#Power Point slide to other formats

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: THE Space Viking Part 1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

(A continuation of "They Sing Going to War" and its sequel "The one who returns"

The halls of the transport ship were alive with the chorus of boot soles clashing against metal decking. Naval officers making their way between decks for inspections, maintenance teams making inspection rounds between power relays, soldiers marching to and fro between mess halls and their converted barrack units; and through it all a lone officer made their way to their destiny.

To say Jinoc was excited for his position as first Lieutenant would be an understatement. He descended from a long line of military officers and as such had trained in the finest officer schools their homeworld had. His rank pins shun in the dim lighting of the ship and his uniform was pressed to such a crispness a droplet of water would slide off it. Crew and soldiers alike parted before him as he made for the barracks deck.

After seven months of hitching rides on troop transports Jinoc finally strode caught up with his new company as they lay at anchor above the world of “Primus VI”. He had hoped the transit time would have been shorter but with how frequently the company had been engaged in active theaters and ferried off to the next one he had been reduced to playing a game of catch-up until now.

“Soldiers!” Jinoc shouted loudly, “Inspection!”

The soldiers around him did not respond at first and continued milling about. They were a mixture of not knowing who this new officer was, or being consumed in their current activities to have heard his order at all.

Jinoc straightened himself more and stepped further into the barrack deck.

“SOLDIERS!” Jinoc called out in his most authoritative voice. “I SAID, INSPECTION, AT THE DOUBLE!”

This time the soldiers took notice. A subtle wave spread outward amongst them as they tapped each other on the shoulder before quickly shuffling into formation.

Suppressing a grin, Jinoc stood before the company as the grumblings died down and the soldiers waited.

“I am your new First Lieutenant, Jinoc Falgra.”

He started walking up the line of assembled soldiers, stopping every now and then to adjust a soldier’s uniform or call them out for the lack of uniform.

“I have heard of your great deeds and victories, and I look forward to achieving even greater-“

Jinoc stopped his procession as he caught sight of something most strange.

Mixed in amongst the bunks and storage lockers was a large wooden pillar surrounded by candles. Faces of creatures and beings unknown to Jinoc were carved into the wood with a deft hand while the surrounding area was cleared away from all other obstructions, taking up enough room for at least one squad.

At the base of the strange effigy was a lone soldier. Sitting crossed legged with their head hunched over, their midriff was absent of any uniform revealing a mixture of symbols either primitively tattooed ink or carved directly into the flesh in such a manner that the scars would hold the symbols shape.

The soldier had ignored Jinoc’s command to assemble and remained sitting at the base of the totem.

“What is your name?” Jinoc demanded as he called to the sitting soldier.

They gave no answer.

“I asked you a question, soldier!” Jinoc asked again in a louder tone.

None of the soldiers spoke up during this theatre but instead looked amongst themselves awkwardly. This only further aggravated Jinoc.

“This is a military barracks, not a trash heap.” He pointed to the icon. “Remove it immediately.”

Not a single soldier moved to comply with the order.

“Did you not hear me? I said remove it at once and stand at attention!”

“Sir, permission to speak?” one of the soldiers spoke up.

“Granted.”

A different soldier stepped forward to address the First lieutenant. “With respect sir, that’s the squad leader for 3rd Platoon 1st Squad, and that totem is theirs.”

“Totem?” Jinoc cocked his head to the side. “Is that meant to mean something to me?”

The way the soldier was acting was as if the squad had earned some notoriety, but Jinoc had not heard anything of their deeds during his travel.

The soldier swallowed nervously and continued. “Respectfully sir, we refrain from disrupting their area during their prayer.”

Jinoc’s hand spun around and backhanded the soldier staggering them several paces.

“What mindless dribble are you talking about? We have no gods!”

“They’re praying to the human ones.” the soldier replied as they stood back at attention. “I believe they called one of them “Odin” and another is “Bragi”.” He pointed at the totem. “Odin is the face at the top while Bragi is just beneath him; I forget who the others were.”

“I don’t care who those primitive apes call their gods; I want that wooden trash out of my company at once!”

“You will not..”

Jinoc, along with every other head, turned towards the new voice the kneeling soldier now on his feet. They slowly turned to face the First Lieutenant and Jinoc fought down the urge to vomit.

Their back had been covered in symbols but their chest was decorated with dozens of scars. Plasma ordinance burns, gashes from razor rounds, even what looked like the bite mark of something terrible.

“Where is the rest of your squad?” Jinoc demanded.

The soldier shrugged. “I’m what’s left.”

Jinoc strode over to the new soldier, resolute in maintaining his authority.

“Do you know that not counting your little wood project, you are violating at least seventeen different regulations right now with punishments ranging from a day in the brig to a lashing?”

Instead of the acceptance of his position the soldier chuckled to himself.

“I always find it amusing when an Argr thinks a few months in a cushy box reading a rule book makes them tough.”

Jinoc was unfamiliar with the word but was deft enough to know when he was being insulted. His hand rose to strike the disobedient soldier when a new voice cut in.

“Dismissed!”

Every set of eyes turned to the new figure walking over to Jinoc and upon recognizing them accepted the order and returned to what they had been doing before. The First Lieutenant likewise put down his fist immediately and tossed up a crisp salute.

“Major Lutnik, sir!”

The Major returned the salute from Jinoc but said nothing as they directed their attention to the disobedient soldier.

“At ease,” they said with surprising familiarity that shocked Jinoc, “no one will disturb you or your totem.”

The soldier gave no response save a slight nod before turning around and returning to the base of the totem. Jinoc was beside himself with the turn of events.

“Wait one mom-“ he began before he felt a firm hand clamp his shoulder.

“Let’s talk in my office.” The major said quietly.

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

Unlike the barracks deck for the rest of the soldiers, the Major’s office was located a deck above in the officers contingent. Not lavish by any measure Jinoc was accustomed to but certainly on a better degree of comfort compared to the bunks on the deck below.

Lutnik sat behind his desk and beckoned Jinoc to take the chair opposite him.

“Tell me,” he began as he pulled out a drawer and removed a decanter and a set of glasses, “what do you know of our triumphs in the last year?”

Jinoc straightened himself as the Major began pouring the drinks and offered him one.

“I was most impressed by the rescue of prince Natandi after their shuttle was shot down over Pluno III.”

He took a cautious sniff of the beverage before taking a sip and finding it most refreshing. “To have fought through the entire enemy force and return them alive is a feat still honored back on the homeworld.”

Lutnik snorted midway through his own sip at Jinoc’s answer.

“It’s funny you should mention that incident specifically,” he began as he wiped away the streams of liquor that had escaped his mouth.

“Why is that?”

“Because it is a lie; or at least, not the entire truth.” Lutnik replied with a grin.

Jinoc tried to hide his composure as the Major continued.

“We had actually been ordered to withdraw from the theatre of war, but Ne’ya Ruel saw fit to disobey that order and conduct their rescue mission regardless.”

“Forgive me sir, but who is Ne’ya Ruel?” Jinoc asked.

“You met him earlier when you tried to remove his totem.” Lutnik replied dryly. “You are lucky that I intervened or you may have ended up as an offering at its base for all your bluster.”

It took a few moment s for this new information to register for Jinoc. “Why do you tolerate such flagrant disobedience and clear violations of military doctrine?”

The Major looked at the First Lieutenant as if debating something in his head before coming to a conclusion.

“Because that soldier single handedly rescued the prince on Pluno III while the rest of us were ordered to stand by.”

“Are you telling me that lone soldier fought his way through an entire enemy detachment and rescued the prince?”

The Major nodded. “Earning himself the patronage of not only the prince but the royal family back on the homeworld.” He leaned in closer as if to hammer in this point specifically. “Every victory they win is one done so in the prince’s name.”

“But the official report-“ Jinoc insisted before the Major held up a hand.

“The official report was a compromise I reached with Ne’ya Ruel; the company gets the glory as a whole while I allow him to operate with more freedom than normally allowed.”

Jinoc frowned. “It is unbecoming of an officer to make deals with their subordinates.”

“And it is the mind of a novice who thinks themselves better than a master.”

Jinoc went quiet as the good natured mood of the Major evaporated.

“I’ve served in enough wars to know the difference between soldiers and monsters and with the things Ne’ya Ruel has done let alone survived through certainly puts him in the latter category.”

He leaned over his desk and held out his hand still clenching the glass. “The things our human friends have taught him have made him a killing machine equal to an entire company.”

“What do you mean?”

Litnuk shrugged. “I don’t know the details, nor do I wish too; but only after Ne’ya Ruel started interacting with them and learning the ways of this “Asatru” religion did he become an unstoppable warrior of death.”

The Major took another deep sip of his drink; the ice cubes softly clattering off the glass Jinoc let this new information set in.

“If I am to be your second in command how can I be expected to control such a soldier?”

Litnuk laughed.

“Point him at something you don’t like and tell him to get rid of it.”

“It can’t be that simple.” Jinoc replied, but the Major shook his head.

“Trust me, it is frighteningly as simple as that; you’ll see.”

[writeriguess]

Hi lovely! Can I request kiri seeing you perform a dance routine when you dance with the girls and being smitten

Crimson Eyes on You

The bass thrums beneath your feet, sending vibrations through your legs as you take your place in the center of the dance floor. Your heart hammers in your chest, but not from nerves—from excitement. You thrive in moments like this, when the music takes over and your body moves like it's born to.

The bright overhead lights dim slightly, and the stage is bathed in a mixture of deep purples and electric blues. The other girls around you take their positions, forming a perfect formation. You take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back, and then—

The beat drops.

Your body snaps into motion. Sharp, controlled movements blend seamlessly with fluid transitions, your hips rolling to the rhythm, your arms extending in perfect coordination with the choreography. Every stomp, every sway, every flick of your fingers has intention behind it. The routine is powerful, precise, and undeniably captivating.

From the sidelines, Kirishima watches—no, gawks.

He's seen you fight. He's seen you train, seen you push yourself to exhaustion and come back stronger every time. But this? This is different. This is you commanding an entire room with nothing but the way you move.

And he's utterly, hopelessly smitten.

His mouth is slightly open, his sharp teeth just barely visible as he stares, crimson eyes locked onto you like he's afraid he’ll miss something. His fingers twitch at his sides, unconsciously mirroring the rhythm of the song. His heart slams against his ribcage, and he's definitely not breathing properly, but hell if he cares.

You step forward, leading the group in a series of perfectly executed turns before dropping low, the movement smooth yet powerful. Kirishima practically chokes. His face is burning. The way your body moves—it’s mesmerizing. He can’t decide if he wants to cheer, pass out, or run onto the stage and spin you around like some romance protagonist in a cheesy movie.

Denki elbows him hard in the ribs.

“Dude,” he snickers, his grin practically splitting his face. “You’re drooling.”

Kirishima snaps his mouth shut, his entire face going scarlet. “Shut up, man!” he hisses, but his eyes do not leave you.

And then you glance his way.

Just for a second. A flicker of eye contact before you smirk—a tiny, knowing smirk like you can feel his gaze on you. You roll your hips in time with the music, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you continue the routine like nothing happened.

Kirishima short circuits.

Denki is cackling next to him. Mina is whispering something wildly inappropriate in Sero’s ear while pointing at him. He doesn’t even care.

He just swallows hard, dragging a hand through his spiky red hair, forcing himself to keep it together as you finish the routine with a sharp final pose. The room erupts into cheers, whistles, and applause.

Kirishima doesn’t even realize he’s clapping too, staring at you with the goofiest, lovesick expression. You turn toward him again, meeting his eyes as you step down from the stage.

He should say something. Compliment you. Anything. But all that comes out is—

“That was… uh—you’re amazing.”

You laugh, breathless, a little flushed from exertion. “You think so?”

“I—yeah! Yeah, totally! That was so—I mean, you always kick ass, but that was, like—whoa!”

You giggle at his flustered enthusiasm, tilting your head. “Whoa, huh?”

He rubs the back of his neck, painfully aware of how hot his face is. “Like, really whoa.”

Mina slides up next to you, grinning like a devil. “Oh, Kirishima’s gone for you,” she teases, nudging you playfully.

Kirishima groans, covering his face with both hands. “Mina, please.”

You just smile, your heart thudding a little harder at how adorably flustered he is. Reaching out, you tug his wrist, pulling his hands away so you can see his red-faced expression.

“Good,” you say softly. “Because I was dancing for you, you know.”

Kirishima.exe has stopped working.

Denki screams. Mina and Sero lose it. Kirishima is dead. Just buried right then and there.

And you? You just wink before turning away, leaving him standing there, red-faced and utterly, hopelessly smitten.

[muzansfangs]

Can you please write SFW alphabet with Aizen and f!reader

SFW alphabet (letters ‘a, f, q, s, u, x’) – Aizen Sosuke.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader;

Format: head canons;

Warnings: fluff, domestic life, mention to marriage, violence and possessive attitude, solitude;

Plot: sfw head canons about Sosuke and his relationship with his female significant other.

Author note: hello, guys. I have recently received two requests about Aizen and a sfw aphabet. I am not totally against the idea of writing this format, but they can get kind of repetitive and monotone. I have decided to write a few letters for it today and I will add some more by answering the other requests. Someone else had sent requests for nsfw aphabets too and I will try to follow the same path I have chosen for this one. This for letting you know I would prefer to write about ‘straight to the point’ requests.

PART TWO.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?).

Sosuke is not a very affectionate man, still it does not mean he cannot show empathy and his love for his partner through words or gestures. His detached and cold nature is confined to his way to deal with other people. Sosuke will always let you know that he cares about you, that he would set the entire world on fire for your sake.

