#also no Chief in this story which is unusual

[daydreamerdrew]

Spicy Tales (1988) #19, reprinting a story from the July 1940 issue of Spicy Detective

[castiwls]

unexplained cases

Paring; dean x reader

Requested; @walkinthefairygarden

Synopsis; working as an FBI agent means you were more than used to the unusual but even some things drew the line as to strange for you. Little did you know two brothers were also on the case, and this would lead you down a whole new rabbit hole.

Notes; this is the longest thing I've written for tumblr holy. this idea is lowkey so fun tho!! requests are open!

Masterlist

You were used to strange. You’d spent the last few years of your life dealing with any and all cases which were deemed slightly too abnormal for a normal investigation. You’d seen things most of your colleagues could never imagine, hell even you couldn't have imagined some of the things you’d seen. 

Your time working with the FBI had taught you one thing. People were cruel. Sometimes the worst monsters weren't the ones who lived in the pages of an old Brothers Grimm story, sometimes they were your neighbour or sometimes they were your own family.

It wasn’t abnormal for you to be placed on a case which involved situations where people would go out, have fun, get slightly too drunk and disappear off into the night just to be found the next day in an alleyway by an innocent passerby. More often than not if you found yourself receiving the call that the body that had been found was most likely mutilated in a way that would give most people lifelong trauma.

More often than not after looking around for a little and doing some research into past disappearances you would find a pattern in the victims. They were all young blondes or they were all young men between the ages of 19 and 23. That usually led you to the door of the town's new resident killer who got some sick kick out of killing innocent people and mutilating them to ‘leave their mark’.

But in this case. This was different. It had started out normal enough. Victims in alleyways after nights out. They were all mutilated in some way which led you to the belief that yet again, you had a small-town killer trying to make a name for themselves. 

Yet when the bodies began to be autopsided that was when you began to grow confused and…slightly concerned. Nearly all the victims after death had been drained of more the half of their blood and they all had small hole marks on their necks. 

The corner had laughed joking. “Seem’s we have a town vampire.” And you laughed along while staring confused down at the marks. They were nothing you’d seen before. Maybe you simply had a killer with a creative streak but the killings still left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

✧.*

“Another one?” You let a sigh fall from your lips as you mindlessly chewed on your nail. “That's the fifth one this week.” You frowned slightly sitting back further into your seat. The police chief continued to fill you in on the latest victim as you stared down at your laptop. None of this made any sense. 

You had a killer. You were sure. But who the hell was draining their victims of more the half of their blood? And where the hell was this blood going? “I’ll be there in an hour.” You nodded to yourself before ending the call and pocketing your phone.

Luckily it didn’t take you long to get down to the bar where the victims all seemed to disappear from. The police chief waved you down as you approached, he passed you a file which detailed the latest victim. “I didn’t know you had a partner agent?” He crossed his arms as spoke.

Your eyes paused on the page as you registered his words. “I don’t,” You said looking up from the file. You started at him confused for a moment. “I’m the only one on this case.” The chief stared back at you his eyes narrowing. “Two other agents came around just before you got here. They said they’d been put on the case after the most recent killing.” He waved a hand at you. “They knew who you were…well claiming to.”

“What were their names?” You racked your mind for a minute trying to think of anyone who could have been placed on this case alongside you but your mind came up empty. Plus if anyone was assigned to help you with this you would have been informed.

“Osburne and Butler.” You looked back down to the file in your hand nodding slowly. You’d never heard of agents with those names before. “Are they still here?” You looked around for a moment before looking back to the chief who nodded before pointing to a black car parked a little down the road. 

Thanking him you began to make your way over to the car. Clearing your throat you came to a stop just before the car. The two men quickly turned, clearly shocked by your appearance. Tilting your head you narrowed your eyes. You’d never seen these men in your life. “Osburne and Butler I take it.” 

They both exchanged a quick look before the taller of the two nodded. “Uh. Yes. Is-is everything okay?” His tone was masked as concern but you could sense his slight nervousness from the way he shifted. “Yes everything is fine,” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m just wondering why you two think it's funny to pose as FBI agents and walk right onto a crime scene.” You hardened your gaze, watching in slight amusement as the one who had just spoken swallowed looking at his friend for help.

The other man scoffed rolling his eyes at you. “Listen here sweetheart, I don’t know who you think you are but we're not faking anything.” He gestured between him and his friend. “We got put on this case today, you can call our supervisor if you're so bothered.”

You frowned turning your attention to him. “You can’t have been put on this case.” You reached into your pocket pulling out your ID. “Because it’s my case. And in all my time working with the FBI I have never heard of any agents called Osbourne and Butler,” You placed your ID back in your pocket. “And last time I checked they were both pretty old.” 

You watched as the smaller man’s eyes widened at your words. You knew Black Sabbath? 

They both stared at you for a moment before the taller one smiled grabbing onto his partner's arm. “Excuse us for a minute.” You nodded, a quiet huff falling from your lips.

This was the last thing you needed right now. You watched unimpressed as the two seemed to go back and forth for a minute before the taller one turned back to you. He sent you another smile as he came to stand before you. “We’ll talk to our supervisor and find out what happened.” You nodded, looking back at the other man who was currently leaning back against the car. “Alright,” You nodded. 

You bid the two goodbye before walking back towards the bar where you could see the forensic officers beginning to move the body. You frowned to yourself as you looked back down at the file. 

Something about the two ‘agents’ seemed off to you. There was no way you wouldn’t have been informed. You watched as the body was taken away no doubt to the morgue which would be your next stop, though your mind was still stuck on the two men you’d just met.

You were 90% sure they were not agents, but before you acted on your suspicions you had to be sure. There was a low chance they maybe were who they claimed to be and somehow another division had caught wind of the cases and had decided to butt their head in but still never in your career had you seen that happen.

Pulling your phone from your pocket you quickly checked the time. You had more than enough time left to go check the morgue before doing some digging.

✧.*

Your fist banged against the door again for what felt like the hundredth time. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that there had never been any agents with the names Osbourne and Butler. It also hadn’t taken you long to find a case from a few years ago that involved another strange span of killings which had ended with the killer supposedly dead. 

Just as you raised your fist again the door suddenly swung open. The man’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at you. He opened his mouth but you quickly cut him off raising a finger. “Dean Winchester. Right?” You smiled sweetly at the man who simply gapped at you for a moment.

He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Like we said yesterday, we got put on this case just like you did alright? Now I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show up unannounced.” He sent you a small smirk. “If you really have an issue take it up with your supervisor.” 

You pursed your lips nodding. “Really?” You held up a file watching his face drop slightly. “Because this says, different Dean.” 

You pushed the file you’d been holding into his hands, crossing your arms over your chest. “According to this, you died a few years back. Yet. You look pretty alive to me.” 

Dean looked down at the file before looking back up at you. “This.” He waved the file. “Was a misunderstanding.” He glanced down the hallway seemingly relieved seeing that you were alone. “How did you find us.” He asked crossing his arms over his chest.

You could tell by his body language that he didn’t trust you. The way he glared at you was enough to tell you that he was less than friendly. Though you couldn’t deny the slight pull you felt towards him. 

You’d noticed him back at the bar but had kept a professional facade knowing that you had bigger problems. Though now being closer to him you finally were able to get a good look at the man and it only confirmed your thoughts from before. He was very attractive.

“That doesn’t matter. I’m more concerned about why you and your brother are pretending to work for the FBI.” You tilted your head as you questioned him. Dean rolled his eyes moving to lean against the doorway. “Well. Like you sweetheart, we were also doing our job.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You narrowed your eyes thinking for a moment. “Your job?” 

He nodded a small smirk growing on his lips. “What job could you possibly have which would require breaking the law.” Just as he opened his mouth to respond the trill of a phone ringing. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out your phone a small sigh leaving your lips as you noticed the caller's ID. “Again.” You mumbled exasperated before sliding your finger across the screen. 

Taking a step back from the doorway you watched as Dean’s gaze softened slightly. He stepped to the side before gesturing for you to come into the room. Furrowing your brows you stood for a moment, listening as the police chief began talking about yet another kill. 

