#why you gotta go resurrect him

[eikichi-supremacy]

If nothing else Koenma is a Kuwabara stan and I'm right there with him o7 (I need to write the kuwameshi fic that goes with this fr)

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

All, der real

Me: they sure are perfect...damn

****HugeP***Hugo*****Hugo now ok**

This message has been brought to you by NASA.

"Take your girth from the Seventh Seal"

[ghosts-and-glory]

Some Narinder character analysis for y’all.

This is a slightly re-edited excerpt from a much longer post of mine where I was specifically trying to provide a rebuttal to someone else. I’m kinda proud of some of my takes here and the write up took me hours so I’m gonna repost it here on its own.

I’m going into specifically into Narinder’s

Speech patterns and way of expressing emotions.

Implications of his post defeat dialogue

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Feelings on Ratau’s death

And a little extra on why do we “babygirl” Narinder

Full analysis under the cut.

The way Narinder expresses his positive feelings

First I gotta establish Narinder’s voice. Narinder seems almost incapable of giving a genuine compliment especially without turning it into something about himself.

Here’s three examples of him giving a complement to The Lamb. Taken from after defeating Amdusias and Shamura. He also complements The Lamb when you sacrifice Ratau but I’ll come back around to that.

I wanted to grab the entire quotes so it didn’t look like I was nitpicking.

"Very good, my vessel. It seems I chose well when I kept you from Death.”

First example, “very good,” is the complement, but immediately after he takes credit for this by calling you “my vessel” thereby claiming ownership over you. His vessel did well. And again “I chose well” doubled down and complemented himself.

“I admit, you have worn it (the red crown) almost as well as I could have myself.”

Again we see the complement layered in ego. “Almost as well as I” in other words you did well, but don’t forget I’m better. Also important to draw attention to is “I admit” this is a very explicit statement of his refusal to acknowledge the success of others.

"Your appetite for death is something I can admire, Vessel. But the Crown is mine, and none - NONE - are worthy. None other than I.”

Here he almost lays down a complement. “Your appetite for death is something I can admire” straight up, states his admiration. He seems to almost realize what he’s done and quickly pulls back into his ego, “But the crown is mine” “-none are worthy- None other than I.”

These are the three of the four ONLY times that Narinder ever says anything explicitly positive about someone else when he is a god. Thus establishing that the head ass cannot give out a compliment to save his life. The one time he gives you full credit for your actions he immediately pulls right back into his ego.

I cannot stress this enough. Someone who is characterized as cold and emotionally closed off as Narinder is WILL NOT suddenly undo this characteristic when they try and express a positive feeling.

Okay with that established we can look at his follower dialogue. Specifically these two examples from when you resurrect a follower and allow him to go on a mission.

“I cannot begrudge supplantation by one such as yourself.”

Literally saying I don’t resent you for taking my place. It’s not an explicit statement that he respects you but this is he weird fucked up little way of saying it. Of course he still lays it out in a way that’s self centred but we know from the way he has spoken that this is about as much verbal praise he is capable of giving.

The other one is a less explicit statement but I think it’s a interesting reflection of the final place of his character.

“…my thanks, Lamb.”

Being his last bit of unique dialogue, it’s an incredible ending to a character. He thanks you. That’s all he needed to say.

Narinder’s reaction to his defeat that he would rather die.

Let’s go over his dialogue in some depth.

"You weak, snivelling, foul thing. You - wait! Waaaiiiiiit!"

I’m starting with this line as it compels me the most. I find that there are two separate readings of this and I can’t really point to one above the other. On my play through I had assumed his wailing was more in reference to being denied death. It could also be read as him not wanting to be reduced to a follower and realizing what your mercy really means for his future.

“-are you to be a vengeful false idol, or a merciful coward? No longer can you blame your vile acts on me."

Okay, looking at the way he presents your two options he seems to push more for the murder action. “-vengeful false idol,” is how he refers to murder. It’s not exactly a glowing review but his use of the word vengeful is important. We know that one of Narinder’s main goals in the game is revenge, we he already acts with revenge I can’t say that he’s using this word as an insult. The false idol part of this statement seems like he’s attempted to separate himself from you, again for is ego.

Then he presents the spare option by calling you a “merciful coward.” The flow of this full sentence puts more pressure on this option. He presents it as the “or” the second option. This is the bad option, the option of a coward.

“So. vou are no different to me after all. You have become as I am."

I know this is a deranged order to go over these quotes but last we got murder. Compared to his spare dialogue this is incredibly sombre. We know from already establishing how big his ego is that saying you are the same as him is almost a compliment. I do find this dialogue incredibly interesting tho, I can’t exactly explain why but I can’t help but read this as damning as well. It’s like he means it in both ways, the ultimate fuck you. You are just as I am, for better and worse.

But from what we know about Narinder his edgy ass cannot express emotion. He wraps his statements in layers of irony and selfishness. Unless it supports the persona he puts on or inflates his ego he WILL NOT right out state his feelings or needs, especially when he was a chained god.

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Aym and Baal are incredibly hard to characterize. They don’t have much dialogue to work off of and only three characters every speak on them, Shamura, Narinder and Forneus. The context of the game does present them as more Narinder’s first (and second) hand, less followers more apprentices, almost, but where’s the fun in assuming.

"Intended as keepers, perhaps, but they were young and in need of guidance. Must I be blamed for my influence?"

I wanna draw attention to the specific wording of keepers. Again, based on the way Narinder speaks its safe to assume he means the formal meaning of a keeper, meaning a caretaker. It is unclear if Narinder was told they where his keepers or if he assumed so, but either way he still speaks on them as such.

For the sake of argument (and I don’t wanna rewrite this bit entirely) I’m gonna put the idea that Narinder brainwashed Aym and Baal against my presented idea of them being his keepers or apprentices.

The proposed idea of the brainwashing angle can be developed based on Narinder saying that “they where young and in need of guidance, must I be blamed for my influence.” This implies that, as much as Aym and Baal may have been sent as keepers, they where still young and Narinder could not help but be an influence on them. I am gonna come back around to this thread so hold onto this for a moment. Moving on.

“Two kits I did have, true love found! And yet one lackadaisy summer day, my beautiful children were taken away... a gift, they said, for the one they loved most, the one that waits...”

“Ooh, kits... I remember, I remember... two kits in my claws... a gift.."

It is unclear and morally dubious how Aym and Baal came to Narinder. First we’re not 100% where Narinder is chained. The wiki lists it as the afterlife and in dialogue Narinder refers to it as “at the gates between this life and the next, trapped at the nexus of what was and what wasn't.” (When he asks you to send him on a mission.) We can travel there both by dying and being summoned there by him.

Either way the assumption is that Aym and Baal had to die. (As an aside I have my own speculation on the conditions required for a person to be presented to Narinder or to be resurrected but that’s off topic.) The horrific implications being that either Shamura themself killed the kits or that they where already dying. However you cannot blame the reaper for ushering the dead away from life.

I’m going to work off of the cult specific definition and characteristics of brainwashing. It’s hard to characterize where Aym and Baal sit here as, again they have little dialogue and due to the nature of brainwashing it’s hard to spot. First I wanna grab my brainwashing resources.

I’m using Encyclopedia Britannica’s page on brainwashing, cults, indoctrination, manipulation as my primary resourse.

Again I kinda wanna apply a layer of irony to how literally I apply real life tragedy to this game that obviously uses cults in a comedic manner. I wanna focus in on the characteristics displayed by victims of brainwashing and the techniques used in brainwashing by an abuser.

Looking at the elements used in brainwashing the only one I can say off the bat that is present is isolation, obviously. But with that let’s grab all of Aym and Baal’s dialogue.

What is clear from their dialogue is their obedience to Narinder. They call him master while his keepers and still when you meet them later when adventuring. And physically we do see them by Narinder’s side the entire main game and they fight the Lamb first. But if we add some nuance and look at their role as keepers or my own theory of being apprentices both actions of obedience make sense still for those roles. On the same note they also don’t display traits you would expect for someone fully under Narinder’s control. They speak to the Lamb out of turn and attack without prompting from Narinder.

Other characteristics are hard to imply. With torture I do want to pass it off an unlikely as based on the way Narinder tries to manipulate the Lamb it’s only verbal and he cannot attack while chained and I don’t see that changing with the keepers. Traits like sleep, water and food deprivation can’t be applied for various reasons (mostly the being dead one) and we don’t know anything about Narinder and the keeper’s interactions in the past so I’ll have to disregard other traits like suggestion.

Baal: "It's you. Usurper of the Red Crown. The one who freed us."

Aym: "Ha! You are nothing compared to our Master. We have not been in this world long, but already I can tell you are weak. You lack discipline. Our Master wielded Death with precision and control. You allow chaos to reign."

Baal: "What my brother means to say is thank you."

Moving onto groupthink I can pretty comfortably say that this is not a present characteristic of Aym and Baal. In their limited dialogue we can easily characterize Aym as more outwardly defensive of Narinder but Baal is more reserved and even contradicts Aym and is able to speak freely of Narinder.

Looping back around to the way Narinder speaks on his influence on Aym and Baal. Again we know how Narinder speaks, he cannot give honest compliments and dodges affection like it’s a professional sport. With the way he will outright tell the Lamb to manipulate followers and then uses the words “guidance” and “influence” about Aym and Baal, he has to be avoiding admitting affection to the keepers. He does follow that up with “Do what you wish, scornful God. I care not for them.” But again does Forneus not also allow her kits to do as they wish?

My own reading of Narinder’s relation to Aym and Baal is that of mentorship but it could also be read as parental. But saying brainwashed is a big stretch.

His feelings on the death of Ratau

This is like another example of like, yeah, wow, an evil character does evil? Who could’ve possibly foreseen this? Sarcasm aside I do see his comments on this being a lesser evil.

First I do have to ask why, if Narinder held strong sense of unrest against his former vessel, did he not have him struck down? The main reason I can see is that Ratau is still devoted to the red crown, most clearly seen by the statue at the lonely shack which generates devotion.

Second, Ratau’s death isn’t on his hands, it’s on yours. I find his pride here is from The Lamb’s actions not the death of Ratau. You killed your mentor, he describes your actions as “treacherous opportunism” and says “A great Vessel takes their master's will as their own.” Based on his later dialogue this is likely more foreshadowing the Lamb becoming as Narinder is. Narinder tried to kill his siblings, and you did kill your mentor. “You have become as I am."

I’m gonna tangent quickly cause there’s a line here that is incredibly interesting.

"He renounced his position after striking a bargain that resulted in the sacrifice of a Follower. He was weak."

Incredibly interesting the way he condemns Ratau’s sacrifice of a follower. Narinder directly contradicts himself. It is implied that the follower was lost to another being that did not benefit Narinder, but the Lamb also sacrifices followers to the Fox and Midas. Just something to chew on.

Why do we “babygirl” Narinder and other evil characters?

This is kinda the last bit I’m gonna get into before I cap this off. It is incredibly funny for me to say “I babygirl Narinder” only to get a reply that’s like “I don’t think you babygirl him on purpose.” But I wanna talk about why this happens and why it happened to specifically Narinder.

When people complain about the fandom interpretation of Narinder I think they forget the tone of cult of the lamb. The closest thing I could think to call it would be a dark comedy kinda energy.

The game has very dark themes going on. Mentions of real horrible things like genocide, cults and religious abuse. But also just like look at the game, it’s visual style is so cute and non threatening, the bird characters have two mouths to commit to the bit. If you look at the way it depicts cults it’s very surface level, it’s more focused on being a satire on the common satanic media kinda look of a cult. Visually it bathes in its aesthetics, taking names from books like The Lessee Key of Solomon, uses villainous depictions of symbols like the pentagram or old Hebrew script, disregarding its nuanced origins.

And then they go onto do the funniest thing ever. The other bishop’s? Gross little freaks, based on commonly disliked animals, worm, frog, squid and spider. And then- and then they make the god of death, who they characterize and manipulative and evil, they make him a catboy. You cannot tell me they did not know what they where doing.

Why have I shot Narinder with the babygirl beam? CAUSE THE GAME DID IT FIRST!

I’m gonna call the god of death my little meow meow and point out his status as a Tumblr sexy man cause he’s a little guy and I wanna give him head scritches. But I’m also gonna call him a layered, fucked up and an incredibly interesting character in the same breath.

[thewertsearch]

I'm sure he wants Slick to kill her - but Scratch has this all planned out, right down to the second, and it's not quite time for this.

Slick is supposed to kill her, but he can't do it until all the dominoes have been set up.

Now that's a goddamn resurrection.

It's arguably flashier than John's original ascension, which makes me wonder if he's going to be more powerful after coming back a second time.

AG: Still not alive yet? Man. AG: You 8etter hurry up! She pro8a8ly doesn't have much time left. AG: Trust me, what she's going through on Derse right now isn't much fun. […] AG: You have to wake her up! 8reathe some life into her. Do the windy thing, with your lips!!!!!!!!

