#i also love how at no point in this show have i felt like any person was just a straight up villain

[twicecorner]

Teacher's Assistant - Professor Im Nayeon

Twice Nayeon x Male Reader

3,422 words; smut

A/N: i’m back! long time no see lol life has been crazy but finally found a time to write. I had this in the drafts.. the long awaited next part of Teacher’s Assistant! hope u guys enjoy ;) lmk how you like it given that i haven’t written in a min LOL

*Ding ding ding* The alarm set on the stage buzzes as everyone's attention moves to it. Twelve-noon sharp. The assistants in the room spring to their feet and call out for the next group of participants. 

“Profesor Im Nayeon’s 12 o’clock please come forward!” One yells.

You hastily move from where you were and get through the small crowd to the assistant. You were quite literally shaking in your boots. You didn’t know what to wear, so you had on some business casual attire. Brown dress shoes, navy trousers, and a white button-up. You gulped down the last of your water from the small paper cup and crushed it before throwing it into the recycling bin on your way out.

“Please follow me.” The assistant said to you. It felt surreal, this didn’t have the same vibe as any other job or school interviews you’ve ever done before, you didn’t know what to expect. You didn’t even see the other students who were in the interviews before you left. The assistant walks you down the hallway and up the elevator to the 9th floor. You notice that in order to have access to that floor, a card key was used. He pressed his card against the reader and as it flashed green, he pressed the button. The button was even in the shape of a heart to emphasize that it was the Love Lab floor. 

He leads you through the floor, a pinkish-red hue of LED strips dimly lights the hallways. You see some questionable things in some of the lab windows and think to ask, but keep it to yourself as you can feel the tension rising. Finally, you get to her office. Plastered on the door in big letters it reads, “PROFESSOR IM NAYEON - Love Lab no. 1” The assistant knocks on the door and waits for a response. He tells you to wait outside before entering. He goes in and exchanges a few words with Prof. Im before returning to the hallway and letting you in. “Good luck. She’s a tough one” He whispers to you.

You walk in to see that the room is also dimly lit with similar led lights. Her office is tidy and she’s sitting behind her desk. There’s a couch and a few bookshelves lining the walls. “Take a seat.” She scans over the paper in front of her. “Participant 021. We don’t use names here quite yet during this phase in order to keep a sense of… anonymity if you will.” You nod in response as you take a seat on the couch. “Since I’m your first interview, I’ll explain to you how this all goes down. Prepare yourself. If at any point you would like to stop, say the word ‘candy’. This will be for you to use in all of the interviews. If you choose to stop, your application will be terminated immediately and you will still be sworn to secrecy no matter what. These interviews are much different than any other type out there. As you know, this is the Love Lab. Many different things consist within the word Love, these interviews, or tests will show if you are able to fulfill those things, those needs. Does that make sense?” She squints her eyes and lowers her glasses to her bridge while looking at you. You nod and you get the feeling you know what she means.

She continues, “Each professor is known for a different study on Love, meaning to say different tasks and such that you and the other participants will need to pass in order to work for us. I see you’ve signed your consent form and you have passed the needed medical, fitness, and mental wellness exams. Your application was one of the only standouts we saw this year. Congratulations. We have high hopes for you number 021.” You feel a great sense of relief and proudness as you look down and give yourself a small smile. “Right, let’s not waste any time. Let’s begin.” You nod once again and watch as she gets up from her seat. You notice her legs are a little shaky when she stands. You wonder what happened in this room before you got there. She slides a bookshelf to the side revealing a small hidden room. It’s lined floor-to-ceiling with red plush. In the middle is a single chair. Along the walls, there are shelves and hooks, something straight out of 50 Shades of Grey, toys, and accessories galore, things you didn’t know the use of. In the middle of the room was a red bed in the shape of a heart with the headboard lining the top curved parts of the heart. Damn, they really keep a grip on the whole love thing. You thought to yourself.

Prof. Im takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You walk in and some sort of spark of bravery overcomes you for a moment. “What would you like me to do, Professor Im?” You ask. 

“I want you to please me. Ruin me. Break me. You have 3 hours to do so. The last participant wasn’t so lucky, he barely made it through half of the time before I told him to get out of my sight. But you, I already like the look of you.” She scans you up and down before beginning to unbutton her shirt. 

“I can use anything in here?” You ask looking around the room, starting to walk along the walls and examine things more closely. 

“Yes, providing you know how to use it. I’m not asking you to kill me, I’m not an easy woman to please, you see. And I like things rough.” She winks and slightly nods towards the extensive wall of flogs, whips, paddles, and such. To be honest, you’ve only dabbled with BDSM mildly in your life, a few spanks here and there, maybe some tying up of the hands, but nothing like this. As your mind begins to drift into thinking of all of the possibilities, Prof. Im snaps you out of your haze. She stands up, now topless, and gestures for you to join her on the bed. You join her, sitting on the edge of the bed, and take your shirt off as well. She seems to admire you and your body for a moment before climbing on top of you.

She looks you in the eyes, hers are already filled with lust. Prof. Im crashes her lips onto yours. A steamy make-out session ensues, Quickly, your hands find themselves exploring her back and waist. Her hands knot up in your hair and you pull her harder against you, she gets the hint and starts grinding into you. It doesn’t take long for a large bulge to form in your pants. Your tongues fight for dominance and you moan at the skin-to-skin contact when your chests touch.

Remembering that this is still an interview and that you need to pass, you take your time, also noting the 3-hour time limit. You need to be able to keep the heat up for 3 hours, you can’t bore her or finish too soon. Somewhat meticulously, you plan out the next 3 hours, trying to focus on kissing her while noting your next moves. Your hands roam up and down her back before sliding your hand to the base of where her hairline meets the back of her neck, you yank her head back by her hair and move down to kiss and lick along the side of her neck. You earn a gasp and some light moans from Prof. Im. 

“Mmm yes… remember… no marks” she reminds you and you nibble and kiss her neck.

Feeling the pressure build in your crotch, you hook your hands around her ass and under her thighs and quickly lift her up before spinning and tossing her lightly onto the bed. She gasps at your strength and confidence. “Eager are we? Already starting off better than the last participant” Prof Im smirks and bites her finger. “Now what’re you going to do to me?”

You kneel on the bed in front of her and hastily take off your belt. A move you admit you’ve done before, you grab her hands as she sits up and use the belt as makeshift handcuffs. “I’ll use this for now. I don’t want to waste my time going to grab the cuffs” You say nodding towards a far wall. “Mmm I like this” She purrs. As you finish quickly tying her up you hold her two hands above her head while your other hand undoes the button and zipper of your trousers before pulling out your hard length.

“Oh fuck.. So big..” Prof Im moans seeing your hard cock in front of her face, she licks her lips.

“Take it.” You demand, holding your cock, you bring it to her mouth, still holding her hands above her head, you take them and hold them against your chest. She understands, clawing her fingers into your chest as her head moves to the tip of your length. She parts her lips and you push in fully. She said she likes it rough anyways. Her eyes widen in shock and you feel immense pleasure as her throat takes your length down its tight wet walls. After staying still for a moment, you start to pull out and begin thrusting in and out of her mouth. She moans as you fuck her mouth, spit starting to drip down the corners of her lips. You pull out your cock fully as she sticks her tongue out and circles your tip with it. “Good isn’t it?” You ask her.

“Mhm.. I’m excited for the next few hours number 021.” She looks up at you.

For the first hour the two of you fuck like animals, you indulge yourself first eating her out and tasting her sweet juices and fucking in 3 or 4 different positions on the bed. The first stage of your plan was going smoothly. You had yet to use the various toys on the wall, but you glance at the clock every now and then to gauge your time. You’d plan to use those during the last 2 hours. The second hour for rough playtime, then treating the last as the final push to edge both of you until max capacity. You wanted to drive her crazy. Now understanding how the rest of these trials were going to go, you had to work up your stamina. In 3 hours you could probably finish twice, but your goal was to make her finish as much as you could, at least once per hour.

As the first hour was nearing its end, you decided to grab a toy. As Prof. Im, now untied, hair disheveled and body sweaty, lays on the bed recovering from your fierce pounding you get up and look at the wall of dildos. You choose one similar to your size and walk back to her. “Finally.. As much as I loved your cock pounding me I was wondering when you’d start making use of the stuff in here.” She says breathing heavily. “Oh trust me, I’m just getting started.” you respond. 

You spread her legs and make your way between them. You bring the dildo to her mouth, “Suck it.” she does so making eye contact with you as she takes the toy down her throat before spitting on her hand and stroking the toy. You smile and take it down between her leg, moving it between her wet lower lips. She moans at the sight. You shove it into her and start pumping it before bringing your head down to eat her out at the same time. “Oh FUCK!” she moans, having 2 of the most pleasurable feelings at once. “Mmm fuck that feels so good” 

Almost on instinct, she grabs her legs and holds them up and apart for you, wanting more. You bring your other hand up and grab onto her chest, playing with her nipple and massaging her tit. You simultaneously bring her pleasure and she starts getting close to the edge. “D-don’t stop… fuck yes oh my god” she moans, her hips now shaking and moving on their own accord to get more. Your spit mixed with her own juices make the toy easy to fuck her with and your mouth moves furiously on her clit. You can feel her start to tighten and push the toy, signalling her orgasm. You ramp it up thrusting harder and faster, sucking more on her clit and clawing at her tits. “I-I’m gonna c-cum!!” She yells out. You take your mouth off her for a moment, “Cum for me Professor Im… Cum all over me” One of her hands goes to grip your hair and push you back to her clit and holds you there before she yells out and her body spasms, her hole pushes the toy out and you continue to lick and suck her pussy as her juices flow. 

You pull away once she releases your head. “How was that?” You ask smirking at your work, the sheets now even wetter, her chest heaving for air and your cock leaking precum. “Holy shit…” She says between breaths, “I might just already pass you.” You smile as you hear that. “We didn’t even get to use all these fun toys” You tease back, “And I haven’t even finished yet” You say looking down your cock, now pulsing with need to finish. “Usually I’m not this worn out so fast, but something about you…” She says looking at you up and down. “I’ll give you the next 30 minutes to make us both finish. If you do so, you pass.” she smirks.