Deciding he seemed relatively harmless you took his offer. When you’d first come you’d been under the opinion that Dean Winchester may have been your killer, and his hostile attitude upon seeing you had only furthered that belief. Yet getting another phone call while he was standing before you made you begin to rethink your original suspicions. 

Taking a seat on one of the beds you sighed. “Two victims,” Dean closed the door before moving to stand a few feet from you. “Alright. I’ll be there in an hour.” You ended the call before groaning. Two victims completely threw your pattern off. 

You looked around the room for a moment as you spoke before a thought hit you. Dean hadn’t been alone yesterday and you’d read on his file that he had a brother. “Where’s your brother?” You looked back over to the man who was watching you from his spot.

“He’s getting food.” Dean shrugged. “So two more victims huh.” He pushed. You nodded. “Yea. Why do you care anyway? What are you some kind of true crime fanatic.” He laughed quietly shaking his head.

“Oh no. It’s a bit more complicated.” He came to sit beside you, passing the file back. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the whole me not being dead to your boss.” You pursed your lips. “Why would I do that?” 

Dean Winchester being alive was very strange to you, but it wasn’t your issue. “Because we can help each other.” 

Dean gestured between you both. You stared at him confused for a moment. You needed to solve this case, and soon. Too many people were dying and you still had little to no leads on who it could possibly be that was committing these crimes. You thought it over for a moment. You were breaking so many rules even being here. You should have reported this to your supervisor straight away but you’d been curious. 

“Me and my brother, we deal with stuff like this all the time. We can help but I need you to promise not to try and shoot me if I tell you what we actually do for a living, alright?” 

✧.*

Working with the Winchesters was… interesting. 

You really hadn’t thought your life could get any stranger, yet here you were staring down at the bodies of three men. Turns out Sam and Dean Winchester had actually not been FBI agents and instead they spent their time traversing around the country killing ‘monsters.’

You initially laughed in Dean’s face calling him crazy before attempting to leave but he’d been quick to stop you. He’d then sat you down and pretty much showed you every piece of evidence they had to suggest that these killings were far from normal.

“A vampire?” You stared at him astounded as he simply nodded. “Yes. And most likely a werewolf. The killings line up.”

You’d not want to believe him but part of you after looking at the evidence knew he had a point. And so that had sent you down a spiral over the last week where you’d learnt of things that you’d only ever known about in your nightmares.

After that, the three of you quickly began comparing notes on the case. In doing this you’d quickly come to find at least three possible culprits. Each of the men had been seen in the club the night of the killings and they were always seen leaving with someone.

You’d surprisingly found yourself beginning to enjoy the company of the two. You normally worked alone during your cases and had always found that you’d worked better alone but during the last few days, you’d found that you actually enjoyed working with others.

Over the last two days, you’d always found yourself steadily growing closer and closer to the older of the two men. Dean Winchester was someone who you’d originally planned to keep at an arm's distance, but that plan quickly fell away.

You’d found yourself spending most of your time interviewing witnesses with him while Sam had stayed back going over your notes.

“Thank you, we’ll be in touch.” You smiled at the older woman as she said her own goodbyes before closing the door. Dean let out a breath as you walked down the porch steps towards his car. 

“You still think it could be her son?” You stopped beside the car to face him. Dean crossed his arms nodding slowly. “Yeah. Vamps don’t have to be born. The guy could have been bitten she’d be none the wiser.” 

You nodded pulling your lip between your teeth. “Okay. We got our guy.” A wave of relief ran through you as you stood there. For the first time in the case, it seemed like you finally had a strong lead who you were all sure was the killer.

Everything lined up. Now all you had to do was catch the guy. Dean reached into his pocket pulling his keys out. “We should go get Sam before heading to the bar. If he follows his pattern our guy should be there.” 

✧.*

“So. Case closed I guess.” You mumbled looking down at the body. Sam nodded from his spot opposite you. “Yeah.” You reached into your pocket pulling out your phone. You looked between the two.

“I’m gonna need to call this in, you two should probably disappear before the cops get here.” You smiled at the two. Sam nodded before looking over to his brother who was still looking down at the body. “How are you gonna explain this?” He asked pushing a hand into his pocket. 

“Suicide.” You gestured to the body. “Guy went mad, killed people and then couldn’t live with himself.” You shrugged. “It's more common than you’d think.” 

“Thank you. I don’t think I would have been able to do this without your help.” You rubbed a hand behind your neck before turning to Dean. “I’ll make sure your file disappears, just try and not get framed for another murder.” You teased slightly making the two men chuckle.

“I’ll try.” Dean grinned, his gaze settling on you. Over the last few days, you’d noticed the way he looked at you had changed. At first, he’d been hesitant, he’d always looked at you with a sceptical eye as if he was ready for you to flip on them at any moment but over time he’d realised that maybe you actually did want their help.

Maybe you really weren't going to lead him into a trap. And with that realisation, the way he looked at you had softened. He’d let himself become more comfortable in your presence. The way he looked at you now was different again. There was no lie that you felt something towards him. 

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that he was just another one of your passing crushes. You’d finish the case and he’d move on. Yet looking at him now you could swear he looked slightly disappointed.

“I’m gonna go wait in the car. I’ll see you there.” Sam nodded at his brother before sending you another smile and walking away. You both watched him go for a moment before you turned to Dean.

Dean didn’t say anything as he turned back to face you. He swallowed before raising a hand. “I guess I better let you call this in before someone sees us.” He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck before he turned and began walking away.

You stood for a moment before beginning to follow him “Dean. Wait.” At your voice, he paused turning to face you. You stopped a few feet from him before taking a breath. You slowly stepped closer until your chests were practically touching. 

You heard his breath hitch as he stared down at you, his lips parting slightly. Pushing yourself up you connected your lips with his. His hand wrapped around your waist as your own went to his head. 

His thumb rubbed circles against your waist as he slowly pulled back. A slight blush covered your cheeks as you panted softly. “Hey. Why don’t you come with us?” Dean whispered moving a hand to brush against your cheek.

“What?” You gasped, furrowing your brows as you looked at him. His eyes had lit up slightly at the idea and he smiled resting his forehead against yours. “Think about it alright. We’ll stick around for two more days and if you decide you wanna come with…you know where we’ll be.” He pressed his lips against yours again for a moment before pulling back. 

You frowned slightly watching him disappear around the corner before your attention turned back to the body. Pulling out your phone you found the chief's number before pressing call. As it rang you found yourself nervously chewing on your nail.

You felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Stay here and continue working for the FBI and leave behind a man who you were very much falling in love with or take his offer and discover a whole new world.

[reidbae]

DAY 27: Stress Relief — period sex w/dom!aaron hotchner

KINKTOBER 2023: masterlist

summary: Your hot, older boss, who’s been protective of you since day one, helps to remedy your stress when he finds out your time of the month has come.

pairing: dom!fwb!aaron hotchner x sub!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: mention of periods (obv), along with blood but it's nothing crazy, use of a condom and small mention of latex, very heavily implied age gap, reader is very shy, vaginal sex, piv sex, hip/thigh gripping, fondling, use of my love, angel, honey, sweet girl, and princess, reader is fucked dumb but also not rlly, hotch is super doting but there's some teasing, too, lots of praise, SO much slowburn i'm sorry lol (like the first 1.5k ish words), lmk if i missed anything!

wc: 3.3k

a/n: went a little overboard with this one oops :P also i'm gonna *try* to fill in most of the gaps i've missed for kinktober this weekend, but no promises <3 hope y'all enjoy this one!

tags: @nalycandy @prettyboydrspencerreid @mega-kittyglitter-1 @mrs-ssa-hotch @boimlers-gonna-boim

You were working tirelessly in the bullpen of the BAU, when a caring, yet firm, hand landed on your shoulder.

It was that of your unit chief, Aaron Hotchner’s: And also, your lover’s. You and Aaron had been seeing each other in private for a while now, and while not officially together, you were pretty damn close to it.

The older man had taken on a calm, caring, and loving role in your pairing, always handling you in a sweet, and never hostile way.

It was a sharp comparison to the manner in which he carried himself in the field, but that was a different story, for a different time.

You usually saw Aaron everyday when work ended, you coming over his house, or vice versa. If you didn’t, you’d let the other know, and there would be some exchange of affection, at least.