I think this is our first successful resurrection kiss since Hivebent.

...I mean, I certainly hope it's successful, and I don't see why it wouldn't be. Rose is probably fine, now - but she no longer has a backup body to deliver the Tumor. I guess you're up, Dave.

That's awfully intimate for a murder attempt, Slick.

I guess Kismesissitude can bloom, even on a battlefield. Especially on a battlefield, come to think of it.

AG: Gotta kiss her. AG: Don't worry, I still can't see you, so there is no reason to 8e 8ashful or anything. AG: And since we are a couple of professionals here who are focused on winning, we 8oth know it doesn't have any meaning. AG: It's not l8ke I would 8e jealous even if I could see. AG: Why wo8ld I 8e? AG: Or may8e that didn't even cr8ss your mind…….. haha. AG: M8n, why am I ev8n t8lking a8out th8s.

I'm actually not sure if John's reading these messages as Vriska's sending them, or if he's seeing them all after her death. Probably the latter, just for the sake of maximum tragedy.

Either way, I think it's very telling that John's not even trying to respond. His dad's dead, he just died, the whole world is ending, and he's finally lost the ability to be casual about it. Look at his face!

Yes, he'll read his messages, just in case they're important. Yes, he'll do what needs to be done to save Rose's life. But he's not in the mood to shoot the shit with Vriska - even though, unbeknownst to him, it's the last chance he'll ever get.

[cubeofanhilation]

How I think dpxdc would go

The whole gang graduated high school, and one of them got an invite to Wayne gala (idk which yet) and they decide to make a whole trip out of it. So they all decide to sight see in the second most fucked up city, attempts to get her hands on fear toxin, Tucker tries to track down Oracle, Danny ends up accedentily fight crime,

Danny: *finishing up with some random mugging, and see’s Jason* yo why tf you dead

Jason, taken aback by the comment: *shoots him in the kneecap, and it goes right through Danny*

Danny: …

Jason: …

Danny: I'm going to take this as my que to leave *yeets outta there*

Jason: wtf

and Wes?He takes this as a fucking challenge, he tries to figure out who the batfamily is, so he purposely gets himself kidnapped so he can get a better look, and he immediately figures everything out, (they're bad at hiding it, and Wes is batshit insane, we love him for that). He meets Bernard around then, probably fresh out of kiddnapping (see previous post) Then they head to Wes’s uncle's house, and everyone

sees the E. Nygma on the mailbox and then Wes then casually reveals The Riddler is his uncle, and he's married to the penguin and everyones like “wow that explains a lot” then they end up playing some stupid game like clue or something, until it turns out the Quinnzels were coming for dinner. That includes, Harley Quinn Poison Ivy, Bud & Lou, and Tempest (long story as to why they're there, can elaborate if anyone's interested) Wes then proceeds to tell everyone he figured out all the bat identities (previously telling his friends, Danny first because he's in love), and the Riddler and the penguin start feeling awkward because now they're the only ones who don't know who batman is.

Then it's the next day, Tucker and Sam check out the sketchiest places because, it's fun, and surprises everyone (maybe including some of the batfamily) with how prepared they are to deal with this shit.

Danny and Wes go on a date because they're adorable. They end up getting lunch, then going out and stalking two-face, because Danny hates evil, and Wes doesn't trust politician. They easily stop him from robbing a bank or whatever, and th n the batfamily shows up and Wes is like “nope! Not being interrogated again!” Picks up Danny bridal style and runs away

Then comes the gala, first off

Babs: how would you know that I'm Oracle?

Tucker: my best friend is a mad lad, anyways-

*Cut to Wes hovering over Tim like “I k n o w w h a t y o u a r e!”*

Chaos breaks, shenanigans ensue, by the end the ghost gang ends up in the bat cave and they clear everything up, and maybe start an alliance, also Danny is like “dude the ectoplasm that resurrected you is not completely out of you're system in a healthy way yet! You gotta do something” and throws supplements at Jason.

[pedropascallme]

Wreck and Resurrect

Pairing: Damien Haas x f!Reader

Summary: “It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...”

Content: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), p in v sex, sexting, brattamer!Damien, like full on dom!Damien, oral (m & f receiving), teasing, degradation, praise, choking, use of a belt where a belt does NOT need to be used, mild dacryphilia? If I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Hi! So this is definitely...porn. I re-read and edited and added and took away so much from this fic that at this point it feels like gibberish to me. But I hope you guys enjoy it!!

You woke up before Damien’s alarm. It went off the same time every morning, and you had started to anticipate it even in your sleep—a Pavlovian response to the consistency.

You liked the routine; the way you woke up to his face every day, the way he wiped the sleep from his eyes before rubbing his chin, silently debating whether or not he wanted to shave. And then he would turn over, check to see whether or not you were awake with him.

“I’m sorry,” he turned off the alarm on his phone and rolled back over to kiss you. “Go back to sleep.”

Today, you pulled him closer, keeping him flush against you and deepening the morning kiss he offered. “Don’t want you to go.”

“I’d be a little concerned if you did.” He smiled against your mouth, letting you embrace him. His skin was warm, heated by a night spent pressed against you under the comforter. “I gotta get up, baby.”

“No.” You tightened your arms around his midriff, and he laughed.

“C’mon, don’t be a brat,” his voice, still gravelly and laced with sleep, made the words go straight to your core; it was never too early to want him. “I have a short day. Then I’m all yours.”

“I’m not being a brat.” Your gaze met his, and you frowned. “How short?”

“Just a few hours,” he untangled himself from you, getting out of bed. You watched him stretch, blushing at how the muscles in his back flexed when he rolled his shoulders. “You think you can be good until I’m home?” He smiled, teasing, leaning over you and brushing strands of hair from your face. He tucked it behind your ear, then cupped your face in his hand and let his thumb trace your cheek bone.

You weren’t sure why you felt so needy for him this morning, but you leaned into his touch as soon as his palm made contact with your skin. “I’ll be good.” You grabbed his hand, kissing it, “I promise.”

His smile widened, bending down to kiss you again before turning away to get dressed.

~~~

Hours after Damien had left for work, you found the motivation to get out of bed—motivation that took the form of cats in absolutely dire need of attention—and tried to go about your day. You ran errands, did some work of your own, made a breakfast worthy of the Mythical Kitchen (on a good day); but, Christ almighty, were you bored. There was something missing, and it was making you antsy.

You hadn’t forgotten to do anything—everything on your checklist was in proper order, crossed out and completed. So why did it feel like you were neglecting something?

Damien’s words from earlier that morning echoed through your head.

“Don’t be a brat.”

Ah.

The final piece of the puzzle.

It wasn’t that you went out of your way to be disobedient—it wasn’t as if you had to obey at all, point blank, period. You had your own life, your own responsibilities, and Damien was well aware of that; he would never try to hinder your ability to go about your day. But when he spoke like that, voice tinged with an edge of dominance as he put you in your place, even jokingly, and then when it got to the point where he acted on it...

You loved that kind of attention. You knew exactly where pushing him in the right places would get you. And if Damien thought you were being a brat, then you’d capitalize off of that.

You picked up your phone and fired off a brief message to him.

💬How’s work?

While you waited for a reply, you stripped down from your daytime clothes, rummaging through his dresser to find suitable attire to enact your plan. Your phone dinged when you found the right shirt, as if on cue.

💬Lots of busy work. How has your day been?

It was like he was serving you the opportunity on a silver platter.

💬Pretty good. I miss you.

You stood in front of the full body mirror on the wall; Damien’s shirt hit the midpoint of your thighs, and you pulled it up ever so slightly to reveal the perfect amount of skin.

You took a picture and hit send.

💬Found your soft shirt that I like! Highlight of my day.

You watched intently as the bubbles of his forming message popped up on screen, then disappeared, then popped up again. You laughed silently.

💬Spencer almost saw that.

You smirked.

💬Ask him if he wants another look.

💬You are in so much fucking trouble.

You took another picture, this time leaning on the bed, legs spread just enough to give the camera a glimpse of the naked space between your thighs.

Send.

💬For what? I’m just showing you how pretty I look in your clothes.

For the second time, you watched him start typing, then stop, then start again.

💬Brat.

You smiled at the message.

~~~

You stayed like that for the next hour; lounging in bed in his shirt and waiting for him to get home. When you heard the lock on the door click, you shot out of bed.

Padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, you expected at least a kiss before the inevitable punishment that awaited you, but all you got was Damien’s cold gaze.

“Knees.”

You tried to wrap your arms around him, a lazy attempt to play dumb as to what it was that had made him so fierce. He let you hang off of him momentarily before pulling you off and gripping your jaw in one hand.

“I said get on your knees.”

You did as you were told.

“Fuck’s gotten into you today, princess?” He smiled down at you, but the kindness that was usually there had been replaced by something primal. “Thought you said you’d be good.”

“I was good.” You managed, shifting your weight, trying to give your knees some relief on the hardwood floor. 

Damien laughed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think so?”

“I was good.” You reiterated, fully aware that you were still acting like a brat, but trying to see just how deep a hole you could dig yourself into.

That was half the fun.

“No, you weren’t,” he stated, “Tell me.”

You stared up at him, the ghost of a smile on your lips. You stayed quiet.

You watched Damien sigh, exhaling for as long as it took him to shuck off his coat and throw it onto an armchair behind him.

“You gonna keep playing like this?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You couldn’t hide your smile any longer.

He undid his belt, folding it gently and holding it out for you. “Hold it.”

You took it, running your fingers over the leather. He undid his zipper.

“That’s fine. Keep playing.” He ran a hand through his hair before reaching down to remove his cock from the confines of his pants, “But you know what brats get.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning. You watched him fist his cock, and admired the way he seemed almost uninterested in his own movements despite the fact that you knew how much he was looking forward to this.

“Spit.” He commanded, and you let a strand of saliva fall on the tip of his cock; your lips parted, waiting for your cue. Damien pumped himself, aided by your spit, and after a moment tapped his cock to your lips. You set the belt down haphazardly on your lap while trying to stabilize yourself by putting a hand on his thigh.

“Did I say to put it down?” He tsked at you. You shook your head. “Use your fucking words. Did I tell you that you could put it down?”

“No.”

“So pick it up.” You did, growing achier by the second at the way you were positioned under him, but too excited to care.

“C’mon,” he refocused your attention, “Open wide.” You did, letting your tongue poke out over your bottom lip, and he pushed into you. You gagged when he hit the back of your throat, and when you made eye contact with him, he was smiling. “Didn’t think I was going to be nice after your little performance today, did you?” You tried to shake your head, but he wasn’t impressed. “Words.”

Your muffled response sent vibrations up his spine, and he stroked your hair. “That’s it. Gonna let me fuck your face? Let me use you like a slut since you wanna act like one?” Again, your words were muted around his cock, and Damien growled at the image of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him.

He pulled you back by the hair, intent on staying still and watching you put in the work. He let you take a deep breath before he pushed you back down. Tears sprung from your eyes when you choked on him. You squeezed the belt in your hands tighter as he held you down.

“Are you crying, princess?” He cooed, keeping his cock pressed deep down your throat. “I thought this is what you wanted, baby. Didn’t you want attention?” He pulled you off of him and watched intently at the way you gasped for air, drool coating your lips and chin.

“Want—want you to fuck me.” You pleaded, voice hoarse from the strain his cock had put on your throat.

“Yeah?” He brushed a stray tear from your cheek, bending down momentarily and bringing his voice to a low whisper. “I don’t care what you want.” It sounded so sincere, and you couldn’t help but whine at the words as they left his mouth.

He straightened back up to his full height, and you opened your mouth without being asked this time.

“You wanna be a good girl for me now?” He all but laughed when he saw what you were doing. You nodded, and he let you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock before you took it back into your mouth. “Little late for that, don’t you think?” He smiled. “Belt,” he beckoned, and you handed it to him. He removed his hand from your hair, opting instead to keep you against his body with his belt by looping it behind your head and pulling with both hands. This time, he pushed you all the way down onto him. Your nose pressed against him, and you spluttered while he watched on.

“You can do it,” he moaned at the feeling of your mouth around the base of his cock, “Just a little longer baby, you can do it.” He reiterated. “Look at me—hey, look at me, princess. I’m counting down from ten.”

He started his countdown. Your face was wet with tears and spit, and you could feel your thighs growing sticky. You tried to shift your weight again, maybe offer yourself a little friction, a moment to appreciate how genuinely turned on you were by his actions, but the look he shot you as he reached six on the countdown made you stop dead, frozen under his gaze as you attempted to be good for him. 