“Challenge accepted.” You say catching your breath and wiping the sweat from your brow. “Have you done anal before Prof Im?” You ask shyly, not sure if it’s appropriate to ask. “Mmm.. once, but it took me a little bit to like it… I haven’t tried since… of course the last time I did it, he wasn’t as good as you.” You knew the sure fire way to make you both finish was her ass. The pristine tight starfish coupled with her dripping pussy.

You flip her onto her stomach and turn her around, so she’s facing the mirror on the opposite wall. You bring her up onto all fours before bending down to spread her cheeks and expose her tightest hole. You lick from her clit up to her starfish and dip your tongue in, she moans at the contact and she starts to loosen up. You dip from her ass into her pussy and back, stimulating both holes. You pull back and slide your index finger into her ass to allow her to adjust and she easily takes it in. You give her a few pumps before going back to licking and wetting it. You go back and forth like this for a few minutes until she's prepped. To get your length wet, you push it into her pussy and give her a few good strokes, she moans with every pass and clenches her walls onto it. “God, your cock feels so good in my pussy.” She moans. “Just wait until it fills your ass” You moan in return.

You do a few more thrusts into her pussy before your length is coated in her juices. You spit onto her tight hole one more time before you press your tip against it, “You ready? Let me know if you want me to stop” You tell her before you slowly ease your way in. “OH! Fuck oh my god yes.. Oh fuck its so full…” she moans out your length only half way in. You push more till your cock is sheathed in her ass, the whole process filled the room with a cacophony of her moans and yelps of pleasure at being completely filled. “It’s so fucking tight… it feels so good Professor Im” 

‘“Oh for fucks sake.. Fuck me already and call me Nayeon” she demands. Your face fills with shock at this. But you can’t process it till later, right now you have a job to do. You start to thrust into her ass slowly, feeling her walls squeeze against your length already bringing you closer to the edge. You hold back and start to thrust faster, gripping into her hips. “Fuck Nayeon your ass feels so fucking good…” You moan, thrusting harder and faster into her, your balls slapping against her still wet pussy. Suddenly an idea pops into your head. You reach for the dildo on the bed next to you, “Should we try something new Nayeon?” You ask. “Mmm shit I don’t care I just need you to fuck me” She desperately says looking back at you through the mirror. You pull out of her ass and take the toy and slip it into her pussy, you hold it there with your hand and push your cock back into her ass. “OH FUCK” She yells out, now feeling truly filled. The pressure from the toy makes her ass even tighter and you moan out too.

You resume fucking her ass, now your balls slapping the base of the toy allowing it to slip in and out of her pussy at the same pace as you. “Oh- oh my god fuck… oh shit” Nayeon’s a mess in ecstacy. She’s never felt so much pleasure and so full before. You slap her ass then grab onto the back of her head and bring it up to look at the two of you in the mirror. “Cum with me Nayeon. Squirt all over me while I cum in your ass” You growl. She watches as you fuck her harder, her pussy now even wetter and pulsing harder squeezes the toy out and you bring a hand down to furiously rub at her clit. She squeezes her ass even harder on your cock. “I-I’m gonna cum Nayeon.. Fuck I’m gonna fill your ass…” You moan loudly, fucking her even harder and faster, your length moving in and out of her gripping hole. 

“I-im cumming again!!” Nayeon moans, she falls forward as her body convulses in orgasmic pleasure and she squirts all over your balls and thighs, as her body tightens like an anaconda around your length until you reach your limit. You explode ropes of hot semen into her deepest parts, you grunt as you shallowly thrust into her, painting her walls. You both come down from your extreme orgasms and you pull out, you watch as she pushes your cum from her ass, you bring a finger to it and run it from her ass to her pussy, smearing your cum all over holes and clit.

“Oh my god..” Nayeon collapses onto the bed and you lay down next to her, your warm sweaty bodies tangled together. “You… pass” She says before her eyes close. You hold her in your arms as you too feel your eyes get heavier. You wake up to a jolt a bit later to Nayeon stirring awake, “Good morning” You say jokingly. “Mmm I haven’t passed out like that from a session in a long time” She says. “I think you’ll do just fine throughout these trials. I’ll be sure to let the other professors know.”

“Thank you.” you say getting up and grabbing a bottle of water while starting to get dressed. “So what next?” You ask as she does the same. “I see you have Professor Minatozaki next… You’ll have the session with her at 7pm so you have some time to clean up and rest before that. I suggest you rest up for her, I don’t think she’ll let up as easy as I did for you. Come back around 6:45 to check in. If you get past her, you’ll have Professor Myoi tomorrow and Professor Park the day after. Good luck number 021. I sure hope you make it through. I would like to see you again” Nayeon smirks before she pulls you in for another kiss and grabs at your now clothed crotch.

You exit the room and an assistant brings you out, handing you a reminder slip to come back at 6:45 and stamps your card “passed” next to Professor Im’s name. Now that you know what these trials are, you head back to your room to freshen up and get ready for Professor Minatozaki Sana.

[titans-and-jla-mini-fics]

Batman gives a good example as to why he has the contingency plans he has to the Justice League. This isn't hate to any of the heroes in this either. I love the JLA, but after reading many of these comics and watching the shows I can see why Batman has these plans, prep times and slight paranoia of those he sees as friends or associates. Also I'm a big fan of Aquaman too so... Fair warning there's some Aquaman praise in this.

Batman turned his back on the Justice League members who were scolding him, their voices rising as they told him to get rid of his contingency plans or at least make them less brutal. Ignoring their protests, he whistled sharply, the sound cutting through the tension in the room.

With that, he strode purposefully toward the window in the JLA meeting room, determination in his step.

Batman: You know, when four of you got Jokerized and attacked me, I was recovering from fear toxin. That made things even worse that day.

Batman went silent for a second, the other members backing away until only Superman, Flash, Wonder Woman, and Aquaman remained front and center.

Batman: I don't like having to fight you, but I almost died that day. I actually feared some of you, and that’s saying a lot since I rarely take you seriously. You were in hospital beds for two weeks, wearing those sick, twisted smiles and completely unmoving. I could've been killed if I didn't have my plans. You could've died yourself from the Joker toxin and God knows the damage you four could do to your own cities.

Batman cracked his neck and took a deep breath. Wonder Woman looked down at the floor, ashamed. Flash frowned, his shoulders slumping. Superman struggled to find the right words, and Aquaman felt the same weight of the moment.

Batman: I have these plans so you don't kill me. I have these plans so you don't kill the people in your cities. I have these plans to protect everyone on Earth! I want to not have them and I do see you as... friends... Associates.. colleagues to a degree, but you haven't given me a good reason to put my life on the line for any of you.

No one spoke for a few seconds. Superman cleared his throat hopeful what he said wouldn't sound bad.

Superman: I mean if you could just make them less intense.

Green Lantern (John): Man, that was actually the worst thing you could've said.

Batman turned to face the group, his expression neutral, but the fury inside him was boiling over. He was at his breaking point, the metaphorical water slipping from the pot. While he regretted having to raise his voice, he felt he had no other choice.

Batman (shouting): I am a Justice League member and I will work with you, but if you don't stop pestering me about my contingency plans, I will go insane and I am taking you all with me!

Most of the Justice League: …

Batman: If the next person who talks says something that I find even a little irritating and makes me have those insane people's thoughts, I'm taking away every single vending machine in this building as well!

Aquaman: Hey, just speaking for the group here, but you seem to be going through some stuff and we're exacerbating that frustration. You're still mad at some of us for getting Jokerized and attacking you.

Batman: Which led to me contemplating death more and losing my memory.

Aquaman: Yeah, we said some rude things.

Batman (deadpan tone): Wonder Woman said she always hated me.

Wonder Woman: I wasn't in my right mind.

Batman: Superman talked like Bizarro and almost killed me.

Superman: I am really sorry about that, buddy.

Batman (glaring at the speedster): Flash… go to hell, Barry.

Flash (saddened): How come mine wasn't descriptive?

Batman (to Aquaman): And you ... I actually find you pleasant when you're not insane so I'm not that mad.

Wonder Woman: Why did that wound me?

Aquaman: While I appreciate that, you have every right to not trust us for a while. You saved us and kept us safe while we got better. I can't believe what I'm about to say... Batman, after what I went through, I get why you have those plans.

Batman: You do?

JLA members: You do?

Aquaman: I do now. Batman, first, thank you for saving us after we went Joker levels of insane. I'm sorry for attacking you and all the awful things I said which weren't true. The others are sorry as well.

Batman: You're forgiven, I wasn't mad at any of you since you weren't in your right mind that day, but my contingencies are what I keep for a reason.

Aquaman: I don't blame you, they came in handy; you got us an antidote before we got worse and although my face hurts from smiling that much, I'm glad that I'm better now. If it weren't for your incredible paranoia and quick thinking, I wouldn't be back with Mera and my son. For that, I am eternally grateful and again deeply apologize for dismissing your plans earlier.

Batman blinked, crossing his arms, secretly relieved to hear this, even if he did get called paranoid. That paranoia had helped him in the past.

Everyone else stared at Aquaman, some at how charming he was, the others annoyed he was siding with Batman. Superman was just jealous.

Wonder Woman: I often forget you're a king until you start talking like that. Impressive.

Aquaman: I'll take that as a compliment. Batman, if we hold back on criticizing most of your contingencies can you give us a tenth chance?

Batman closed his eyes, mentally debating what to say next.

Batman (clearing his throat): Apology accepted, Arthur. Thank you for understanding my plans. I can find it in my heart to give you all a hundred and twentieth chance. But don't mess it up.

The JLA members nodded, voicing their gratitude for the second chance. Batman sighed, feeling a headache forming.

Aquaman: Alright, thanks. Now, will I see you for movie night this Friday?

Superman: Movie night?

Batman: Yeah, I don't find you nearly as annoying as everyone else. Especially Hal.

Hal Jordan: I didn't even say anything! And I didn't even attack you!

Superman: You don't find him nearly as annoying as everyone else? I'm not included in that am I?

Batman: Most of the time.

Batman walked past the group, heading out the building.

Superman: Most... Most of the time? Okay I can accept that, but look at him! He looks like a surfer dude! No offense Aquaman.

Aquaman: That's not an insult to me, thanks for the compliment.

Flash: Hm, I see it now.