As a selfish man, he sees you as the shiny diamond he needs to gloat about, in other words: his success. He loves you dearly. Maybe he does not say it out loud very often, but he makes sure you can feel it. Sometimes, his affection may blanket you with the ink he pours onto some fine paper. He writes to you, he leaves notes on the pillow to tell you he loves you and that you two are going to conquer they world together. In some other occasions, Sosuke holds your hand, bringing it to his mouth and leaving gentle, feather-like kisses over your knuckles. His gaze says a lot to you.

Having you in his arms at the end of the day provides him a joy he had struggled to comprehend at first, but that he has grown addicted to.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?).

Once he has his eyes on the woman who has made him question his ideals, Sosuke is down for a serious relationship. He loves stability, a wedding is surely in his plans and he would not hesitate to ask for you hand upon realizing you are his perfect match.

Probably one or two years far into your relationship, he will take your hand and slide a ring on your finger. He has been lonely for a long time, the solitude he felt had become his shadow. You changed his life. You brought him a happiness he had only seen in other people’s eyes. Despite his terrible thirst for power, Sosuke wants you by his side forever. He is willing to demolish the solid wall he has built around himself for you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?).

He knows and remembers everything about you and any information that has ever left your mouth. You, his jewel, are important to him. He would not let your words be blown in the wind unnoticed. It would be a sacrilege for him.

He knows all of your secrets, he knows your preferences in food, fashion, books, perfumes, favorite locations to spend your free time at. He has made sure you were well-aware of how intimately he knows you. This is how strong your connection is: no secrets between your two. He is probably the kind of man that dismisses everyone in the reunion to listen to you, to ask you what is on your mind and why you have a pouty face.

You trust him and he trusts you. But, God, do not betray him and his trust. Sometimes he is upset about the fact that someone can see past his façade, but he ignores his own irritation for the sake of your love.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?).

He does not need someone to protect him, let alone you. There is no way in Hell he would allow you to shield him from an attack. Probably, he just sticks up to consent you to defend his ideals through words, or simply by standing by his side. This is all that matters to him.

On the other hand, he would never put you in a position where your life is in danger. Not only he sends his best Arrancars to protect you, but he needs to constantly have you under his watch. After all, no one would stand a chance against him. The safest place you can stay at is by his side, or far from the battlefield.

Naturally, he has taught you fighting techniques you may need if you ever end up facing opponents on your own. He demands you to train with him. Maybe he might sound too harsh to you, but it is all for you and your well-being. He loves you, only you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?).

There might be times when he leaves you alone for too long. He doesn’t want you to reach out to him, claiming it could endanger your life, or that he needs some time alone to plot better strategies.

It might sound like he is trying to gaslight you, but he gives you speeches and talks about how necessary it is for him to shut the world outside and concentrate on the task at hand and it does not sound like he wants to manipulate or hurt you. Not intentionally, at least.

It does get lonely, though, and you suffer because of it. Sosuke knows how you feel, thus pushing him closer to you every single time you are reunited after long periods of time. This bastard knows how to make you forgive him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them).

It is well-known around that Sosuke loves tea. Since he met you, though, he loves sharing his moment of peace and quiet in your company. He makes sure your favorite blend is filling your cup and you sit together on the couch, softly talking about your day, or anything else that does not concern the Soul Society.

Once he finishes his drink, he allows you to massage his shoulders and run your fingers through his soft hair. He never had all of this affection shown to him, not even when he was a child. This is your moment, your little heaven.

He might have killed some shinigamis and arrancars trying to interrupt you two. It was for your sake, though.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Ugh, I needed to write something for my iconic husband. I tried to stay in charcater as per usual, hopefully I did a pretty decent job with these letters. There will be other ones in a near future, I promise!

X O X O

[mothman-supremacy]

hiii, could you write something about logan fucking the reader in a chokehold in the honda odyssey? if not then that’s totally ok!! thanks for your time! 🫶🏾

sorry if this sucks omg, like i said i’m trying to get back into writing and this isn’t my usual format i’m more of a billet point girl. hope u like it love u

not proofread because i do not want to reread what i have written 😜, intended lowercase. fem reader is sooooome type of mutant idk u have some type of regenerative powers (he has his claws in ur side :/)

cw: uh choking, unprotected sex,stab wound, blood mention, use of claws 😦 there is no story this is just porn

1.1k words omggggg

minors dni

if u liked this reblog/heart/leave a comment bc i need the validation 🥲☝🏻

you’re straddling him in the front seat, the steering wheel is digging into your back and your knife is lodged underneath his ribs. he grunts and tries to push you off of him, “get in the backseat, now.” he growled in your ear, the grip he has on your hip loosening and him retracing his claws from your other side.

you open the door of the odyssey and stumble out and logan follows you, pulling your knife out of his side and dropping it on the ground. He opens the backseat door and slides in beckoning you to him. you slide in after and close the door. Logan is sitting in the middle, thighs spread and knee bumping into yours while you sit there awkwardly looking around the bloodied interior. Logan reaches a hand out and tugs you towards him until you get the hint and clamber into his lap again.

it’s a desperate kiss, he’s pulling you into him with his hands on your cheeks and it’s all teeth and snarls and it’s angry. you bite his lip and the metallic taste of blood fills your senses. logan grunts and extends his claws, touching your side just barely so you know the threat is there. “turn around f’me” he whispers against your lips.

you give him one last open mouthed kiss before turning around in his lap and shimmying out of your pants. before you can get comfortable in logan’s lap you can feel his arm sliding up your body before his forearm settles across your throat. you let out a gasp and your hands come up to grasp at his arm.

“this is what you want right baby?” he leans down and whispers in your ear. “want somebody to manhandle you, put you in your place?”

“oh fuck you logan” you spit and try to thrash out of his grip, but he’s stronger than you and he tightens his arm around your throat causing you choke on your breath. “don’t worry baby, i’m gonna” he lets out a chuckle and kisses the side of your head.

you can feel his other hand sliding down the front of your body and stop at the top of your panties. “you know,” he starts “i can smell how turned on you are.”

“w-what do you mean?” you flush in embarrassment, trying to close your thighs. logan just spread his legs further forcing you to keep your legs spread for him.

“heightened since of smell darling, remember?” he has a stupid smirk on his face as his hand finishes its descent into your panties. he grins wide when he first dips his fingers past your folds “fucking soaked for me.”

you feel his grip around your neck loosen and his arm slides down across your chest urging you to lean back against him. you hear the distinctive shink of his claws extending and you let out a small whimper of his name. you can feel the cold adamantium skimming across your skin before your panties are sliced to shreds. he retracts his claws and his fingers resume there original position and slipping through your folds.

head against his shoulder you whine into his ear “logan- please” he hums and looks at you with an amused smirk. “touch me please, i need you”

“yeah i know you fucking need me. this pussy needs me, she’s been cryin’ for me all fucking day.” he sinks two digits in your pussy and angles them so he’s hitting the perfect spot. he scissors his fingers in you stretching you out while his other hand holds you down across your chest.

“oh-oh fuck logan. please please.” you cry out and shift your hips a little trying to chase your orgasm “‘m so close, so fucki-“ you let out a gasp at the loss of his fingers.

he releases his hold across your chest and draws his hand away from your pussy to slide his pants down just enough for him to take his cock out. his grip on your hips is bruising and he’s rubbing your pussy along the length of his cock now. you gasp a little bit every time he slides over your clit.

logan lifts you up just enough to position himself at your entrance. “go slow baby, i don’t wanna hurt you just yet” he murmurs as you sink down on his length. you both let out a groan once he is finally all the way inside of you.

“go on baby, ride me. this is what you wanted right? this is what she wanted.” he reaches around to the front of your body and his fingers find your clit. you lift yourself up just a little and drop back down and the combination of your movement plus the small lazy circles on your clit makes you shudder.

logan’s head falls back with a deep groan when you finally start moving. he’s holding your back to his chest again while you angle your hips so he hits deeper inside of you. “good girl. good fucking girl take what you need from me” he growls in your ear and nips at your jaw.

you rock down on his cock hard and whimper because he feels so fucking good and you’re getting so close again. “lo-logan please letmecum pleaseplease”

you feel his arm come around the front of your neck again as he puts you in a chokehold, and starts to fuck up into you from below. he squeezes harder and the the veins in his arms are starting to pop out. the lack of oxygen is making you dizzy in the best fucking way you it’s almost like you can feel yourself floating in bliss. “yeah you fucking like this don’t you? like when i take control like this. of course you do your cunt’s squeezing’ me so fucking hard i think you’re gonna explode.” he reaches one hand down while still keep a firm arm across you throat, to play with your swollen clit again. “go ahead and cum baby, cum on my fucking cock and then i’m gonna fill you up.”

his words send you tumbling over the edge and with a few more thrusts you’re crying out and your grip on his forearm goes lax as you come back down from your high. logan gives a few more sloppy thrusts before he’s holding your hips down and grinding into you as he cums inside of you. a loud groan and a huff leaves his lips as he pulls you off of him. “next time, just ask. you don’t have to stab me to get what you want you know?”

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

Idk if the formatting will stay corrupted when I post this ask but it was mad regular when it was just sitting in my inbox?? but uh, Gods bless. I dont think I'm all that good at sub reader, and I may be ass at writing insecurities as I gotta be careful not to trigger myself lol, but I am gonna enjoy writing this thanks for requesting me beautiful (Also, I'm not much of a daddy person but I LOVE Master kinks.)

A/N: OMFG TUMBLR FUCKEF AND I HAD TO DELETE AND REWRITE EVERYTHINGGGG

I proofread like half of it yall imma do the rest in a couple days💀✋🏾

Fem!Sub!Insecure!Reader x Soft Dom Odin || NSFW lol || Breeding kink, Master/Slave use (ion know too much bout that dynamic lmao so you gon have to bare wit me), insecurities, and raw dogging (my staple)

Odin can't help but notice the slump of your shoulders, persistent ever since the other day. You'd gone to see Aphrodite for the first time, wanting to greet the entire greek pantheon personally upon your introduction as his wife. You left all smiles and laughter, yet despite saying it'd gone well, you possessed an air of sadness about you, and it's lingered throughout the week.

You sigh again, pulling him from his pondering. Your seat in the windowsill is backed by a view of the gray sky, ice cold rain pounding the glass. You have to be cold.

You jump upon finding your husband behind you, wrapping you lovingly in a thick blanket. The expression on his face is uncharacteristically soft, and in your heart you know he loves you... but why?

Why does he love you, when women as beautiful as Aphrodite exist? The lowest ranking goddesses glow with divinity, an inhuman shine to their very aura that you could never recreate. When you entered that room, you'd never felt more mortal. You were drawn to them, their beauty and grace calling out to you, leaving you with no choice but to gaze in awe.

You think you feel tears on your waterline.

How could he truly love you when surrounded by women like that?

"Women like that?"

You blink, feeling the warm tears slide down your cheeks as your face heats up. You didn't mean to say that aloud, by the gods. But it's too late now, and his simple question and deadpan face have broken the dams you worked so hard to maintain all week.

"Women like that! Like Aphrodite, like the other goddesses. They're beautiful my love, beautiful in a way I can't compare."

He tries to speak, but you rush over him, the snot filling your nose choking your speech and corrupting your voice. "How can you caress my scars when presented with unblemished skin? Look me in my eyes when theirs sparkle with such power? How can you even stand my voice! The goddesses of this forsaken place sound as lovely and hypnotic as sirens, even when their screeching at the top of their damned lungs!"

You cough, gasping for air. You hadn't taken a breath in that entire monologue. Your throat hurts from screaming, and at some point, you'd stood up and thrown away the cover he gave you. The cold air from the window spread goosebumps across your back, down your legs and arms. But it was fear that made you tremble, fear he'd see the logic in your words and leave you in the dust. Fear you'd walk the palace halls one day, haunted by the sounds of pleasure your husband brings out of other women, like so many wives here in Valhalla do now.

Your coughing dies out and leaves nothing but silence. Even your sniffling is quieted under his stare. The rain fades away and you find you can't even breathe as you wait for his word.

"I walk among these women everyday, yet you are the one I've chosen. Does that alone not set you apart from them?"

You blink at his tone– darkened with an unknown emotion, yet somehow still soft on your ears. His hand is on the small of your back, nudging you closer. The other cups your cheek.

"If you think yourself to be in a sea of gold, then you must be the diamond of the bunch. In my eyes, you shine brighter in your mortality then any divine being could ever hope to. Your scars are sweet against my lips, and your eyes as bright as the stars. Your voice is the one thing I bow to, my love, your beauty the one thing I praise."

It's silent again when he finishes, but you hear your heart breaking. Breaking for yourself, because how could you have been so blind? To ever in a million years think this man could do anything other than love you...

He chuckles, kissing your ear. "Say my name, Beloved."

Chaste kisses are placed softly about your face. Your forehead, your neck, your cheeks. And all the while you're crying, you love this man so much. "Odin..."

You try to pull back but find he's holding you to his chest. "Odin?"

"My name."

You blink, then smile. "Baby?"

He smiles into your neck, and you think he's having a rare cute moment. "Not that one."

Your smile takes on a confused twist.

Then, it hits you.

He chuckles again, this one filled with a bit of sadism.

"...Master?"

"Perfect."

In a show of heavenly strength you're transported from the window to the bed in the blink of an eye. As you sink into the bed, he tops you, fitting himself between your legs like coming home.

Your lips come together in a clash of lust and passion, the chastity of earlier long forgotten. Your hands tangle in his hair as he fondles you through your clothes. You could feel his hard on through his clothes, the familiar press against your heat filling you with... love?

Love... that's exactly what it was. You loved this, loved this treatment, loved to see your ever-quiet, ever-composed husband fall to pieces when he touched you. His stoic persona peeling back to reveal a man so head over heels he'd stomp on his pride in his rush to hump you like a dog in heat.