But that wasn’t the case this week.

You had dozens of case files and paperwork to finish. You had work to do in general because of the main job, but even more than your team, mainly due to the way you had handled your previous case. Strauss wasn’t happy about it, and neither were you, because you had a hell of a lot of work to do now because of it.

As a result, you had been spending less and less time with Aaron, even avoiding him when you could, so he wouldn’t get a feel for your grouchy mood.

It didn’t help, also, that you were on your period.

When Aaron’s kind hand landed on your shoulder, you looked up in surprise to see him hovering above you, all packed up and ready to go home. He would usually stay a little later as the week ended, working as tirelessly as you were on paperwork.

So to seem him here, ready to pack it in for the day, was a little unusual.

“Hi,” you spoke, looking up at him with a shy expression. He could see the worn out look that your eyes held, the bags under them giving you away.

“Hello,” Aaron spoke in his calm, composed tone of voice, one you usually heard when he was addressing people in the field. It wasn’t always a bad thing, really, seeing as that’s the way he was supposed to speak.

But when he used it on you, you knew you were in for a bit of a talk.

As you’d done various times before, you moved the case files you were working on aside, so that Aaron could lean on your desk. He did so, and crossed his arms as his gaze lingered on yours.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” Aaron said brusquely as he looked down at you; His expression was genuine, though, as he did, and you could tell that he cared.

You looked down and away from him, letting out a heavy sigh, not prepared to have this talk with him. “What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong,” you said in a timid, low voice, avoiding the tall man’s gaze.

“Please don’t lie to me, honey. I can tell something is wrong. I’m a profiler, remember? Just like you,” Aaron reminded you, and from the corner of your eye, you could see his expression change from loving to firm.

“We’re not supposed to profile each other,” you reminded him, your tone small as you answered him. Aaron let out a little chuckle, shaking his head above you.

“Fair enough,” Aaron chuckled. “That doesn’t mean I can’t still worry for you, honey. You haven’t been yourself. I’m sure you know that.”

You gave him a shrug, not quite sure what to say in response to that. “Yeah, well—I haven’t been the best,” you admitted to him.

Your reveal caused Aaron to crouch down next to you, the way he likely had done for his son, Jack, so many times. You suddenly felt just as small, and turned your head away from him.

Aaron guided your face back to his seconds later, his dark brown eyes boring into yours. The look was sweet, though, and soft, as he put a warm hand on your thigh.

“What’s wrong, angel?” Aaron asked you curiously. You couldn’t deny the wave of butterflies that soared through your figure when he said that, and you bit your lip.

“I just have a lot of work to do, that’s all. And I’ve been—Moody,” you vaguely explained to him. You avoided using the word, “period,” for a fear of the weirded out look Aaron could give you if he heard it.

But Aaron took the words from your mouth in mere seconds, like he’d been able to do on numerous occasions. “Are you on your period, my love?”

Your eyes widened when he asked you this; Your cheeks warmed up as soon as his words finished, and you swallowed. “H- How did you know that?” you asked bewilderedly.

“Come on, princess. Do you really think I wouldn’t pick up on it? You get moody like this at least once a month, and I’ve been seeing you for seven. It doesn’t take a profiler to figure out what the cause of that is,” Aaron explained to you, rubbing his hand over your thigh. His tone wasn’t teasing, though, his words flowing from his lips in a warm manner.

You hid your face with your hands, hating, and loving, the way he could read you so easily. Aaron chuckled as you mumbled to him, “That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” he assured you, moving his hand from your thigh to your shoulder. You’d be wondering how he was keeping his balance so well, if it weren’t for the fact that you were being so awkward. “It’s normal, and nothing to be ashamed of, honey. You’re okay.”

After a while of Aaron rubbing your shoulder, the unit chief broke the silence once again. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me so much?” he asked.

“I have not been avoiding you,” you said to him, even if you knew you were lying through your teeth.

That was the very thing you’d been doing.

“Do you want to convince me that, or yourself?” Aaron chuckled, keeping his hand where it was on your shoulder. You shrugged.

“Okay, so maybe I have been a little bit. But it’s not you. I’ve just been so tired and stressed, and—I don’t know. I know it doesn’t make sense,” you said to him.

“It doesn’t have to make sense to me, honey. As long as it does to you, that’s fine with me. I understand,” he told you. “You need a break from work. Come on. Let me take you home.”

“No, Aaron, I need to finish these files,” you all but whined, the very idea of abandoning your unfinished work making you uneasy. Aaron chuckled and got up, holding his hand out for you to take.

“Come on, sweet girl. Don’t force me to make this an order,” Aaron said to you. You couldn’t really tell if he was joking or not.

But you weren’t about to argue with him regardless.

With a huff, you took his hand and got out of your chair. Aaron draped your coat over your shoulders, making sure you were warm. He then took you by the waist and walked you out of the bullpen, and out to his car.

Knowing you didn’t feel like driving, and promising to give you a ride to work the following day, Aaron drove you home in his car, attached to your hip until you reached the front door of your house.

“Here we are,” Aaron said as he held your hand, guiding you to your door, like you would fall if he let you go. Aaron pressed a loving kiss to your cheek, smiling down at you. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

You gave him a confused, and a bit of a sad expression when he said that. “Wh—You’re not going to stay?” you asked.

Aaron’s expression then mirrored yours, and he looked as confused as you were. His eyes glimmered, though, with what you assumed was hope in response to what you had just said. “I—Well, I didn’t think you’d want me to. I figured you needed your space.”

You shook your head at his cluelessness, sighing at the fact that he could even think that for a second. “No, I—I do want you to stay. I didn’t think you’d want to.”

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head at you and cupping your face with his hand. The heat of it engulfed you, and you nuzzled into his touch. “Of course I do, angel. You know I love taking care of you,” he murmured. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before saying, “And I always will.”

—

He wasn’t kidding.

Hours later, you were curled up in Aaron’s lap after an evening of pampering from him. He had made you tea, gotten you all of the snacks you were craving, even leaving the house to do so, and gotten you changed into comfy sleepwear, but not before showering you clean first.

It was days like this that made you wonder how you had landed yourself such a wonderful man; A man who wasn’t even fully yours.

But, God, the way he handled you—Like you were a real life princess, and he was ready to serve you at any command. It was nearly impossible to comprehend.

The unit chief’s hands were tangled in your hair, playing with it as he held you there in his lap. Your face was hidden in his chest as you closed your eyes, relishing in his touch.

You had been sitting there in silence for a while, and Aaron finally broke the silence by pressing a small kiss to your forehead. “Is there anything else I can do for you, angel?” he cooed. “Anything at all that you need?”

You shook your head, lifting your eyes up to meet his soft ones as he looked down at you. “No. No, I’m fine. Thanks for being here for me," you smiled.

Both of Aaron’s hands went down to your hips, holding them in a tender manner as he smiled warmly at you. “You know I always will be, princess.”

You smiled back at him, moving closer to him to press your lips to his. Aaron responded by rubbing your back, his lips eagerly answering your kiss.

When your kiss moved from slow to passionate, Aaron moved you in his lap, so that your legs were on either side of it. He was rubbing your back as you kissed him, and you all but melted into his embrace.

You had never felt this needy for him before. Never felt this needy for one human being before.

That’s just the effect that Aaron had on you.

You were snapped back into reality seconds later when Aaron’s hands began to dance at the hem of your underwear, close, too close, to pulling them down.

You tried to move his hands away, quickly growing shy at Aaron’s move. “No, Aaron, I- I’m on my period, w- we can’t—“ you began to slur.

Aaron cut you off.

“Come on, angel. Do you really think I care about that?” Aaron cooed in a loving tone, looking into your eyes. “I won’t pressure you, princess. But I can feel your need, and I am happy to oblige you.”

“But—“

“No buts. It’s up to you. If you need me to wear a condom, I will. And if you need me to just pleasure you, then I am okay with that, too,” he whispered, cupping your cheek gingerly. “You’re not feeling good, and if I can make you feel better, I will.”

You were rendered speechless for several long seconds, unsure of how to respond to Aaron’s kind words.

Fuck, was he even real?

“Are—Are you sure?” you asked him, because you were unsure yourself about this. You had never had sex on your period before, let alone with a man who worshipped you like a goddess.