When he got to one, he dropped the belt, and you heard the buckle clang against the floor. He pulled you off of him, hand once again wrapping around your jaw as he leaned down, meeting you half-way to kiss you. It was heated, passionate, and you loved how his tongue flicked into you as if he was trying to taste himself on your lips.

“Knew you could do it.” You keened under his praise, raising your arms and wrapping them around his shoulders. He let you stay on him this time, and you thought maybe you had proven yourself to be the good girl you said you were. He lifted you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

When he put you down, you immediately started to undress; it didn’t take long, still only wearing his shirt, but once it was off you crawled across the mattress to him. You tugged at his clothes, trying to get him to strip along with you. Damien moved slowly, paying no mind to your whines as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his boxers. He stretched out on the bed, and you moved to straddle him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked.

“Please, Damien—want you to fuck me.” You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, hoping that your saccharine display would convince him of the fact that you were ready to be good.

“Didn’t I already tell you that I don’t care what you want?” He whispered, lips mere millimeters away from your ear when he pushed his cheek against your head where it rested against him.

You whimpered against his skin. “But I was good.”

“Show me again,” he beckoned you from your hiding spot, “Show me again how good you can be.”

You whined, pouting. “How?”

“Just stay like that,” he guided you so that you were sitting up, “Make yourself cum like this. Can you do that for me?” His cadence was softer now, and he pushed hair from your face in a parallel to his actions that morning. You leaned into his touch now as you had then, planting your hands on his chest.

“But I want you to fuck me." You pleaded in vain.

“Brats don’t get what they want,” Damien’s tone turned harsh again. He moved his hands up the length of your legs and stopped to grip your waist, “Brats get what they deserve.”

The angle was odd, and you struggled to find a pacing that suited your needs. Damien watched you squirm above him, the faintest smirk on his lips; his hands stayed on your hips but didn’t offer any assistance. He wanted to watch, nothing more.

You bent yourself forward, still supporting yourself with your hands on his chest, and rolled your hips over him. You could feel him under you, hard and warm, and it did nothing to ease the heat in your lower stomach. You continued grinding down onto him, trying to find the delicious friction you sought; the tip of his cock pressed against your clit when you bucked your hips, and you let out a quiet moan.

“There you go,” Damien murmured. He had moved one arm under his head, propping himself up to get a better view. You grabbed at his bicep, squeezing softly, trying to get as much of him as you could. “You gonna make yourself cum for me?”

“Can’t,” you whined, still sweeping your hips over him, now with more fervor, trying to find the position that would give your clit the pressure it needed to let you reach your high. “Please, Damien, let me cum on your cock.”

He tilted his head back, “Isn’t that what I’m letting you do now?”

“Inside.” You were begging.

“No.” He squeezed your hip with the hand still situated there. He seemed to relent slightly, beginning to guide you. “Cum like this.”

You felt like crying; pent up and desperate and not at all able to make yourself feel even half as good as he would be able to. You let him pull you back and forth, the sounds of your slick coating his cock creating an absolutely obscene backing score to your actions. You felt the pressure in your stomach rise when he bucked his hips into you, pulling you forward to let your clit rest directly on him while you moved, directed by his hand.

Your breath hitched, and Damien, clearly getting impatient and fueled by his own want to fuck you, repeated the motion. Something inside you snapped, and you were cumming; your nails left small crescent imprints on his skin, clawing lightly at his arm and chest. You cried out, and he pulled you against him, letting you calm your breathing while you lay on his chest.

“You ready to be good now?” He nosed the crown of your head.

“Mhm,” your sounds were somewhere between confident and moaned. “Gonna be good.”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me cum—thank you for letting me cum.”

“You’re welcome, princess.” He kissed your forehead, and once he was certain you were ready, he flipped you off of him. He sat up, coaxing you onto your stomach before getting up to kneel behind you. You had never been happier to be on your hands and knees, the promise of what was to come made you dizzy with lust.

He positioned himself low on the mattress, and before you had the chance to ask what he was doing, you felt him lick a stripe up your cunt.

"Oh—" You shivered, bending yourself down further on your hands to give him complete access to you. Damien said nothing, continuing to lick slow circles around your hole. He spit, watching it trail over you and down to your clit where it fell off your skin in drops. You tried to reach back for him, to pull on his hair and encourage him to do more.

But then he was straightening up, situating himself on his knees and sliding his cock through your folds.

“What did we learn today?” His teasing words paired deliciously with the way his cock pressed against your entrance.

“Don’t be a brat.” Your words were muffled by the pillow you pressed your face against.

“That’s right,” he swiped his cock through your folds, gathering your slick, and you moaned softly. “You going to say sorry?”

You made a noise that sounded halfhearted. He pulled you back by your hair, forcing your back to arch, your face centimeters from his own. You giggled, still mildly hell-bent on seeing just how much trouble you could cause. He swatted at your thigh to get your attention back.

“Try again. Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for being a brat—I’m so sorry, Damien, I’m sorry for being bad, I promise I’ll be so good for you, please.” Your words were rushed, eager to please him and get what you had been craving all day.

“Good,” he released your hair from his vice grip and let you reposition yourself properly in front of him. “One more time,” the tip of his cock nudged your entrance, so close to penetrating you but still not enough, “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered, and you had hardly finished your sentence before he rammed into you; there was no time wasted on getting you used to the way he had you speared, none spent on familiarizing your cunt with the stretch of his cock—he was as desperate as you were, and entirely unforgiving.

“God, fuck. Yeah, take it all like that,” his mouth hung open as he watched your cunt swallow him. You made absolutely pathetic noises, squirming against him, wiggling your hips around the intrusion of his cock.

“Fucking wet,” he groaned, hands once again finding purchase on your waist and pulling you against him with every thrust. “Does it turn you on, baby? Does acting like a slut make you wet for me? Letting me fuck your face and use you? Is that what got you wet like this?”

All you could manage was a hoarse cry, a garbled moan of affirmation. You heard him laughing behind you before he cut himself off with a moan, seated deep inside of you. Your cunt pulsed around him.

“Fuck—I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moaned, the drag of his cock against your walls made your eyes roll back into your head.

“I know, baby, I know you’re so sorry,” he whispered, hands combing through your hair lovingly while he ravaged you, “You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” You smiled, pressing your face further into the pillow to muffle your sounds. “Yours, I’m yours—your good girl.”

“Yes, you are,” he sped up his thrusts, and you couldn’t help the scream you let out into the pillow. He leaned forward, pulling it from you and throwing it to the side. “Let me hear your pretty sounds, princess—let me hear my good girl’s pretty sounds.”

You were certain that whatever complaint you might receive from the neighbors would be worth it; all you could do was cry out for Damien, telling him how good he felt, how you’d be nothing but obedient from now on, and he punctuated every one of your wails with a sharp snap of his hips. Your walls fluttered around him, and he took the opportunity to bask in you; he pushed himself deeper, tip of his cock kissing your cervix while you moaned quiet praises of the feeling.

“Feels so good,” you squeaked, and he bent down to kiss the back of your head. One hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock like you were begging to?” He whispered, cock pushed as far inside of you as your cunt would allow.

“Yeah—please, yes!” You pushed your ass back against him, daring him to fuck you deeper, and he obliged; you felt drunk off his cock, the way he forced the air from your lungs with every thrust and how at a certain point you could remember nothing but his name and how deeply you loved and trusted him.

Damien reveled in your calls for him, the noises you made sent vibrations through his fingertips from where they rested on your throat.

He wrapped his free arm around your midriff, fingers finding your clit and rubbing circles in small bursts that synced with the motion of his hips. You squeezed your eyes shut, chanting his name like a prayer—over and over and over again.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he whispered down at you, and you were an absolute goner by the time the praise hit your ears; you felt your thighs shaking first, followed by the tightening in your stomach that, when it snapped and relaxed, spread pure, unadulterated pleasure through your body. Your moans of his name reached a crescendo and you collapsed under him, sore and tired and satisfied. You continued to murmur helplessly as he thrust into you, and when he came with a growl of your name and a string of curses, you felt a warm sensation in your lower stomach. You sighed happily at nothing in particular.

Damien immediately crowded you on the mattress, sweaty bodies intertwining, his arms wrapped around you in a desirous hug.

“You did so good, baby, you did such a good job for me.” He kissed whatever skin he could reach, peppering your cheek and shoulder with soft kisses. “My good girl, my perfect girl.”

You hummed into him, hand creeping up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I did good?” You asked for further validation, hazy from the pleasure.

“So fucking good,” he pulled you closer to him. “Do you feel good? Was that too much?”

You shook your head, smiling at the way he checked in on you; his prioritization of your comfort never ceased to make your heart feel full. “Just what I wanted.” You reassured him.

“Me too,” he sighed, tracing shapes on your back. The room went quiet, and your breathing fell in sync with his. “Do you wanna clean up?” He nudged you finally, "I can get you a towel—or, or run the shower?"

“Not yet,” you had closed your eyes, content to rest on him, “Comfy.”

He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, and leaning back. “Y'know...I do like that shirt on you.” He mused.

“Yeah?” You perked up, suddenly wide awake again.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I mean—I like everything on you—and off you—but I especially enjoy seeing you in my clothes.”

You laughed quietly, “I’ll keep that in mind next time I decide to act out.”

He grasped your face with both hands, covering your face with kisses and laughing, “Was that the lesson you learned today?”

“Learned not to be bratty,” you laughed at the way his stubble tickled your neck when he dipped down to kiss your pulse points, “Learned that when I am bratty you still give me what I want.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, letting go of your face and wrapping his arms around your waist again. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

“I think so,” you sighed dreamily, nuzzling your face against his chest, “Y’big softy.”

[dunmeshichilchuck]

For That One Guy On Tumblr part 8

Chilchuck x !fem !halffoot reader

:) I think some of you guys are gonna like this one.

You'd been afraid working with Chilchuck would be difficult, if not impossible, but you soon settled into an easy rhythm with him. With the both of you working together, you could cover more ground. Soon you worked out an almost code to signal to each other, quiet warnings and quick clicks of the tongue. 

The traps were sporadic and sometimes difficult to find and prepare for. Sometimes they were triggered by movement, sometimes by pressure. You weren't sure if you would have been able to get through them all alone. 

The labyrinth changed around you as you moved, doors clicking into place or disappearing. Soon you'd been unwillingly shunted off what you'd thought was the main corridor into who knows where. 

Eventually you came to a dead end. Chilchuck huffed in exasperation. "Damnit I'll have to either find some way through this or we'll need to backtrack, which would lose us a lot of time."

"Well if it's going to be a minute until we can move on we might as well stop for a meal now." Senshi said cheerfully. 

He stopped and made a move to unpack. You held up a hand. "hold on! Let me check this area for traps." 

You quickly combed the area. Surprisingly, it was completely clean for about ten feet away from the dead end. Definitely enough to set up a quick camp site. 

Once finished, Senshi began happily unpacking and then slicing up the walking mushroom. You joined Chilchuck in poking around the walls for hidden passageways. 

"There's no traps right around here. Not for another ten feet back" You said. 

"Yup, that's why I'm thinking it's not actually a dead end. Something's gotta move"

You nodded, and continued combing over the wall, poking and prodding at the bricks. 

"That was a really dumb thing you did back there."

You glanced up, affronted. Did you somehow miss a trap? "What? What did I do?"

"You know what I mean!" Chilchuck quietly hissed. "Tackling Izutzumi! There was a solid chance that wouldn't have worked and you haven't built up nearly enough body mass for resurrection to work again! We could have resurrected Izutzumi, I don't know if we could have resurrected you. It's not our job to put ourselves in danger unnecessarily! It's not brave, it's just stupid." 

You bristled and hissed back. "It wasn't like I planned that! I saw someone in danger and reacted. If I'd stopped to make a thought out plan Izutzumi would have died, and I don't know if you noticed but she's not exactly over abundant in body mass herself."

"Yes but she has more than you do! We *have* to keep expectations consistent across all halffoot workers, that's how this works and how the union continues to function. Yeah maybe you're okay with putting your life at risk for a stupid fucking reason but no halffoot should be forced into that!" 

"I'm not part of the union." You shot back. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Izutzumi watching you with a bored expression. Ah. Cat ears.

You switched seamlessly into your native tongue, your voice rising a bit from anger. "When I went into the dungeon there were no regulations and you had to do whatever it took to prove you deserved to be here! Yeah we're both halffoots, but you're a man and you're tall for a halffoot, do you have any idea what it's like to be a tiny halffoot *woman* trying to get people to take her seriously? I learned how to fight and how to do stuff like that out of *necessity* because otherwise I would have been dropped by the wayside! And I don't have a contract with this party, and it might be nice to have another trap guy but they don't actually *need* me, and I'm telling you right now I will NOT be left behind and I WILL do WHATEVER it takes to be a part of this party. I don't give a shit about your fucking union. Let me take my own risks and stop treating me like a goddamn child, I have enough of that from the other races." 