Hell, when he's fucking you like this, how could you have ever thought he'd leave?

Your right hand leaves his hair to help him tug at your clothes, the left sliding down to feel his muscles rippling under the skin of his back. He's finally gotten your chest bare, and latches onto the first nipple he sees, blindly working at the fabric to reveal the other tit. His battle-roughened fingers graze its peak, then pinch, hard enough to make you gasp and jump.

His tongue drags out similar sounds. Flicking the cute bud, circling it, right before sucking on it like it'd fix all his problems. Your fingers do away with his clothes with practiced motions as your eyes close, arching up into his touch.

You can hear him moaning almost silently as he kisses your chest, and you swear you hear him whisper, "Sweet."

You sigh at the feeling, at your adoration for this man.

He pulls back, and in the low light you admire the creases of his chest, the scars that litter his skin like stars in the sky. One hand parts your legs, spreading you open, admiring the sight of your clit twitching while arousal pours over your asscheeks to stain the sheets below.

His other hand takes your wrist to lay your palm flat over his heart. He's dragging your palm across his torso, over his heaviest scars, while rubbing electrifying circles into your clit. You tear up again as your legs twitch at the direct simulation. Even breathes turn to pants, and you feel your hips trying to rut into his touch. But your eyes never leave his. No, no– you hold his gaze and hone in on the feel of his skin on your hand, on the feel of realization like a new dawn in your mind.

"Do my scars horrify you?"

You can't tell if your tears are from pleasure or pain; the emotional kind. But they're pouring worse than the rain outside now, and you feel your nose getting stuffy again. "Of course not, my love."

He didn't mind the slip up this time. "If these do not cause aversion, how could your own bring you such despair?" Two fingers slipped inside you, and you gasp, fucking down on them instinctively. His thumb speeds up to match the pace of his fingers, and you pull him down into a kiss. His tongue tangles with yours, sucking on it and exploring your mouth. You kiss him back just as hard, running your teeth gently over his lips and tongue in turn.

"You are mine. You alone can see me like this. You alone can look at me like that, kiss me like that. I only want you–"

He smirks, and you think you're on the verge of cumming.

"Afterall, who else can take me so well? Who could look as pretty when I'm filling them up, watching my seed pour from their warmth? Do those goddesses beg like a good girl for me to stuff it back in? Present themselves as a willing slave, to be used until I've had enough? Until I've put a baby in them?"

Your eyes roll, your back arches, and the world turns white as you orgasm on his fingers. Trembles shake you, but big, comforting hands are working you through it so well. You rock into him until he pulls away, and despite the looming threat of overstimulation, you whine at the emptiness.

"Answer me, slave."

"N...no one, Master. No one except... Me."

You can't see it as your eyes are still closed, but he's smiling. Just a little, but it's full of more joy than a kid on Christmas.

A haze sits over your mind. His voice is the only thing you know now.

His thumbs take either side of your labia and spread you further, coaxing the juices out. He stares for a long time, unable to look away right up until his dick is so hard it aches. He forces his eyes to close, fumbling to pull it out. You both sigh when it slaps against your cunt.

"Please, Master... Cum inside me."

He looks up to find your eyes are just barely open and trained on him. His demeanor softens even more somehow, despite how out of place it seems.

"Anything for the prettiest girl in the world."

He slides in, fitting as though you were made for him. Your walls are warm and grip his cock like they missed it, arousal continuing to overflow and drizzle out, just barely able to slip around his cock. He puts a hand to your stomach, pressing down and make both your eyes roll as he feels how deep he is.

He thrusts– once, twice, rocking you, opening you up. From there on his pace builds to something fast and rough. Your nails drag down his back till blood is drawn, the pain fueling his manic humping. Screams of Master! Bounce through the air as he fucks you, drunk on the drag of his cock against your gspot. Your own hand goes down to rub at your throbbing clit as tears cloud your vision to the point of blindness.

When you arch, his hand is at the small of your back, helping you, holding you. Your bodies press together and you can't help but think, 'fuck. He's beautiful.'

You allow your eyes to close as a smile spreads across your face. Your husband is beautiful. So you are, you have to be,

"Beautiful."

Your eyes drift to your husband's face upon hearing his voice. Velvety and deep, and filled with roughness from his approaching orgasm. You laugh, a breathless thing. "You too, Master." You say, batting your lashes.

His chuckle is equally breathless, "'M gonna fill you up now, lovely girl. Take all of me."

An order, one you'd jump to obey.

You joined at the lips in a passionate kiss, your finger working your clit hard as the other hand holds the back of his neck. He holds your legs in a mating press and strokes deep, hitting your deepest spot before releasing inside with a shudder and groan.

You throw your head back as your own body freezes from the force of your orgasm. You're wracked by shudders and hear naught but the sounds of your own broken moans. You can feel him inside of you, spilling his seed for you alone to keep. It's warm, and you can't help but relax at the feeling.

Odin stays inside for long moments after, holding it in, before pulling out. You blink at the sudden loss, to exhausted to do much else. You let yourself be gathered in an embrace, lazily enjoy the soft kisses he presses to your face.

"In the morning, we'll shower. For now, we rest." You hum your affirmation. His arms are tight around your body. You have no choice but to sink into his embrace, sink into a deep, deep sleep.

Right before you drift off, you hear him whisper,

"I love you, my gorgeous wife."

You wish you'd stayed awake long enough to respond back.

-------

A/N: yes yes I know this and many other ask have been sitting in my inbox for months😓writing is hard okay?? And I am very very sleepy all the time. This was fun to write but god did I hate writing the smut. Ion know nothing about master kinks, I use them in my own lil way so the formal way is unknown to me😭but uhh, I hope you enjoyed, and requester if you see this I'm sorry🫶🏾🥹I love you🥲

[mysteriouslyjovialcolor]

Germany 2019

-Oh the last German GP?

-Lewis and Max first row! Pierre in Red Bull. Lando and Sebastian last row?!

-Look at that, they’re racing in the rain. Albeit, starting under safety car

-“Safety car needs to come in already. Come on let’s go” Lewis’ beef against the safety car will never not be funny

-They’ve done like three formation laps or as they’re calling it: “exploration laps”

-“How are conditions Max?” “Yeah, perfect to go, I don’t understand why we are not racing”

Lewis 🤝 Max: wanting to go race

-Haha all of the cars glitched for a second before the start

-And now Max has somehow dropped five places, wth

-Kimi p3 🙌

-Sebastian too, making up many places! P20 to p14!

-Oh Max back to p3!

-Kevin and Checo squabbling…Checo’s in the wall

-This is giving Brazil 2016 with the multiple safety cars

(Try not to compare every wet race to Brazil 2016 challenge failed)

-Sebastian and Alex falling back to p18 and p19 after stopping for tires :/

-Almost every driver pitting now

-Mercedes double stack!

-Holy shit Kevin is p2 (That’s a rare sight to see)

-All of those pit stops shuffled up the lineup so much. Lance is p5, Nico p7, George p9!

-I don’t think the Williams pit because they’re somehow both in the points

-Yeah, George pit now

-Sebastian finally in the points

-Oh shit Danny p17?

-Aah Charles, Kevin, and Nico fighting for p4

-Pierre running wide! he’s fallen to p19 :((

-Kimi’s still as formidable as ever in that Alpha Romeo

-“Raikkonen turned a threat into an opportunity” yesss Kimi!

-“The three at the front are traveling much faster than anyone else”

-Aw I forgot this was Nico’s home race too

-Engine problem for Daniel :/

-Another safety car? Virtual safety car?

-More pit stop games

-“Just be patient Max” GP has got to be the calmest man ever

-“So you are the fastest car on track” Let’s go Charles!

-Carlos slipping off the track??

-“Sorry guys, that was unfortunate” Yeah, top ten to p14

-“Leclerc is now 7 laps off leading this race” Oh?? Are we about to get Max vs Charles??

-Ferrari trying a gamble with Sebastian’s tires

-“They’re in the clouds of the gods now” Sometimes these commentators go unnecessarily hard

-Red Bull playing a gamble too

-“Lando Norris power slide out of the pit” That looked very cool actually

-Max doing an involuntary donut. I’m not sure if that gamble played off

-Oh shit Lando’s lost power. VSC once again

-Charles p2! At least one driver’s strategies are somewhat working

-Ohmygodd he’s out!! I actually gasped out loud! That was so unexpected!!!

-Aaah that sucks so bad

-The actual safety car is back

-I’m still in shock

-Ohmygod this is all so chaotic!

-Lewis almost went into the wall and damaged his front wing!

-The pit crew weren’t ready for him!! They’re scrambling! He’s lost so many places!!

-Nico’s p3 now ohmygod

-This is still lap 30 of 64. We’re not even halfway through

-Valterri pitting as well, Max leading now

-Everyone’s on inters

-Nico p2 at his home race😭 (I’m going to cry when he loses that) (What do I have to do for him to just stay there???)

-I can’t believe Lewis got a 5s time penalty for going on the “wrong side of the bollard at the pit entry”

-How does that even make sense? It’s not like it affected any other car but his

-Alex though! In p4, holding Lewis back in that Toro Rosso

-??? Lewis under investigation again???

-Valterriiiii stay away from Hulkenburggggg

-Noooooo Valterri whyyyy

-Can’t even hope for p3 now because it’s Lewis who’s behind him

-At this point let him just finish the race please

-“Rare to see Kimi Raikkonen making a mistake” Yes, it was devastating (at least he recovered still in the points)

-Someone kill me, Nico’s out

-“That’s so terrible for him! I was just about to say what a phenomenal run he’s having. He would so have deserved to finally maybe have a chance even for a podium because we still don’t know what penalties Lewis is gonna have. Ohmygod, that’s heartbreaking. Poor guy” Me and Nico Roseberg commiserating together

-“I’m still looking forward to Lewis coming up to Bottas now though. That’s going to really really cause internal team battle there; coming up” And Nico R is now hoping for inter-team drama. He moved on pretty fast. I’m still here (crying over Hulkenburg and his dream slipping away right through his fingers)

-“Right call, right tire, right time” Max: the only one carrying me through this race now

-“Nico Hulkenburg never retired from his home race at the German Grand Prix before” Why must they keep rubbing it in??

-“Verstappen’s pitted 4 times in this race so far” This race is actually insane

-I’m actually still sad about Nico. He was so close! God, why does he have such bad luck!

-None of these commentators talking about how Alex casually made up 12 places and has stayed in p4?? In a Toro Rosso?!

-Ohmygod I should just shut up, why’d he loose a place…two places…and he’s gone wide and dropped down to p8; someone kill me.

-Max pitting again????

-Where did Sebastian randomly gain speed from? Ohmygodd Kimi too? They’re p3 and p2?! What is going on???

-Somehow Lance is in p5 all the way from p15. I did not see that coming. He was the only car who pit for slick tires with the safety car earlier and now with everyone pitting again, this has worked out great for him

-Holy shit Lance is leading the race

-Lewis, Kimi, and Sebastian all pit and now Lance is leading and Max is back up to p2 and somehow Daniil Kvyat is p3 and just set the fastest lap

-Wet races always bring so many surprises. This is all so insane. I feel like I’ve just hallucinated half of this

-Max leading again

-I forgot about Lewis’ penalty 😭 The grid positions changed so drastically, it almost feels like it got reversed

-“How has it got this bad?” Honestly Lewis I actually don’t know

-Aww kinda wanted Lance to stay p2, he missed out on it so narrowly last time he was on the podium

-Haha Valterri about to take p3 from him now, he’s the one who took p2 from his last time I think, if I remember correctly

-Checo looking on from the pit box>>

-Oh shit Valterri is out! God, Mercedes are not having a good race are they? Lewis in p14 (last) pitting again (his sixth time) and Valterri out

-This safety car probably not going to help Lance keep podium position, what with Carlos and Sebastian right behind him at the restart

-“Good for the smaller teams. This is their kinda day” Don’t I know it (maybe it’s something about pink teams?)

-Aah Sebastian right behind Lance now! If he makes podium now he’d have gone from p20 to p3!

-And he’s done it!!

-Oh bloody hell, Pierre’s gone off. He’s not having a fun day either

-Ohmygod Sebastian p2!!! Imagine if he wins?!!

-“And you’re either wearing orange this weekend or red” yesss, the orange army going wild!!

-It is so insane to me that seven cars are out

-Honestly, Lance p4 is cool too, his race did not start out well (and Carlos p5 🙌)

-I wish Sebastian was still racing 😢

-Genuinely didn’t ever expect to see a Daniil Kyvyat podium; when I was watching the races from the past few seasons he barely finished a race

-This podium is kind of a Red Bull family reunion if you think about it

-‘Tis very cute

(Would be better if Nico had finished the race but I’ll take my wins where I can get them)

(Also! I just looked up the race results again cause I forgot if Kimi placed 6th or 7th and he hasn’t placed either??! Apparently he got a post race penalty for some infringement!? That’s so annoying)

(Oh however, that means Lewis did end up in the points after all)

(The more you know)

(Ohmygod, I just noticed that Fernando is not here?!?? How did I miss that when I watched Brazil 2019?!)

