

You make him want to turn you into a mouse whenever you’re nearby, and when you speak, sometimes he wishes he could just take a knife and cut out your vocal cords.

It’s such a shame that he finds you so attractive, if only he could tear your face off and place it on another, quieter woman.

On the flip side, you aren’t particularly fond of him either. He always comes off as rude and dismissive. You are convinced he’s the spirit of an old grumpy senior citizen wearing the skin of a beautiful young man.

So, tensions continue to escalate over the course of four months. The loud music, the loud talking, the loud everything.

He could just ask Tony to move him to another apartment complex the moment you began to stoke the fire, but he would rather not concede defeat. Eventually, you’ll be asked to move, with how loud you are and how often you inconvenience the others around you.

But, another month passes and it still hasn’t happened yet.

He’s not sure how long he can put up with this nonsense.

Six months became his limit, after you tested his patience on the wrong day.

That afternoon, Doctor Doom had infiltrated The Avengers tower looking to steal technology from Tony. Doom easily brushed aside the team’s efforts to prevent him from getting anywhere near the lab. With Thor temporarily lending his assistance to Asgard, The Avengers were without one of their strongest members. Loki eventually managed to subdue him, but his seidr was almost completely spent. He was left feeling fatigued and rather irrate.

When he finally returned to his apartment, he was greeted with some much needed peace and quiet. He fell asleep on the couch, too tired to get undressed from his armor or walk to his bedroom.

It wasn’t until you returned home late from a runway show, that his peace was interrupted. He could quite clearly hear your vain and vulgar Midgardian music playing loudly in your apartment nearby.

“I said certified freak.”

“Seven days a week.”

“Wet ass pussy.”

“Make that pull out game weak!”

Finally fed up, Loki exits his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him, and stomping to your front door. He knocks loudly and frantically, eager to get you to shut off that stupid music.

Hearing the knocking on the door, you quickly pause your music, knowing that it’s probably one of your irritated neighbors again. When you open your door, you are greeted with the sight of a scowling deity. You tilt your head and smile at him brightly. “Well, Loki, how may I help you?”

“You may help me by shutting off that incessant, vain, rhythmless dribble you call music.”

“It’s the national anthem. I am paying homage to our country’s independence.”

Loki grimaces, leaning in slightly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“No, but I take you for someone with an old man mentality.” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re not Bill Clinton in a skin suit?”

“It is one in the morning and some of us are tired.” Loki hisses. “Mortals. Always only concerned with themselves, so selfish and blind to the needs of others.”

“Selfish and blind? You’re one to talk.” You cross your arms. “Didn’t you kill like, hundreds of people when you invaded New York City because you wanted a throne?”

Loki’s eyes narrow dangerously at you, as you slowly cross into no-man’s land.

You pout and pretend to cry. “Boohoo, I am Loki, I was born into a rich family, and I was given everything I ever wanted except a throne.” You pretend to wipe your eyes. “So I killed hundreds of innocent humans because I wanted to be king.”

“You have no idea what you speak of, mortal.” Loki growls, his voice low and grave now. He steps forward, passing through your doorway. “You know nothing of me, or what I am capable of.”

“And what are you capable of, Loki?” You ask. “Besides killing hundreds of innocent people because your daddy didn’t like you, of course.”

You are caught off guard when Loki pulls the door shut behind him and locks it. He immediately pins you against the wall by your arms, and glowers down at you.

“Scared, mortal?”

“No.” You answer truthfully. “You don’t scare me anymore. If you really wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already. You’ve gone soft.”

He growls at you, and leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. You hardly have any time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth. He’s actually surprised when you begin to fight him for dominance, your tongue aggressive pushing against his, and your teeth nibbling on his lips. Eventually, you have to give up your fight, your need for oxygen cutting your fight short.

“Such a shame, a pretty face like yours bound to someone with such an ugly personality.” Loki’s hands release your wrists and slowly travel down to grip your hips.

“Hypocrite.” You say. “Between the two of us, you’re the one with the ugliest personality.”

“You dare to speak to a god in such a way.” Loki groans lowly, grinding himself up against you. You gasp, feeling his erection pressing up against you. “I’ll have you know, where I come from, you’d be punished.”

You let your fingers get tangled in his hair and then you tug on it. You grin as he lets out a soft moan. “Are you telling me you’d like to punish me?”

“I am unsure.” His hands travel up your shirt, and cup your breast. You’re internally grateful that you decided to ditch your bra today. “I have a feeling you’d enjoy it too much.”

Loki stills as your hand travels between the two of you and gently massages the bulge in his pants. “Well, why don’t we find out?”

You yelp in surprise when Loki drags you by your arm to the kitchen. He pushes you to bend over the kitchen counter, pulls your pajama pants down, along with your panties.