[everythingisamazing]

Season 2 thoughts

I have been reading a lot of #arcanecritical posts and really enjoying them. There are so many great points to be made, especially about the political struggle that gets set up in S1, making it seem like the show is trying to go with an anti-establishment narrative, which it does not follow up on in S2. Irl I'd describe myself as very far left on the political spectrum - having said that, I still prefer S2. Why? I think S1 has great writing. The thing is, at least to me, it felt too clean, almost technical in execution and like it was biting off more than it could actually chew. What do I mean by this? I'd never expect a Netflix show, that was made to promote an online game, to produce truly radical art. In all honesty, it would be naive to think it could. Arcane explored aspects of political struggle, within the constraints it is given, but if you are aware of what those constraints are, you can see them EVERYWHERE. So what makes Arcane great to me, is not its perspective on politics, but its character writing - the way it shows how each character has their own agenda, born from a personal struggle, operating within the system they were born into and how that creates conflict. That's why discussions about "is Character XY in the wrong for XYZ" are interesting, but do not prove any point about the quality of the show itself. So what do I like about S2? I like that it does not really attempt to solve any of those conflicts, but focuses on showing the consequences of them - and yes, those consequences are often not satisfying. And the fact that they are not satisfying, actually makes it better, than what a lot of other shows do, which is create a magical nonmaterialistic solution. Don't get me wrong - it's really sad, for example, that Viktor gets his autonomy taken away, zero recognition for how it was not his fault for wanting to fix his disease, but the systems for him getting sick in the first place and then ends up dying as a villian. I also think it is pretty realistically what would happen in our world, aswell as the world established in the show. I believe what gets misunderstood, because politics are part of the narrative, is that Arcane never set out to tell a story about people rising above oppression or ways to overcome class struggle. I feel like that it is, a (at times well done) backdrop to the interlocking character arcs they wanted to explore. You can pretty much summarize it in that one, very popular image on tumblr. You know the one with the astronauts, where it says "Arcane was about love?" "Always was". S2 really delivers on that. Jinx and Ekko. Vi and Caitlyn. Viktor and Jayce. Mel and Ambessa. Singed and Orianna. And even Silco and Vander, where it shows how both of them chose their wildly different paths to protect their daughters. I also think that they took what the show most excels at - its art style - to the next level in S2. So to summarize: I think critiques of how and why Arcane failed in terms of politics, are valid. But to say Season 2 was bad for not delivering what it could never deliver (and I would argue never promised it would - thinking that they wanted to and then somehow fumbled it in S2 is just wishful projection) is not fair to everything it does exceptionally well. But feel free to roast and disagree with me :)

[apomaro-mellow]

King and Prince 48

Part 47

You may recognize much of this chapter from Part C!

Robin watched as El touched Steve’s stomach, reverent and curious. She had lived quite a sheltered life and had only seen pregnancy in action a couple of times in her life. Steve chuckled at her touch.

“It’s much too early to feel anything”, Steve reminded her.

“But they’re there? Growing?”

Steve nodded. Robin came over and put a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this. You and Eddie have really changed each other.” When she first saw the prince in his cell, she never imagined he would lovingly accept the king’s seed and let it grow within him.

“It’s funny, I don’t feel very different from how I used to be”, Steve said. “I just feel more myself.”

And being that he was more himself, he continued to entertain the questions of the younglings, even when they bordered on inappropriate. Steve had gotten quite good at changing the subject, or like now, making an escape when Dustin or Mike demanded to know more details about the conception. He slipped away and made it about two steps before a hand grabbed him and pulled him into a spare room. Steve didn’t struggle, recognizing the hold of his lover.

“May our child be only half as inquisitive as those boys”, Eddie grinned.

“Hmm, then they’d only be half as intelligent”, Steve mused.

Stolen moments like these always felt precious. Especially when there was grim news on the horizon. Steve received two more letters. One was an invitation to pay respects to his new sibling. The other was for Eddie, although it was addressed to Steve still. Because of that, Eddie didn’t even want to hear of it at first. The castle had already begun preparations for the wedding. And Steve was with child. With everything going so well, Eddie didn’t want to give any attention to Alric at all.

But he was weak to Steve. And he could see his point of view. Eddie knew, even better than his fiance, that the conflict wouldn’t end just because Steve would give up his birthright. His parents would raise their new son to hate just as much. And he wouldn’t even know that the one he was fighting against was his own brother. The name of the first born prince would be burned from the royal records. Eddie knew it and Steve knew it. Unless they came and legitimized Alric’s invitation and played the part of amicable neighbors.

And so, the two of them traveled back to Steve’s ancestral home. They had sent a reply so that the king and queen could expect their arrival. Steve also wrote an informal invitation to their wedding and eventual birth of their grandchild. Steve had a feeling they already knew. Everyone in the kingdom was aware, thanks to Eddie shouting it to the heavens. But his word would confirm it.

Their party was small, led by Jeff. Nancy and Robin remained to hold down the fort in their absence and continue the wedding planning.

“If we play our cards right, they may let Tristan visit us”, Steve said as they rode along in the carriage.

“Do you think your parents are capable of such generosity?”, Eddie asked.

“They’ll let me return to come and visit, at least. I won’t be a crown prince anymore. But as a prince consort…”

Eddie held Steve’s hand to his chest. “You will be more than that, my love.”

“...What do you mean?”

“That throne wasn’t just for the trial. I want you by my side, for always. As my equal”, Eddie declared. “You will be a king.”

Steve was at a loss of words and it showed with how his lips parted and yet nothing came out. Eddie smiled and ran his thumb across his bottom lip.

“You should be inheriting your own kingdom. Mine is but a paltry consolation.”

Steve kissed him softly. “To seat me by your side is no small gift.”

He kissed him again and Eddie melted into it, his hand smoothing up Steve’s thigh and then pulling him into his lap. Eddie was not a conquering man. But he would steal the entire world just to present it to Steve as a dowry. Steve remained in his lap for the rest of the voyage, knowing he would have to keep his distance from Eddie once they arrived. 

His parents were very reserved in their marriage. They wouldn’t look too favorably on how free he and Eddie were in their affections. The fact that Eddie was a man and a product of the dark arts would be the least of it.

Before disembarking from the carriage, Eddie kissed each of Steve’s fingers. Steve kissed across his face from one cheek to the other. And then the door opened.

----------------------

Alric knew that monster was near as crows circled the skies above his domain. They landed on the walls surrounding the castle, acting as the horrible omens they were. Only vultures would be more fitting. He and his wife arrived at the front entrance just in time for King Edward’s arrival. He had already discussed with his wife in great detail what they must do.

“The kingdom welcomes you”, he said as his son exited the carriage with his guest. Alric had never laid eyes on King Edward and was honestly a bit underwhelmed. He was very…human. Although Alric knew that he was prone to disguises. He wouldn’t let his guard down for a single second. Because of that, he hardly spared his son, who he hadn’t seen in an entire year, a glance.

Alric continued, “I’m sure you must be tired after your long journey-”

King Edward cut him off. “I’d actually like to get right to business. “But I would like Steve to rest. Wouldn’t want to put any stress on your grandchild.”

If his son was carrying anything inside of him, it was an abomination. Not a child. And Alric had let this rot spoil the branch of his family tree for too long. But he welcomed them inside all the same and had his wife tend to Steve, as planned, while the two kings went to discuss business.

A large table had been brought into the throne room and there Alric had written up an agreement between their two countries. They both sat down and Eddie gave it a cursory glance. As he did, he noted the guard stationed inside and outside the room. A few had followed behind Steve and his mother as well. Eddie had given Jeff the charge of watching Steve. His love, so strong and powerful enough to smash a man’s skull with only half of his strength. And yet Eddie knew he could never use it against his parents.

“You’ve written quite the essay here. How about you just give me the broad strokes.”

“I find that people use decorum as armor. It means they’re trying to hide something unsightly. Just say to my face that you want to use your own son as a bargaining chip.”

“Are you not a king?”, Alric questioned.. “You know as well as I do that we do not live for ourselves, but for our people. We are all bargaining chips from the day we’re born. Steven is no different. Neither are you.”

“And I suppose your newborn is just as expendable?” Royalty having children just to continue their line was one thing. But Eddie was certain their baby was being used for more than that right now. It was an easy way to get the soft-hearted Steve to fall in line.

“He is the future of this kingdom. And I won’t let anything get in the way of it.”

Eddie barked out laughter. How foolish could this man be? “It’s funny. Had you done this months ago, we could have been over and done.” Steve would have never been taken. He never would have met the prince, never would have fallen for him.

Alric smirked. “I’d say things ended up in your favor. You got a plaything in the form a crown prince.”

Eddie growled. “Your son is more than a plaything. He’s more than a pawn! If you don’t have the decency to respect him now, when he’s the only thing holding me back, then we have nothing to discuss.” Eddie stood, unable to bear more disrespect at Steve’s expense when the guards around the room moved around him.

Alric crossed his arms. “That boy hasn’t done a damn thing to earn my respect. And neither have you. I could have declared war on you long ago. I didn’t. But playtime is over.”

A trio of guards attacked from all sides then and even then, Eddie only gave a nominal effort in fighting them off. Even as they got him on the floor and began to restrain him, he held back. He could hear Steve now, chastising him for using too much power with mere mortals. He could knock all of these guards back and he’d give King Alric a good scare and then he and Steve would take off for home to laugh about how they ever thought his parents would be cordial-

“Get him to the dungeons for now”, Alric ordered. “We’ll have a public execution in the morning. Juliana should be done with Steven by now.”

And then Eddie understood. He had the idea that this could be a trap but pushed it away. Didn’t think this king was bold enough, stupid enough to think that he could truly cage what Eddie was. If it was just him, Eddie might toy with him. Might have fun before showing his true nature. But they took it too far.

He thought of Steve. So merciful that he was willing to forgive his parents just for the chance to see his infant brother. So full of grace that he was carrying the proof of their love inside of him. The rage in Eddie spilled over a hundredfold. The sound that came from him was an inhuman din that shook the walls. He didn’t know what he was. Only that the sight of him brought fear to the eyes of the men before him.

As it should.