(I’m crashing out. I need sleep)

[moyathermopolis]

legally blonde 18+

professor! jessica pearson x reader

pairing: jessica pearson x female reader warnings: smut, suits au, power imbalance, age gap, slut shaming, degradation, dumbification, mommy kink, thigh riding, 18+ word count: 1.6k

"i recommend knowing before speaking."

professor pearson smirked at you snidely before turning on her six inch heels and descending down the stairs of the lecture hall. she's embarrassed you once again in front of your civil procedure's class, chirping about some innocuous principle from your theory and practice textbook. she was stern and intellectually overbearing, teaching analytical and logical aspects of the law through a socratic format. well, it was more like russian roulette, she spends thirty minutes at the beginning of every class asking random students questions based on the assigned pre-class readings.

she targeted you every class, finding you in a crowd of people and climbing the stairs to stand in front of you. you always got lost in the delicious sway of her hips and tousled big brown hair but eventually snapped out of it when her piercing brown eyes met yours. you read the textbooks, you really do, but it was too much information for any one person to digest and professor pearson knows that. it was like a staring down the barrel of a gun every time she interrogated you.

"come see me in my office after class," professor pearson quipped, her toned calves flexing as she made it to the bottom of the stairs. "we have much to discuss." the corners of her mouth settled into a mischievous smile, igniting an anxious pit in your stomach. your classmates shifted in their seat uncomfortably and whispered to each other, glad they weren't you.

your shoulders rounded as they slumped defeatedly and you let out a deep breath. why the hell does she always make an example out of you and not any other of the 100 students in this course? you despised her, she was power-obsessed and belittling, getting off on seeing your spirit crushed. you tuned out the rest of the lecture, opting to type up some study guides rather than listen to professor hardass.

when class was over, you moved slowly, letting the class empty out before meeting professor pearson up at the front. "go wait for me in my office," she waved you off nonchalantly, dismissing you while not even making eye contact with you. you shook your head, rolling your eyes as you went to the elevators.

you were irritated you had to wait on your professor, what the hell was so important she had to keep you after class? you got off on the fourth floor, quietly making your way around the corner and to professor pearson's office.

it looked exactly how you expected, cold and detached, with no pictures of family or friends, just degrees and plaques on the walls. you ran your hand across the wood of her oak desk perched under the large window in her office, "of course the wicked witch has no family." suddenly her office door slammed shut and you jolted forward, knocking over an empty vase.

"what did you just call me?"

"uhh professor p-pearson, i-i was just... uhhhh." you fumbled over your words as she stalked towards you, her long fur coat flowing behind her as if she was on a runway. your breathe caught in your throat when she stopped right in front of you, pointed eyes boring down into yours. you felt small as her brown orbs looked you up and down, you shifted from side to side, anxiously smoothing out the material of your pink miniskirt.

"that skirt is way too short." professor pearson bit out, eyes full of judgement and disapproval. you gasped as you felt her nimble fingers slide across your exposed thigh gripping it tightly, leaving small crescents in their wake.

you fisted the edges of her desk, knuckles turning white as you whimpered, "w-what are you doing professor?" perfectly manicured fingers inched higher and higher and you squeezed your thighs together tightly, trying to stop her movements.

professor pearson dipped her head down, grazing her lips against the shell of your ear, "isn't this what you wanted? isn't this why you dress the way you do, hmm?" you caught her wrist just as her index finger gently swept across the front of your pink lace panties. you were too embarrassed to make a sound, not believing your crude professor was touching you like this. "answer me."

"i don't dress for the validation of anyone, including you or any of the other suits in this building."

your professor abruptly spun you around, bending you over the desk with a firm hand on the back of your neck. "what judge or jury is going to take you seriously in a court room? you dress like a god damn dumb slut."

smack! smack! smack!

your stifled whimpers filled the confines of her office as she spanked your ass raw, you bucked against her but the hand on your neck held you down in place. a pool of desire settled in your warm core and your clit thumped harshly with a soft ache. "you're a dumb slut, aren't you?"

"n-no! i'm n-not!" you cried out, wiggling your ass against her in an attempt to loosen her grip on your neck. “i’m not dumb!”

“oh but you are a slut.” you felt her slide your panties to the side and spread your ass cheeks open with both hands, "tsk tsk tsk, look at that, so fucking wet already." her warm body moved away from yours and you immediately sprung up, pulling your short skirt down in a hast. when your nervous eyes met hers she was sitting at her desk, smirking at you devilishly with one leg crossed over the other. "get on your knees and crawl to me. now."

she must have mind control over you at this point with the way you dropped to your knees without a second thought. you made your way over to your formidable professor stopping in front of her like an obedient puppy, looking up at her through your long lashes. professor pearson spread her knees apart, giving you a delicious view of her toned thick thighs leading to her center. "dumb little slut, what are you waiting for?"

you planted light kisses on her inner thigh, trailing them higher and higher until she grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back, "no teasing, eat my pussy slut." she sneered and pulled your face closer to her heated core. you wrapped your supple lips around her clit, suckling it into your warm mouth. professor pearson closed her eyes and threw her head back, motivating you to please her more. you spread her lips open with two fingers licking up and down her wet warm slit, "fuck! such a good dumb slut, on your knees for me, yes! just like that!"

her hips bucked against you, thighs crushing your face but you continued licking and sucking her slick cunt. you couldn’t help but moan at the taste of her, your thumb finding her hard clit as you slid your taut tongue inside of her, thoroughly stroking her walls. her big brown eyes captured yours, mesmerizing you, “you like the way mommy taste?”

“m’yes, you taste so good.” you moaned out with her arousal smeared all over jaw and chin. you replaced your thumb with your mouth, licking hard circular stripes around your professors clit. the way her breathe caught and her hips bucked repeatedly told you she was nearing the edge.

“fuuuuuuck! such a good little girl, i’m gonna cum all over that pretty face.” she trembled beneath you, her legs caging you in as she exploded all over you. you didn’t dare ease up as you relished in the fact that you had your professor coming undone in her office. she moaned through gritted teeth, her plump bottom lip trapped between them as her body jerked with aftershocks.

feeling accomplished, you left one gentle kiss on her pussy lips and then pulled away from her core. you stood triumphantly, face messy with her slick. she gripped your waist and tapped her thigh, “you want me to ride you professor?”

“don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” she pulled you down hard on her flexed thigh, a throaty moan escaped your parted lips as your wet core came in contact with hard muscle. you latched onto her shoulders, setting your own pace by slowly grinding on her.

“mmmmm, that feels so good… fuck!” you whimpered out, lips pouty and swollen. with one hand, professor pearson grabbed your throat and brought your lips to hers, you slipped your tongue inside her mouth and she moaned at the taste of herself.

“fuck, that���s it baby, ride mommy’s thigh.”

you smirked down at her, “yeah? i think you like this more than i do mommy.”

“you’re the one making a mess all over my god damn leg.”

“just like you left a mess all over my pretty face?” you grinned cheekily, chin still shining with her sticky cum. your lips parted and you threw your head back when she grabbed both sides of your waist, trailing sloppy kisses along your neck. she sunk her teeth into your sweet spot as you ground down harder on her, whining from the pressure rubbing on your clit perfectly. “fuck, m-mommy pleaseeeeee.”

“please what? huh you dumb slut, what are you asking for?”

“wanna cum, pleaseeee, all over you.” you choked on your own sobs, hips moving erratically as your tits bounced up and down.

“oh you do? are my dumb little slut?”

“yes yes yes yes! fuck! i’m your dumb little slut, please mommy let me cum!”

“let it go,” her hands moved down to your ass cheeks, grabbing and spreading them roughly as she guided your fluid movements, “cum for me slut.” your cries bounced off the walls in her office, your grip on her shoulders tightening as you rode out your high. throaty whimpers and moans escaped your parted lips and a thin sheen of sweat covered your forehead, you were completely spent from the explosive orgasm your professor gave you.

“wow, u-um professor…” your words trailed off into the abyss, having nothing concrete to say.

“get of my thigh, you need to clean up your mess.”

[writing-whump]

Finally free

Isaiah stays home. Seline dares to have a talk. Headache, fever, angst and fluff.

Seline really hoped the sounds coming from the kitchen disguised her coming down the stairs.

She had her laptop under her arm, she had her speech prepared, she was hyping herself up for this since Isaiah came home at 4 pm and promised to stay home for once - but it was still hard.

Everytime she made a few steps forward, she lost her nerve and ran right back behind the wall. On one of her tries, she managed to glimpse Isaiah's back, but that was it.

She debated with herself to leave the plan for another day, since the effort was emotionally taxing, when Isaiah cleared his throat. "I can hear you, you know?"

Seline hid her face in her hand, slowly coming closer. Isaiah shut the stove off, wiping his hands. "What is it?"

There was no sign of frustration or anger in his tone. Just the calm, slightly curious patience. She peeked through her fingers. "You got time?"

He shrugged. "I got time."

"Can I ask you something?"

Isaiah looked a little amused now. "Of course."

"I just want to say that it's fine if you say no. You don't have to- there is no obligation- if I'm bothering you, you can be straight with me, I will completely understand-"

Isaiah's sigh interrupted her rumbling. "You are not a bother. And I never had the obligation to begin with. What can I do?"

Seline hugged the laptop to her chest, chin on top of it, looking up at him from under her lashes. "I was just wondering...if you could..."

"My hearing is great, but you have to actually speak."

She winced and looked to the side. Yeah, maybe that was a good strategy. Not looking at him was easier. "They allowed me to develop my own course at work...and it's ready for the first consultation with the boss so I was wondering if you could...check the grammar for it?"

Isaiah looked a little buffled, before shaking himself. "Uhm, yes, no problem."

Her cheeks were burning as they both sat down at the sofa and she handed him her laptop with the presentation. It was entirely embarrassing, even worse than she imagined.

She was the university writing assistant. She gave lectures and consultations to students about scientific writing on daily bases, but she still needed her second language of German checked. Especially for the four cases and their corresponding articles.

Isaiah said nothing, scanning the power point slides, humming to himself. She stayed sat next to him, with a good meter of distance, tense as a string.

"Congratulations," he said into the silence.

Seline almost jumped out her skin. "W-what?"

"I didn't know they let you make your own course. That's amazing." He clicked on the next slide, changing how two words came after each other and then added a different preposition. "And this course is impressive. How you change between the theory and practical parts and these exercises are very imaginative."

"It's sort of a workshop format, that's why it's so long. 4 hours. It's not a whole lecture series, there should be like two dates a semester and it will only take place if students actually sign up, since it's not a mandatory course..."

"Don't think just any student assistant can be asked to design a whole 4 hour workshop course from scratch."

She brushed a blong curl behind her ear. "It's about creative methods in scientific writing. It's what I know."

"You are an expert at it, yes. That's why you can do it and that's why it's impressive." His green eyes sparkled as they slid towards her before flickering back to the screen.

"I can pay you back for this," she added into the awkward silence. "If you need any paper checked or feedback for anything..."

"Unfortunately, I don't think I'll have many papers in law school. It's filled with old-school exams," he said with a huff.

He was watching her curiously like he was looking for new details since they saw each other. It had been some time since they actually spent more than two minutes in one room.

They have not talked about him diving into law school right after finishing his psychology degree. Or about her designing a workshop or going to conferences to present her work.

There was a lot she missed talking about with him. Aside from the whole wolf, pack, and boyfriend drama, Isaiah was intelligent and philosophical, knowledgeable about many fields and with an appreciation for abstract topics that she loved.

Not just anyone could handle her in discussions.

"Oh yes, you and your law school," she said with a grimace.

His eyebrows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"What? You left the fate of us, social scientistis, with our love for research and critical thinking for money and power in a safe work field. You gave in to pressure. Your epistemological development will come to an absolute halt, memorizing things and leafing through law books."

She had no idea where she got the audacity to say that. After a tense beat of silence, Isaiah solved the attack by laughing. "I had no idea you held law students in such bad regard."

"Law students, medicine students, it's all the same. Memorizing, memorizing, memorizing. No context, connections or relationships, no development of opinions, perspectives and theories. You are gonna go all stupid there."

Isaiah looked astonished and terribly amused at once. "Hopefully, it won't be so bad. I have a good reason why I'm doing this."

"Yeah?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Strengthening your Executioner position? Your wolf standing between humans? Or protecting Rip?"

"You know a lot," Isaiah conceded, clapping the laptop close on the table and leaning back against the couch. "Anything else I have been doing wrong lately?"

Seline hummed, making a face like she was considering it. "That's it for the start. I'll make you a list until next time."

Isaiah snorted, his head tilted back, eyes closing. "Man, I'm so tired."

"From being home? Finally catching up to you," she said, crossing her arms.

"Don't sound so pleased."

"I'm pleased. But you are also not the only one," she admitted. "There is a faculty festival tonight. But after just coming back from Klagenfurt from the conference, the literature club I have tomorrow and the party thing at work on Friday, I feel so so lazy. I don't want to go."

Isaiah opened one eye. "Then don't go. That's a lot of socialising for you. You deserve a break."

"You make me sound all antisocial," she complained, sliding down on the couch to lie down next to his tight.

Inconspicuously, she put a hand to her cheek, trying to pass some coldness to her skin. Her head hurt since midday without any apparent reason.

"You have gotten really intense. It makes me think it might not just work and research. That you are...trying to find other people to replace us with."

She huffed. "I'm only replacing you. That's a joke, sorry." A long breath and a pause. "But I need more people. I have become...too dependant on this pack. On you and Matt for contact and exchange of ideas."

A long pause from him this time. "I see. That makes sense."

"And now I'm betraying my plans. I feel so guilty," she voiced her feelings out loud, changing the hand she held against her cheek. Allowing herself to lie down and close her eyes was so pleasant.

She thought he wouldn't notice with his own eyes closed, but she suddenly felt his palm on her forehead. "You don't have a fever, but you feel warm. Are you not feeling well?"

Seline nuzzled her face against the couch on the side. Isaiah's hand was so nice and cold. "Nah. Just a headache. It’s my own fault so I deserve no sympathy."

"How so?" She could hear the frown in his voice without looking.