You were half yelling by the end of that and your face was flushed and hot.  How dare he try and sit there and talk you through how halffoots were exploited like you hadn't gone through it too? Preaching on his fucking high horse. 

Chilchuck scowled, but he looked just slightly taken aback. He'd glanced at Izutzumi when you did and probably had picked up what you had, because he answered in the same language. "You don't have... Fuck you're right. I can probably negotiate one for you, you really don't have to do stuff like that just to be in this party. Why does it even matter to you so much? You don't need to stay here, you don't need to be doing this, we can just send you back. Marcilles all shy about it but they can learn the home spell from their book I bet. She picks stuff up real fast." 

You grit your teeth and pointed an accusatory finger at him. "Tell me. ONE. personal fact. About yourself." 

He blinked, mouth hanging open before he snapped it shut. "What?" 

"I've heard Marcille referencing her school, Laois talks about his sister and a bit about his village, Senshi won't shut up about the stuff he's into, and Izutzumi is Izutzumi, but YOU don't share SHIT. so if you want ME to start sharing you better fucking open up too buddy."

"I- that's not- what- I keep my personal and professional life very separate!"

You grinned. "Then don't expect me to be any different." 

Chilchuck opened his mouth to retort, before shutting it again. Then he shrugged. "Yeah that's fair, keep your reasons to yourself, I'll negotiate you a contract anyway, just forms sake." 

You put your hand down, the wind a bit let out of your sails. You hadn't expected him to back down so easy and you felt oddly...disappointed. it'd been a bit since you'd had a really good knock down drag out argument. 

"Food is ready!" Senshi said "Come and eat while it's hot!" 

Taglist, ask to tag:

@hopefully-not

@night-shadowblood-writes2

@thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry

@dunmeshimeshi

@leguink 

@gh0st-spider

@reh-llik

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@qardasngan

@mshope16

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@anaxnee

[rei-ismyname]

X-MEN #7 From The Ashes

Possibly the biggest downside to the circular, repetitive nature of X-Men comics is that real life is awful enough. Jettisoning the hope of the Krakoan age for the misery porn of From The Ashes feels kinda callous and depressing in a world where there are multiple ongoing genocides and the USA just said yes to fascism again. Nevertheless, join me in some light escapism - a little Magneto goes a long way. Spoilers for X-Men #7.

I've also been spelling Jed Mackay's name wrong. Sorry

Running throughout this issue is Magneto's flashback to The Iron Night. The 'this is Logan behaviour' exchange from the previews has been all over my dash and it's great to get more of this dynamic. It's fantastic to see someone in universe say it out loud - Logan is a whiny little bitch, often a hypocrite, and can be blind to his immortality privilege. Scott knows that better than anyone - his wife's boyfriend throws a tanty like no other. They love him, but it's another reason why he's not the best Wolverine. I hope 'Logan behaviour' sticks around in the fandom.

This is Logan behaviour, Idie

I appreciate the informal nature of the Piper discussion. For one, you don't want to scare the kid or make her feel unwelcome. Idie said that she 'couldn't wait for you (Cyclops) and Magneto' re: Idie - having Psylocke be the one to spell it out for her is effective. The X-Men IS a team and the stakes are incredibly high. Besides, as Beast said in my first screenshot they have a Cerebro. This test could have been done from afar without the risk, and it's implied that it was.

I'm enjoying seeing Idie behaving compassionately, but it looks like she's got some serious anger and mistrust of authority (both justified) from Krakoa. It's great she's getting this kind of character focus and I hope it's followed up on. So many threads and beats have been setup that are likely to be disrupted by the Raid on Graymalkin event kicking off next week, but I'll reserve my judgement on that for when this first arc is concluded.

This is Logan behaviour, wild sentinel.

Gotta love Max and Scott's friendship being shown as they drink crappy beers and bask in Magneto rhetoric. I don't want to question the expert, but is this sentinel Wild or wild? It's clearly not an ORCHIS Iron Man model, but Wild Sentinel has a very specific meaning.

Okay, clearly Wild. It's not attacking either of them, though. Kind of Cyclops to spell out the Star Trek Borg adaptive schtick they've got going on. This is the action scene of the issue, the mandated violence.

'Why is that leopard eating our faces?'

I don't mean that entirely pejoratively either. I'm just as susceptible to the Magneto and Cyclops power fantasy as the next person, though it's a bit of a dirty trick to wait until issue 7 to show it.

This is NOT Logan behaviour, Magneto.

Sigh. I love your sense of drama Magneto. Play to the crowd, old man. I hope your monologue doesn't become ironic. Oh wait, we already know it has. This could have been a clever moment.

Uh oh, looks like his knees are weak and arms are heavy. Vomit on his sweater already...

So we see the moment Mags' powers start to shit the bed, right after a Wild Sentinel attack. I'd be suspecting Cassandra Nova's involvement just off these two data points tbh. Which idiot resurrected her anyway?

Oh, fuck off. Logan behaviour, Mackay.

R-LDS sounds like horse shit to me. Scott says 'we don't know that for sure' so how does this speculative condition have an acronym already? Mags is speaking as if it's a fact, but he doesn't even have the same body The Five resurrected. Maybe he has Umari-Key-Waiting Room-Brashear Portal Syndrome. Obviously he's scared but this feels like an idiot ball moment, and a cynical jab at Krakoa. The Five was something they got right, even with Sinister in the mix. The implications would be insane. 16 million Genoshans were resurrected, 250k Krakoans (give or take), a whole bunch of vulnerable human children via The Phoenix Foundation, Captain America, and 1000 fucking years of Sinisterized clones etc that had nothing of the sort.

No, there's way too many data points that apply to Magneto alone to make seriously considering The Five's resurrections as the source of patient zero's malady. It would be scientifically irresponsible to get to the point of naming it and then an acronym for that. Mags is good enough at science to know this, and Beast is too. I'm no scientist, but it manifested during a fight with a Wild Sentinel. I assume they have better resources than the Marvel wiki I'm using, but that robot/Cassandra Nova is my prime suspect - the lady they know for certain to be involved in ongoing genetic fuckery - activating X-Genes. Though not Piper Cobb...

Or yes Piper Cobb? Smash cut cliffhangers aside, this would be a great time to retcon Homo Sapiens Superior right the fuck out of existence. It's never made sense, and not just the 'Superior' part. Again, I'm not a scientist but I'm certain that's not how phylogeny works. They're mutated humans, but I don't live in 616 which canonically operates on impossible physics, so idk. My fingers are crossed but my expectations are nil.

That is Logan behaviour, masked kidnapper

Okay, we'd known from solicits that Beast would be getting beat down in captivity at Graymalkin. I had speculated he'd give himself up to get inside, but the ol' bag over the head works too. I dig his outfit.

X-Men #7 is worth reading IMO, and it's one of the better ones based off Magneto content alone. Last issue I wrote that the formula was becoming easier to spot, and I stand by that. A handful of character moments, some new information about one of the ongoing mysteries but it piles more questions on top of half answers and speculation. For example, we get to see Scott and Max fight a sentinel and be friends. There's new information there but a LOT more questions. The characters are at the point of absurd speculation which raises tension but doesn't make them look very competent. To kick off the event 'Raid on Graymalkin' they went with a final page bag over the head instead of any choice and comic book events notoriously derail everything so friends can argue and punch each other.

All that said, it's only *just* acceptable in my opinion - and that's the best I can say for the rest of the line too. We know that there's been ongoing issues with writers simply not knowing major Krakoan plot points, though they probably have the excuse that they were writing before FOTHOX/ROTPOX ended. Surely there's someone in charge of overseeing all this, like Hickman was as Head of X. *Looks at the credits* Tom Brevoort - Conductor of X... That's a fancy way to say 'line editor/hatchet man.' I'll stop there and save it for the From The Ashes piece I'm doing, but spoilers: I'm not impressed with how this guy keeps failing upwards.

What did you think? Thanks for reading.

[atinylittlepain]

Marcus Pike x f!reader

(there is no masterlist for this man, good luck to this man)

He's looking for something other than vanilla, and she is more than happy to provide such a service to him.

warnings | 18+ this is smut, pegging, rimming, sucking and fucking, sex work, lowkey sugardaddy!marcus, sweet shy marcus getting his world rocked, and then pancakes and a blackberry and a black american express card so ya know, the works.

a/n | this was written LAST MAY woof - i think originally it was supposed to be for the first round of the PMAMC (also woof) but she's here now :') special thanks to @wannab-urs for resurrecting this fucker. there is a part two... just sayin

..............................

The first thing she notices about him is that he’s nervous. He keeps loosening and tightening his tie, eyes glancing around in quick, anxious sweeps. He’s definitely never been here before, she would’ve remembered a face that handsome, strong jaw under a little scruff and big brown eyes that set a smile tugging at her lips when he finally meets her gaze. 

“Hey there, handsome, welcome in. First time?” His eyes drop down to the floor, a clipped laugh coming out as she steps closer to him.

“Am I that obvious?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes crinkled in a shy smile that sets warmth spreading in her chest, bringing a delicate palm to his shoulder.

“Just never seen you around before, that’s all. What brings you to Pandora’s tonight?”

“Well, I, uh– I wanted to– um–” He cuts his own rambling off, jaw slack as he watches a man in head to toe latex walk by, being led on a leash by one of her coworkers. 

“Hey, don’t worry about them. I wanna know what you want. Would you feel more comfortable talking some more in one of our private rooms?” Eyelashes fluttering, spine arched, she knows exactly how to reel them in, noting the dip and bob of his throat as he nods.

“I– yeah, um, yes please.” Manners, she likes that. She slips her hand down his arm, taking his hand before turning heel and tugging him down the dark hallway, taking them into one of the vacant playrooms. It’s one of the tamer rooms, a four poster bed in the middle, red silk sheets, and a dark chest of drawers off to the side full of all sorts of fun. She guides him to sit down on the end of the bed beside her, his hands immediately going to his thighs in a nervous squeeze. His eyes are still darting everywhere, but mostly to the tops of her breasts, pressed up in the strappy leather corset she has on, though he doesn’t let his gaze linger there long before jerking his eyes back up to her face. 

“You don’t have to be nervous, baby. I just want to hear a little about why you came in, and how you’d like to be taken care of tonight, alright?” He nods, clearing his throat a few times before replying.

“I just– you gotta know that I’ve never done anything like this before, really. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to try something different? My, well my ex-wife, I think she thought I was too, um, vanilla. So I guess I want to– not be– um, vanilla anymore. And, Jesus Christ, you probably think I’m crazy, huh?” Somehow, he manages to still be handsome and look like a kicked puppy at the same time, and she has to resist the urge to push his flop of hair back and press a kiss to the crease between his brows.

“Not crazy at all. So when you say not vanilla, what does that mean to you?” When he gives her no answer, eyes only widening as he seems to wrack his brain for what to say, she laughs lightly, bringing a palm to his thigh and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Why don’t we start with the basics? Do you see yourself being more of a dom or a sub?” 

“I– what does that mean, dom and sub?” Oh boy, more basic than the basics then.

“Dom is shorthand for dominant, that’s the person in control in the relationship, and they’re usually the one inflicting any pain, if you’re into that. And sub means submissive, that’s the person who follows the dom’s commands, who gets taken care of.” 

“Oh, right, that makes sense. I mean, I don’t think I’d be very good at being in control like that, so I guess, more submissive?” I’ll say. She offers him a nod and smile, still trying to coax some of his anxiety out of him.

“Sounds good, handsome. If it’s alright with you, I can be your partner for the night. Let’s get some paperwork for you and then we can get started, ok?” He only nods, something she’s going to have to work on with him.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to always use your words with me, alright? That way I know exactly what you do and don’t like.” She says it to him over her shoulder as she rifles through the chest of drawers, getting out a waiver and a pen for him. 

“Uh, yes, ok, I can– I can do that.” She sits back down beside him with a hum, passing him the paperwork, watching his brow furrow as he reads over it.

“That’s a list of kinks we do and don’t participate in. Are there any that you’re particularly interested in exploring tonight?” Another clear of his throat, keeping his eyes glued to the paper when he responds.

“Do men– do men really like that? I mean, I’ve heard of it, but, does it feel good?” She looks over his shoulder to where his finger is pointing, her lips crooking into a smile when she sees what’s caught his attention.

“Mmhmm, it can be very pleasurable, with an experienced partner, of course.”

“And you– are you, um, experienced?” Her smile broadens into a grin at his question, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“Oh baby, I’m very experienced. Is that something you’d like to try out tonight?” He seems to consider it, his eyes darting from her lips back up to her gaze a few times before he finally nods.

“Fuck it, yeah, I wanna do that. But is it ok if that’s the only thing we do on this list? I don’t think I’m really into the whole– chains and whips thing.” She laughs at that, giving his shoulder a squeeze as she nods.