Blood was on his tongue and bones crunched in his teeth as he freed himself. Alric was cowering away, calling for more guards. Eddie didn’t even feel the swords that tried to pierce him. He swatted at Alric, throwing him against the wall and then against the floor before capturing him in his jaws. He could kill him now with just one bite.

But even now, he was a servant to his love. And only Steve could decide his fate. Eddie carried him and searched for Steve’s scent, climbing outside the castle until he reached the window where he must be. He crashed through the window and Steve was already there. He was unharmed.

Eddie dropped Alric and Steve went right to his love, embracing him despite the blood and his undefined shape.

“It’s alright”, he whispered. “I’m alright. I’m safe. We’re safe.”

At that, Eddie nosed at Steve’s torso. It was still too early to detect anything from the outside. But Steve had been touched by magic. And as long as their child was growing, he could smell the magic on him.

---------------------

As soon as Eddie was calm enough to regain his human form, Steve told him what had happened. His mother had tried to kill him. He managed to fight her off and Jeff helped to incapacitate her after taking care of the guards. Eddie and Jeff carried their unconscious bodies down to the dungeons, in separate cells. Eddie did so in the form of a black wolf in a size intimidating enough to keep any guards still loyal to them from trying anything.

While they did that, Steve ordered for the council to be assembled and only when that was getting set up did he give himself a moment to relax. He did so in his old room. Eddie came back from the dungeon and saw that a crib had been brought to the room.

“This must be the infamous Tristan”, Eddie said, leaning over to take a look at him. Tristan was asleep now, soothed after the chaos just before. “You wouldn’t know just by looking at him what lowlives his parents are.”

“We are quite literally cut from the same cloth”, Steve reminded him.

Eddie chuckled. “Speaking of that cloth…What do you intend to do with them?”

Steve sighed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Am I foolish for wanting them to love me still?”

“You are not foolish for wanting”, Eddie said. “But you must be honest with yourself. They tried to kill you today. You and our child!”

Tristan began to fuss at the noise and Eddie immediately made shushing noises as he picked up the babe. “And now he’s involved too. So I need to know, what will you do with your parents?”

Steve smiled at how easily Eddie handled Tristan. He stood and walked over as an idea formed. He lightly caressed Tristan’s cheek and kept his voice to a whisper. “If I choose to be selfish, will you indulge me?”

Eddie grinned and spoke just as quietly. “Until you are drowning in it, sweetheart.”

They spoke softly as Tristan napped. And when it was time to meet with the council that evening, they left his brother with Jeff, the only one they could trust for now. The nursery maids looked fraught with fear when they saw Tristan in Eddie’s arms and Steve knew that if they had the chance, they’d run off with his brother and he’d never see him again.

The council was already in the throne room when they arrived and Eddie made sure Steve sat on the king’s throne. The other men were completely baffled to see it was these two who had called them to this meeting.

Eddie took a backseat on the queen’s throne while Steve explained the situation - what his parents had done and how they were imprisoned, awaiting trial and punishment. He didn’t say anything until one of the council members challenged his claim to the throne. He growled, ready to snap his neck if it wasn’t for Steve’s soothing touch on his hand.

His moon and sun was such a vision, especially when threatening military force, should they not fall in line. Attempting to assassinate royalty was no small crime. Now, more than ever, Eddie was well within his rights to rain fire on this land. The council tried to talk of regents. Someone to watch over the kingdom until the young Prince Tristan was of age to claim his birthright. Because even now, Steve wouldn’t take it from his brother.

But having a regent made things messier, in Steve’s opinion. And he said so. 

“I only keep you alive because appointing an entirely new council is not worth the hassle. That being said, you will see a decrease in your reach as the merge happens.”

“The merge?”, one of the echoed.

“Appointing a regent will only encourage infighting and problems down the road. Tristan will be king one day, if he so chooses. And will receive all the education he needs to do so under my wing. Until that day, these lands, which will one day be his, shall fall under King Edward’s rule.”

It was silent in the throne room as the men wrestled with the weight of their new reality. It was so satisfying, Eddie was unable to resist.

“Welcome to hell bitches!”

Part 49

Taglist CLOSED

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[madamejadex]

Hi Miss. Jade!

I’ve come to you in dire need. I am coming out with a fic next week but I need help with the sex scenes. I felt you’d been the one to go to. I was thinking a steamy shower scene in a luxury hotel (one bed trope ;)) If you have any suggestions on the scene to have a dom sub dynamic or just key points to my it more steamy. I am still semi new to the community and I wanna depict it correctly.

Also I know I said next week but there is no time limit for you to respond. I can easily wait and come up with different story lines in the mean time.

I’m also new here! My pronouns are she/her and I’m 22

May I have ❤️‍🔥? If that is taken can I have 🏔️ instead?

Much love

Hello, my darling girl.

First of all, welcome. I'm so glad you've found your way here, and how lovely of you to introduce yourself so kindly. You're already making a wonderful impression, and yes, that little ❤️‍🔥 emoji is all yours now. Let it glow for you.

Now, let’s talk about this delicious idea of yours, a steamy shower scene in a luxury hotel? With a dom/sub dynamic and a one-bed trope? Oh, sweetheart... that has so much potential.

Since you're newer to the community and want to portray it respectfully, here are some gentle, guiding thoughts to help you build the scene:

❤️‍🔥 Set the Tone of Power Before the Scene Starts

Before anyone’s even naked, establish the pull between them. You can drop hints earlier in the fic like body language, subtle commands, deferential glances, touches that linger just a bit longer. Let the dynamic breathe before it turns physical. Anticipation is powerful and sometimes what makes us throb deliciously.

So if your Dominant is quiet and composed, let their control show in the way they move through the space, and if not, if you want it to be a surprise you can have them give the first instruction like, “Get in the shower. I’ll join you in a moment.”

Simple words. Powerfully spoken.

❤️‍🔥 The Shower

A luxury shower gives you sensual opportunity, temperature, texture, and proximity. Think hot water cascading down bare skin, fogging the glass, soaking hair. Let the setting be another character in the scene.

Is the water scorching while one partner remains calm and commanding, turning up the heat just to watch the other squirm?

Does the Dominant bathe the submissive with slow, indulgent attention, like she’s a precious thing to be worshipped?

Or does it turn rough, hands pinning her against the cool tile, water pounding over their bodies while control is clearly established?

Decide early: is this about seduction and care, or possession and restraint? You can weave both in, but knowing the anchor of your dynamic will guide your tone.

❤️‍🔥 Building the D/s Dynamic

Since you’re newer to the community, I’d suggest focusing on emotional power exchange more than gear or protocol (unless you're ready to dive into that). Here's how that might show up naturally (only to give an idea):

Control through instruction. The Dominant might guide her submissive with clear, calm commands: “Hands on the wall. Don’t move unless I say.” It builds tension and trust all at once.

Anticipation. Draw it out. Let the sub stand under the water while the Domme watches, speaks low and confident. Build that ache. Let her want to be touched.

Permission and denial. Does the sub need to ask before touching herself under the water? Will she be denied release as a lesson in obedience? Or will she be rewarded when she begs just right?

Eye contact and tone. Even simple things, like one character gripping the other's chin and saying, “Look at me while I use you” can shift the entire dynamic into something electric.

❤️‍🔥 Emotional Layering

One of the most beautiful aspects of D/s is the emotional current beneath the surface.

Let the submissive relish in the control, show the way they soften, yield, arch into it. Let the Dominant praise her in small, devastating ways: “You’re doing so well for me.” “Look at you, such a beautiful little mess... all for me.”“Is this what you wanted, hm?”

Those words, whispered against her ear or murmured against her throat in the steam, will scorch the page.

❤️‍🔥 Practical Considerations

Avoid logistics confusion. Water makes things slippery, so anchoring one hand somewhere (on the tile, in their hair, against the wall) helps ground the scene.

Leverage the environment. Wet hands slipping over slick skin, the steam making every breath heavier. A hand pressing the sub’s chest or hip to the wall. The sound of moaning echoing in the bathroom. Use sensory layering.

Control pacing. A slow, grinding rhythm in the water can be so much hotter than fast thrusting. Focus on the push-pull, the teasing, the build.

Stay aware of bodies. Remember, they're slippery, upright, and water’s running. Who’s holding who? How are they supported? Where do hands go, and are they keeping balance? Realistic positioning makes the scene more immersive.

Safe Words/Check-ins. Even if not stated aloud in the scene, make sure it’s clear the dynamic is consensual and based on trust. You can do this with an earlier line like, “Do you like that?” “You tell me to stop, I'll stop.” or even just a moment of eye contact before things escalate.

❤️‍🔥 Dialogue Suggestions

If you want to lean into the dom/sub dynamic fully, here are a few lines that might fit the tone:

“Keep still. I didn’t say you could move.”

“You’ll come when I say, not a moment before.”

“That pretty little moan you just made? Do it again, or I'll stop.”

“Did I tell you to close your legs?”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll hold you when I’m done ruining you.”

“Good girl.”

Let these build into the moment so it’s not just about what is being done, but how it’s delivered. A Dominant’s voice, restraint, and calm can be just as arousing as anything physical.

Now end of my rant... Honestly, darling, I can’t wait to read your work when it’s ready. And please remember, I'm by no means a professional writer, so these are just suggestions. I do have some of my mutuals who are wonderful writers. So I hope some kind souls in here might offer their suggestions as well.

And good luck, darling!

xo Miss Jade

[taradactyls]

Ahhhhhh I'm sorry I'm going to argue with you on a few points. Not what you find personally makes the romance more satisfying, since that's entirely individual, but unfortunately just about everything else.

I've read through a few of the moral/instructional texts of the day and you might actually be surprised at the breadth of opinions in them! Some (including the one Queen Charlotte praises, ironically) actually do advise young women to only marry for affection, and don't marry a guy much older than you or only for money. I don't think it's correct say marrying for love would be at all an unrealistic sentiment for a Georgian/regency gentlewoman to hold, even if not everyone felt the same and even those who aspired for a love match might choose to go without it when the time came. The expectation was still that the object of their love had to be of suitable class and wealth, naturally, but affection and practicality were meant to be united rather than mutually exclusive opposing forces. (See also Elizabeth joking to Colonel Fitzwilliam that younger sons tend to like where there's fortune - a tongue in cheek acknowledgment that practicality plays a part, but it falls short of condemning that behaviour entirely or taking affection out of the equation).