"I stayed up too long last night. If I mess up my schedule too much, I get headaches these days. It's so unfair! As a teen, between my binge watching of anime and trains at 6 in the morning, I slept barely three hours, and I was always fine. Is this old age already?"

"Don't think that's how old age works. Or maybe you have just been doing it too long."

Isaiah's cold fingers gently combed through her hair.

She grabbed his hand. He froze in her grip but relaxed, when she held it against the side of her face. "Your hand is too cold, but I'll use it for my own purposes today."

He laughed softly. "At your disposal. I could use some warmth."

"It's so nice to be home. No makeup, no tights shirts, I can let my hair down, not worry about my skin," she stretched her back like a cat, "...ahhh, finally free."

His hand tensed against her skin and it downed on her, what she said.

But his hand remained, grounding her with a closeness neither of them quite dared to acknowledge.

Seline rolled up her head to prop it on his knee in silent apology. She didn't mean to say that aloud.

"Love only makes things complicated," he agreed, his voice barely above whisper. "I'm glad you can relax more...like this."

She opened her eyes then, staring at him from upside down. "No worries. You'll see all my horrible sides now. And you can show me yours too. It will be totally safe."

"Yeah. No danger to us."

"Exactly." She reached out her hand towards him. His eyes opened instinctively, watching her, though she didn't touch his face. "Don't fall in love with me again."

He chuckled softly, letting the silence stretch as if daring her to keep the promise for them both.

[goldenbloodytears]

WIP - Danny/f!OC (Knifeplay)

As Promised, here's actually a WIP for what would in theory be very late in the story if it manages to survive in the current format.

I really like it. It's more a play on eroticism and tension.

A key note -- Danny isn't outright using his original name, but he stole the identy of a dude who happens to be called Daniel (french Daniel, think Danielle) ...because he's super fucking English, Sam slowly just morphs over to calling him Danny as they become closer.

(I actually think using the identity of somebody with the same first name as him was a mistake on his part, since it unintentionally fosters a deeper sense of connection (which the bastard is in denial about) )

“I’m okay if you cut me up a little. I can take it.” 

Sam is beneath him, and while the humoured tone in her voice suggests she’s telling the truth… 

This feels different.

She’s bared herself for him. Every inch of her, from the point where her throat and jaw connect, down past the rise of her breasts, to the curve of her hips and down further to the length of her legs. Her underwear is the last remaining protection. 

There’s no need to imagine. He’s seen her before now. Several times. And yet, this feels different. She stares up at him, all big-eyed anticipation. He feels sweaty, the knife heavy in his hand.

Where first?

He could try anywhere really. It’s not about cutting, he has no plans to cut her. It’s about pressure. About feeling. The Risk. He’s tried it enough times on himself to be sure there will be no accidents.

They can’t afford one.

He exhales to steady himself then brings the knife up and presses the blunt end of the blade just under her chin. Gentle. Sam’s mouth twitches in response and he wonders what that means.

Is she afraid? Regretting it already? Even though she’s the one that asked? 

“I’m not going to cut you,” he says, then pulls the knife away. He brings it lower. Presses the blade to the skin of her breastbone. A gentle kiss of metal that leads Sam to inhale a quick shuddered breath.

“You could.” Sam’s voice shakes, “if you wanted.” 

He could. But why would he cut her? Why should he, even if she says it's fine? 

He slides the knife over her stomach, watches as her muscles retract in response to the cold steel. He could gut her if he wanted. He’s done worse. 

But it would be a terrible idea to do so. 

Her masochism has been a slow-growing mystery, with more continuing to be obscured than revealed. At most, it’s obvious she’s learned the Catholic penchant for self-flagellation. How would she react if she knew what he really did late at night when no one was looking? What guilt would she feel for fucking her own lover’s killer?

What would she consider penance for that sin?  

He remains gentle with the knife. He has to. Needs to. That familiar feeling is back. Power growing. Heady and intoxicating. How could it not be when Sam continues to lie so deathly still below him? Every move of the knife makes her twitch and tense. Anticipating the cut. Aching for it. Fearing it even while pressing her thighs together. There’s arousal and fear in the air and something else, something deep in the pit of his stomach. He knows it. Doesn’t want to name it.

Her gaze is intense

“Do you really want me to cut you?” Danny asks. 

“Yes,” Sam rasps. 

He pulls the knife away as he sits up. The tension drains from both of them with its removal, he can feel it in his shoulders, see it as Sam melts into the mattress. He is careful as he moves, knife in hand, to sit on the edge of the bed, with her legs curled up on the left side of him. 

The look she gives him is cheeky as she moves to spread her legs in one slow motion, bringing her right leg up and then down to rest on the other side of him. 

A stray thought suggests using the knife to cut off her underwear. He’s quick to chase it, digging his fingers into the elastic band and tearing the blade through the cotton-thread seams. 

“Danny!” Sam gasps. 

Her right hand swings down to stop him, but the damage is already done—it’s far too easy to pull the ruined remnants away, and when he looks up, he finds that Sam’s face has gone as red as her hair.  

“Relax,” he says, pressing a kiss to her hand, “I’ll buy you a new pair…”

This appears to mollify her, at least somewhat 

Instead, he grabs her left leg, pulls her calf to rest loose against his shoulder while he braces her thigh with his right arm. If she wants him to cut her so badly, this is the best spot. He presses the point of the blade to her outer thigh. Her legs tremble with anticipation. 

And then he cuts, small and shallow. Enough to bleed. To sting. To do no damage. 

And finds he wants to do more. 

Red runs from the cut, a small trickle of blood down her leg. A transfixing sight.

“Again?” He feels breathless suddenly, and Sam seems little better. It takes her a moment to find her words, but when she does, her answer is not surprising—yes. Of course. 

He can’t help but wonder what she would look like covered in blood. He’s avoided the thought before, and still would but for this current situation—Sam would be the perfect story in many ways. A woman with two male names, a draw for every Sam and Scott in the area. Her gender alone is a sympathy point for women. Someone who isn’t famous, isn’t hated. No one is dying to be rid of her.

He tries a headline out. Tragedy: Local Reporter Brutally Murdered.   

The public would surely ask ‘what psychopath would get rid of the journalist covering his crimes?’ And if it could be her, then wouldn’t they be next? Shock and fear would swirl, and then the dogs would devour their own tails over the newscycle.

It’s easy enough. Pin her down. Gut her from the outside-in. Would she realise then? Would she regret it? finally? 

Would she cry? Curse him? Die silently with the mask of horror painted upon her pretty face? 

“Danny?” 

Sam’s voice is soft. Warm. Entirely too trusting. How is she stupid enough to let him do this? Something is bubbling. He can name some of the emotions—anger, desire, bloodlust—but others remain elusive.

Killing her here would be bad. Very little improvisation would be able to fix this into a proper design. It would be even worse than his first. 

She deserves better. So much better. 

“Danny?” 

He lets go of the knife. It hits the carpet with a dull thud as he finds his voice. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says finally. 

True. For the moment. As long as he remains in control.

[flowers-of-io]

February Ficlet Challenge, day 9: "deer in the headlights" and "picnic" // Read on Ao3 with proper formatting

It’s the smell that he notices first—a horrible, sickly stench. It clings to the walls of his pyramid and spreads through the air like miasma, squeezes through the gaps in doorways and fills the empty spaces with rotten-sweet, churning fumes. As he enters the gallery, the shock hits him just as hard as the urge to vomit.

He does not have much time to think after that.

The Witch is on him instantly, sharp claws and burning skin, vast and heavy and bright. Her wings beat at the air, sweep the rotten fumes in his face. Rhulk reels and stumbles, momentarily blinded, and she has the gall to LAUGH as her talon drags a long gash across the skin of his chest before it has the chance to morph into armour.

“You should get into the habit of locking your front door, honey.”

The glaive materialises in his hand, but Savathûn twists his wrist before he can swing. Bone cracks. Rhulk roars and kicks her, and she laughs again, letting go of his carapace and allowing him to stand and face her properly.

Her form is blinding. There is no clear shape or substance to it other than this terrible power, this point of unfathomable weight blazing with the fury of a thousand Sapphire Suns. An eye-scorching light.

He does not shudder, because the Disciple of the Dark does not shudder. The Disciple of the Dark is not afraid.

“My, my, what’s this?” Savathûn tuts. “Worm got your tongue?”

“You have become the Lie.” There is no wonder in Rhulk's voice, and no fear (the Disciple of the Dark is not afraid), but he cannot help the barest tinge of surprise.

“Looks good on me, don’t you think?” The Witch shakes off her wings. “I did consider slipping in without alerting the whole house, but then I figured the occasion warranted some fanfare.”

He swings at her again, half-blindly, but Lubrae’s Ruin finds its mark and sinks through the chitin with satisfying ease. With the other hand he grabs for her throat. Savathûn dodges in a twirl, the radiance coming off of her flickering like a beam of light through shifting lenses, and snarls as the glaive slides out from her stomach. Rhulk uses this split-second to lunge at her and push her against a nearby statue, talons digging into her shoulders.

“Get out,” he growls, panting.

“Oh darling, I hate to rain on your parade, but this is my house. I mean,” she takes in the room in a sweeping gesture, “not this, thankfully, but you planted this bastard of architecture on my property and it’s not really meshing well with my plans for redecorating. Disrupts the feng shui, if you will.”

Rhulk kicks her in the already healing wound in response. Now she roars, and fiery hatred blazes in her eyes for a moment, but it quickly morphs into triumph and he doesn’t have time to dodge before a fan of knives is flung in his direction. They cut into his skin with a burning fury. It is repulsive, the sensation rippling through his flesh in their wake—not pain, but rather the inversion of it, something antithetical to the very nature of his being.

Savathûn must have noticed the flash of revulsion even under his mask, because she smiles like a hunter closing in on the prey. Rhulk isn’t even sure what he is most furious at anymore: the blasphemy, the fact that she wasn’t actually dead, or her sheer audacity to break into his house and have a fucking picnic while he slept. And trailing Light all over his floors, at that. It was such a stupid, brazen move, so uncharacteristic for her, so strange, and as he ducks another volley of knives, he can’t help but feel like there is something very amiss here. They’ve fought enough times over the millennia that he’s learned her patterns by heart, and even with all the air of confusion and cunning that’s supposed to be her domain, little Sathona has always been hopelessly predictable. There was a familiar rhythm to this song and dance. But the way she is fighting now, her open posture and imprecise strikes, seem almost… clumsy. As if she didn’t have much of an idea what she was even doing. As if…

“You don’t remember,” he realises, glaive freezing mid-swing. “You don’t know anything.”

“Oh, that depends on how you define memory.” Savathûn thrusts a boquet of lightnings his way, but it is all too easy to dodge this time. “Can it be outsourced? Extracted and stashed away somewhere safe, like a black hole data bank of everything it has ever devoured? I have been wondering, these past few hours. How much of it must you shed until you’re truly free?”

Rhulk’s knuckles whiten around the glaive’s hilt.

Maybe she was actually dead. The thought alone feels sickening in his mind, but he chews it over, and finds its taste no less bitter even when digested. The urge to vomit sweeps over him again like a wave.

He suddenly thinks of Fundament all these years ago, of standing alone on the cliffs of the Osmium Court and staring up at the clouded sky. The Adversary was somewhere out there, her pale gaze sharp even through the layers of fog—and never before had he felt seen like that, as if pierced right through and dissected down to his most basic components. Not as a Lubraean, not as a Disciple, not even when his Witness’ hands had remade him. That was the first and only time he has ever feared her.

Until now.

The sensation renders him frozen for barely a second, but that’s all it takes. The next thing he feels is the searing not-pain in his shoulders—knives pinning him to the wall—and Savathûn’s breath on his face, her eyes white and sharp like a scalpel, bright, cutting him open down to the core.

“Sweet dreams, honey,” she murmurs, and her talons sink into his throat.

[miloscat]

[Review] Zuma's Revenge (PC)

A beautiful little time-waster.

For a bit of nostalgia I picked up a Popcap bundle on Steam. Their games were some of the first I had when I got my very own laptop for the first time. I used to spend hours on Zuma Deluxe when I was supposed to be studying for uni. No regrets. Well, some regrets.

For this trip down memory lane I first booted up the older Zuma Deluxe from 2003. It still has the power to suck my time away, and before I knew it Steam was telling me six hours had gone by! However, the difficulty curve was too steep and the Steam Deck touchpad, while surprisingly responsive, was not effective enough a replacement for a real mouse. How I ever did this on just an iBook's trackpad is beyond me! So I got stuck on world 9 and decided to move on to the sequel.

The Zuma formula is a good one, a match-3 game but with a dimension of action and skill (on top of the usual randomness). Your frog character fires orbs out of their mouth which join a snaking line of orbs, trying to match and combo to stop the line advancing to the dead end. Puzzle Bobble but more dynamic. The stage design gives a good amount of variety to each new level, and powerups help to stave off the relentless orb crusade (although they too often seem to blink out just when you're about to nab them). Of course, like most Popcap games this is a ripoff of an earlier format, in this case Mitchell Corporation's 1998 arcade classic Puzz Loop/Ballistic. Popcap got there first in cloning it but were followed before too long by Luxor and Sparkle.

Whatever iteration it's a fun design. Zuma's contribution was adding a potentially slightly racist layer of Central American theming, and of course the timeless frog character. Zuma's Revenge followed in 2009 with the frog washing up on a tropical island, the setting being swapped out for a slightly racist "tiki" theme that Americans seem to love so much. At least you don't have a guide character speaking to you in broken English this time. Instead there are boss tikis who taunt you as you get closer to their lairs.