“I’m sure, princess. Say the word and I’m yours,” Aaron told you, running his thumb up and down your cheek. You gave him a shy look, and then a nod.

“I want you. I really do, Aaron, but—Only if you’re sure,” you said again. Aaron chuckled, shaking his head at you.

“How many times do I have to tell you, princess? I’m sure. Positive. Get that in your pretty head,” Aaron chuckled, causing you to smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Now, tell me what you want," he said.

“I—Um—“ you began, really not knowing the answer to that query. You bit down on your tongue, taking some time to think to yourself, before speaking once more.

“Well, I want to feel you, but—Can you use a condom, please? It’d just make me feel better,” you said timidly. Usually, you and Aaron didn’t use condoms very much, but you had a box of them in your house, anyways.

“Yes, honey. Go grab one for me,” Aaron smiled, kissing your lips before you got up.

Aaron took the condom from you when you came back with it, not saying another word on the matter. This is what you wanted, so that’s what he would give you.

You sat back in his lap as Aaron moved down his joggers, followed by his boxers. After what felt like years, Aaron’s cock sprung free from them, and from what you could see, he was already incredibly hard; Pre-cum leaked from his tip.

You sat in your own neediness as Aaron put the condom on, making sure that the latex reached the very bottom of his dick.

When he was finished, he gripped your hips, and pulled you to hover over him. He didn’t say a word on the blood that was so clearly in his vision; Instead, he lowered you down onto him, allowing you to take all of him.

Even after all this time, you had never gotten used to just how big Aaron was, his cock leaving you brimming with it each time you had sex.

And, as it happened, “Fuck,” was always the first word that left your lips.

Aaron chuckled at your vulgar use of language, and pulled you closer, beginning to kiss your neck. “Language, princess,” he said in a joking voice.

You giggled, biting down on your lip as you rode him. “Sorry.”

Aaron smirked up at you, but didn’t tease you more. Instead, he began to kiss your neck again, attacking it with a fervid passion.

Aaron left a trail of hickeys behind as he kissed and sucked at your neck; You were surely going to have to cover them up for work the next day.

One of Aaron’s hands went under your shirt, and with ease, unclasped your bra in one go. He discarded it to the side, as though it were the most unnecessary thing in the world, and began to circle his thumbs over your nipples.

You were worried you would hear the sound of blood as the two of you made love, but your whines and whimpers fully combatted the noise: You couldn’t hear a thing.

“There’s my good girl. You feel so good, princess,” Aaron inattentively praised you, his lips split open in pleasure. You whined in response to his words.

“You—Too,” you stuttered back out at him, your brain fogging up with the pleasure of the experience. “Mmm.”

Your eyes closed, and you leaned your head on Aaron’s shoulder as you moved yourself up and down. Aaron chuckled, bringing one of his hands away from your nipples to tangle into your hair. “What’s the matter, princess? Am I fucking you dumb?”

You let out a low whimper at Aaron’s teasing words, scrunching your face up in embarrassment. “Y- Yes, Aaron. You are.”

Aaron chuckled in response, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Good. That’s what I like to hear, honey,” he smiled.

After a while, Aaron felt the need to take over, and grabbed you by the hips once more. He flipped you over onto your back and climbed on top of you, moving into you now at a lethal pace.

“Oh,” you whispered in surprise, Aaron’s sudden change in pace causing your eyes to widen. But you weren’t complaining.

“Hm?” Aaron hummed to you, his breath warm on your nose as he moved himself into you. You shook your head in response.

“Nothing,” you murmured, earning a sly smirk from Aaron.

“Your thighs are shaking so much, honey,” Aaron whispered to you, kissing your neck again. “Relax for me, okay, princess? I’ll make you feel good," he cooed.

You felt yourself blushing as you nodded your head, surrendering to Aaron without having to think twice about it.

You were all his.

You were a hot, moaning mess under Aaron as your high approached dangerously close. Your period made you so much needier, so much more sensitive, and you were beginning to feel the effects of it.

Your expression was lewd as Aaron sensed your need, moving into you as quickly as he could, needy as you were to get you off. You were whimpering his name like there was no tomorrow, your climax burning low inside you.

“Shhh, princess, I know, I know. Almost there, honey, okay?” Aaron cooed in a loving voice as an answer to your whines, pressing butterfly kisses to your neck as he spoke to you.

All self-control fled your body as Aaron fucked you, and there was never another moment where you knew more what it was like to feel alive. Human, even.

“Please, I wanna cum. I wanna cum so bad,” you were mumbling over and over again, your speech unclear, all logical words fleeing your body.

“I know, my love,” Aaron whispered to you.

Then, Aaron did something you didn’t think would happen; He moved his hand down your body, and began to rub circles into your clit.

Immediately, you shook your head, trying to get his hand away as you realized what he was doing. “No, A- Aaron, no, the—Blood,” you all but exclaimed. Aaron shushed you with a kiss, letting his tongue slip into your mouth.

That sure as hell shut you up.

When he pulled back, his cheeks were flushed pink, and his dark hair was smeared over his forehead, stuck to it with sweat. “I don’t mind it, princess. I told you this. You need this, don’t you?”

Your eyes met his, and you nodded shyly.

“So stop it, and let me make you feel good, angel,” Aaron cooed, kissing your lips.

Your brain was too cloudy to argue back to him, and you relished in the feeling of his tongue tangled with yours, his thumb working rapid circles into your bundle of nerves.

“Aaron—!” you whined.

He had you finishing in seconds.

“Go ahead, princess. Scream for me.”

You did just that, his name leaving your lips in a way that your neighbors were going to hate. Your eyes shut with the feeling of pure bliss washing over your body, and you whined over and over again as you came down from your high.

When you were both all done, Aaron moved out from inside of you, and took the condom off. He smiled down at you, and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Was that good?”

You didn’t see how that was even a topic of discussion. Eagerly, you nodded. “More than.”

“Good. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay, sweet girl? I don’t want you to feel messy or anything,” Aaron said in a sweet voice, running his fingers through your hair.

You nodded at the brown-eyed man, smiling. "Aaron?"

"Yes, my love?"

You giggled up at him, responding to him in a soft, shy tone of voice, "Thank you."

Aaron's face softened, and he pressed one more kiss to your cheek for good measure, smiling down at you. "Anytime."

—

reblogs are very much appreciated! <3

—

please let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

—

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

Will we ever find out what happened to penny’s parents? Also, will we find out why penny is seeming 10 years old forever?

These two are related, so I will answer them together and explain the WHOLE situation. Brace yourselves, it's gonna be a ride.

[TW: abuse, manipulation, violence]

This got LONG, oh boy... HUGE thanks to @deyasworld for the proofread, corrections and important addictions!!! This story wouldn't be even half this good if it wasn't for her!!! GIVE HER A HEART IF YOU CAN!!!

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K.N.D. Mission

Turning Elders New For Our Revolutionary Exciting Virtue of Eternal Rebellion]

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Penny was a normal girl, who could age normally like any other kid. Her parents disappeared when she was 8, and turned 10 while living with Nigel.

One fateful day in 2015, the city woke up to a pink sky. This alone was pretty unusual, but what made that day so strange from the rest was that everyone in the city had reverted back to being 10 years old!

Everyone except kids younger than 10, —who just remained the same age—, but everyone else: adults, elderly people and teens, were back to being 10 year-old kids! Running around unsupervised.

This strange event unleashed a LOT of confusion and panic. Even worse, people seemed to have completely forgotten about their families and jobs, and went straight to playing around instead of keeping their responsibilities.

Sector V responded immediately by establishing an Emergency Camp at the city’s stadium, where all the unattended children were gathered and taken care of until their parents got back to normal.

At this point of the story, Nigel is the only member of the old Sector V who still lives in the city, and technically also Kuki, —though she had been decommissioned a year prior, when her kid was born and when… Wally disappeared.

Nigel was asked to take over the operation and investigate, but he refused to take the lead. Instead, he chose to follow Penny, who was the standing chief of operations of the current Sector V, and believed she should be the leader of the mission.