So, I think there's a very wide middle ground between considering someone a hopeless romantic and being willing to marry without affection, and I'm going to argue that Elizabeth (and Jane Austen herself) occupies that space.

I'd say there was a lot of nuance as to where the mercenary/practical/idealistic borders were when it came to opinions of marriage at the time - which could also arguably be read into when it comes to the women of Pride and Prejudice. Charlotte is all about her situation after marrying and very little about who she's marrying beyond feeling he's a safe choice, Lydia and Kitty are the dangerous opposite, Jane and Elizabeth somewhere in the happy middle. I imagine that's quite a good snapshot of what Jane Austen saw around her, and talk about love whilst also needing something to live on happens often in her books (I adore Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner's discussion of it in regards to Wickham, and Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion in particular both have this as a reoccurring theme). Marrying (as opposed to becoming engaged) for love without considering practicality is universally depicted by Austen as foolish and the 'love' of such couples is often shown to be only the affects of rash attraction rather than abiding respect and affection, whereas Charlotte's practical and unemotional acceptance of Mr Collins is both sympathetic and condemned by saying she 'sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage,' so we can see very clearly that Jane Austen was not a proponent of love over everything else, but nor do her novels promote ignoring love either when discussed as a hypothetical or when it comes to evaluating suitors. The conclusion that every protagonist comes to when they talk about this or choose their partners is that both are important. Mutual love and respect and maintaining a suitable status are both necessary for a happy union. Even the paragraphs explaining Marianne marrying Colonel Brandon, which talks of her friendship and happiness first, says that she can't love by halves and fell very much in love with him. That's the closest Jane Austen's protagonists get to entering into matrimony on the strength of friendship, respect, and happiness without love, and I'd argue that the immediate inclusion afterwards that she did fall entirely in love with him shows just how crucial Jane Austen viewed love for any relationship to be truly good.

The gentry, and growing middle class (that the Gardiners belong to), were actually in a very unique position at this time when it came to choosing spouses. Rich enough that they needed to keep money and connections in mind if they wanted to maintain their lifestyle and status, but not important enough to marry as often for political or financial alliances as the nobility did (though secret love marriages had become SO common amongst the nobility in the century before that laws were changed to restrict the definition of marriage itself - so even they often didn't marry for pragmatic reasons as Jane Austen would've been well aware). They were also largely absent of the pressure of very poor girls who might need a husband to literally survive. Proposals were beginning to be commonly made by the man directly to the lady, who had the power of refusal, rather than being decided in talks between men behind closed doors. So, for arguably the first time in English history, there was a wealthy class of people who were regularly marrying for affection.

A huge part of that was because fathers were able to leave their daughters enough that the passive income would keep them from destitution even without a husband bringing in an active income. Mr Bennet certainly failed at providing enough for his daughters for their station, but it's important to note that his widow and daughters would never have risked starvation or living on the streets even if they hadn't had the Philips and Gardiners available to help support them - they would've been at least twice as rich as Mrs and Miss Bates in Emma and half as well off as the Dashwood women in Sense and Sensibility. Genteel poverty was completely incomparable to the very real and horrific poverty of the era, and as the Bennets did have the Gardiners and Philips to help care for them their status would have suffered but they still would have been able to socialise with much the same people and be considered gentlewomen even if they couldn't attend as many balls or dinners. It wouldn't have been fun to drop down quite significantly in society, and the fact that it did not seem likely to happen while they were young probably altered their assessment of the danger, but they certainly would have survived in relative comfort for their time, though not their class at birth, without a husband. The Bennets, even with their fiscal mismanagement, were of that class which could afford to think about the man and not just the marriage. So, whilst I agree that Elizabeth would never have been sitting around as an old maid waiting for a love that would never come, that's not because she would've married without love but rather because her life would have still been fulfilling in many ways regardless. Her life did not revolve around finding a husband because she truly didn't need one (and Austen is critical of every single character whose life does revolve around finding a husband) and one doesn't have to be a hopeless romantic to find the idea of marrying without love unappealing. She had options other that marrying for purely prudent reasons or sit around daydreaming, as there's a huge amount of middle ground in there. A middle ground and options that Jane Austen herself would have been highly aware of as she was unwed in her mid-thirties as she gave Pride and Prejudice that final review before publication. She could've emphasised the importance of being married, shown Elizabeth struggle more with her future, or praised Charlotte rather than the mix of sympathy and condemnation which characterises how she speaks of her marriage, but she didn't. I think that shows that even as an old maid herself she felt marriage was only worth it if there was mutual affection and respect and I don't think this was an unusual stance.

The term 'helpmeet' was very popular in this period for what wives should be in a marriage, and was a promotion of (allowing for the strong sexism of the era) a sort of equality and mutual companionship being at the core of a marriage. Jane Austen was certainly writing when this expectation was established, and every single admirable couple in her books are very in love. Nor were her books condemned for being unrealistic or for giving young ladies fancies (in the way that gothic novels were accused of doing) so her promotion of marrying for love and respect definitely wasn't counter-cultural. It might still have been considered not perfectly realistic, but there's little indication it was widely considered a harmful or impossible daydream, which must indicate some level of public acceptance to the idea even beyond what the moralists or romantic poets (and Jane Austen was writing in the middle of the romantic era and enjoyed their works) promoted when it came to love and matrimony.

And though Charlotte is portrayed very sympathetically despite not marrying for love, so is the idea that it's not good to marry without love. Darcy's belief in Jane's indifference (and thus a crucial justification for separating her and Bingley) is after all treated so understandably by the novel that Elizabeth forgives his interference and comes to love him before he 'fixes' that problem. Darcy wanting to protect his friend from marrying without mutual love - even though Darcy acknowledges that Jane herself is good and enjoys Bingley's company and attentions as a friend and does not seem mercenary or negative on her own merits - is upheld as understandable despite his conclusions and motivations being tainted. Elizabeth felt love was important enough in a marriage that such a huge mistake - which broke Jane's heart and left her miserable for months - was eventually forgivable when the motivation had been preventing a union where only one party was in love.

Elizabeth herself I will fully agree is way more concerned with respect and being well suited for each other than love itself, she's observed her parents, after all, but I still think it falls far short of her assuming that she'll not only marry but that she'll do so for practical reasons. Her refusal of Mr Collins does not once mention she isn't in love, and only that they wouldn't make each other happy, but again, that's prioritising the personal sentiments of the people involved rather than anything else. It has far more in common with marrying for love than marrying for practicality and does solidify that personal feelings were held to be important when choosing a spouse even when it's a very eligible marriage in every other way. And though Elizabeth doesn't mention love, neither are Mr Collins or Mrs Bennet's professions that she might be single forever or reliant on relatives at all shown as sympathetic reasons for marrying when the spouse is Mr Collins, or persuasive to Elizabeth on an individual level. Personal happiness is upheld as Elizabeth's only reason that she would marry, rather than any expectation that she should or would need to in order to maintain her position in society. She doesn't once assume that she will or needs to marry at all or have a husband supporting her to be happy, which we can argue is her naivety, but certainly isn't condemned by the text nor supportive of the idea that she would marry without love if she respected her partner and felt they could be friends.

Jane Austen's works show again and again that love alone is not enough, but at no point do they get rid of love altogether or even treat it as exceptional, it's just a normal part of the equation. Even Elizabeth, when talking with her aunt at Christmas, isn't sure it would be wise to resist her feelings for Wickham should she fall in love with him though she's happy enough to do her best to avoid falling in love with him for practical reasons. The implication is that if she fell in love she's not sure adhering to the strictly practical course would necessarily be wise, an idea that gets explored in great depth with the short lived engagement between Wentworth and Anne in Persuasion. The struggle between love and practicality is always depicted as deeply complicated, but I don't think (especially when we consider what I mentioned above about Elizabeth's ultimate feelings towards Darcy's involvement with Bingley and Jane) there's ever anything to suggest that Elizabeth would choose practicality without love. Rather than saying Elizabeth expected to marry for love or Elizabeth expected to marry for pragmatic reasons, I think it's most accurate to say Elizabeth didn't expect to marry at all. It was a possibility she was never against, and the security and affection of someone who suits her definitely seems appealing to her given her reaction to herself and others falling in love, but it wasn't an expectation she was taking for granted.

I also think it's important to note that women didn't gain significant legal rights upon marrying as opposed to being single under the care of their father or brother. In some ways they lost them as they became an extension of their husband and in many ways legally ceased to exist as an individual - widows were the women who enjoyed most recognition and rights in the eyes of the law. Wives could not hold property (in the cases of wealthy women, trusts were normally drawn up in the marriage contracts, they did not hold it directly), the children were the property of the husband, your husband could beat you (their were laws for 'excessive' beatings but you can imagine how rare convictions were), consenting to marry was considered sufficient as consenting to sex at the whim of your husband and marital rape would not exist for almost two centuries, you had to live where your husband said, he could prevent your family from seeing you, trap you on his estate, etc. Wives had social status and generally greater comforts and control over their households than their single counterparts but not so many benefits legally. Until women were widows, or wealthy orphans (such as what Emma Woodhouse might have been, or even what we see of Caroline Bingley - though Caroline's money may be controlled by her brother and she only has the legal right to the interest, and if Mr Bingley chose to withhold it she would have to sue), they had very, very little freedom beyond what their husbands or fathers allowed. And poor widows (such as Mrs Clay or Mrs Smith in Persuasion) show that achieving legal personhood at last doesn't necessarily guarantee you any freedom from poverty or dependence. Legally speaking, it was just very hard for women to end up as a Lady Catherine, Lady Russel, Mrs Ferrars, or Mrs Jennings even if they did marry. Women were just pretty screwed over by the laws of the time no matter what they did - only money in their own possession changed that.