The boss fights are a highlight, with little gimmicks to shake up the gameplay. The final boss in particular has a fun fakeout and gives you infinite retries; much appreciated. There's other additions since the original too: more cool powerups, some levels having you swap between positions or slide on a rail rather than rotate, and new gameplay modes (they're mainly just more difficult versions of the main game, so I didn't delve too deeply). There's also the expected layer of polish over the whole experience. Plus I didn't get hard stuck for hours, so the difficulty must have been rebalanced a bit for the initial campaign, which is nice.

Popcap are [or were] great at making addictive gameplay loops, getting you into a flow state, as well as infusing their games with colour and character. It's no wonder they became an indie success before being scooped up by EA. Sadly, past this point their output became gradually more scummy and focused on free-to-play (but heavily monetised) Plants vs Zombies spinoffs. Zuma has had a time-limited Facebook iteration—now delisted— in 2010 but post-EA the series has seen just… a literal slot machine. Ugh. Maybe one day we'll get the Peggle or Zuma sequel we deserve, but it's seeming less likely the more layoffs happen over the years under their corporate overlords. Now I've made myself sad. At least we'll always have Zuma's Revenge for $1.50 on Steam.

[brandwhorestarscream]

I wasn’t the anon who sent you the ask but can I hear about the three skybound cities of which Vos is one please?

Absolutely you can! Yes!!

So, a bit of backstory on why there are 3 cities in the sky: each of the 13 major citystates of Cybertron was founded by one of the 13 original Primes when Cybertron was still very young. The twins, Alchemist and Amalgamous Prime, created the two different types of seekers. Alchemist created Vos, who's seekers are incredibly petite, lightweight, and the fastest possible flight of any cybertronians. They're also the only ones that possess the Rainmaker gene. Vosian seekers have small frames, thrusters on their pedes, and a venomous bite. On the other side, Amalgamous Prime's Helexian seekers are much bigger and bulkier, heavier set so they can withstand more damage at the cost of speed. They're still great flyers, make no mistake, and are much faster in the air then those with groundbound alt modes, but they're left in the dust by their smaller cousins.

Both cities are engineering marvels created by their respective patron Primes: Vos is a massive flying collection of millions and millions of towers, platforms, and floating buildings, all programmed to fly in perfect formation with the others, orbiting around a central point (the Temple of Alchemist Prime). There's open air everywhere you look, plenty of room for the seekers to swoop between buildings on different levels. It flies through the air like an autonomous being, circling Cybertron and keeping the seekers safely many miles above the surgace of the planet.

The other city, Helex, rather than being a massive collection of buildings is instead one giant amalgamation. Helex appears more akin to a massive ship than a city, but it houses millions of citizens and the ciry never looks the same from day to day, or sometimes even hour to hour. Helex is always shifting, moving, and transforming, and the best way I can describe it is an amorphous mass of constantly shifting metal plates, as if the city is constantly in the hands of their creator, and he's playing with it like a rubik's cube. Everything pivots, flips, turns, and slides around, roads only exist at certain times of the day, some storefronts transform and become their owner's homes after closing time. Helex is almost like a mini-Cybertron, the way it has so many layers packed in at odd angles, with artificial gravity so it appears the mecha are walking on walls or the ceiling even though, to them, they're always on the floor. It's also important to note that Helex is always hollow in the middle: the center of the city is a massive, perfectly cylindrical tube from top to bottom, so there's no risk of sky hunger or lack of fresh air to keep the seekers sane. The city itself is imbued with the Prime's power, so there's never once been an accident with someone getting crushed or even slightly scraped. The city knows when it's safe to change, and takes great care of it's seekers.

The final sky city is Kalis, and it was created by Liege Maximo. He was the mother of all triple changers, the first cybertronian to have more than one alt mode. As a result, Kalis is a unique flying city in that it had flyers and grounders living in it. Liege Maximo's creations consisted of triple changers like himself, but also shuttles, helicopters, trains, tanks, and multiple civilian class grounders. Kalis is a giant melting pot of frame types, unlike the very, very concentrated Vos and Helex. The other two sky cities typically don't even allow non-flyers inside, for their own safety if not for prejudice.

Now Kalis, unlike Vos and Helex, wasn't designed and engineered and built. When the 13 Primes were dividing up different areas of the planet for them each to completely their projects in, Liege Maximo quickly decided that he wanted to put his settlement in the sky, as he quite enjoyed flight... but also, as a triple changer, he enjoyed being a grounder. To make it a place for both, he took his section of the planet and carved out a huge, massive continent's worth of land, ripping it from the planet and creating a massive crater that would one day become host to the Sea of Rust, hoisting it into the sky and imbuing it with his power to make it fly. Look up pictures of floating islands, that's the best way I can describe Kalis. It has a thriving crystalline ecosystem, large mountains a central river of energon that flows from a hidden spring on the highest peak. Kalis is a citystate with roads and open airspace, homes of every design for most every frame type, and several physical layers that have eroded and changed over time to make it a mix of technological and naturaly biomechanical wonder. If all seekers come from Vos or Helex, then most every other flying body type originated in Kalis

That's a general description of each, and this is getting long, so I won't spring into a bunch about the political sphere of each. If you're interested tho, just say the word!

[after-the-ellipsis]

TGSOE director’s commentary ⭐️chapter 14

For the Fanfic Director's Commentary. Previous commentary (for HWPOV: Chapter 19) here.

Director's Commentary - The Greatest Show on Earth: Chapter 14

If you're wondering why I abandoned the fic all those years ago, look no further than this big ole bastard of a chapter. I was terrified of writing its central set piece, Hannibal on the stand. To be frank, I had no idea what I wanted Hannibal to say up there. It felt so foolhardy taking a character who derives so much of his power from how little he says, who prefers to implicate and manipulate rather than to take personal responsibility for his actions, and putting him on the witness stand where he'd be forced to talk and talk and talk and possibly be held accountable (gasp!) for what he says. Why would I do this to Hannibal? Why would I do this to myself? In the end, it was too thorny a problem to wrap my head around while also working on my original novel, so I walked away. 

SMASH CUT to eight years later and I was reading the fics again, reminding myself of how much I still love them, when the solution to my Hannibal-on-the-stand problem erupted in my mind. I saw Hannibal asking his Will for help in exchange for free rein of the memory palace, and the two of them putting on a new version of Wolf Trap together, which Hannibal, from the stand, would use as the basis for his testimony. The second I had this idea I wanted to write it so badly that I knew I was going to do the previously unthinkable: I was going back to Greatest Show.

But even though I'd found my solution, I wasn't sure I could pull it off.

Brauer isn’t exactly projecting a veneer of confidence. His fingers tap their table at a tempo best described as allegro agitato as he reviews his notes, four pages of scribblings more like the late-night ravings of a drunkard than anything resembling a legal strategy. Hannibal reaches out, pins the notepad with his forefinger, and slides it out from under his lawyer. He leans forward, hooking Brauer with his eyes. “You were never the clown, Leonard. You’re the tightrope walker. Walk it with me.”

It's me, I'm Brauer, I'm the tightrope walker. I was so nervous to write this chapter that I made Hannibal give me a little pep talk. I tried to do my best by him; hopefully I didn't drop him during our aerial routine!

Brauer eyes Hannibal sideways. “Would you say you understand your own mind, Dr. Lecter?” Will and Hannibal tack up a drop cloth to hide the worst of the damaged walls in the living room. “Not perfectly,” answers Hannibal. “Do you have control of your mind?” Behind the drop cloth, a chunk of plaster the size of a hubcap topples out of the wall. Will winces. “No more control than anyone does.” Brauer squints one eye. “Mayyybe less?”

From a craft perspective, this sequence is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever written. Because it’s actually two scenes braided together: Hannibal on the witness stand, a grandiose crowd scene that verges on farce, and Hannibal and Will in Wolf Trap, an intimate dinner conversation that eventually becomes a surrealist romantic nightmare.

I considered a lot of different structures and formatting styles to make this work: Big paragraph breaks between court and Wolf Trap? Italics and parentheses to differentiate? Begin every other paragraph with “Meanwhile, in the memory palace”? In the end I placed my trust in the mind of my protagonist. This is how Hannibal perceives his world: two parallel tracks running at once with no distraction from either (though at one point Hannibal does get distracted by how winsome Will looks in the candlelight). If Hannibal can juggle two different scenes at the same time, so can you and I. We’ve become tightrope walkers AND jugglers.

Jack shuts his eyes. He is trying very hard to control himself. “Take the deal,” says Prurnell. “No,” says Weaver. “Speaking for myself, I won’t be able to live with it if I accept his offer. Can you, Jack?” They all turn to him. Hannibal can sense the mighty conflict raging beneath Jack’s stony edifice. On one side, the course Jack has always taken, the pursuit of justice at any cost—but on the other, staying true to his promise to keep Hannibal and Will apart. The clash of these opposing resolutions threatens to tear Jack in two. Finally, in a broken voice, he says, “I’ll call Will.” 

This chapter's emotional climax is the negotiation scene in the judge’s chambers. After his performance on the witness stand, Hannibal returns to being the silent, ever-watchful, all-powerful puppet master. He gets everything he wants without saying a damn thing. The only time he does speak, it’s to offer a plea bargain that seemingly runs counter to his aims. He floats this offer to tempt Jack: take the plea bargain and protect Will from meeting Hannibal again, or keep chasing a conviction by calling Will to the stand. Under this pressure, Jack betrays the promise he made in TGSOE Chapter 1 and agrees to call Will. 

I love Jack, so I was happy centering him in this big scene. As Hannibal's plans unfurl, we realize that many of his actions in court haven't actually been about Will -- they've been about Jack all along. In the first chapter of the fic Jack made the unwise but tremendously human promise to keep Hannibal and Will apart - to "wage war against fate.” Jack wants to make up for his many failures to protect Will, and like a true trickster god, Hannibal. Just. Won't. Let. Him. Do. This. He makes it his mission to force Jack into breaking his promise and betraying Will. 

Hannibal stands his ground, meeting Jack’s accusatory gaze with the friendliest of smiles. “How’s Bella?” he asks. Jack’s eyes bulge, but before anything can happen, four guards converge on him, holding him back, shoving him away from Hannibal. Brauer is yelling, as are the guards, but Jack is silent except for his rumbling breaths. Focused as they are on Jack, the guards have neglected to restrain Beverly, who now rears back and, without hesitation, punches Hannibal in the jaw. She’s stronger than she looks. Hannibal’s head rockets to the side, white pain zinging through his teeth. Unbalanced by the straitjacket, he topples over, landing hard on the cement. In the very second that this happens, he hears—despite the ringing in his ears—the distinct click of Freddie’s shutter. She got her shot just as Beverly got hers. An FBI agent attacking an unarmed man in a straitjacket!

When it comes to plotting, move over Hannibal because I'm the trickster god. I love ramping up and ramping up to a big splashy climax that is actually a red herring. Will's trial was one such red herring in HWPOV. I often had the characters discuss the trial, planning for it and dreading it, when all the while I knew that I was never going to write it. Will, Beverly, and Alana exposed Hannibal before Will's day in court.

In TGSOE Hannibal's trial is very much the center of the action. But, in its own way, it's a red herring too. It doesn't get resolved in court the way a traditional courtroom drama would. It's resolved in the courtyard when Beverly punches Hannibal in the face and Freddie catches it all on camera. It's resolved in the back rooms with Hannibal wheeling and dealing. We don't even see the trial's conclusion. Instead we get:

Will Graham has taken his place on the witness stand. “I didn’t frame Hannibal Lecter,” he says. “But Hannibal would love for you to think that I did. That I cut corners in my investigation. That, in catching him, I did something fatally wrong. He hopes you’ll wonder if maybe some of his murders are really my murders. Where does his work end and mine begin? He wants you to think I’m complicit in his crimes—I’m not. But I am complicit in him.” Will looks at Hannibal, and it’s like there is no one in the courtroom but them. Because there isn’t. The room is empty save for Hannibal, who sits at the defense table, watching Will with a knowing smile.

I'm evil, so I couldn't resist doing this. I had set up the expectation that Will and Hannibal were going to reunite during the trial with the full knowledge I wasn't going to follow through. Another red herring. The last scene in Chapter 14 is a fake-out. A glimpse of Will finally testifying - zero doors! - but it's really Hannibal's Will in the memory palace pulling a fast one on ya. Sorry! You should know by now not to trust me.

The real climax of TGSOE isn't Will and Hannibal reuniting in a courtroom. The real climax of TGSOE is still to come.

[dailyanarchistposts]

VII: Dune It Feel Good?

To be clear, Frank Herbert wrote propaganda for a Republican political candidate, was fine rubbing shoulders with reactionary Republicans in the 1950s, and was essentially a libertarian of the US variety, which is it’s own strange beast, for those of you in other countries. While libertarian might mean anarchism in Germany, Chile, Greece, Spain, and even Japan, the US is the only country where it has come to mean something other than anarchism. This is the fault of one anarchist, Benjamin Tucker, the sole creator of both US libertarianism and the abomination known as anarcho-capitalism. Without a doubt, Tucker birthed a monster by the time he died in 1939, and his strain of libertarianism was flourishing by the late-1960s, a wave Frank Herbert was certainly part of.

While this article might be titled An Anarchist’s Guide To Dune, I in no way wish to convey the idea that Frank Herbert was himself an anarchist. Influenced by them, certainly, as I’ve shown, but not an anarchist, and I’ll elaborate more on this later. When he does use the word anarchy in the novel Dune, it is to describe the force always threatening centralized power, which isn’t inaccurate, but largely neutral. Nevertheless, the Fremen are part of that anarchy poised to engulf the Empire, at least before they are converted into a living prophet’s standing army, the foot-soldiers of a new religious Empire. If the reader is able to detach (or examine) their empathy for the characters of Dune, the entire story becomes an anarchist fable of a free people who fall into the hands of a Hero.