A sharp gasp escapes you when he shoves two long fingers inside of you and pumps them steadily inside of you. He continues this until your wetness is practically running down your thighs.

You hear him unbuckle his belt behind you, and soon, he flips you around, so you’re now lying on your back on the counter. You close your eyes as you feel his cock pressing up against your entrance.

“I’m going to break you, fragile mortal.” Loki growls. “I’m going to break you, and relish the moment you come undone underneath me.”

You let out a chuckle, which only serves to irritate him. He enters you in one swift thrust, and you whimper as you feel him stretch you out more than you ever have before.

Loki wraps his fingers around your throat, and begins thrusting hard and fast. He hisses as you drag your nails hard against his neck.

“You should be worshipping me, mortal.” He growls. “You should feel honored that I’m here splitting your quim instead of resting, like I wanted to do.”

“Oh, fuck you spoilt rich brat!” You snap at him.

“Oh, but I am fucking you.” Loki chuckles darkly, tightening his grip around your throat. “And when I’m done, you’ll be positively ruined for any mortal man who tries to lay with you.”

“Bold of you to assume you can make me cum with that weak dick of yours.”

You let out a lewd moan when he changes his angle, his cock head brushing up against your g-spot.

“You were saying, whore?”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re the whore, coming here to fuck someone you don’t even like.”

Loki groans, watching as his cock is literally splitting your cunt. “You asked for this, you stupid girl.”

When you begin to feel a familiar tightening in your stomach, you start to claw and scratch at him, not willing to let him push you over the edge.

“Fight me all you wish to, mortal.” Loki groans in your ear. “You’re going to cum for me, whether you like it or not.”

“I hate you!” You practically scream at him.

“I hate you as well, but here we are.”

You gasp and moan as you feel the coil in your stomach snap. You are somewhat thankful that Loki choking you is preventing you from screaming at the top of your lungs. Loki grunts loudly as he falls over the edge after you, his hips stuttering to a stop as he releases inside of you.

You both stay like that for a few minute, your back on the counter and cum oozing onto your thighs, and Loki resting some of his weight on top of you.

“I might just retire in here for tonight.” Loki grumbles. “I am completely spent.”

“So tired from one round that you can’t walk back to your own apartment?” You chuckle. “You have shitty stamina for a god.”

“I was tired before I arrived here. I said this already.”

You roll your eyes. “Then you should’ve gone to sleep instead of coming here.”

“I wouldn’t have come here if you hadn’t been playing your music loud enough for Asgard to hear!” Loki snaps, biting at your neck in annoyance. You wince. “You’re an obnoxious wrench. It’s a wonder how you haven’t been asked to move elsewhere.”

“The landlord is my mother.”

Loki is silent for a few moments, now absolutely livid. The landlord is your mother?!

“I’ll be having words with your mother, then.”

You laugh. “You can try. Who do you think I got all of my obnoxious traits from?”

You hear Loki scowl next to you, and nip you on the neck again. “You Midgardian women are bothersome.”

[fellowstrangetownappreciator]

Playing Favorites (part 2)

Here we go again! Another 4 TS2 premades that really strange my town! (I’ll see myself out.) Anyway, I have to preface this with saying that so far I’ve only played the 3 base game hoods and although I really enjoy PV and VV, I added them to Strangetown just recently, so I’m still getting acquainted with their casts. That’s why my Playing Favorites posts are so dominated with desert-dwellers - but I definitely plan on including more non-ST Sims once I got to play with them more!

And I also low-key love everybody in Strangetown.

TOP 15 TS2 Premades (according to my personal tastes somewhere in May 2021) (not in any particular order) (and I can’t guarantee I stop at 15 either)

Tank Grunt (Strangetown)

Yes, I am one of them. I am a Tank Grunt apologist. Brace yourself!

Similarly to the Pleasant twins, I view Tank as a victim of his father (Buzz Grunt, the esteemed Strangetown's Worst Parent Award nominee). Of course, that's not to say he's innocent. He is absolutely guilty of bullying Ripp and Johnny and equally guilty of being a bigot. And, most importantly, totally guilty of casually wearing camo face-paint. (that he canonically gets tatooed on his face down the line, which is... its own kind of tragic.)

But that is exactly why I like him so much!

Let me elaborate.

Tank is a very multilayered character, albeit a bit cliché. He is very artistic a eager to always do his best, whether that is in school or home where he competes for his father's affection and approval. Buzz provides both of that but it always feels conditioned – if Tank was to stop getting A+, stop parroting his opinions, stop working out, stop following in his footsteps, would that go away? Even though the answer depends on your interpretation of Buzz and his levels of horrible, Tank definitely thinks so. Just take a look on how his father treats Ripp!