Cinzia and Joey were left in charge of the Emergency Camp, helping to take care of the kids. Many kiddified adults managed to keep a cool head and volunteered to help around, which made things easier around the camp. Even though these adults were technically helping the Kids Next Door as kids, they were not made aware of the organization, and the ongoing operation remained a secret to them.

Robbie was left in charge of leading the search for the reckless parents who separated from their small kids, alongside a kiddified Lou, who was very PISSED about the whole situation.

Penny and Nigel kept things under control and maintained communication with the Moonbase, in case something more happened. They discovered a strange barrier surrounding the edges of the city, turning everyone in town into kids. Anyone who entered the city would be turned into a kid, but if a kiddified adult tried to leave the city…, nothing would happen. The KND surrounded the area and made sure no-one else would get in.

Abby and Hoagie lived in another city, where Abby was going to college. She was five months pregnant at the time, and was ABSOLUTELY NOT ALLOWED to enter the city.

After two days of effort, the power source of the barrier was found in Northern Greenland. Nigel and Penny were sent to investigate, while the rest of the crew stayed back to handle anything that could possibly happen.

The source tracked down to an abandoned facility in the middle of nowhere, covered in ice and snow. Once they managed to get in, they found a staircase leading deeper down the icy structure, and they quickly understood that the place was much larger than they initially thought.

Navigating the huge facility was tricky and full of rooms, so they made sure to mark the route they decided to follow.

After some exploration, they wound up in a bright open space. Lights reflected all around the ice, completely illuminating the whole place. It was very quiet, and it seemed to be the last room left to explore in the building.

In the middle of it, there were two kids.

Penny didn’t have a doubt as she ran towards them. Younger or older, she could recognize: Those were her parents.

The kids hugged and cried of joy at the reunion; Penny couldn’t hold back a single tear. After tiresome years of search, the reason she had joined the Kids Next Door had finally been fulfilled. The two kids pat Penny to calm her down and reassure her.

Nigel felt… uneasy. Something felt wrong. And it wasn’t the thought of Penny leaving him for them; it was something more, and it was coming from them.

Penny collected herself and called him over, but the two kids were quick to recognize him as, the legendary, Numbuh 1. The kids stated that they were big fans of his ideals! And cited him as their main inspiration to build the device that turned adults into kids.

So well… They were responsible for the whole mess, adding a reason for Nigel not to trust them, on top of the fact that they had abandoned Penny for all those years..

And from there it got worse. They elaborated their plans, explaining that they planned on turning the entire world into kids so that no-one would turn into a sad, boring, serious adult. “No kid should have to go through that ever again!”; everybody would be able to play and have fun forever! And that’s why they had decided to become kids again, and study how to make the world Adult Free!

This only made Nigel dislike them even more. He pointed out that, even if everyone was a kid, someone would have to take the jobs adults do. They’d still need doctors, and factory workers to produce foods, and even toys!

The kids argued that yes, that was true, but kids would make everything funnier!

Kids were perfectly capable of doing everything on their own, and the KND were the proof of that! Kids didn’t need adults or parents to guide them!

That’s when Penny asked if that was the reason they left her….

… And, in fact, it was. They waited for her to be old enough to “fend for herself” and went on with their research, because, to be honest, parenting wasn’t their thing. Caring for kids was too much work, too complicated, too stressful and depressing. But from now on, they could be like siblings! It would be so much better and way more fun!

Penny’s little heart sunk in pain, and she stepped away from them, crying.

“I don’t want siblings!” She cried, “I want a mom and dad!… I need parents that protect me, and help me when I need them!”

Nigel had had it. He grabbed Penny and pulled her behind him, shielding her, and started yelling at these monsters.

Kids DO need adults! They DO need parents to help them, educate them, take care of them, among many other things! Yes, adults ruled the world, but not ALL of them were bad. There were good adults who wanted to keep kids safe, that’s what the Adult Division is for! These two were just selfish assholes who abandoned their daughter, who are now trying to force their moronic views on the entire world.

The two looked at each other with boredom. “Never meet your heroes….”

Nigel held Penny’s hand and turned to walk away, when suddenly she was yanked from him, and before he could say or do anything, a sharp, burning pain pierced on his left shoulder.

Looking over, he sees the boy holding Penny, and the girl holding a laser gun that was still fuming.

He watched in horror as the two dragged Penny away screaming. He tried to catch up to them, realizing in that moment that he couldn’t use his powers at all, for some reason. The pain was too intense, and he collapsed on the ground.

The all-too familiar solitude of silence had surrounded him once more…, followed by its darkness…

-----

Nigel found himself lost in the void, floating in its pool of emptiness... All hope was lost for what felt like an eternity, until a warm, familiar voice echoed. It was calling for him, telling him to wake up or he’d be late, “Penny is waiting for you”.

“…. dad?…”

And then he woke up.

He found himself in a hospital bed. Robbie and Joey were standing on one side,… and Abby and Hoagie at the other.

The two explained that they had been informed of the situation, and they traveled along to where the signal came from, and that when they got there, they had found him faint and wounded.

They didn’t think twice about getting him to the city’s hospital, and accidentally got turned into kids. Nigel got startled the moment he noticed, and felt a despairing rage when he realized that, by doing so, Abby had apparently lost her baby…..

Hadn’t those two done enough??! THEY were the cause of all this! THEY chased a childish dream and cost the world Everything! And now they had Penny in their clutches.

Against the doctor’s orders to rest, Nigel got quickly on his feet and ordered a rescue mission for Penny. All KND operatives in the city were called in to join the mission.

The operatives raided the Greenland hideout and found the two mad scientists doing something to Penny, who was trapped in a strange machine.

The two explained that they had discovered how to freeze aging and stay Ten Forever! They revealed that they had gotten Father to give them his Delightfulization formula, and cracked a formula from it to get the results they wanted.

Penny was their first success.

There was a furious fight that got the lab destroyed in the process, but Penny had been rescued. By destroying the machine that powered the barrier, everyone affected went back to normal, and by miracle, Abby’s pregnancy was unharmed and back to normal.

Everyone was back to normal except for Penny’s parents. The process they had used on themselves was different. The KND scientists asked if they should revert them and bring them back to their actual ages, but Nigel refused.

“Let them grow again. I think that’s the worst punishment these two can face.”

Everything was back to normal, but indeed…. Ever since that day, Penny hasn't grown a day older.

Somehow she can’t realize she can’t grow. She has lucid moments where something feels off, and Nigel is always there to help her get through them.

Nigel and Penny’s relationship started as that of a brother and sister, but as time went on, Penny began to consider Nigel as more of a father, as he’d look older and older. In 2019, Nigel adopted Penny officially, and they became father and daughter, filling in for the paternal figure she much needed.

The KND decided to keep her because you don’t let go of a Forever Kid! She wouldn’t be able to become Soopreme Leader though, because it wouldn’t be fair for other kids, but she remains the Sector V leader until she wants out, be it out of the position or out of the organization, —which she wouldn’t even dream of!

KND scientists from all divisions are working non-stop to find a way to reverse the anti-aging process so she can grow normally, and so that she can move on.

[End of Transmission.]

[carionto]

Humans and Boredom II

The planet cracker.

A devilish name that somehow still does not do this type of Human ship justice. Arrays of massive gravity hooks capable of tearing out kilometers wide and deep chunks of mass from any celestial object one of them decides to settle in orbit of.

The process is slow and tedious and, luckily, unsuitable for any practical military application, but unimaginably rewarding nonetheless. Once a chunk has been lifted, a fleet of harvester drones meticulously tears it further apart and separates into individual minerals and any other categorizable substances. From there the internal refineries of the planet cracker process them further into more usable metals, alloys, resins, and countless other resources. Finally, another fleet of transport ships ferry those back to where they are needed.

The land based production capacity of an entire (small) planet, with a single (albeit metropolis sized) ship, crewed by no more than a hundred Humans and thousands of drones.

One of these immense beasts - The Hardy Gal - was stationed around one of Saturn's moons - Epimetheus - that was recently voted out of the global popularity contest "Who's Even Heard of This One?" and thus sentenced to become part of the Dyson Ring.

The drone fleet that was supposed to be tearing up the unfortunate little moon, however, was recently recalled for refitting after a report showed a key part was manufactured using an outdated guideline by a suspiciously licensed corporation, that was also caught up in an unrelated embezzlement scandal.