Speaking of anarchism, it’s not long after Paul and Jessica emerge from the sphincter-seal of the still-tent before they’re picked up in an ornithopter by Duncan Idaho and Liet Kynes, who has defected from the Empire and promised them refuge among the Fremen. As they descend into an Imperial Ecological Testing Station, Paul felt himself touched briefly by his powers of prescience, seeing himself infected by the wild race consciousness that was moving the human universe towards chaos. At this point, Paul is afraid of this race consciousness, a total awareness of all humans as one collective group.

In the book as well as the recent movie, Liet Kynes risks their life to help Paul and Jessica, and as described in the book, this is partially due to the Atreides sincerity, the genetic defect which gave them that tremendous, almost naive honor, at least according to Jessica. Later, after Duncan Idaho dies to save them in the Testing Station, the mother and son get in an ornithopter and are chased into a huge desert storm, a scene faithfully recreated in the film. However, while the film portrays Paul as tripping balls on spice and hearing weird voices a they spin in the storm, the book is much more materialist, with Paul simply steering them into an updraft until they can glide out.

After crashing and fleeing to the rocks, a sandworm eats their ornithopter, something the film leaves out. As they walk along the rockface, Paul and Jessica stop when he notices there are growing things over there. After handing his mother the binoculars, she confirms it is saguaro cactus, scrawny stuff. A version of this scene is also included in the film, although the growing things are barely visible and simply referred to as greenery. Nevertheless, both scenes include Paul deducing that there must be Fremen nearby, for how else would anything grow? Earlier, Paul rescued Jessica from a sand-slide, just as they both recovered their buried fremkit, and before crossing the dunes to the next rock formation, Jessica tells Paul, today you panicked…you know your mind and bindu-nervature perhaps better than I do, but you’ve much yet to learn about your body’s prana-musculature.

Given that Jessica is called a witch throughout the text, it’s semi-appropriate that part of her secret Bene Gesserit training is advanced yoga techniques, taken to their absolute limit. The term bindu is from Hatha Yoga, something practiced at anarchist Home as early as 1910, and while bindu relates to energy within the body flowing up the spine, correlating with the nervous system, prana is what flows into the body from the outside via the rhythm of breathing, something which allows them to be aware of and fully control their entire body. Not only do Bene Gesserit witches meditate, they can change their cellular structure through hyper-advanced yoga techniques and are able to choose whether they give birth to a boy or girl, just by willing it.

In this regard, the Bene Gesserit also have their own embodied materialism, one that Jessica soon wields over the veritable Fremen materialism. Before that, when they’re still crossing the dunes, Paul walks into drum-sand and rouses a sandworm, which soon comes to eat them. After barely escaping with their lives, Jessica is overwhelmed, it took intense concentration of her Bene Gesserit training to put down the primal terrors, subduing a race-memory fear that threatened to fill her mind. Obviously sandworms don’t have a race, and what Jessica feels is an epigenetic race-memory from the past of all humans, telling her to fear this gigantic creature.

Meanwhile, the Harkonnens have thrown Liet Kynes into the desert without a stillsuit, and as he wanders delirious across the dunes, Liet hallucinates his father Pardo, the man who introduced the green paradise into the Fremen imagination. As his hallucination explains, movement across the landscape is a necessity for animal life. Nomad people’s follow the same necessity. Lines of movement adjust to physical needs for water, food, minerals. We must control this movement now, align it for our purposes. All this from the hallucinated voice of an Imperial Ecologist.

As this hallucination makes clear to his dying son Liet, the historical system of mutual pillage and extortion stops here on Arrakis. You cannot go on forever stealing what you need without regard to those who come after. He then elaborates, Arrakis is a one crop planet. One crop. It supports a ruling class that lives as ruling classes have lived in all times while, beneath them, a semihuman mass of semislaves exists on the leavings. It’s the masses and the leavings that occupy our attention. These are far more valuable than has ever been suspected. This semi-anarchist rant goes until a spice-mass explodes in the desert, sucking Liet into into a sandy grave. Again, Liet is the father of Chani, at least in the novel, the woman who will eventually become Paul’s lover.

Meanwhile, when Paul and Jessica are still out in the rocks and dunes, the recent film depicts this mom and her little guy dressed in stillsuits and robes, descending a sandy path down a rock-face. Utilizing all their combined nerd powers, the filmmakers recreated the image from the original 1965 hardcover edition of Dune, a truly remarkable feat. It also faithfully recreates their flight from the sandworm and their eventual encirclement by a band of Fremen.

When their leader Stilgar tries to kill Jessica, her son disables several fighters until she gets Stilgar under her knife. While he pleads for his life, giving his word that they will be safe if she spares him, he tells her, out here, woman, we carry no paper for contracts. We make no evening promises to be broken at dawn. When a man says a thing, that’s the contract. In the film, when Jessica has Stilgar under a knife, she sniffs his head to see if he’s lying, being able to detect such things with her Bene Gesserit training, and this is one of the few expositions of her skills, and also one that doesn’t happen in the book. Nevertheless, the Bene Gesserit can smell everything in the novel Dune, as you will soon see.

In the book, one of the fighters Paul knocked out was Jamis, and he is certainly bitter as Stilgar leads these strangers into one of their sietches. On the way, Stilgar tells many secrets, such as how we bribe the Guild with a monstrous payment in spice to keep our skies clear of satellites and such that none may spy what we do to the face of Arrakis. This reality that keeps Arrakis hidden is absent from the recent film aside from a brief moment where the Baron Harkonnen says simply, there are no satellites over Arrakis, without any further commentary.

While the Fremen invite Jessica to become their new Reverend Mother, young Paul is tripping balls out in the corner of the sietch, and he sensed it, the race consciousness that he could not escape. To make it all worse, Paul is forced to engage in a ritual knife fight with Jamis, all the while stoned out of his mind on spice. In the recent film, this fight takes place before they get to any sietch, but in both cases Paul wins. However, the book provides something important, for right after Paul kills Jamis, his mother thinks to herself, now is the terrible moment. He has killed a man in clear superiority of mind and muscle. He must not grow to enjoy such a victory. These lines are really crucial, and I’ll repeat them later when they can make more sense.

For now, just know that the book depicts Paul tripping even harder on spice after he kills Jamis, and he could feel the demanding race consciousness within him, his own terrible purpose, and he knew that no small thing could deflect the juggernaut. It was gathering weight and momentum. If he died this instant, the thing would go on through his mother and his unborn sister. Nothing less than the deaths of all the troop gathered here and now—himself and his mother included—could stop the thing. In other words, there was either the jihad of the Fremen, or the feudal barbarity of the Imperial status quo, and Paul’s race consciousness could not let him chose the status quo. Even if he was a product of his mother’s Bene Gesserit training, even if the Bene Gesserit seeded the religion on Arrakis which now gave him a prophet status, the religious jihad was the only way to ensure that the eugenic plans of the Bene Gesserit would never again reign over the galaxy.

This brings us over halfway through the novel Dune, or the end of the film Dune: Part One, and I will leave you with one final quote before returning to Frank Herbert, the author. I’ve already mentioned fremkits and still-tents and sphincter-seals, but after Jessica watches the Fremen reclaims the water from Jamis’ body, she notices that the water flowed off those walls without binding tension. She saw a profound clue to Fremen technology in the simple fact: they were perfectionists.

[accirax]

Disventure Camp All Stars Power Ranking (Round 8)

It's yet again time to round up some power rankings. Will I slip at the start or slide my way to a perfect score?

In case you haven't seen my previous power rankings ( 5 | 6 | 7 ), the Power Ranking Format is essentially a way of ranking how well each player is doing in the game. So, in essence, this is a long form way of predicting who I think will be eliminated from the competition in the next episode. There will be spoilers for last week's episode (obviously) and its power ranking, so make sure to read that first if you don't want to be spoiled on how I ranked our last boot. If you want more clarification on the rules, that first post will help you out as well. Furthermore, I'm going to be spoiling the preview for next episode, so if you want to go in TOTALLY blind, save this for later. Let's go!

Recap - Ellie's Elimination

Current Point Total: 28 acquired/42 total

I should've stuck to my guns, dammit! Why couldn't this exact scenario have played out, like, two weeks ago, when I would've been totally right? Just another failing of my self doubts, I suppose. This time, I'll be sure to doubt those doubts.

Anyways, given that I've anticipated it for so long, Ellie's elimination is as unsurprising as it is understandable (which is "highly"). As I mentioned in my initial thoughts, I really like how they explained her elimination as the game being bad for her, because, it's true! It made it extra surprising that Ellie wasn't there for the Patreon readings-- more or less increasing her odds of rejoining the game later-- but, who knows what'll happen there. For now, I think this season will be fine without Ellie there to add her particular brand of spice, even if it helped to flesh out the season's palette while she was there.

Also, I finally put the boot in 10th place instead of 9th place :D I'm improving!

Trailer Analysis

Tom and Aiden will do... whatever the hell this is. My guess is that Tom is (lightheartedly) teasing Aiden about something regarding James. Maybe it's some kind of pivot after Aiden tries to press Tom further about his mysterious boyfriend?

Alec and Grett will join Riya sunning herself on the beach. This may be important if it's showing Yul being on the outs.

Gabby will yell at Tess, presumably confronting her over Ellie's elimination.

The way the shots before this one were cut together, it seems like Ashley and Riya (and, by extension, Magenta and Yellow) will argue with each other.

The challenge will be something involving a slip n slide track where contestants shoot a ball at the end. Notably, it seems that they don't start off holding the balls at the beginning of the track. Also, some contestants are shown sitting, while others are shown standing. Maybe there's a break point in the middle where they acquire the balls, and can switch between sitting and standing?

The thumbnail shot, which shows Tess and Ally arguing with someone. Based on the earlier content, my guess is Riya/the Yellow Team.

Jake, at least, will also attempt to throw a ball before the stop at the end illustrated by Grett. Some theories: 1) this is a desperate hail mary at the end of the challenge that Jake throws early to prevent Magenta from losing, 2) this is a desperate pass to either Ashley or Ally, who are standing ahead of Jake, at the end of the challenge to prevent Magenta from losing, or 3) this is Jake choosing to enable PvP and throw the ball at probably Aiden or Tom. Honestly, leaning towards #3.

"You think saying you're gay is something huge? Look what show we're on."

Trevor and Emily will continue their conversation regarding Trevor's feelings for Derek, and Trevor will (presumably) come to outwardly acknowledge those feelings as romantic, coming out to Emily as gay/bi. (Bi is the canon one as far as we last heard.) Emily is sitting on a picnic blanket, which implies that she decided to eat the picnic herself after Yul chose to abandon it. She's an icon for that and the quote itself.

There's a lot more camp life shown in this trailer than the last one. This definitely seems like it could be a short challenge, with more focus on interpersonal relationships and the fallout of last episode's elimination. That definitely gives me some material to work with, although, as always, it's gonna be at least a partial shot in the dark.

Power Ranking

#1: Ashley

I still think Ashley is totally safe. Why would Ally and Jake work together to eliminate her? It just doesn't make sense. Barring, like... a medical evacuation, Ashley will live to see another day. And, based on the trailer, it even seems like Ally would be the more likely medevac.

#2: Alec

I also still think that Alec is very likely to survive, because, similar to Ashley, it doesn't make any sense for Riya, Yul, and Grett to work together to eliminate him. I think the most likely path to an Alec boot would be if he and Riya try to vote for probably Yul, and Yul and Grett decide to vote for Alec, sending Alec home in whatever the tiebreaker would be this time. However, even in that fringe situation, I think that Yul and Grett would choose to vote for Riya over Alec, and that, narratively, Yul would probably lose the tiebreaker challenge. There's no way he'd win a tiebreaker twice, right? Especially with an injured foot?

I also want to draw attention to the fact that the three boots from S1 thus far have been Miriam, Fiore, and Ellie, in that order. First place, then second place, then third place. I do wonder if Alec, as S1's fourth place finisher, will pick up on that pattern and worry about it at all.

#3: Ally

An Ally boot would definitely be surprising. It's still possible that Ashley could choose to side with Jake over her, but I don't think that's the direction the story will take. Like, the intended message could be, "true friends will stick with you through thick and thin, so there's no reason to worry." However, I think that a better and probably more accurate moral to learn would be "if you always assume the worst in people, you'll drive even those who want the best for you away." AKA, I don't think that the narrative would want to reward Jake for slipping back into those old insecure habits by having Ashley cave under his whining.

The way that the writers have fleshed Ally out this season has been really nice, and I hope that her story doesn't end before the merge. Despite her placing sixth in S2 (the same place as, uh, Tom), I always forget that she made it late into the game. Probably because she wasn't bringing a whole lot to the table. Now she is, so let's hope that table doesn't fold under the weight of Jake bias.

#4: Grett

Y'know, I still don't really know what to do with Grett. The narrative as it stands could function without her-- the main plot line she's involved in at the moment is pretty self-contained, and could naturally disappear with her elimination-- but the Yellow Team really doesn't seem like they'd be gearing up to vote her out. Right now, she's a loyal and somewhat naive/subservient henchman, which is exactly what characters like Alec or Yul are looking for.

Due to that logic, I wound up being fairly confident that she won't be the next elimination. I hope she won't, because I really like Grett, both in S1 and DCAS. Then again, I really like pretty much everyone in DCAS, but the show just has to keep eliminating people! Why do we keep putting ourselves through this...?!

#5: Tom

The state of Cyan up until their next elimination is quite the interesting situation, indeed. Given that Aiden, Tom, and Tess already voted against Gabby last time, and Gabby made it clear to us that she doesn't plan on legitimately working with any of them anymore, Gabby is the obvious next elimination from that tribe. So, when considering the others, my main criteria is, "who would Gabby be the most likely to vote for in the case of her finding a totem?"