I read Tank as somebody who believes firmly in order and good but has a very twisted understanding of both given his militaristic and hyper-masculine upbringing. He has an enormous potential for character growth. Can he gain (psychological) independence of his father? Can he follow his dreams and become a dancer? Can he free himself of his father’s biases now that he’s out on his own? Can he mend his relationship with Ripp and Buck? (...or maybe even Johnny?) It makes him so fun to play.

Also, I think that it was indeed very cowardly of the developers not to set his gender preference as gay.

Conclusion: Tank is fun! (Although he would probably resent me for saying that.)

Dina Caliente (Str- wait, Pleasantview)

Finally someone who doesn't live in the desert! Both Nina and Dina are such interesting characters, with their connection to Bella’s disappearance, their alien bloodline and their opposing personalities and ambitions.

I feel like the sisters are often getting unjustly demonized. (or mixed up together, I’m looking at you, TS3 and TS4) They’re young, very attractive and in unconventional relationships, thus often labeled as predatory. They’re not.

Dina is a very nice Sim, with Nice points above the average and many Playful points and she tends to roll wants to start a family by the start of the game, although she is not a Family Sim. She’s actually a Fortune Sim, smart and business-oriented. She’s a widow who wants to remarry and has her sights set on the husband of her missing former sister-in-law.

I know that doesn’t make her sound that nice but there is nuance. First of all, the man in question is Mortimer Goth, well in his twilight years, a father of two, simply an adult. He is not a hapless trophy, the decision to start an affair with Dina not long after his first wife got pronounced missing, is his own. He knows he won’t be here for long and doesn’t want to die alone, he wants someone who can make him feel young again and loved once more. Dina, on the other hand, pursues a shotgun wedding to take an advantage of the Goth fortune that will kickstart her business ventures but she is ready to provide what Mortimer needs. She canonically loves him. (proven by the love flag in her relationship panel)

In my personal gameplay, I had Don take Dina on a date before their marriages to their respective Goths, and Dina kept rolling wants to flirt with Mortimer instead. Later down the line she also helped out the Brokes financially, and after her close friend Brandi died young in childbirth, she took in her youngest children, so that her oldest son Dustin could go to college and not worry what’s gonna become of his younger siblings in his custody while he’s gone. I figured it made sense because of Dina’s Nice points, her relationship with Brandi and her now being partially in charge of so much money it isn’t even funny.

In conclusion: I support and condone Dina! Even if it’s somehow implied that she and her sister might’ve just staged her rival’s alien abduction.

Circe Beaker (Strangetown)

Circe is yet another... unwholesome character on my list. She canonically tortures people, namely Nervous Subject, and her bio eludes to there being more in the past or the future. She's cunning, ambitious and very mean.

But she is also very fun to play! Her aspiration being Fortune (not Knowledge) puts an interesting spin on the whole evil scientist routine. She doesn't do it for the love of discovery like the Curiouses and she doesn't care about credit as her husband does. She's out for power and she may as well get it.

Her rather extreme personality would lead one to think she has to be rather disliked around the town but her default relationship panel says otherwise. She doesn't have any close friendships except her husband, though. That makes me think she is superficially charming and tends to act diplomatic to obtain people's loyalty without necessarily caring about any of them. It makes playing her unique from most other Sims.

She is also canonically bisexual! I personally have a deep appreciation for each and every Sim that Maxis sneakily preset to be LGBTQ+. I may not seem like a big deal now but it is.

Conclusion: "She could gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss me any day.” - half of Strangetown’s population

Lazlo Curious (Strangetown)

Lazlo is a ray of sunshine in the Curious household! A very sloppy ray that makes messes wherever it goes, true, but sunshine nonetheless.

I’m very fond of Lazlo because he’s the type of person that looks like he can barely count to five with his easy-going and messy nature but is in fact very clever and, by some measures, the most competent Curious brother, since he is the youngest and it seems like he’s fresh out of college, yet holds a higher career position than his older brothers. “A smart person that doesn’t necessarily seem smart on the first glance” is a trope I have a big soft spot for. (...and it shows)

In my current gameplay, Lazlo wanted to resurrect Vidcund (who died in childbirth), so he switched from Science to Paranormal to swipe a Resurrect-O-Nomitron and, like the madlad he is, succeeded before their round was over (in a span of few days). It was a combination of dumb luck and him having a compatible degree that gave him a hefty bonus but it still made me realize Lazlo could achieve whatever he sets his sights on.

Luckily, his sights are generally set on pizza and video games.

(relatable)

Anyway, I find Lazlo somehow cute, most probably for his constant and very unfruitful attempts to make Vidcund laugh, and in general, how friendly and easy to get along with he is. While he doesn’t have that many Nice points (5, which is a pretty average number), combined with his playfulness he usually tends to act very amicable.

In conclusion: I simp for Knowledge Sims and it shows.

Ok, I’ll be back with another 4 when my horrible procrastinating gruel of a brain feels like it. See ya!