Nor was marriage, whilst very important for a woman to maintain importance in society, at all a guaranteed outcome during the regency. I don't think we really can say that women 'expected' to find a husband to provide for them. Wanted to - hoped to - yes, I think most probably did; but expected? At least not as much as earlier or later generations. Jane Austen herself, as well as her books and those of other writers later such as Elizabeth Gaskell, show it wasn't rare for middle aged women to have never been married just as they show the struggles that came with that. Decades of war with France meant there were significantly more gentlewomen then there were gentlemen, and so the chances of a woman marrying suitably, let alone someone as rich as her own father (which had always been low, due to how rich men could have many daughters but generally only one son would inherit the bulk of the inheritance leading to a vast disparity in the amount of marriageable ladies compared to marriageable heirs of equivalent rank) was growing increasingly slim. Young women would have been growing accustomed to the idea that they might never marry and old maids are hardly a topic young ladies seemed to avoid judging by how casually it's mentioned in literature. Which, for some, could very easily make them more desperate to grasp onto any good offer of marriage despite the drawbacks, but for others could instead help remove the social stigma and inure them to the idea of being single forever and so perhaps remove the fear that came with that idea and make their standards for matrimony higher.

The dangers of being married to a 'bad' man were also more easily observable to gentlewomen in the Georgian era as they hadn't been before, as the printing press had made newspapers increasingly common and one of the most popular topics was the scandals of the upper class: who was having affairs, abandoning their spouses, going into debt, being cruel and violent, etc. The Crown Prince himself was often condemned as a husband, and Jane Austen certainly agreed with that sentiment and disliked how he treated his wife. Jane Austen and the society she lived in were very aware that wealthy men are not necessarily good men and thus would be bad husbands and so, again, marrying for practical reasons was shown to have its pitfalls and the idea of actually having affection and respect for the man you marry was gaining a new appeal it hadn't previously held.

Modern adaptions definitely add the need for love in a modern way, but the same modern sensibilities that encourage that also encourage us to view marriages or this era as less romantically driven than contemporary sources depict. Our ideas of love and romance are subtly different with different concerns in play, and women did have less freedom to make the choices they might wish, but too often our modern perceptions of that lead us to assumptions which aren't entirely true. Elizabeth isn't a hopeless romantic by any means and understands the importance of respect and practical concerns in a marriage, but that doesn't mean she doesn't value her emotional happiness above fiscal and societal comforts when considering matrimony, and adjacent evidence from her conversations with others and forgiveness of Darcy in regards to Jane/Bingley certainly indicate that she placed a high importance of love in a marriage. She did not seem to think it was necessary for everyone to aspire to, but that she valued it I consider inarguable. I also believe that this is the standard stance Jane Austen took when it came to marriages: love, respect, and practicality must be united in order for the relationship to be truly healthy and happy. The moral educationalists and poets of her society also championed love, and Austen wouldn't have been alone amongst the growing gentry and middle class which actually had the freedom to act on that without needing to be so concerned over alliances as the nobility nor poverty as the lower classes. And, in a society where so many young men were off at war or dead from war, marrying itself wasn't as sure a prospect as it had been historically and so suddenly young ladies were faced with the idea that they might never marry even if they were willing to throw away every 'better feeling' and so had the opportunity to really consider what they would be willing to sacrifice in order to avert a future that might be inevitable anyway.

And, all in all, I don't think it's at all unlikely to think a regency lady of twenty would determine to marry for love, nor do I think contemporary society would find her foolish for doing so. It's certainly not what every young lady of the era did, but I think textual and contemporary evidence point to it as far more likely than the extremes of assuming your only future is to marry without affection or being a hopeless romantic sitting about mooning for love. It's the middle ground which we can find not only Elizabeth Bennet in, but I believe the majority of real contemporary women of her class. Love in a marriage was praised in their society and important to Jane Austen, it just wasn't everything.

Adaptations of novels by their very nature are always going to differ from the source material but I find it interesting precisely how they do.

For instance, I find it curious that both the 1995 and 2005 adaptations of Pride and Prejudice feature scenes where Elizabeth declares she will only marry for love, because not only is such a quote nowhere to be found in the novel, I also find such a sentiment unrealistic for a Regency lady.

As stated in Chapter 22,

'[Marriage] was the only provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want.'

All women knew they would be expected to find a husband to provide for them, given that they weren't... you know... classed as people in their own right by law. Especially the Bennets, who lack substantial dowries and know as soon as Mr Bennet dies, any unmarried sisters will be entirely dependent on their male relatives, which isn't a secure position.

Of course, it wouldn't be unheard of for a woman to wish for a husband she could respect and who respected her in turn. But she's not an idiot! I think Elizabeth is astute enough to realise that a love match would be a bonus rather than an expectation for her marriage. She doesn't quite sink to the depths of pessimism of Charlotte in asking only for a comfortable home, and I think Elizabeth would still expect a partner to respect her (hence why she refuses Mr Collins and Mr Darcy at his first time of asking) but I don't see her as a hopeless romantic. Not Elizabeth, who voiced her increasing dissatisfaction with the world and the people who inhabit it.

I wonder if these adaptations included such a line because they find the idea that in Mr Darcy, Elizabeth found the true love that she was never expecting to find to be the most romantic idea of all. Personally, I think that not expecting to marry for true love but finding it anyway, especially in the man she least expected, is far more romantic.

These scenes have long frustrated me because I think they fundamentally underestimate the pragmatism of women at the time and make Elizabeth and Mr Darcy's union a little less satisfying! She loved him in the end, yes, but even if they failed to overcome their respective shortcomings and somehow failed to end up together, I hardly think that Elizabeth would have turned into an old maid, sitting at Longbourn and desperately waiting for a true love that would never come...

[mabelmidnight-takeover]

the thing that doesn't make sense to me regarding the "he was putting her career on the line" POV is that there's no previous behavior from abbot that makes that believable to me. abbot faked a teenager's exams (w/o her knowledge) so she could get an abortion, told another doctor said teenager was getting back for the pills and didn't seem to care that robby could very easily find out what he did, reprimanded but immediately praised santos for doing a risky procedure she wasn't allowed to and took every opportunity he got to do procedures the hospital board wouldn't allow on the daily. nothing from his behavior told me he would put someone else's career on the line with something we were shown he's very capable of doing. add that to mohan's arc this season and the possibility of that POV being the case becomes nonexistent to me. it never even crossed my mind before checking what people were saying about the episode. i read it as a joke bc nothing else shown would tell me it wasn't.

comparing it to robby and david's situation: it was Not a surprise how robby reacted after david was proven innocent from the shooting. he was a bit more asshole-ish to how he'd probably react in a normal day, especially after a breakdown, but where he stood on the whole situation was not new. we were shown and told robby could react like that; we were shown and told abbot didn't care about what could happen to him or his career if a patient's health was on the way

[longagoitwastuesday]

This is about Hindley:

«After a short suspense it was opened by a tall, gaunt man, without neckerchief, and otherwise extremely slovenly; his features were lost in masses of shaggy hair that hung on his shoulders; and his eyes, too, were like a ghostly Catherine’s, with all their beauty annihilated».

And this is about Heathcliff:

«a tall man dressed in dark clothes, with dark face and hair. He leant against the side, and held his fingers on the latch, as if intending to open for himself. “Who can it be?” I thought. “Mr. Earnshaw?”»

Heathcliff is the character most often described as tall (and altogether big), with Hindley also being described as tall, as well as Linton, Heathcliff’s son, being said he was tall for his age (which is fitting).

I find so juicy that Heathcliff and Hindley look somewhat alike, at least structure-wise, enough to make Nelly think for one moment Heathcliff could have been him, and scratch the idea because no, that's not Hindley's voice. You resemble the man who destroyed you. It goes both ways. His child looks like his sister. One could think it was her child instead. A stranger will think the boy your son. You'll smile at the irony.

[skyburger]

WHAT THE HELL NOBODY EVER TOLD ME TWO OF MY FAVE VILLAGERS GOT A LINE STICKER TOGETHER. ive loved tabby for YEARS like since 2019 at LEAST. and these stickers are from 2018 how did i not know !!! i love tabby and boots so much 😭😭😭 TABBY AND BOOTS ANIMAL CROSSING I LOVE YOU SO MUCHHHHH OOMFS FOREVER AND EVER

[cluescorner]

There's no feeling stranger than knowing that something is bad but liking it anyways. Not in a 'it's so bad it's good' way. Because that implies that it has become good. I'm talking like this thing is just kinda bad in the normal ways things are bad, but i like it anyways.

[gu6chan]

99% just my autism speaking here but something ive been noticing lately that im sorta kinda 😶 about is when ppl are like "I think you'll like this" but not bc they ACTUALLY think you'll like it, rather they just got into it and want you to also get into it so "I think you'll like this" is a nice personal hook. i love chill stuff as much as any other person ofc but given i don't divulge that EVER, what makes you think my berserk reading, made in abyss watching, drakengard playing ass would like YURU CAMP????

[rumor-weed]

i’m sorry VOTER FRAUD?

IN MY VEGGIETALES?

it’s more likely than you’d think...

[gillyeowalters]

Because it is the anniversary of his death, I wanted to share a small story about my grandfather.

Before I knew that I was intersex, I identified as a trans man. And I went the way any trans man has to go if he wants to transition in my country. My parents thankfully were supportive but I was afraid to tell my grandparents. My grandparents were German and lived/were raised during the third reich. While both of them never said or acted in a way that suggested that they had fascist views (my grandfather was until he died part of a leftwing political party), but there still was this fear in me. "They are old, they grew up surrounded by abhorrent beliefs...". And then there was my aunt. Who would constantly claim that my grandfather was homophobic.

The problem was, back then, there were no openly out gay people in our area, so I never got the chance to see my grandfather interact with someone who was queer. So I just believed her. Because she was so insistent on it. And because it confirmed my fears and my brain loves to be constantly afraid.

But I knew I wanted to come out. I had to, eventually, because I had stopped my estrogen treatment (back then, I did not know that I got that because I was intersex) and went on testosterone instead and first physical changes began to show. We all lived in one big house, so my grandparents would eventually notice.

I was so afraid that my father at some point offered to talk to his parents. I waited outside in the hallway that led to their kitchen and listened.

My father explained, easy to understand, that I was going to transition from female to male because I felt terrible in my body. My grandfather asked, "Is that why the child* is so depressed all this time?" I had been in and out of multiple clinics for manic depression at that point. My father gave a yes. And my grandmother made the incredibly selfish comment, "Can't that wait until I am dead?"

Before I even got time to be upset, my grandfather slammed his fist down on the table. I had never seen or heard him do anything like that before. He was a very calm and collected man who preferred to leave the room before he got too angry. "No, it can't wait. The child gets to get well now. And if that is what is going to help, then it needs to be done."