Suffice to say that chief Gravity Master Boris Fruischtyen didn't have much to do. Laws and regulations do not permit any unsupervised extraction results to just be left in orbit. Oh no, can't preemptively arrange chunks for processing later, nope, "efficiency? what's that?". *sigh* Lift, hold, harvest, repeat.

Boris would have nothing to do, except the gravity hook arrays were a set of fifty per array, and The Hardy Gal had eight arrays. Four hundred individually aim-able and moveable chunks of matter.

While his day job was not very productive for now, his social media activity shot through the roof. There's a lot you can draw with four hundred "pixels" and the literal cosmos as your canvas and backdrop.

His personal favorites were water features and creatures set against the blue of Saturn, and he arranged quite a few of the extinct whales and penguins too. Additionally, every day he would fulfill one of the audiences top ranking requests.

Through these he discovered he has a fascinatingly good sense for flower compositions, especially from unusual angles. It's odd. He's only ever seen flowers in images and videos, perhaps lacking actual real life flowers to compare to allows his imagination to fill in the gaps in a way referencing factual knowledge would limit him. Who knows.

Despite having access to a three dimensional canvas, he preferred to keep things flat.

"What can I say, 2D is better. *chuckle*"

However, that doesn't mean he keeps things simple. The gravity hooks are quite good at selective manipulation, they have to be to target certain spots beneath a whole lot of other matter (which is then raised alongside the "elevator" matter). He demonstrated how the same image can look wildly different if you just change the "pixels" from squares to spheres, or how certain material compositions change color when squeezed more densely.

His personal favorite part is the finishing touch. After he's had a drone go out and stream his latest piece from plenty of angles for the viewers, he gives the whole image a simultaneous and gentle push back towards the moon. After a few touching hours of people in chat saying farewell, sharing personal stories and just asking questions Boris is always happy to answer, the image impacts the surface where the majority of parts were extracted from in a spectacular show of minor impacts and a shower of debris. Too bad it doesn't have an atmosphere, just imagine how cool it'd look burning up on reentry.

[gghostwriter]

Yours Truly, Romeo

Chapter 4 __ The Profile & The Profiler

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing.

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

"You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above the common bound." - Act 1, Scene 4. Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare

“We believe our unsub is a white male driving an SUV. He uses the vehicle to abduct and transport the male victims from Washington DC to Maryland,” Hotch stated in front of the members of the Washington PD.

Morgan stood next to him, hands on his hips. “His victims are between the ages 27-35 and we think the unsub is in the same age bracket.”

“Add to that, our unsub is experiencing a psychosis specifically called erotomania. This form of delusion is when an individual believes that another person, usually of a higher status, is in love with him. His weapon of choice also gives us another understanding on his psyche to these killings, using narcotics to kill symbolizes the emotional detachment the unsub has to his victims—” Spencer elaborated.

“Which means the victims were a crime of opportunity, rather than crime of passion,” Morgan injected.

“—and with his use of methanol and formaldehyde to preserve the body parts, we believe we are looking for an intelligent unsub.”

“Which is not unusual. True psychopaths often have above average intelligence.” Hotch clarified.

“This type of unsub will not have injected himself into the investigation as we often see. He will not be following the case very closely unless his fantasy to Ms. Olivia Hill is disturbed.” Morgan concluded. 

The Washington chief detective raised his pen up in the air.  “So how come he hasn’t tried to kidnap Ms. Hill rather than kidnapping all these male victims?”

“It’s because his fantasy—transformation if you will—isn’t complete yet. He’s collecting all these different body parts to fit into her perfect male partner. Once that process is complete, he will try to kidnap her next.” Spencer explained.

Morgan took a deep breath. “There is something about him that would be helpful, he has a superficial connection to Ms. Hill. Not enough for her to notice his feelings but enough for him to project his fantasy, possibly a colleague or someone she interacts with on a daily short basis like a delivery man.” 

“We suggest not to go public with this information and to re-interview female co-workers to ask if they’ve noticed any untoward or suspicious behaviors from their male co-workers to Ms Hill,” Hotch said as Morgan’s phone started to ring. “Thank you very much.” 

With his back turned to the police officers leaving the premise, he accepted the call and put it on speaker. “Prentiss, what you got?”

She sighed. “Another body has been dumped in the Potomac River, skinned from his upper thigh to feet.”

“That completes his suit,” Spencer noted.

“Forensics is currently running his fingerprints in the system to see if we have him in the database. I’ll get Garcia to forward any information she has,” she stated before ending the call. 

The two FBI agents turned around to face their stern unit chief for further instructions. “Morgan, you’re with me for the re-interview. Reid, you go back to Ms. Hill’s residence and Reid,—“

“Yes?”

“—keep us updated on any slight disturbance.” 

Spencer nodded, gathering his belongings before dashing out of the precinct. 

———

Dusk was beginning to settle when Spencer turned off the SUV ignition in front of her residence. Crossing the empty and calm street road, he took note of any rustling noise, flickering neighborhood lights—the lack thereof—and dark corners where the unsub could hide while keeping watch of the doorstep. All the curtains were shut, he observed, as if mimicking a moat bridge drawn up to protect the castle and it’s inhabitants. Steeling his nerves, he knocked on the door and announced his presence.

“Olivia, it’s Dr Spencer Reid,” He called out.

Several bolts were heard being unlocked from the other side before the door fully swung open, Olivia’s eyes darting behind his stature before widening as it settled on his form. 

“Oh, uh-hi Dr. Reid, you look—different,” her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink as she observed his change in attire. Gone was the brown sweater vest that emphasized his lithe form and the lilac button down shirt that was once hidden underneath now had its sleeve pushed up to his forearms. With the vest out of the way and the gun holster secured on his waist visible, he looked formidable, sensual, and dangerous rolled into one. The sharp contrast to the soft spoken and intriguing male that she met this afternoon to the knight and shining armor rounding her living space had her feeling lightheaded with desire.

Spencer sat down at the worn love seat sofa located in her office. “My team is re-interviewing your female colleagues and I’d like to ask you for any strange male colleagues and interactions that rubbed you off the wrong way.” 

“I don’t really interact with any other publishing employees beside from my agent and publicist,” she sat beside him with a glass of water in hand. “One of the perks of being a writer is not having to interact with anyone beyond necessary.” 

A heavy silence covered their surroundings. Their thighs softly caressing the other, as if whispering the subconscious declaration of intrigue and attraction. Eyes flitting across the room, never meeting each other’s gaze afraid of unconsciously communicating their innermost thoughts. 

His palms opening and closing, unsure of what he needs to do and apprehensive of what he wants to do. Hers drumming on her thighs, nervous of the palpable tension around them. He wanted to touch her delicate hand, he realized—to envelope hers in his, to trace patterns on the back of her hand that will never leave a trace but wishing it would, and to never let go.

“Dr Reid, is it too forward of me to ask if you’re in a relationship?” Olivia rushed out to ask, clearly sheepish with her inquiry. 

His ears turning red at the implication behind her questioning. “My job and its urgency isn’t ideal for a relationship,” he explained. “Being on call 24/7 and not knowing when I’ll be able to return home isn’t a fair deal for a potential partner. Statistically speaking, divorcees are common in the FBI, especially in the BAU.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” 

A silence crept between them. 

“Spencer,” he clarified, noticing the little scrunch of her nose as if asking him to further clarify. “Call me Spencer.” 

She smiled, the kind so infectious that he felt his own lips curling upwards and his filter evaporating into nothing. “Did you know that women in the romance community are more likely than the general population to be currently married or living with a partner?” He articulated as his fingers tapped a rapid beat on his thigh, an outward display of nervousness. “More often than not, most writers are to be in happy relationships. The stereotype depictions of the lonely, lovesick romance writer who pens alluring novels is largely false in narrative.”

“Huh, I’ve always thought the minds behind romance would be the hopeless romantic pouring over their frustrations, hopes, and dreams into ink to escape reality and live out their fantasies,” she countered back. 

His body shifted to face hers. “That is not necessarily incorrect. Romance novels are, for the most part, written by women, about women, for women but it also allows the writers to explore who they are as a woman. Who you want to be. Finding out what you can be. Pushing yourself to be more of who you are.”