“Whatever you want. Just need you to sign that waiver which basically affirms that we’re all clean here at Pandora’s, and you are too. You’re familiar with our pricing, right? It’s three hundred for an hour, and five for two.” 

“Is it ok if I do two?”

“You’re the customer, honey. What you say goes.” With a decisive nod, he ticks the box next to two hours on the form, signing his name on the dotted line before handing her back the pen and paper.

“Nice to officially meet you, Marcus. You can call me Daisy, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” As she sets the paperwork down on the chest of drawers, he lets out a light laugh, drawing her attention over her shoulder.

“That’s not your real name, is it?” Stepping out of her heels, she pads back over to him, standing right between his legs, setting down the items she grabbed before guiding his hands onto her hips.

“It’s not, is there something else you’d like to call me for the night?” He takes a sharp inhale as she drags his hands from her hips, up and up until his palms are cupping her breasts through her corset.

“I, um– Daisy’s good, yeah.” Letting her hands fall away from his, his eyes search hers, obvious in looking for permission that she’s happy to give.

“You can touch me, Marcus, whatever makes you feel more comfortable.” 

“Can I take this off of you?” His fingers are toying with the laced-up front of her corset, which she lightly bats away.

“It’s a little tricky, let me.” She makes deft work of unlacing the garment, a known path for her fingers that usually bores her, though there’s a little kick of something else, him watching her and the fine flicker of her hands. Marcus lets out a laugh at the grin she offers him, fizzling in his throat when she lets the corset fall away to reveal herself to him, standing before him in only her barely-there shorts. The heat of his hands just hovers over the swell of her breasts, and she can’t help the sigh that thrums in her throat when he finally lets his palms press against her skin. It’s not often that a client affects her like this, and she has to clear her throat to refocus on the real task at hand.

“Why don’t we get you out of your clothes? Sit back for me.” She’s undone dozens of ties, worked her fingers through miles of shirt buttons, and doesn’t even have to look to get trousers unfastened now, but she can’t shake the prickle running up her spine at the way his eyes follow every movement, and she can’t hide the shudder that runs through her when he tentatively tucks her hair behind her ear as she works his pants down his hips. 

“Have you been doing this for long?” She shoots him a look from her spot between his legs, his pants discarded to leave him in just his briefs.

“Are you really trying to make small talk?” Oh, he’s blushing now. She likes that, crawling closer and dipping her head down to press a kiss to the center of his chest before dragging her lips up and up, catching at the bob in his throat before letting her mouth just hover over his, feeling the shaky pants of his breath.

“There’s no need for that, Marcus. I’m gonna take care of you now, and I need you to tell me what you like, and what you don’t, do you understand?” His voice comes out a little hoarse, and she can feel the thrum of it where her chest is brushing against his.

“Yes, I understand.” A grin is all she gives him, ducking down before his lips can meet hers as she lets her mouth drag a trail down his torso until she’s nipping at the waistband of his briefs. 

“Can I take these off?” When all he does is nod, she gives his hip a light pinch, something between a laugh and a grunt jumping from his chest at the sensation.

“Yeah, you can take them off, I– sorry.” She smoothes her palm over the spot she pinched, smiling up at him.

“That’s ok, baby. Just remember your words for me.” He can’t be real, that’s all she can figure when she gets him totally bare before her, his cock a perfect pink that matches the flush on his chest, thick enough to set her jaw aching in anticipation, and long, pre-come smearing in the tuft of hair over his pelvis. She can’t help but wonder why the fuck anyone would ever want to leave him when he’s this pretty to look at. 

“Can I touch you? Get you warmed up for me?” He’s propped up on his elbows to watch her kneeling between his legs, lips swollen from how much he’s been biting them, slightly parted in something like wonder.

“Yeah, yes, please.” 

“Hmm, I like a boy with some manners. Just relax, Marcus, and remember, I’m here to take care of you.” With that, she presses a kiss just below his belly button, smiling against the twitch of his muscles before dipping down and letting her lips ghost over the underside of his cock. It’s involuntary, the hum she lets out when she takes him fully into the heat of her mouth, relaxing her throat like she’s learned to do, a necessary move in order to take all of him. And he’s perfect beneath her, thighs flexing under her splayed palms, low moans rumbling in his chest as she alternates between swallowing him down and lapping at his leaking tip. She knows she’s done her job, that she’s loosened him up, when those moans start to get a little louder, a little more drawn out, and he slumps down off his elbows to run a hand through his hair, eyes scrunched shut. A kiss over one hip, then the other, keeping her palm steady on his heaving belly while she reaches for the lube, his eyes squinting open to see why she stopped. 

“You ever used lube before?” 

“No, never needed to, I guess.” 

“Well it’s gonna be your best friend tonight. I’m gonna warm a little up in my palms and then I’ll let you get used to the feel of it, ok?” He hums out an mmhmm, watching her hands rub in quick circles, his eyes following the subtle shake of her breasts with the movement. And when she gets her hands on him again, slicking her palm up his cock, a hiss slips through his lips.

“Sorry, is it still cold?” 

“No, fuck– just feels really good.” She grins at that, letting her wrist flick, hand in an easy glide as she slips her palm down to cup the weight of his balls, his groan cracking and shooting up an octave, hips jolting at the sensation. 

“Has no one touched you like this before, baby?” 

“I– Jesus, no– no one’s done that before.” 

“Well that’s just not right. Feels good, huh?” A little squeeze to punctuate her question sets another moan loose in his chest as he presses his head back into the sheets.

“Y-yes, feels really good.” She nudges his thighs open a bit more, letting her hand slip down lower, not pressing, but circling, gauging how he reacts as she keeps her other hand easily stroking his cock. 

“Remember, need you to tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. We can stop at any time. Do you like what I’m doing right now?” His eyes are still shut tight, one hand fisted in his hair, the other tangled in the sheets, pleasure pulling his whole body taut.

“Yeah, I like it. It’s, hah– it’s different, good, different good.” His words go a bit slurred when she presses her finger forward, opening him up as he lets out another breathy moan. 

He takes it well, whimpers and moans crackling in his throat as she starts a steady thrust, only pausing to work a little more lube over her hand. 

“Doing so good for me, Marcus. You wanna try taking a little more?” He sits up on his elbows, surprising her a bit with his firm reply.

“I want more, want you to use that on me, please.” He tilts his head over to the strap laying on the end of the bed, once again catching her off guard.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He tilts his head at her, a crooked smile on his face.

“Didn’t you say something about the customer always being right?” She lets out a real laugh at that, shaking her head at him as he just grins, clearly pleased with himself. 

“I guess so. Alright, handsome, why don’t you get on your hands and knees for me? We’ll take it nice and slow.” He seems a bit taken aback by that request, his smile going a little slack as she gets off the bed to step into her harness, though he catches himself, clearing his throat and shifting around on the bed into the position she asked for.

She can’t help herself, getting back on the bed and kneeling behind him, laying a quick pat to his very cute ass that has him craning his neck over his shoulder to look at her.

“Sorry, just looks so good I had to give it a little tap. You ready for me?” He hums his assent as she slicks her fake cock in lube, bringing one palm over his low back in a reassuring circle as she scoots in closer. 

“Just relax, Marcus, this is about you feeling good. That’s it, open up for me.” She works her strap in slow, curling over him to press her lips in a murmuring of praise into his shoulder blades as he whimpers beneath her, his hands fisted tight in the sheets. 

“How’re you feeling, baby? Is it too much? We can go back to what we–”

“No, no. I just– just need a minute, fuck– didn’t think it’d feel this good.” She’s not being professional about this, she knows it too, but she doesn’t care. A professional would be checking the clock, making sure that he gets his before his time is up. A professional wouldn’t be laying kisses over his shoulders, whispering to him that he’s doing so good, that he can take it, that he’s so pretty like this. But nothing about the way she wants him right now feels professional, the way she wants to take care of him, to make him feel good, to keep him feeling good for as long as she can.

“Just say the word. I move when you want me to.” 

Slow and smooth, nothing but patience and permission in how she fucks him, her hips slotting with his again and again and again, simmering down into a close press, her chest draped over his back and her hand working his cock in time with her thrusts when he finally unravels beneath her. He slumps down onto his forearms, a slur of curses punching out of his lungs as she runs her palms up and down his shuddering back. But what he does next is so unexpected she finds herself at the mercy of his movements. The moment she pulls her hips away from his, he turns over underneath her, still catching his breath as his hands find her hips, insistent and harsh in the way he pulls her down onto the bed. He’s certainly a sight, cheeks flushed and hair perfectly mussed up in every direction, his eyes blown dark and wide as he hovers over her.

“Can I take care of you now? Is that allowed?” A professional would say no, that his time is up, get him a towel and a glass of water and process his credit card.

She doesn’t say no.

He fumbles a bit with the straps of the harness, letting out an impatient groan that makes her giggle, quick to bat his hands away and make easy work of shimmying the whole thing down her legs. And the smile he gives her as she does is downright sheepish.

“That’s, uh, a bit tricky.” She brushes his hair back out of his face, thumb settling against the dimple in his cheek, a move that’s entirely too sweet and she knows it.

“Just a little. I’m all yours now though.” He doesn’t waste any time, ducking his head down to press a sweet kiss over the top of her breast that turns salacious when he slides his tongue down over the tight peak of her nipple, her back arching up into the heat of his mouth as he lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin. His hands are splayed around her hips, greedy and insistent in the way his fingers curl and press into her ass, lifting her hips up to slide her tiny shorts off her legs before he settles back between her thighs, his nose brushing against her twitching stomach, dark eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Is this ok? Can I taste you? Make you feel good like that?” He steals a move from her book when all she does is nod, his hand that’s still curled around her hip laying a gentle pinch to the swell, his grin going boyish as she huffs out a laugh.

“Can I have your words, Daisy, please?” She tilts her head at his shy question, enjoying the flushed flare creeping up his cheeks.

“Hmm, you’re a fast learner, huh? Yeah, baby, I want your mouth, Want you to make me feel good.” 

It’s not that she had been expecting him to be bad at it. But she also hadn’t been expecting him to be so fucking good either. Head thrown back, thighs trembling around his scruff, moaning his name good. He’s not precious about it, licking a flat stripe through her cunt before letting his tongue catch on her clit in a harsh press, dipping back down to lap up the slick pooling at her entrance, a continuous circuit of pleasure that has every muscle in her body tensing up. He groans low in his chest when she rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging just a bit unkindly when his teeth graze her clit. One large palm snakes up to grasp at the swell of one of her breasts, his other hand pressed across her pelvis to keep her spasming hips still as he fucks her with his tongue, the strong hook of his nose dragging across her clit with each pass. And it hits her all at once, that snare of pleasure snapping hot and hard as she comes with a stilted moan of his name, her heel pressing between his shoulder blades, keeping him exactly where he is, and he continues to work her over as she comes undone on his mouth. 

She tugs at his hair again when it becomes too much, her hips jolting at the thrumming chuckle he lets out when he finally pulls away, resting his cheek against her hip while she tries to catch her breath. They lay like that for a hiccup of time, just staring at each other, a dazed smile on his glistening lips that she knows is mirrored in her own hazy grin. Eventually she lets out a long sigh, reaching out for him and thumbing away some of her arousal that’s smeared across his jaw. 

“Do you wanna, like, get a burger or something?”

“Is that– is that a part of my two hours?” “Oh baby, your two hours were up a while ago.”

…

He’s waiting for her right outside the club, and she mentally kicks herself for having worn sweats and a hoodie in for her shift earlier, though he doesn’t seem to mind, smiling big and broad when she steps outside to join him. 

“I know you said burgers, but there’s a diner around the corner that does the best pancakes in DC. Sound good to you?” She likes this version of him too, confident, certain, a bit old-fashioned with the way he holds his arm out for her to take like they didn’t just wreck each other a few moments ago, letting her hold onto him the whole walk over to the diner, opening the door for her, the whole chivalric production.

It’s so late at night, they’re virtually the only people in the place, tucking into a cracked vinyl booth and putting in their order, pancakes and scrambled eggs and bacon, the works. And they share every last bite, having both clearly worked up an appetite after their evening together.

Though he’s vague about it, she can suss out for herself that he’s some sort of higher-up government type, she knows them well, and in turn, she answers his questions about her, that her work at Pandora’s is good enough to be supporting her through college, Marcus seeming to perk up when she tells him she’d like to be an art teacher one day. He’s older than her, at least enough to have already been married and divorced, but she can’t find it in herself to care about that, too busy enjoying their easy conversation, the subtle game of footsie they have going on under the table, and the way he smiles at her, all of his attention on her. It’s so strange, so different, so starkly contrasted to the way her nights usually go, not that she minds the simple rotation of disinterested clients, but she hasn’t had someone look at her, really look at her the way Marcus is, in quite a while. 