From that day on, he never used my deadname again or used the wrong pronouns for me. Sometimes, he would stop in a sentence to think and remind himself, but he did always address me correctly.

He celebrated with me when my name was legally changed. He built the bed frame for me and my boyfriend's bed when we moved in together, just like he had built the first adult sized bedframe for me when I outgrew my small bed. He drove my boyfriend to his chemo sessions because my grandfather also had cancer and knew how terrifying it was to go alone.

Did he fully understand what it means to be intersex? To transition? No. But he understood that one of his loved ones was suffering and that he could help to alleviate that pain. And so he did.

He taught me calligraphy. He taught me how to sew. He taught me bookbinding. He gave me many gifts.

But the biggest gift he gave me was, that when someone hated me for what I am, I could stomach it. Because this man was willing to unlearn the bigotry he had been taught for decades so he could love me for who I am.

*in my grandpa's dialect it was normal to refer to children as just 'the child' (genderless)

EDIT

I was blown away by how many people have reblogged this post. I believe my grandfather would be very happy to see that he can give some hope and love to others even now.

I do not want him to stay faceless; so here is a piece of art I made for his obituary, with a slightly altered quote added now.

Dahlias were his favorite flowers. Orange ones especially. They reminded him of the home he had to flee from as a child.

EDIT 28/03/25

Happy birthday.

[kenyummy]

✰ 04. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 04. fantastic four.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: had to wrack my brain to remember what math i was learning in seventh grade LMAO . sometimes i forget damian is just a little guy in like seventh to eighth grade. crazy. and please let me know if there's any mistakes with pronouns/gender!!! i want to keep this open to everybody so im always trying my best ❤️

also ive realised how chopped harry is in the comics after taking my rose coloured lenses off. basically he and mj have their look in the ultimate spiderman TV show (in my eyes anyway, i kind of just described their appearance based off tgat lmaooo)

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

School has never felt so bland for you. Sure, it was never your favourite thing in the world—except for maybe biology—but you'd think that discovering a whole new world in your last year would make it a little more interesting.

It didn't.

It's been three weeks since you crash landed here in Gotham. The most you'd gotten from your family was an awkward "how are you" occasionally, and a lot of staring.

You'd only shown yourself as Spidey a few times to the public, but never stayed for those pesky news reporters shoving their microphones into your face. You'd never liked interviews, anyway.

The only highlight of your long days were MJ and Harry. You'd gotten over the initial shock of Harry being in love with you—convincing yourself that it really wasn't you he liked; it was this world's original you. (Though—that fact still lingers in the back of your mind whenever you talk).

Apart from that, school truly was uneventful. Your kooky art teacher was the only one of whom you actually liked, and it seemed the education here was rather lax. Uncaring. Not good for your future, surely—but you wouldn't have a future here, and you're sure this [name] Wayne will be just fine.

Speaking of schooling—the people here really seemed to hate the Gotham Prep kids. More than what a petty rivalry should be—it was pure malice.

Harry was especially adamant about this.

"They're all dumb, entitled rich kids who use daddy's money to get whatever they want, you know." He stabs his fork into a dry cut of chicken violently. Then points, accusatory, at MJ—who already presents a sneer to him. "And don't you start lumping me in with them—you know I'm not like that."

Her face twists, but soon she grins cheekily. "Okay, fine. Yeah, you're totally not, otherwise nobody here would like you one bit. And who doesn't love Harry, huh?"

"Oh, be quiet," But still, he smiles—damn his head is big. He glances over at you. You're picking around at your soggy broccoli with a frown. "Hey, [name]. Don't two of your brothers go to Gotham Prep?"

You look up at your ginger friend, head tilted to the side before it clicked. Oh, right. Tim and that young boy—Damian, if you remember correctly. Tim barely ever went to school if your diary was still accurate, and Damian had little choice but to.

(Doesn't seem like he'd be the social butterfly type, though.)

"Yeah, they do." You nod, still fiddling around with that vegetable.

"Not that I'm not glad that you're here—but why don't you go to school with them?" MJ leans forward in her seat. "I mean, isn't it easier for siblings to go to the same school?"

Your eyes widen for a second.

There's a few ways you can go about this.

One—you tell them everything you know about your other self. About how you never felt included enough to ask. How you never spent time with them. How it always felt like everything and everyone else was more important than you. How you suffered silently—begging for their attention for years like a house pet becoming a stray.

Two—you could tell them you have absolutely no idea because you have none of your memories of anything from the past years of this life—how you don't even remember all your siblings names half the time.

Or three, and your personal favourite—you can just lie.

It doesn't take a serial genius to figure out which one you chose.

"I guess I just didn't like the rich private school vibe they had going on." A smile falls over your lips. "Plus—you guys were coming here, so it gave me even more of a reason to attend, you know?"

You're not entirely sure that's true. But—if these two were anything like the Harry and MJ you know—then this would probably be right.

Judging from their smiles, your detective skills haven't failed you yet.

"Man!" MJ lolls her head back, groaning. "Can't believe I'm friends with two rich kids who get to choose which school they want—the beat down public or sleek rich private."

"Don't go dissing this school just because you're jealous of their uniforms," Harry snickers, pressing his index finger into MJ's cheek. She huffs and slaps him away.

"Silence, nepo baby. Your dad is basically Lex Luthor if he wasn't bald."

Harry looks more confused than offended at her comment, "Okay, but my dad isn't an evil mastermind plotting against a red and blue suited superhero."

You press your lips together thinly and look to the side, eyes focused on anything but him. Oh, Harry—if only you knew.

Damian Wayne had never truly seen the point of highschool.

Raised by assassains all his life—he had little room, time, and desire to learn about all this nonsense. While he enjoyed arts and fine literature—he couldn't find it within himself to care about the American Revolution, or whatever other ridiculous thing happened in history.

His maths teacher was absolutely, indubitably pathetic. Always on his phone as he assigns mountains of homework (because he never bothers to explain the complex materials they're given) on the latest subject—whether it be those blasted simultaneous equations, or to factorise useless monic trinomials. Even calculating tax and interest on the stupidest of cases.

Damian found himself sitting in the corner of his class in silence, staring down, bored, at the book in front of him. He truly hated math. There's so much real work to be done—crime to fight, plotting organisations to take down.

But his father, as always, is unmoving in his conviction that school is important. For Damian especially, anyway; Drake can skip as often as he likes because he's a senior already. Truly, ridiculous.

For Damian, and—oh.

You.

Bruce always seemed especially insistent on you two going to school. Even when everyone but him knew you skipped every few days and simply come home to wait.

Wait for what? For them?

His brows furrow. Suddenly, the black and white equations on the sheet blur and he zones out. Thinking.

You always did. From the day he'd walked into the manor, you were always there. Unconsciously, he'd notice it. A trait of a good assassin is that they can spot everyone in the room.

A trait of a great assassin is that they can spot everyone inside and watching.

Always, you were watching. Those pitiful stares. Desperate like a unloved pet. If he cared a little more (if any at all), he would've felt sorrow for your state.

Always wanting, but never asking. Never taking. Simply waiting for it all to come to you. He would never understand it. He would never understand you.

He would never understand how somebody could allow themselves to be so weak.

Like everybody else—when he first entered the manor, he proposed to fight you. Assuming—being the child of his father, like he was—you were worthy. That you were strong.

He doesn't know how he could've been so wrong. You immediantly reacted, gasping and clutching your face. He'd nicked it with the edge of his blade after he unsheathed it. You looked at the blood dotting your fingertips, then back at him, eyes wide.

Immediantly, Bruce rushed to his side and pushed him behind his larger, imposing figure—telling you to not interact with him because he's different to regular people. Different to you.

He watched you storm off from behind his father's legs; anger practically blaring off your figure.

Later—he happened to overhear you and Grayson talking quietly. Telling you to not be too hard on Damian, because he's troubled. That he's had a difficult life. At first—he was a tad offended—but that offence could not compare to the absolute fury burning in your eyes.

Though, it all melted away when Grayson's hand ruffled your hair. Like a little kid, you stared up at him, soft and starry-eyed as you unconsciously murmured you'd forgive your new little brother.

Damian dry-heaved. You were so goddamn weak.

So weak, and so normal. Everything you did was completely regular. You were on the same wavelength as the civilians he saved from burning rubble. The same as people who walked down the street, talking about their favourite Justice League member. Who cowered in fear in front of villains—to be saved by those heroes. By him.

You were nothing, and yet everything he could never have been.

(What child does not long for normalcy?)

Damian always thought you were rather helpless, regardless of how regular you were—and seeing you with that bullet lodged in your shoulder—he was right. Not being able to dodge something like a bullet—there was no wonder you never become a vigilante. There was no wonder you needed to be protected.

... Though—he began to think back.

Who did? Protect you; that is.

Whoever it was, they did a pretty awful job at it.

Damian strums his fingers against the hardwood table rhythmically. Face blank but mind running rapidly.

It couldn't have been Todd. No—he seemed to be in a frazzled state of mania when carrying your bleeding body in your arms. Perhaps he too, believed you were safe with the rest of his family.

(Oh how wrong Todd was—he looked livid.)

... Grayson?

No. When he's not in Blüdhaven, he is almost always with the other vigilantes within the family. Not here nor there, and certainly not close enough to protect you.

Not Drake. He never cared enough, despite everything. Not Cain, either. Though the silent protector type—she had too much on her plate to worry about you as well.

Gordon and Brown had their own families to worry about.

And his—your father? The Batman? There was no time for a regular child like you in the Batman's life of vigilantism. Whom he sworn to protect in his crusade now lay bleeding out in his great failure's arms.

...

Did you truly have nobody?

...

Damian couldn't really imagine it. He'd always assumed you had many friends to fill the void that yoir family left with their civilian clothes. ... Perhaps you did. He wouldn't know.

You are his only half sibling. In this world, only he is truly your brother, and you are his only older sibling. Does that not give him the slightest of responsibility?

He'd always been taught to keep everybody at arms length—even his own family. The whole world is out to get the Demon's grandson, then he must fight it. But his father taught him differently.

To protect those who cannot protect themselves—to keep those he cares about safe at any cost.