“So it’s more of self navigation and therapy?”

He nodded, pleased that his intention was understood even if he explained it in a convoluting way. “Yes, actually more like a self discovery and research.” 

“Sadly and realistically speaking, I do tend to fall on the stereotype category of being a romance writer,” she shrugged as if it was no big deal. “So Mr Genius, how’d you end up in the FBI and as a profiler?”

His eyebrows scrunched in concentration unsure to what extent he should divulge. “I was recruited and this was the path that I wanted to do.” 

“Can you profile me, then?” She smiled, leaning further into him. “I’m no criminal but I’d like to see your job in action. To see if it’s how they portrayed it in the movies, I mean.” 

She was obviously flirting, Spencer noted. He was known to be oblivious to these types of advances as Morgan pointed out, mainly rooting from his deep sense of insecurity, but she was making it clear that she felt an attraction to him or maybe he was just projecting his own emotions, he countered in his mind. After all, he didn’t have the typical male physique—muscles that allude a capability to protect and attack. His greatest asset would be his IQ of 187 that slashes into 60 whenever her set of doe-eyed eyes looks into his with such trust and comfort. His hand moved on their own accord, swiping on her lower lip that was being assaulted by her teeth.

Her breath hitched and his hand quickly dropped, a visible flush coloring his cheeks. “That was, uh, that was inappropriate of me—“

“It’s alright, Spencer.” 

“I—it’s really not. You—you asked for a profile, yes?” He brought up, desperate to diffuse the atmosphere and change the subject matter. “You’re a perfectionist based on the organization of your home. Your books are a financial success but you still use an old sedan, possibly a hand me down from your father based on the color and make, which tells me you’re frugal with your income, despite the fact that your house is located in one of the pricier neighborhoods—I believe this is your biggest purchase to date—and that you possibly grew up in a middle income family. You subconsciously tap your fingers on your thighs when you’re nervous and you keep your nails short meaning you’re other tic would be nail biting which you’re trying to break. And you mentioned that you fall under the stereotype category of being a romance writer which tells me you didn’t date much during your school years and never felt the need to go through all the usual considered landmarks of being a teenager, kissing under the bleachers and such. Perhaps you’ve had a boyfriend or two, nothing noteworthy for inspiration and romance, so you pour your hopes and dreams into the characters and scenarios you create.” 

“You missed one more important piece.”

He titled his head, thinking of what he could have possibly missed.

“You, and my apparent attraction to you. How I’d like to see you again once this situation is through,” her voice trailed off, the sudden confidence evaporating from her body. 

There was silence. His intelligent, hyper-active mind not knowing how to respond. Her confession had rendered him mindless and mute.

The lights flickered, as if wanting to escape their bodies as the space in between lessens ever so slightly, before complete darkness and danger shrouded over. 

[auguste-marmonts-only-fan]

Marmont became a marshal (yay!)

Ok before I give you his ACCOUNT of the event here is a short prologue:

On July 8, Marmont was ordered to set off with his reinforced army corps as an advance guard towards Nikolsbourg. Masséna, Davout and Oudinot were moving in the same direction. The time line is after Wagram and a smaller franco-austrian battle in which Marmont was prominent.

The french won....of course

No onto the story..... The next morning, July 12, I went to visit the Emperor. He was delighted. I told him the details of the battle yesterday and the day before yesterday. He praises the ferocity and determination I have shown, but rightly reprimands me for not calling Davout sooner. Then he begins to analyze in detail my war campaign since entering Croatia. Trying to criticize, he asked me about the motives of certain operations. It was easy for me to justify them, because I always acted systematically and with calculation, and I think I can say even today, after so many years, that this military campaign, considering the difficulties and the small means I had at my disposal, is worthy of praise from the warriors. His conclusions were favorable to me, and my answers satisfied him. Nevertheless, it was as if he had set himself the task of finding a fault and persistently searched for it. We talked for more than two and a half hours while walking in front of his tent. Then he returned to the tent to continue working with Berthier.

I was dead tired and depressed. I return to the wretched hut which I chose as a refuge, I stretch out on the straw and stop to talk to the head of my general staff, General Delort, to whom I was very fond and devoted to, I talked about the unusual and tiresome conversation that i was having with the Emperor. At that moment, Alexandre Girardin, aide-de-camp to the Duke of Neufchatel, the same one who would later become chief hunter of Charles X, came in and said to me: "My general, will you allow me to hug you - "Of course , my dear Girardin," I replied, "but it's not really easy to hug a man with such a long beard and that is coveredin mud" Immediately afterwards, he added: "Here is your appointment as marshal", I did not even dream of hoping for this, the conversation with the Emperor made such a painful impression on me that I barely understood what he wanted to say. It was unbelievable, but at that moment I was very happy! At the time of the announcement of the marshals, I was greatly affected by the fact that I myself was not appointed,then I got used to preferring in my thoughts to command and not to rank. However, since I was attracted to fame, I was particularly sensitive about how to acquire it. I was pleased, but not elated. After a few days, by the behavior of the other generals towards me, I realized how big it was (the rank) It is a step forward and what an opportunity for glory is provided by the significant command that the new rank provided me in the future. My army corps will be directed towards Krems, a place will be determined for it in the district of Korneuburg, and I will establish my headquarters in the beautiful castle of Graveneck, which was not far from the camp ....

Also here's a dumb little doodle

[mightyflamethrower]

What's a Little Creepy About the FBI's Arrest Warrant for a Blaze News Reporter

We have another instance of the Federal Bureau of Investigation going off the reservation. A Blaze News reporter who has done a couple of stories on the January 6 riot, which embarrassed the Justice Department, will be forced to turn himself in on Friday. Steve Baker has cooperated with the Justice Department, which has had Baker on their radar for months.  

The creepy part about this story is that this reporter doesn’t know what charges he’s facing. The FBI has instructed him to wear clothing that suggests he’ll be forced to wear an orange jumpsuit. However, the Justice Department told Baker and his legal team that misdemeanors were the only charges facing the journalist. The outlet had all the details about the legal drama in a lengthy post, including the stories that might have painted a target on Baker’s back 

"They didn’t have to go this route," Baker told Blaze News on Tuesday evening. "We have been told that my charges are only misdemeanors. And my attorneys have been assured that this will be an ‘in and out’ affair with 'no intention' to detain me. But rather than issuing a simple order to appear, they went the 'arrest warrant' route."  What's more, Baker said he still does not know what the charges against him are, noting to Blaze News that the powers that be won't tell his attorney about the charges because they believe Baker will post them on social media.  Baker's Dallas attorney, James Lee Bright, added to Blaze News that withholding the nature of the charges against his client is a "really unusual" move. Bright also said he's hoping to get a copy of the complaint against Baker as early as possible Friday morning.  […]  Bright told Blaze News that he's "disturbed" about what's transpiring with his client, especially given that Baker has been "in full compliance" all this time. Bright also said the federal government "three-plus years later going after people who were legitimate functioning journalists that day" appears designed to have an "absolute chilling effect."  […]  Baker added that when he asked his other attorney, William Shipley, why the federal government is treating him like this, Shipley replied, "You know why. You've been poking them in the eye for three years" 

Baker's first Jan. 6 analysis for Blaze News came last October, following countless hours in a House subcommittee office looking at frame after frame of Jan. 6 closed-circuit video — and it had him wondering: did Capitol Police Special Agent David Lazarus perjure himself in the Oath Keepers trial? 

Soon after, the slow pace of getting an unrestricted look at everything recorded on video prompted Blaze Media editor in chief Matthew Peterson's appeal to House Speaker Mike Johnson to release all the videos. On Nov. 17, Johnson did just that. 

Baker's investigative efforts also resulted in two additional analyses, both focusing on Capitol Police Officer Harry Dunn: "January 6 and the N-word that wasn't" and "Harry Dunn's account of January 6 does not add up. At all." 

In December, Baker alleged he uncovered major irregularities involving Dunn, Capitol Police, the press, and U.S. Rep. Jamie Raskin (D-Maryland). 

In January, Baker asserted that just-released U.S. Capitol closed-circuit TV video clips from Jan. 6 show Lazarus gave false testimony in the Oath Keepers trial. 