“I have to admit, I wasn’t really expecting my night to end like this.” Plates long cleared, each of them nursing a mug of coffee as the first sweeps of dawn start to light up the streets outside, she smiles at his admission.

“Good surprise or bad surprise?” He grins at her question, leaning in on his elbows like he has the wildest secret to tell her.

“Really good surprise. I mean, I just think you’re– amazing. Fuck, is that weird of me to say?” She mirrors him, leaning in on her elbows, a smile threatening to quirk her lips.

“Hmm, no, it’s cute. For the record, I think you’re kinda amazing too.” Their faces are so close, and she realizes all at once that she hasn’t even kissed him yet.

“Only kinda, huh? Guess I didn’t do my job then.” She can almost feel the curve of his smile as she laughs at his simpering response, the sound getting swallowed when he closes the space between them, pressing his lips to hers. And he’s good at this too, his palm coming to cup her jaw, thumb stroking along her cheek as he deepens the kiss, licking into her mouth and nearly melting her on the spot. Though it’s over too soon for her liking when they get interrupted by someone clearing their throat in front of their table, pulling away to see the rather annoyed looking waitress setting their check down and shuffling away with a sour side-eye. She opens her mouth to protest when Marcus reaches for his wallet, but he waves his hand, black American Express glinting in the diner’s fluorescent lights.

“Don’t worry about it, baby, I’ve got it. It’s the least I can do after going over my two hours.” She can tell he means it as a joke, a flippant remark, but her stomach still sinks at even the suggestion of this still being a business transaction. It’s a sore spot for her, and though she’s more than comfortable with the work she does, her exes hadn’t been, nor had they been kind about it for that matter.

Busy signing the check, Marcus doesn’t notice the way her face falls, and she’s already out of the booth and halfway out the door of the diner when he finally calls out for her, further rubbing salt in the wound when the name he uses is Daisy. 

“Woah, woah, hey, what happened in there?” The hand he hooks around her bicep is gentle but insistent, and she can’t help the tears threatening to spill over when he turns her around to look at him in the faint morning light.

“Look, if that’s all this is to you, just business, that’s fine, but I have enough respect for myself to not–” He cuts her off, bringing his broad palm to cup her cheek again, his eyes wide and unwavering.

“Hey, that’s not what this is– I mean, at least not anymore. We did meet under some, ah, particular circumstances. But this isn’t business to me now, if that’s ok with you?” He thumbs away her stray tears, and she nearly goes dizzy with the relief she feels hearing those words from him. 

“I’m sorry, baby, it was a stupid thing to say, wasn’t even thinking.” Baby, it’s the second time he’s called her that. She’s never anyone’s baby, they’re always hers, but she likes it now, coming from him, finding herself smiling into his touch.

“I don’t want you to call me Daisy.” His eyes soften, smile tempering as he nods.

“Ok, what should I call you?” She tells him her real name, and with it, the last shred of her professionalism dissolves, and she doesn’t care one bit. He says her name like he’s rolling a hard candy around in his mouth, slow sugar in each syllable before he presses a kiss between her brows, lips trailing down to catch hers in a sweet smack. 

“Can I see you again? And, definitively not as, um, as business?” It makes her laugh, how quickly he shifts between confidence and constraint. She likes both. 

“I would really really like that, Marcus. Am I giving you my number or are you giving me yours?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, like he’s surprised she actually wants that, though he’s quick to catch himself, clearing his throat and smiling.

“Uh, both? Both is good, right?” They swap phones, and she can’t help thinking to herself that of course this man has a Blackberry, stifling a giggle as she types in her number. 

“Can I walk you to your car? It’s back at the club, right?” 

“Oh, I don’t have a car, actually. Just take the bus to get around.” He doesn’t seem to like that, lips pressing into a thin line as he looks at her.

“How about I get you home this morning? Would that be ok?” Under any other circumstances, she wouldn’t dream of getting into the car of a man she just met, but seeing as she’s already broken a dozen of her cardinal rules with him, she doesn’t think twice about getting into his sleek BMW that’s still parked outside the club. He keeps a palm splayed just above her knee, thumb idly swiping back and forth, a soothing lull as she gives him directions toward her apartment complex. She hates to admit it to herself, but she’s a bit reluctant to get out when he does pull up to her building, leaning over the console for a kiss that he willingly gives her. 

“So I’ll call you?” She lays a kiss to the small patch in his scruff, smiling against his skin when he lets out a huff.

“I’ll answer. Thank you, Marcus, for a really nice night, and morning.”

When she gets inside her apartment, she slumps back against the door, blowing out a long exhale and shaking her head.

“Fuck.” Her boss is going to kill her, but she doesn’t really care. 

[maeve-is-annoying-about-books]

I didn't really wanna talk ahead of the Dungeon Meshi anime but I had this thought bugging me as I was skimming the manga. So, spoilers for what's to come.

I don't think it's any coincidence that Laios' party, out of a cast of infinitely more capable people, makes it to the final floor of the Dungeon. Why? Cause they aren't heroes.

Look at Kabru, he's the poster boy for anime protagonists. He has a tragic backstory, a personal beef with the dungeon, skills trained by a master of the crafts, and a large party who seems genuinely friendly together. He has everything going for him to one day dive to the bottom and gain closure for his story but he just can't. He never will, because the dungeon does not work on his logic. It turns out that there is no plot armor against hearing a siren sing for the first time.

What about Mithrun then? Personally wronged by the Demon, he's the paradigm of vengeance. A tragic hero who will do anything it takes to get to his goal and probably die achieving it. He has a party full of dark history and interesting dynamics, really laden with moral greyness. Not Berserk but a step closer to it than Kabru's story. But he is, unfortunately, also a classic hero archetype, and although his skills are impressive they aren't fit for the ecosystem around him, singleminded vengeance will see you killed by changelings, the cold, or starvation.

Shuro, it's gotta be Shuro right? A man from a distant land but a familiar one to the primary readerbase. He goes back to train, hone his mind, collect a party, and save the love interest from a cruel fate. Perhaps he will learn there is no saving her, and tragically be forced to slay the monster she's become. His journey ends the second Faligon dies, so he has no chance, ever, of becoming the Dungeon Lord. There doesn't need to be any extra traps to deter him, he'll get what he wants at the fourth level and be gone, his desire simply isn't pointed that way.

Laios, on the other hand. None of his party are heroes, they're all here for selfish reasons and have absolutely zero illusions about heroics and greater goods. Laios is here to save Falin, he only wants his sister to be safe. And to eat and document monsters. Marcille is here for forbidden magic and Falin, and her two desires coincide with her resurrection. Chilchuck is here because he got paid up front and can't leave without rumors spreading. Senshi was always here and he just wants to live in peace with nature. None of them have heroic intent, broadly. But it also means they don't have heroic conceit either.

Laios' party will eat anything. They'll run from battle, take shortcuts. They treat monsters not as grand challenges to overcome but something to fight for their lives with. With their teeth if need be. There is no honor here there is only living. Honor gets you strangled by treasure bugs. Revenge will see you abandon your party to giant spiders for the mere shot at your target. Duty sees you skipping meals because your goal is so important. It is striking how different the dungeon is between Laios and the others. They all treat the dungeon as their personal hell to be striven against and conquered, only Laios sees it as an extension of the living world and understands his place in it. And I think that is so fucking cool, it's so multifaceted. Like, their exact skill set is perfect for getting through the dungeon because of how they all treat it. But also because the dungeon wants them there, because they have very personal, strong desires. Desires that shape their skills, and desires shaped by their skills in a kind of Ouroboros.

And it's an interesting question of how much of both factors into their progress in the story.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Who do you think are the ten core characters of the series? Is there a difference for you between importance to narrative/narrative roles and regularity in appearance for you?

Yeah, appearance count and narrative role aren't the same thing. Like, a character can be super plot-relevant or relevant to the themes but not have much on-page time.

And it's a damn hard question. Like, HP has so many characters, but a lot of them are like, random NPCs, so let's see if I can do this without bias for my favorites (since the bias is here). The order isn't necessarily in the right order, but it's the order in which they came to my mind.

The first 3 core characters for the plot/narrative are obvious:

1. Harry Potter

2. Voldemort

3. Dumbledore

I think Harry is an obvious choice as the main character and narrator. I don't think he needs further explanation.

Dumbledore and Voldemort are examples of characters who technically don't have as much on-page time but are so incredibly integral to the narrative. I mean, in book 7, Voldemort is barely there, and Dumbledore is dead, but both of them are still at the helm of the narrative.

So, yeah, these gotta be the top 3.

The next 3, I think, are:

4. Ron Weasley

5. Hermione Granger

6. Severus Snape

Like, Ron and Hermione are Harry's best friends. They are super integral to the plot and narrative of the books and appear more than any other character besides Harry. Ron represents the wizarding world, he is the main member of Harry's surrogate family (the Weasleys) so he's so incredibly integral. Hermione is the brilliant muggleborn, she is eleven both for her active part in the story and also for what she is in this world with the blood status tensions.

Snape, while not appearing as much, is instrumental to the narrative as a whole and to how the plot goes down. Snape, as the double-triple agent that he is, is also pretty representative of the story's themes of love and sacrifice, which supports his narrative importance.

Then, the final 4 to reach 10 are a bit of a struggle for me, and I feel my biases rearing their head, but I'd go:

7. Sirius Black

Sirius is the first real parental figure who's competent and whom Harry truly trusts. Sirius' existence is both important to the themes (the black sheep of the Black family) and more so to Harry's personal arc. His death and Harry's grief over it are so prevalent in Harry's story far into Deathly Hallows. Also, he's relevant to the Secret Keeper plot and James' and Lily's deaths.

8. Reberus Hagrid

Hagrid is the person who introduces so many of the ideas we know of as part of the Wizarding World. He's Harry's (and ours) first guide to the magical world and remains instrumental in getting Harry and Co useful information throughout the books.

9. Peter Pettigrew

I mean, none of us would be here without this rat. He got James and Lily killed, he resurrected Voldemort, and he then accidentally saved Harry at Malfoy Manor. He's surprisingly important.

Number 10 was the hardest, and I considered a few characters, but I decided to go with:

10. Lily Potter

Lily has little to no page time. We don't know about her as much as we know about James, but I think she's more integral to Harry's story. She represents love strong enough to rebound a killing curse. She saved Harry, and her sacrifice protects him quite literally throughout the books. It's why he defeats Quirrell in book 1, it caused Voldemort to keep him alive long enough to escape in book 4, and it's potentially why he came back after dying. Lily and her death are big themes in the books for what it represents and what she represents more than just her as a character.

Both Lily and James haunt Harry's narrative, but I feel Lily does so a bit more. There's a reason "you have your mother's eyes" is emphasized so much. Harry at his core, is more similar to Lily than James. That and the love Lily represents are core aspects of the story.

So, these are my picks, I tried to be as objective as I could, 🤷🏻‍♀️

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Since I personally don't see enough Aym/Baal content, how about Aym and Baal x reader (separate)? Where the reader, who is a lamb, gets sacrificed and is basically the lamb in the game. But every time the reader appears in Narinder's realm after perishing, they're constantly flirting with him. They consistently compliment everything about him and are just.. practically obsessed with him (not in a weird way).

Oh yeah! We gotta give them more love tbh (also I'm not 100% sure if you meant flirting with Narinder or the brothers, but I'll assume the brothers)

.....

Aym

At first he thinks you're incompetent as a vessel, given the number of times you've perished to something stupid and ended up in Narinder's realm...

And then he realizes you're literally dying to see him (which is no exaggeration), but he's just confused and irritated by your attitude, thinking you're taking full advantage of his master's power.

He doesn't see why you wanna talk to him.

"You know, I love the broody types..not many of us lambs were ever broody-"

"You think serving our master is a joke to you?" He sneers quietly. "The prophecy is to be fulfilled by you. I suggest you act like it. Master, will you send them away-"

"It is not your place to order me around, Aym." Narinder warned. "For I am quite amused by these interactions...I've never seen you become so..flustered." He snickers

At this point, Aym realizes he has no choice but to accept his fate just for his master's amusement-

He is, however, a little flattered when one day you gift him a bracelet made from the bones of your enemies.

It stuns him into silence, only snapping at Baal after you leave and he teases him over it.

Anytime you ask about it thereon, he'll claim that he got rid of it..

But you see it on his wrist, hiding underneath his sleeve.

Even after reuniting him with his mother, she learns of the gift and fawns over how "cute" you two are (with Aym rolling his eyes and trying not to blush).

Baal

While Baal showed concern that you weren't the right fit for being the prophesized liberator, he wasn't as condescending as his brother.

Every time you died, he got to see what fresh new injury killed you, and he wondered why you'd put yourself through this suffering.

Then he realizes you're just trying to revisit his master's realm to flirt with him.