What of you? He does not care for you in the way an ordinary sibling should. Seeing you so weak, defenceless against him—must mean you trust him in some way.

(It's hard for him to fathom being able to feel so unprotected in a world he was taught was trying to extinguish him at every turn).

Regardless of how you don't belong—or how frosty you act toward your youngest brother—he has a duty.

No matter how hard you try—you can never sever the blood you two share. The others do not have this duty—but he does, because in the end, you are his. None of the others bothered, so Damian must.

You are everything he could never be, he has realised. But in the end, you are blood. It runs thicker in the veins than any water, and that is one of the most important things to Damian.

Seeing that same blood—his blood—spill out of you carelessly—that is a sight he will never bear witness to again.

Damian was the first one out the door as soon as the bell chimed in his ear. His bag slung tightly around his shoulders and textbook under his arm; he rushed into the familiar sight of a sleek, large car.

He shuts the door as he climbs into the backseat (Bruce said he was still too short to sit in the front, much to his son's displeasure). "Hello, Pennyworth."

Alfred glances back at him through the rear view mirror. "Good afternoon, Master Damian. How was school?"

"Same as usual. A waste of time." He clicks his seatbelt shut as the car begins to move. Alfred only hums, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

"I'm unsurprised to hear you say so. I do hope you understand why exactly, you are enrolled in school, however. And why Master Bruce is so adamant about your attendance."

Damian knows. He's always known, because it has been drilled into his head like a mantra. Talia and Ra's Al Ghul weren't math teachers—and most of his time really was spent training and sparring to be the best he could be.

He was not illiterate, nor stupid. Rather smart, actually. However, he didn't exactly learn algebra and chemistry with the League of Assassins.

He grumbles. "I know, Pennyworth. Father cannot seem to stop reminding me that all these things are far more important than stopping the endless wave of crime in Gotham."

If he weren't on the road—Alfred surely would've given him a nasty look. "Master Damian, please—your sincerity is positively slaughtering me."

Damian rolls his eyes, opting to stop this fruitless conversation and look outside the windows instead. At the outside world—the sky already paling to deep auburn shades as they drive through the endless roads.

He watched all the cars moving past; hurrying to get to their destination. Each with their own story and reason for being there. Every single one with their own thoughts and worries. Some with children, others with pets, and some with piles of groceries.

All with their own, individual lives. Including him.

A bus, too. It stops for a moment at a sheltered space, then drives away, leaving a few people standing under the shade.

An elderly lady with a man, presumably her son, walking away with her. A woman with frizzy red hair and freckles dotted over her nose. A few schoolkids—some his age, some older. Clearly from the public school on the other side of Gotham, if only to judge from the scantily clad clothes some of the older students wore—

Wait, is that you?

He sits up—the car slowly coming to a stop at a red light. His eyes don't leave your figure as he presses his nose against the window; observing.

You look around at the people that pass by you—gripping your bag close to your side and rushing into the nearest alleyway.

He waits for a few moments. This red light feels rather long—but what feels longer is watching and waiting for you to come out of that alleyway.

You never do.

Even as the car begins to move once more, driving past the intersection, he crawls as far back as possible to even get a glimpse—but you never show.

Just today, he had decided to be the one to take up the mantle and protect you. Just today, during a boring math class, he has decided that since you are his blood, he must keep a helpless civilian like you safe.

And now you're gone. Are you dead, or something?

(Deep down, his stomach twists at the thought.)

"Pennyworth, pull over." Hid voice is more taut than he had imagined. "Now."

Alfred looks back, glancing at the streets around. He doesn't question the young boy, simply doing as he is asked and pulling over to a deserted parking area.

When he has parked the car, he turns around and sees Damian slipping his Robin mask on—somehow already fully suited up.

His eyes widen, "Master Damian, what—"

"I have something to do. Let Father know I will be back home late."

Opening the door, Damian rushes out and pulls out his grappling hook, swinging onto the nearest building's roof and looking around.

He spots the alleyway you'd run into. It is still. Absolutely no movement nor any looks from passer-bys. He rushes across the roves towards where the dark side seeped into the crack of the buildings.

Maybe you'd taken another way out?

But looking at the alleyway now, it's more like a dip between the buildings to stand in more than anything. It was blocked off on the other side.

So where...???

He drops down, landing on his soles and squinting as he stares around into the dark. There's nothing.

No people, nor bodies, and certainly not anything to indicate anybody was ever here.

Except...

He glances at the wall. Theres a white cocoon-esque oval webbed to the wall. Those same webs he'd seen all that time ago—from that spider. That would show up then leave immediantly. Never staying for longer than they had to.

Dodging all of his and Batman's attempts at asking who you were, and what you were doing in Gotham. Always swinging away into the distance before they could be subdued.

Now, he stares at their ball of webbing and wonders if it truly is an arachnid he's dealing with.

He pokes it, looking it up and down. Then, he sees it. Through the small holes in the webs and the translucent, silk-like material—he finally sees it.

Your bag.

He tears off the webbing faster than he can think, getting the sticky substance stuck to his gloves and clothes; he barely even notices it. He grabs your bag and stares it, swallowing hard.

His mind buzzes with an unfamiliar staticky feeling and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach. Despite all the noise in his ear—his brain is able to comprehend one singular question.

... What did that arachnid do to you?

Clothed fingers digging deep into the leather fabric of the bag—clearly worn down and fading. Old. He would get Father to purchase you another. ... When he sees you next. Because he will.

His jaw clenches hard.

Damian throws the bag over his shoulder and grapples up—swinging onto a building roof and running across.

Running for what, he isn't sure. But what he is sure of, is that once he gets his hands on that arachnid, it will not be kind.

To find out what happened to you—that is his duty as your blood sibling.

He decides that in this life, he will be your protector. In the next, if he is ever given a chance to be normal like you—he will become a doctor. Or perhaps a painter. Or a poet. Maybe he will ask you to help him decide when he finds you and that arachnid.

... Yes, that sounds good.

You cut through the cool wind as you swing through the city. Grinning widely underneath your mask—you don't think you've ever been so happy since you landed here.

You're sure nobody will take your stuff. Even if they do, you could always just get whatever else you needed again. You were far too excited to dwell on the small stuff right about now.

Landing on a rooftop, crouched—you walk down the wall of the apartment complex, and look around for civilians. As he told you—the streets around the back of the building were practically deserted.

You count the amount of rooms from the side, up and down.

"Row 5, Apartment block... 2..." You hum, and nod to yourself.

You tap your necklace and the nanobots all crawl off your body, leaving you in your regular clothes. You land safely on the balcony of the room you were given.

You smooth out your flared jeans and take in a deep breath. Then, you bring up your knuckles, and knock.

The glass screen door opens before you can say fantastic.

A small pair of arms wrap around your torso and knock you backwards—you fall on your ass and let out a loud laugh.

"Spidey!!! [name]!!!"

"Is that who I think it is?!" You tease, eyes squinted upwards and the young kid buries into your stomach. His giggles are muffled by the fabric and he squeezes you so tight you'd be inclined to choke—if it wasn't you. "Frankie!! How's my favourite Richard?"

"I can't believe you'd say that, [name]. That hurts." A familiarly sweet voice speaks.

"Sue!" You grin, taking in the sight of the blonde and her husband by her side. You get up—Franklin stumbles behind you—and crash into her arms.

She chuckles, patting your back and smiling down at you, "I missed you too, [name]. You always manage to find yourself in the strangest situations, don't you?"

Reed cradles his chin, "Well, we were technically the cause of this distortion in reality, Susan—"

But seeing the expression on both your and his wife's face; he stops himself. Only smiling sheepishly. "My apologies. It's great to see you again, [name]. I didn't think we'd find another familiar face in a different universe."

"You're getting better at this, Reed." You lift yourself from Sue's comforting cradle and grin brightly up at him. "I didn't think I'd see all of you guys again, either. When you all disappeared for so long—I was wondering if something bad happened."

"Hah! Ta us? You kiddin'? Ya more bug-brained 'den that spider that bit ya!"

"Ben!!!" You go flying toward the rock-encased man and wrap your arms around his comfortingly tough neck. He spins you around and lets you down with a loud laugh.

"'Ey kid, how're ya? Heard ya tackled ol' matchstick 'ere outta the sky!" He slaps his rocky chest laughing—in the corner of your eye, Johnny stands behind him, unimpressed.

He walks up beside you, swinging an arm around your neck and snarks, "Yeah—well, Spidey's always been known for catching people off guard, huh? Creepin' up when you least expect it."

"You're making [name] sound like a villain, Unc!" Frankin, who had found himself attached to the side of your shirt, sticks out his tongue.

Johnny recoils, face falling in pure horror as he dramatically points at the young boy, "UNC??!! I... I'm an Unc now...??? I'm not even 19! I can't be an Unc!!!"

You burst out into laughter at the genuineness of Johnny's expression, watching as he freaks out about being "old". Sue and Reed roll their eyes—while Ben is there with you, laughing his ass off like he'd just gotten a home run on Yancy Street.

Franklin looks at your laughing expression and starts giggling along—jumping up and down beside you with sparkling eyes.

"Stop laughing, [name]! We're the same age!" Johnny points, accusatory. "If I'm an Unc, you're a...!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm cooler than Uncle Johnny anyways, right Frankie?" You grin, picking up Franklin as he cuddles into your neck.

"Mhm!" He nods eagerly.

Johnny sends you a blazing glare, lips pouted out. "You and me. We're—" He gestures to the two of you. "—gonna have some issues, here. Okay. Everyone knows I'm the cool Uncle."

"No, that's Benny!" Franklin points to Ben.

The look on Johnny's face shifts into utter disbelief—Ben falls out of his chair laughing wildly.

"Gosh, I missed you so much, kid." You pull at one of Franklin's cheeks and chuckle. He stares at you in awe for a few seconds, before hugging the side of your head and giggling.

"I missed you too!"

That same warmth fills each crevice and pore of your body, as you huddle close to your dear friends and let yourself feel at home for this small moment.

Meanwhile, in the dark of night, a pair of azure eyes watches, sharp and unnerving in the back of your skull.

You notice it. Of course you do. Your mind is tingling with that buzz—but you want to enjoy this night of nothing but home, even if only once.

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[unnecessarybeltbuckles]

No "pin move" feature?? Refunded