Given Gabby's character, I imagine that her vote would be decided by who she feels the most betrayed by/is the most angry at, as opposed to being a huge strategic play. All three of Aiden, Tom, and Tess have their arguments for being Gabby's biggest target, which I'll elaborate on in each of their individual sections.

For Tom, the argument is that Gabby would feel the most betrayed by him because he was actually one of her friends on S1, as opposed to Aiden and Tess, who she didn't know super well. She thought they were genuine friends, yet he was out there cackling over Ellie's elimination with the rest of them.

However, despite that personal element, I think that targeting Tom would be Gabby's least likely decision. I'd attribute Ellie's elimination as Aiden's move, and Tess was the facilitator that made it happen. Tom was just along for the ride. Although that hasn't stopped Gabby from holding a grudge in the past (pour one out for Dan), to me it seems like she'd have bigger fish to fry.

Additionally, I think that (other than possibly Gabby) Tom would be the worst Cyan character to lose at the moment, narratively speaking. If Tom is going to be eliminated, it would be much more satisfying for it to be the result of his own poor decisions (like what just happened to Ellie) than Gabby's random silver bullet. Between Jake, Aiden, and the lie Tom trapped himself in, it feels to me like the writers have more that they want to do with Tom yet.

#6: Tess

Alright, so, why would Gabby want to eliminate Tess? Well, Tess was the deciding vote between whether Ellie or Aiden would go home, and, by Gabby's reaction, she was pretty surprised by Tess' verdict. Therefore, Gabby could see Tess as having committed the greatest betrayal.

There is also a possibility that Gabby could manage to eliminate Tess without needing some sort of idol or advantage. At the very least, I'm sure it would be far easier for Gabby to convince Aiden and Tom to work together to eliminate Tess than to get either of Aiden and Tom to flip on each other. Aiden and Tom might go along with it if they were worried about Tess flipping on Cyan to vote with Magenta at the merge because of Ally, or something.

However, I still don't really think that Tess would be eliminated in this fashion. You could argue that her character arc is now complete upon her making the decision to side with the boys over Ellie, but personally, I don't think that's all they'd want to do with her. Down to this next episode's thumbnail, recent episodes have been rekindling the relationship between Tess and Ally, and making us look forward to seeing more happen between them (romantic or platonic). I want to believe that they'll make the merge together, so I hope Tess isn't eliminated here.

#7: Aiden

The answer as to why Gabby would choose to get Aiden out is obvious: he's the one that spearheaded the movement to eliminate Ellie. Out of everyone who is or even has been on the Cyan Team, Aiden is the one who Gabby has bonded with the least. Plus, Gabby could adopt the mentality of "I'll fulfill Ellie's dying wish (eliminating Aiden) or get eliminated trying." It's my gut feeling that if Gabby were to idol someone out this episode, Aiden would be her target of choice.

And, as I wrote about last episode, if James doesn't become a returning player, the writers have less of a direct reason to keep Aiden around. He's still a fan favorite as always, but, like... the name of the game this season is sending fan favorites home. Unless he makes the final 3 again (which, granted, is possible), he will be eliminated at some point. So, why not now?

Well, the reason is still his relationships with other characters, even the ones that aren't James. The last episode also drew attention back to Aiden's relationship with Riya, and heightened the animosity between him and Jake. While having his relationship with Ellie lead to his downfall would make sense, leaving his rivalries with Jake and especially Riya unfinished would be a waste, in my opinion. Those three are dying to have beef with each other at the merge. Now that Ellie's out, maybe Aiden can be my new merge boot, in a synthesized move between Riya and her allies and Jake and his allies. Boy, would that make Tom mad. Honestly, seems pretty legit...

#8: Gabby

I know I kinda promised @/thefandomenchantress that Gabby wouldn't be at the bottom of my power rankings anymore, and, well, she isn't! ... But she's still at the bottom of Cyan. Sorry! Let me explain myself.

Let's be clear: I don't actually think Gabby is going anywhere this episode. While it is possible, I think it would be pretty lame to get the audience all hyped up over a potential Gabby villain arc only to cut it short prematurely. I find it far more likely that she'll be in this game for the long haul, now.

However, if the Connor... and Fiore... and Ellie... boots have told me anything, it's that, if it seems like the entire tribe would really obviously send their votes towards one person, it's probably that person who would be going home. Given that no totem has yet been announced for this season, and Ellie already scoured the entire Cyan camp looking for one, I find it unlikely that Gabby would be able to suddenly produce an idol with which to save herself. Therefore, if Cyan goes to tribal again, Gabby would probably be eliminated. I just find it more likely that they won't.

But even beyond that, you can tell how much I feel like the writers wouldn't want to send Gabby home right now by how I stacked all of the Cyan team members on top of each other. If Cyan does go to tribal, somehow, maybe the writers would be planning some sort of trick to keep Gabby in the game and eliminate... one of the others. I'm pretty confident that everyone Gabby and upward will be safe in the upcoming episode, and that there are only three people at real risk of elimination. So, let's talk about them.

#9: Jake

If Magenta goes to tribal, I think Jake would be eliminated. He made a lot of enemies last episode, which is worrisome. Even beyond the direct implications of potentially making Ashley like him less, by making enemies on other teams, Jake has made it more likely that other contestants would be less likely to work with him come the merge. If Ashley could realize that, she would see that picking Jake over Ally would be bad gameplay.

Leaving Jake's relationships with Aiden and Tom somewhat unresolved would be unfortunate, but viable. I'm working a lot with that shot of Jake shooting the ball while seated, here. Let's say that, in a fit of jealousy, Jake does wind up shooting that ball at Aiden's head, but not in a way that makes Magenta win. That childish display causes Ashley to reevaluate Jake's character, and choose to vote with Ally. In that way, Aiden and Jake's hostility could still contribute to Jake's elimination without Aiden actually casting a vote for Jake. It would be really similar to how they used Jake and Ellie's relationship this season, honestly. Jake didn't get to directly vote Ellie out, but the way that Ellie obsessed over tearing the man down became part of Tess' logic.

Still, Jake is in ninth instead of lower down because he is so entrenched in plot lines and relationships. As I alluded to back in Ally's section, I do definitely get the sense that the writers have a lot of bias towards Jake as a character, given how much focus he's gotten in both S1 and DCAS. He's their special little blorbo. They can't just get rid of him now!

Much like Gabby, though, I'm not going to let my personal sense of narrative override what actually seems to be going down at the camps anymore. I wanted to put one representative from each tribe pretty close to the bottom in case of emergencies, and I think Jake is by far the easiest boot from that team if they do lose. There's a definite gulf between how likely I think it is that Gabby will be eliminated versus that Jake will be eliminated. However, there's a pretty big gulf between Jake and our last two for me, as well...

#10: Riya

and

#11: Yul

I feel like I kind of have to talk about these two together this time because of how I believe the episode is going to play out. So, what do I think will happen?

Well, basically, I think that this episode will result in a big decision point for Alec. At the beginning of the episode, we'll see that scene of him, Riya, and Grett all sunning themselves together, while Yul is off doing whatever Yul does. Then, we'll go to the challenge, where Riya will rile up the other teams and get them mad at her. The challenge will play out as it does, and, in some combination of Riya's tactics and Yul's injury, Yellow will lose. Thus, it'll be up for Alec to decide: is it time to get rid of Riya, or Yul?

Riya is a potential liability to Alec because of how her plans often result in the team losing. She's also very clearly in it for herself, and wouldn't hesitate to screw him over (just like Fiore did in S1). She represents the unfortunate blend of being dumb enough to play the game recklessly while also being smart enough that she might not blindly follow the leader with the same level of obedience that Yul or this iteration of Grett would. Working with her is dangerous. And yet, Alec seems to genuinely enjoy her company. With Fiore, Connor, and even Ellie now eliminated, friends are a commodity Alec is running low on. Would he really want to axe Riya, too? But, would he really let the notion of friendship stop him from doing what's best for his game?

Yul is the exact opposite. Alec has made it clear again and again that he thinks that Yul is a cruel and self-absorbed idiot. I'm sure he doesn't want to work with Yul more than he has to. But, does he have to? Yul and Grett currently have the advantage of coming as a pair, so if Alec wants any prayer of keeping his villains' alliance alive, he should probably keep around two allies instead of one. Yul himself nominated Alec as the leader last episode, unprompted. That level of power is hard to deny.

Despite Grett's connection to Yul, I think that Yul would be the more likely boot from this episode. 'Cause, guess what? Yul's rule of threes with Emily is over now! He fired her from that position, essentially ending that plot thread, which may be a hint that we might let him go soon. Without his earpiece, I could even see Yul saying something cruel to Grett in this episode that makes her decide to flip on him and potentially break up with him. Meanwhile, Riya still has her relationship with Aiden to provide intrigue if they ever meet up again.

It's also possible that Yul and Grett could vote for Riya, while Riya and Alec vote for Yul, resulting in a tie. However, as I said, I think that Yul would be set up to lose the tiebreaker this time around, thus making him this episode's boot anyways.

I've really enjoyed Yul's jokes this season, so I would definitely be sad to see him eliminated. I had been thinking about him as a potential (LOSING) finalist, so, if he doesn't go home this episode, maybe that could still happen. However, it feels to me that the writing is on the wall. If not for him, then, most likely for Riya.

Somehow, these power rankings keep getting shorter to write every time. It's almost like there are fewer variables to consider with each episode. I feel fairly confident that it's going to be Yul or Riya this time, so, hopefully that's another 10 or 11 points in the bag. See you next time!

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Webcomic Chapter 144 Review

Story

Well, it's been a minute! I said I'd review this on Sunday. I should have been more specific as to which Sunday I meant! Well, on we go!

144 opens where 143 left off, with what would seem a triumphant look at what the Neo Heroes are doing in fighting off the robot army.

We open to Raiden jumping out of the troop transporter ahead of his regular team. He scorns a parachute in favour of slowing his fall by sliding down a building.

He has left instructions for his team to focus on rescue efforts because he has put together his own team: the other super sumo wrestlers from his stable. He has sent them custom body suits in advance, and instructions as to where to meet -- as if he knew this was coming.

The robots patiently let them finish talking, then obligingly wait until they get into formation and then line up in beautiful rows like so many chess pieces. Raiden makes short work of their front ranks, his sumo stomp rattling many to pieces, and his palm strikes shattering the survivors.

No, nothing suspicious here, no siree.

"I would rather be ashes than dust" -- Jack London

We go to another location, where Webigaza and her cameraman are overlooking a scene of unfolding devastation. As he films, Webi starts a monologue on how the playground she used to play at as a child no longer exists, and how she can not hear the screams of people over the sound of the explosions. That while she sought power for popularity, she had never wanted it to come at this price.

As her cameraman praises her for her heartfelt words, sure to play well to her followers, she snaps at him, saying that it's no act, then takes off, challenging him to make use of his suit and fight alongside her. He chooses to keep filming. Webi uses her fancy moves, deceptively pretty energy 'snowballs' floating down to the robots to blast them to pieces. She decides that this is all too slow and limited and asks for the filming to stop. She then takes off at speed.

Her cameraman does not follow. He mutters that Webigaza is breaking the terms of her contract. And, in having run so far head without support, she's without coolant, batteries, and medication. She's sure to burn out soon.

And what a burn that is! As she flies through monster and robot alike, we see Webigaza's thoughts.

Webigaza wanted to be popular, not just a talented singer. That we knew from chapter 131. No, she wanted to shine! To be an icon that the world looked up to long term. That's why she sought power.

But that was not the whole story, as we see.

I too…

I too… she goes as she flies, ever faster.

She chose heroism for a reason. It sang to her on some level, and it turns out that listening to Child Emperor talking about the pro-heroes he'd known woke something in her. He spoke of how heroes were the real deal, how strong or weak, they'd fought earnestly for principle, not plaudits. And that was what she wanted. More than anything.

I too…

We watch her starting to smoke as she pushes on. Her smile increasingly strained as she approaches the point of no return.

I too will be a hero.

Meta: In Crisis, Opportunity

It's interesting to see how this tragedy shows who these Neo Hero leaders are under the skin. Both Raiden and Webigaza share several key traits. Both are seen in society as entertainers and for both of them, this realisation sits poorly with their deeper ambitions.

Raiden sees this crisis as an opportunity to make good on what he's felt is the honour and combat ability of sumo wrestling, long confined to the realm of mere entertainment. He's planned for this eventuality and is relishing every minute of this.

Conversely, we have Webigaza, another apparently shameless opportunist, shocked beyond belief at the reality of the destruction being wrought. It is not an opportunity to fly high and imprint WEBI, THE STAR! in the consciousnesses of millions of fans in her mind. It is a demand to protect what's left of the town that nurtured her to become the person she is now. Everything and everyone she knows is at risk of being wiped away. So for her, it's her chance to finally give something that is truly sincere, an honest, from-the-heart attempt to save the people and places she cares about. A person who knows too well what it's like to have every aspect of her world controlled, Webi has gone completely feral here, slaying like her life depends on it. It does…

… we watch her working with awe, but we know that she won't last long. Unless her cameraman relents and jumps in to help her, she's pretty much condemned to burn brightly and then burn out, like a meteor flaming across the sky.

Then again, perhaps, going out in one blazing act of heroism is the sort of image that Webigaza would have wanted. A chance to never fade into irrelevance.

Final thoughts: it's interesting to see that the character who talks a big game about honour is the shameless opportunist, while the nakedly opportunistic person turns out to have an altruistic core that overrides that opportunity. At least once.