He gets tongue-tied, unsure of how to respond to your compliments, trying to hide his blush behind his staff or clench his jaw so he doesn't smile.

But as much as he appreciates your kindness, he worries for your health despite death being of little consequence to you.

"Doesn't it hurt your cult every time you die in a crusade? Doesn't it hurt...you?"

"Baal, the only thing that hurts is that I can't marry you.." You pout, offering him a camelia flower bouquet. "My followers throw their hearts at me every day...but I feel nothing for them. I've rejected dozens of proposals, because one day I want you to be-"

"So this is why my cult's faith is so low...go back and kill Heket. This is no time for marriage vows." Narinder scorns, sending you away immediately.

When you resurrect Baal, however, you married him on the spot (with Forneus' blessing of course).

Ngl, he's happy and always hoped this day would come. He couldn't say anything before but he can now.

[danishphoner]

Alex Turner talks ditching the 'naiveté' of the previous Last Shadow Puppets album

Alex Turner has made a name for himself in recent years as the slick frontman of British alt-rockers Arctic Monkeys. Though he looks the part when he strides in to meet with EW — perfectly coiffed hair, a bright turquoise suit, and a pristine white linen shirt unbuttoned to the chest — Turner isn’t promoting new music from his most popular project.

Instead, he’s joined by Miles Kane, the former frontman of the Rascals, who created the Last Shadow Puppets with Turner back in 2007, well before the Arctic Monkeys were rocking stadiums and Olympic stages. Kane and Turner have reconvened the group — which also includes super producer James Ford (Florence + the Machine, Haim) and string mastermind Owen Pallett (Arcade Fire, Beirut) — for the follow-up to 2008’s The Age of Understatement.

Where Understatement was a syrupy homage to the likes of Scott Walker, Kane and Turner introduce a more worldly sensibility on Everything You’ve Come to Expect, which includes raucous jams (“Bad Habits”), sly Brit-pop (“Dracula Teeth”), and serene ballads (the title track). Turner attributes the shift on the new album, which dropped earlier this month, to newfound maturity: “That naiveté we shared has long since gone the way of old flesh.”

Kane and Turner sat down with EW to discuss why they chose to resurrect the Last Shadow Puppets, recording at Rick Rubin’s studio, and whether they’ll release a third album.

Written by Eric Renner Brown Photography by Zackery Michael

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: The Last Shadow Puppets haven’t released a record for nearly a decade. Why now? How’d you get the band back together? ALEX TURNER: In the last eight years, Miles and I have seen each other a lot, James and I have seen each other, those two probably bumped into each other now and again, but the three of us being together was quite rare. We talked occasionally, like, “Maybe we’ll do another [record]” but it started to seem like it wasn’t going to happen. Then there was this one night and we were all back in Miles’s flat. Some other people got talking about it and we were like, “Oh f–k, yeah, we could give it another roll of the dice.” We woke up the next day and were like “Oh god, we’re going to have to follow this through now.”

And so then, was it just immediately writing and recording demos? AT: Me and Miles had already been writing a little bit for what was possibly going to be next. We always thought “Aviation,” which ended up being the first track on the album, had the properties of a Shadow Puppets song, if there is such a thing. Then it became, “Alright, but it’s not enough to stay there. We’ve gotta try and explore other things.” I guess that’s what the next ten songs do. [Laughs]

Are there themes on the album that you’re exploring? Or did you guys just want to play together again? AT: The lyrical side of things was not discussed that much. But the musical side of it was like, yeah, we should definitely explore.

How did working with James Ford contribute to that? AT: Having him agree to do it again was integral. The moment you start discussing the reference material for too long, it becomes stifling to the creative process. One thing that working with [Ford] allows you is you don’t get stuck in that. He says, “OK, we’re going to push you in this direction as far as we can” but [knows] when to stop. That’s what you want.

What did Owen Pallett bring to the table? AT: Last time, we brought [Pallett] in after we [finished recording]. We met up with him once in a hotel room in Manchester — just the fact that we had anything [from him] on [the album] was blowing our minds. When we recorded that, it blossomed into something that we could never envisage before. This time we thought, “Let’s get Owen to do the strings again, but this time let’s get him to come down to the studio. If he’s there, we’ll be able to communicate better.” There was a piano in the other room and he’d kind of — MILES KANE: Whisk in. AT: Yeah, float in and out and then have an idea and shoot off there. Every time we’d be in the control room and the song would end you’d just hear [Pallett] shredding the grand [piano]. It was wicked.

How do you guys plan to take these songs on the road? AT: Last time, we had the orchestra every time. It’s difficult to do that and it’s f–king really expensive. And some rooms you play in, you stick an orchestra in there and it’s not even built for it. This time we’ll have a smaller [group] and adapt the arrangements accordingly. I won’t be doing that, but…

How have you guys changed since the last album? MK: My singing has changed — [becoming] not afraid to sing stuff, which is something Alex would help. Before doing this record, [I’d be] singing in a certain style thinking “Oh, it sounds too weak” or “It sounds too thin.” That door opened up for me [on this record]. AT: This, in the first place, was a chance to try something else. The first Shadow Puppets record was the first time that either of us had tried to really sing like that. The fact that we didn’t quite make the mark is almost one of the things that’s good about it. This time we’re more equipped to sing like that.

I saw that you guys recorded at Rick Rubin’s studio. Did he stop by to provide his wisdom from the couch? AT: He didn’t, no. There’s a machine in the control room where you can bring him up like a hologram, if you’re really stuck. But we resisted turning that knob. It would’ve been embarrassing for James, more than anything else.

It would hurt his cred. AT: How’s he going to take that?

You’ve said this is like the second in a trilogy of Last Shadow Puppets records: How do you see it fitting in with the context of your last one? Do you think you’ll do another? AT: That’s the dream: We’ve got this third one and we’ll tie up all the loose ends. This one, maybe there’s a few loose ends left and next time, sonically, we need resolution. And, you know, so does the world. [Laughs] Some Shadow Puppets resolution.

[brw]

It baffles the mind to me how people will insist Ben Percy's Beast is right and correct and is the natural end version of Hank and that since day one he was always going to end up like that, not just because it implies absolutely nobody has actually read Hank in any pre-Bendis comic ever, but also because Evil Hank as Percy writes him makes everyone look massively incompetent, and I'm not even talking about just X-Force, I mean the entire larger X-Men community.

Emma Frost. World class telepath. Repeatedly is shown to not have that many qualms about digging into people's minds if they're hiding something from her. Confronts Hank at least once directly, and yet did not actually care enough to do anything other than act huffy when confronted with his actions. At most, she was pissed at him ruining her party. You can torture whoever you want, old buddy, but causing an inconvenience at my party? Now I'm mad.

Jean Grey. Even greater telepath. Was on X-Force herself, even, and also does not have many holdups about tearing down people's walls if the needs be. We even see her do just that, but her problem is him keeping things from her, and not the actual content of most of his actions. And after she leaves, she just seems to plug her fingers in her ears and go lalalala? The stuff at the Hellfire Gala, keeping Wolverine as clones, she doesn't care, she's too busy X-Mening.

Wolverine. Epic cool warrior guy who is supposed to be the best there is, whose talents Hank clearly admires enough to clone repeatedly to do his bidding, who is simultaneously a lone wolf and also the guy everyone wants to have on their team, who is the only guy who can see through Hank or whatever. Not competent enough to kill one big blue furry man who has spent the last 5 years at a desk job. That completely alludes him.

Domino has luck based powers that are supposed to help her in any situation, but I guess getting rid of evil blue man is too much to ask. Couldn't even get a bucket propped up under an open door. "He was always like this, he was always evil" she insists, but after learning he's controlling a small nation with plant people at the Hellfire Gala she still busts out the Cha Cha Slide with him on the dance floor.

I guess neither Jean nor Logan bothered to tell Scott his old friend was committing war crimes, because he doesn't seem to know or to give a fuck.

Kitty and Kurt know enough to joke about it, but do they actually confront him? Does anyone care enough to actually try to put a stop to it directly, if they're all seemingly convinced he's beyond help and fundamentally evil? No, they've got other shit going on. No time to care about Hank making a future where he is God-King, we gotta stop Sinister doing that same thing, but I guess when Hank does it, who gives a shit.

Quinten Quire is an omega level telepath who apparently nobody thought to say "hey man, can you use those Phoenix-level abilities to get Beast to stop killing people?". He was too busy giving himself a bigger dick in resurrection protocols, I guess.

I could go on, but point is, I genuinely don't know how you insist that era made so much sense and was the perfect version of Hank and everyone was simply too naive to see that this was who he always was, because it makes everyone look like an incompetent moron! They can't kill one fat blue furry man??? He hasn't done field work in years! And yet that's too much to ask! The only reason he died was because he was in gay love with some fuckass actor from New Jersey. It's deeply embarrassing for everyone involved if that's the reality of things, and I have no idea why you want all of your favourite characters to be incompetent dipshits who think "Wow, isn't Hank evil?" and then refuse to actually do anything about it.

And all this could have been averted if Hank was, you know, Hank. Hank isn't charming and cultured and well-read and funny and polite because he's a good person, those are his innate traits, and as we see with Dark Beast, they can twist in the opposite direction. That would literally be all it would take. I mean a lot of things would still suck, but at the very least, it would make everyone's inability to do anything a little more understandable, and allow things to feel tragic, like that Hank becoming increasingly evil and separated from his ethics is a loss and one we all mourn, instead of the insistence that he was always going to turn out that way.

Emma walks in to try and set things right with Hank, but gets distracted by good conversation and jokes and the same man who treated her as a member of the X-Men when she first joined and not as a heartless monster, who built her piece by piece back together when people were joking that finding out her murderer would be too much work, because everyone wanted her dead. It's hard to connect the evil actions she's heard Hank doing with the kind and charming and personable man in front of her, who matches her intellectually and well and truly respects her, and so she accepts that things are either exaggerated or that Hank will ultimately come back into himself, and that she can trust him not to disrupt her party.

Just a few little moments like that would have gone so far. An evil Hank McCoy is ultimately still Hank, and should still be funny and dropping Aristotle quotes and Shakespeare and being a good friend, because those are not traits exclusively to moral people, and it would make everyone's seeming incompetence a little easier to swallow. It's harder to see the evil actions that Hank is doing for what they are, when he's making you laugh so hard your belly aches or pondering intellectual questions with you, rather than just repeatedly saying "I'M THE BASTARD YOU NEED" before making a torture station in outer space.

There's so many ways this entire arc could have, at the very least, had some intrigue and actual character work to explore, the ways Hank has always used a larger than life persona to deflect and hide, and how that could become increasingly warped if you're dead set on having him be evil, and make the whole thing feel less like a character assassination and more of a tragedy. Hank McCoy becoming evil should hurt. It should feel like a great loss that someone who had been so kind and empathetic and nurturing became increasingly amoral and evil and even sadistic, and all the characters involved should feel that loss, and that even could be why they struggle to actually do anything for so long; they're so loyal to the Hank that once was, they can't see the Hank that is.

But all that is lost when the only character suggesting that something else might be to blame is Colossus, who immediately gets shut down as being ridiculous and silly, and everyone else stands and nods that Hank is really evil now, and isn't that a shame, and maybe he was always like this, but are we actually gonna do anything about it? Nah, we got a party to throw, we gotta get our fancy dresses on.

The entire thing is so unbelievably infuriating, because all it would have taken for someone to actually not even like Hank, but just want to be consistent with prior characterisation and have him be fun. A villainous Hank should ultimately be fun. That's probably the main reason why Dark Beast has endured for so long; he is fun to see and be around. He's a fun character to see on your page. That's what Hank needed. But I guess Sinister was taking that place so instead we got blue Kissinger and it is genuinely such a travesty that this dogshit is celebrated by comic fans who throw up in their mouths if you suggest reading an Avengers comic to broaden their horizons.

[yallemagne]

This might be a little disjointed because it's been a few days since I watched it, but my thoughts on season 2 of X-Men: The Animated Series:

Episode 1 & 2: Till Death Do Us Part

I know they’re having Logan going ham in the Danger Room because he’s in love with Jean, but lalala I can’t hear you, he’s ACTUALLY beating up fake Cyclopses in the Danger Room because of Morph’s death. 

Damn if Logan weren’t, frankly, acting like a little bitch, we could have gotten the Morph reveal much earlier. This is what angsting after a married woman does, Logan. You miss out on precious time with your resurrected bestie with benefits. 

Morph is my silly little pumpkin. Sinister is such a bastard that he lets Morph have temporary self-awareness just to torture them with it. That, or he is just very bad at maintaining his mind control. Anyhow, Morph declares that they’ll have their revenge and switch through different forms “Cyclops! Storm! Wolverine!” And upon turning into Wolverine they fall back on their bed and writhe in agony because that’s their BEST FRIEND. AHHH. 

Morph sending Cherik to the Savage Lands for a deadly date. This is like The Parent Trap but nefarious. 

Morph desperately trying to fight against the mind-control :,0. It's always when they're presented with the promise of being accepted back into the family. All they wanna do is be an X-Man again. 

"You kept me alive! And the evil that's in me! But the worst of us still has some good!" I'm sobbing.

Also yeah. The title is obviously referencing Scott and Jean’s wedding vows. But what if— lissen hear me out hear me out, it’s actually about Wolverine and Morph and their unbreakable bond.

Episode 3: Whatever It Takes

Mjnari, you scared me, boy. He kept getting himself into situations where I was like “YOU BETTER NOT BE MAKING A HEROIC SACRIFICE” and thankfully, no heroic sacrifice, just winning. 

Storm just casually having a son that she's not told anyone about and Rogue being like BABE WHAT??? Babe why did you never tell me you have a child with another woman??

Logan grabbing Morph’s wrists and restraining them behind their back in the weirdest hug imaginable. Gonna headcanon that that’s just how they normally hug because Logan is weird. Gotta use “I’m restraining you” as an excuse to get his arms around someone.

Morph changing between several exes arch enemies of Wolverine while trying to get him off his trail. Hoooo. Morph knows the Deep Lore. 

Episode 4: Red Dawn

Imagine being so stupid you make an indestructible super human who represents your values so well he resolves to murder you for not abiding by those values. And then imagine thawing him even though you couldn’t control him the first time because you want to restart the Soviet Union. Imagine getting through so many steps without thinking of the consequences even once.

Colossus is my sweet baby boy. I love how naively good he is and how it plays off Jubilee, who is also naive as hell. It’s perfectly demonstrated when Jubilee is just like “I’ll just leave a note! ‘Off to stop the reformation of the USSR, food’s in the fridge.’ Okay, let’s go!” And Colossus is like “Yes! Let’s!”

Wolverine gets home from Morph throwing Omega Red in his face during their confrontation to a note saying the runt went ahead to stop Omega Red with no backup?? The timing. 

Episode 5: Repo Man

Canada tries to steal Wolverine’s skeleton what the fuck. 

I appreciate that his old team steps in to save him because they never wanted to drag him back into experimentation, they just wanted their buddy back. 

It’s implied in the flashback in this episode and later on that Wolverine never had bone claws, they’re just a result of the adamantium? Yeah no. Makes no sense. His claws are literally what identify him as a mutant in several interactions. 

Episode 6: X-Ternally Yours

Dog, this weird cult-gang shit makes no sense to me. It’s good that Gambit got away from that nonsense. 

Lol Rogue getting upset that Gambit is getting married but immediately being like AHA when it’s revealed he’s there against his will. 

Episode 7 & 8: Time Fugitives

Absolutely genius having a time travel episode followed by a second time travel episode to fix the previous episode. They got to reuse so much animation, and frankly, I'm proud of them for the creativity they employ to be unoriginal. 

Episode 9: A Rogue's Tale

I already knew Rogue’s backstory, but hell, they really capture the dread of Rogue being forced by her mother to kill another person. There was so much innocence in her voice yelling that she didn’t want to hold on, that it felt wrong. God, I hate Mystique so much for this. Rogue is right in saying Mystique only cared about her powers. Sure maybe she does see her as a daughter, but would she have even spared the girl a second glance if she weren’t such a powerful mutant? Hell no. 

Episode 10: Beauty & the Beast

I was literally musing about how this episode's themes reminds me of Beauty and the Beast... and that's literally the title. 

Graydon Creed: “MUTANTS AND ALL THOSE RELATED TO THEM MUST BE DESTROYED!!!” Me: 👀 are you sure about that you dumb bitch.

Logan infiltrating the Friends of Humanity? Amazing. Showstopping. He did so amazing, bravo. Get this man an award. And y’all know he’s been sitting on the info that Creed is Sabretooth’s son for so long lol. It’s so cathartic of a reveal. 

I wonder… how does this affect Creed? After all, at the end of ’97, it’s said he’s got people rallying behind him as a political candidate. Did people just forget what a dirty snivelling little hypocrite he is? Did news of his parentage never reach the general public? Is it like water under the bridge bc he technically denounces his parents? What’s up with that?

(Aside: they call Sabretooth Graydon Creed Sr.. Yeah, I’d change my name to Victor. The real kicker is that he named his son after himself. No wonder Junior is so mad at his pops.)

Anyhow, even though it’s technically not canon to anything but the movie continuity, I’m gonna keep headcanoning Sabretooth and Wolverine as estranged brothers because I would love to see Logan continuing to hold this over Graydon’s head by telling him to call him ‘Uncle Logan’. 

Episode 11: Mojovision

I Dream of Jean fucking got me. Looks like Mojo’s programming is geared towards me. 

After reading Exiles I’m just sitting here like “:((( I wish Morph was here... Morph would be slaying…”

Episode 12 & 13: Reunion

See, Wolverine uses his claws here, and they have him say his claws aren’t a result of his mutation. Baby what? Now, I think it totally makes sense for his claws to still be functional even in a place where mutant powers are cancelled out. After all, they’re a part of his skeleton. Like if Nightcrawler were there, he wouldn’t lose the ability to move his tail, yeah? Just no teleporting. Is there really like a continuity where the claws aren’t a mutant trait???

Also his hands gotta really hurt doing that without his healing.

Anyhow MORPH MORPH MORPH MORPH

I love Wolvie meeting a fellow Wild Man. 

Morph is my sweet babe I love them so much, you go bitch, you fight that mind control, you shoot at Sinister so Cyclops can hit him with his beams. Go off queen. 

I haven’t really been giving notes about the Savage Lands before now because I found everything about it boring till this episode. And that’s because while I love me some Cherik, those fucks were getting absolutely nothing done. Besides like that one funny moment where Magneto was throwing rocks at a dino and calling it a stupid lizard. 

Love Charles briefing Erik about the steps he's gonna be taking to aid in Morph’s recovery?? So random. Like the present parent trying to get the absentee to get involved in their children’s lives. "We're gonna take Morph to Muir Island... 👉👈 if you want to visit..."

Magneto does not take the hint and bails on family like a coward. We'll get you yet, Magneto, even if it takes killing Charles to get you to provide for the kiddos.

[EDIT: oh yeah btw my thoughts on season 1]

[guplia]

Hello anon! First of all, thanks for the ask! (asks? idk I received three anon asks at almost the same time, it would be weird if they didn't all come from the same person lol)

fic recommendations? read mine /hj Sure! Just note that while I've enjoyed a lot of wips, I'm only gonna recommend completed fics rn.

Okay! Here's all I can remember rn:

"Clouds" by youngmoInactive (fanfiction.net):

Original summary:

"Even though he's a hero, he's still a human. CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH. A nice look into Kai's perspective as he watches a close friend slowly lose a fight for his life."

Okay all I've gotta say on this one is that IT MADE ME CRY. OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Obviously I can't speak for everyone who read this fic but I think this will hurt Lloyd lovers. I have re-read it so many times to the point where I have half the fic memorised word-by-word. This is a must-read.

(if you're on the phone it's better to add "m." To the start of the URL)

"a day in the life of a fatherless child" by holographicknife (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"lloyd has a panic attack *confetti* title suggested by my friend lol loosely based on a crack rp between friend and i   Warning for: mentions of suicidal thoughts and medication, explicit descriptions of a panic attack, including tight chest, difficulty breathing, nausea, and headaches. Proceed with caution."

This is a Kai And Lloyd fic, and I love Kai And Lloyd fics! Specifically ones where they address Lloyd's trauma from Morro and where Kai comforts him. So if anyone's into this sort of stuff I'd recommend it!

"A Courageous Escape" by Lilac_Lily234 (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"In the midst of possession Morro hatred flows freely as he seeks to make Lloyd suffer for taking what he believes as his rightful title, but his cruelty know no bounds; Lloyd however refuses to give up but knows that time is running out, and in his desperation will find either salvation, or death.  - I don't own Ninjago, this is an au"

Ahem... once again, Lloyd goes through pain. A season 5 canon-divergent AU, from which my favourite part was... you guessed it! Lloyd having a panic attack and being comforted! But it's still a cool story besides too, season 5 being one of the best seasons imo.

While this fic is finished, the AU is not but I think this one has a good ending on its own.

"Out for revenge" by lloyd_slander (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Harumi’s plan to resurrect Lord Garmadon failed, during her time in Kryptarium prison she heard about Morro, the master of wind, and guy who had managed to make Lloyd’s life a living hell. Wanting revenge, she doesn’t stop from anything, not even from getting Morro back from the dead. Or The duo we always wanted, but never got. Lloyd is in for a hard time. Head the tags, guys!"

Okay. This one is rated Mature for drug usage and blood (there was nothing sexual though)

So it's a Morro traumatising Lloyd fic again, but this time he's with Harumi! So it's double trouble for Lloyd! (things go VERY BAD for him >:3)

Honestly I can't say much except read the fic, the summary's right there lol.

"Revealed" by Nation_Ustria (Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Lloyd Garmadon is used to being hated. That's just how his life works—if someone knows that he's the son of the warlord who attacks Ninjago City on a weekly basis, they hate his guts. That's why he's made sure that his team—the only people he's ever been happy with—don't know who he is behind the mask, with the small price attached that he doesn't know their identities, either. It's not like they know each other's, anyways, so it's not a big deal. But then they find out. The fact that Lloyd's elemental power makes him an empath doesn't help, either. Basically the premise of the movie pre-reveal with show elements and personalities, and Lloyd's Green Power is him being able to sense and be influenced by the emotions of those around him."

Okay so here's a fic without Morro! (that's cause it's in the movie-verse) Another type of fanfic I like reading is where Lloyd in tlnm keeps his identity secret from the other ninja and it ends up getting revealed (like this one.).

I've seen this fic being recommended more than once and it's one of the fics with the most kudos in the entire fandom on AO3! So 2000 others agree with me on how awesome this fic is!!!

"What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger" by @crystaleclipse10 (CrystalEclipse on Archive of Our Own)

Original summary:

"Lloyd batted Red's hand away. “’m fine.” His head pounded, but at least it was quiet and dark. His hair tickled his nose. “What happened?” “We…didn’t get out in time,” Red whispered. “The missile exploded. We got everyone else out, though.” Lloyd relaxed and slumped forward as pure relief washed over him. They’d done it. They’d beaten Garmadon’s game. They’d freed the civilians and survived. Didn’t feel great, though. ~OR~ Lloyd and Kai get trapped under a building when it collapses, both injured. Angst and bonding ensue."

So it's another tlnm au fic! And this one has Kai And Lloyd bonding specific so I like it!!!

As I was reading this when it was still being updated I was very excited every time a new chapter would come out and my heart hurt for Lloyd each time! It IS worth the read! Just note that while tis fic is completed, the au is not.

"Officer Smith, Do You Copy?" by @hijabiwriter (same username on Archive of Our Own):

Original summary:

"Everyone has their reasons for becoming a police officer. Maybe they were forced. Maybe the profession stood out to them. Maybe they had some experience that prompted the idea of becoming a police officer. But that's only a few reasons. There are others, too. Like for instance, one of these officers is out for revenge."

This fic is entered around Nya, who's a police officer alongside Jay, Cole and Lloyd (for some reason Zane is not in this au/fic). Anyways her dark secrets are explored in every other chapter alongside the progressing story, and of course, an explanation is given to everything in the end.

On a personal note this is the fic where I left my first comment on my Ao3 account lol (the historic moment is on chapter 13!!!)

"Too Late to Say Goodbye" by @greenamethyst16 (same username on Archive of Our Own)

Original summary:

"Kai gets stabbed and Lloyd helps him... :D"

I think length-wise this is the shortest fic on the list but that doesn't make it bad!!! Basically Lloyd downplays his injuries and there are consequences... :D

"All the ways I say "I love you"" by @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off (Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21 on Archive of Our Own)

Original summary:

"Cole loves his team. They're his family and he does everything in his power to keep them safe and steady. He does his best to let them know he cares about them in every way but one.  Or  Seven times Cole couldn't quite say "I love you," and the one time he could."

Note: This story can only be read if you're logged in on AO3.

I like this fic because it encouraged me to remind my own irl friends how much they mean to me. In this story Cole believes that he's "the rock" of the team, and hence he doesn't show his emotions much. He's never told even one of them that he loves them and thinks that they deserve better than him. So stuff happens after that :D

Okay, I've read a lot more than this but this is all I'm gonna write about now cause I'm tired and I think this post has became too long. But if you wanna read more just check out the profiles of the writers! I haven't read everything myself but most of them have other good Ninjago fics to read!

If I've tagged you or mentioned your fic and you want it removed just let me know! I have no problem with removing it! :D