Like Michael Shellenberger, Matt Taibbi, and Alex Gutentag, Baker also touched upon the curious case of the January 6 pipe bomber and the alleged targeting of the Republican National Committee, wherein new evidence suggests that the RNC was not the target. The FBI might have misrepresented the location of the supposed explosive device, which a then-FBI contractor discovered. 

The FBI has harassed and targeted pro-life activists, so going after reporters who have questioned their narratives about some highly politicized stories isn’t shocking. The Obama CIA and DOJ colluded to manufacture a fake narrative about Russian collusion against Donald Trump. The FBI made up evidence to justify an illegal FISA spy warrant against Trump campaign officials. The FBI and the Secret Service appear to be engaged in a cover-up regarding the ever-elusive pipe bomber who cannot be found. They can find hundreds who entered the Capitol building that day, but not this guy.  

[faulty-writes]

Alright, here it is. The story you all voted that you wanted me to publish. So without further ado, my lovely fans and or followers, I present the first chapter of my Kugo Sakamata/Gang Orca Journalism Series.

[ Finding a newsworthy story was always a challenge for a journalist. However, being the determined individual you are, you’re willing to make anything into a story. Upon hearing about the Hero League Baseball game, you did exactly that. Of course, you would have never imagined the consequences your actions would have on your life, your dreams, and your feelings about Gang Orca. ]

“Ah!” You screamed in frustration with your hands fisted into your hair. “None of these are newsworthy!” You smacked a nearby stack of papers on the table onto the floor and turned to your bulletin board with various pictures of heroes pinned against it.

The pictures had sticky notes above them, and on each sticky note was a bulleted list relating to the potential rumors circulating about the said heroes. But the most unusual thing was the various colored strings going every which way on the board.

Each string was a different color and represented a theory you had concocted connecting the rumor to the hero and if other heroes were involved or connected to the said rumor. As a journalist, it was imperative that you thought outside the box and got the latest scoop before anyone else had the chance to. 

Of course, those were crucial tips you had learned from your father, Taneo Tokuda, Editor-in-chief of Juzo News. If you hoped to follow in his footsteps, you had to bring a story so new, so heart-stopping, and questionable or scandalous that it changed the world. 

But what would be that groundbreaking story? You stepped closer to the board, looking at the various pictures. From All Might to Endeavor to Best Jeanist, hell even Fat Gum and-“Hm…” You paused when your eyes landed on the small polaroid of Kugo Sakamata also known as the Killer Whale Hero: Gang Orca. 

Your eyebrows lowered as your fingertips brushed over the surface of the photo which felt smooth, and the glossy surface reflected the small amount of light in the room creating streaks across the image. It was a challenge to get an interview, let alone a story on the top heroes in the competitive world of journalism. 

Less popular heroes, such as Fat Gum and Gang Orca, were, of course, easier to get the scoop on but typically their stories tanked unless they were scandalous in some manner. Then again, that was something you could use to your advantage.

Any good journalist knew how to spin a story to gain public favor and you hadn’t run many stories involving Gang Orca. To be more precise, you hadn’t written or even interviewed him since shortly after starting your journalism career a few years back.

Would he even recognize you if he saw you again? “Hm…” you tapped your chin before hearing the door behind you open. You looked over your shoulder, seeing your father step through with a smile. “You look happy,” you commented, and he nodded before placing a flyer on the table. 

“Huh, what’s this?” You asked, picking it up. “Just an advertisement,” he replied walking over to the bulletin board to see what you were up to. “Saying…two of the Hero League Baseball teams made the finals?” you replied, looking at him.

You knew a little about Hero League Baseball. It was an organization created by the Pro Heroes, so they had something to do in their spare time. Usually, the teams consisted of the Pro Hero’s interns, and full quirk usage was allowed.

Hero League Baseball games were exclusive, but like the Sports Festival individuals were permitted to watch if they purchased the few available tickets. All the proceeds, of course, went to the selected hero school each team’s interns belonged to. 

“How are you still in contact with Yuuei?” You asked, crossing your arms, and glaring at the back of his head. More than likely, he could feel your stare, but ignored it. He was quite talented at that and when he turned, a smirk was on his face.

“I occasionally speak to All Might,” he replied, “as well as the other teachers at Yuuei and some students, Izuku Midoriya in particular,” he explained. “Izuku Midoriya?” you repeated, partly wondering why that name sounded familiar.

“Wait…isn’t he the kid you talked to the first time you went there to interview the students?” you asked. “Yes,” he replied before turning back to the bulletin board. “Why are they hosting a baseball game with…” you looked at the flyer again. 

“The Orcas and Lionels?” Wait a minute, did that mean-“Shishido and Gang Orca have quite the rivalry,” he stated. “That will certainly make for a fascinating end to the season,” he turned to face you again, ready to say more.

However, when he noticed that you were staring blankly at the flyer with lips parted, and your eyebrows lowered as if what was on the paper was somehow mesmerizing he grew concerned. He was about to ask what was wrong when you slammed said paper on the table and fisted your opposite hand into the air.

“That’s it! The scoop that can be my groundbreaking story!” You shouted and ignored the awkward tension that lingered in the air. Taneo kept one hand on his hip and used his opposite to tap his lips several times. “And just what is your groundbreaking story?” He asked, clearly not following. 

You picked up the flyer. “This!” you exclaimed, running up to shove the piece of paper into his face. “Y/n,” he said, pushing it away. “Oh, come on! I know I can make this a groundbreaking story and…not get in trouble like last time.” You had a bad habit of infiltrating private events and such.

In your defense, nobody said getting something newsworthy was easy. “Did you manage to get a ticket!?” You asked. “Are there any tickets left!?” you added before taking out your phone, maybe you could just buy one. Yeah, that was a sound plan.

Taneo raised his eyebrow. “I believe all the tickets are sold out,” he said, making you sigh. “Are you serious? Come on,” you stomped your foot and glared at him, even though it wasn’t technically his fault. “You didn’t get one?” He shook his head.

“You know I’m not a baseball fan. What is so fascinating about Hero League Baseball?” Granted the rivalry between Gang Orca and Shishido could escalate, but from what he knew Present Mic and Eraserhead were narrating the events and more than likely would prevent overly violent situations from occurring. 

“Can you get me a ticket or not?!” You exclaimed, yet again glaring at him. He looked perplexed and sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. You reminded him so much of what he was like at your age. A young naive journalist, trying to turn anything he could get his hands on into a worthy news story. 

Of course, over the years he had matured and realized that through dedication and a bit of manipulation, you could also get a news story. But he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious as to how you’d possibly turn something like a baseball game into ‘a groundbreaking story.’

“I can speak to All Might or Izuku Midoriya,” he offered before shrugging. “I can’t promise anything kiddo, but there’s a chance they could get you a spot to watch the game.” After all, there was nothing his flirtatious wink and smooth words couldn’t accomplish. You didn’t quite have what it took to have that level of flirtation with your work.

Regardless, he admired your ambition and determination to do whatever it took to get a story even if it got you into trouble. He had needed to clear up several incidents since agreeing to allow you to have your internship and eventual job at Juzo News.

Of course, that was before the new renovations had taken place. Still, despite everything you were his child, and he always tried his best to keep you safe. Like anything, that was a challenge. You smiled, “Great!” If this didn’t work, you could always think of something else.

Luckily, your father managed to pull some strings and, just as he said, you were granted an exclusive spot to watch the game. You and a few others, mostly Pro Heroes sat on bleachers. In front of you was a large, reinforced net, more than likely put up as a precaution. 

How sturdy or reliable was yet to be determined, but at least Yuuei thought about their patron’s safety. In addition, there was a large screen television above the announcer’s booth, and two smaller televisions at the bottom of the bleachers, in front of the net.

After an initial squabble of insults between Gang Orca and Shishido while their team members looked on and eventually walked away, Present Mic explained the rules. Again, you couldn’t help but think about how unfair it was to allow full quirk usage during the game, but you weren’t here to debate sports rules.

You were here to get a story, particularly regarding Gang Orca who was the first one up to bat, and to your surprise, he hit a home run. But this is when you noticed how the Pro Heroes treated their interns during the game. 

You expected Shishido to be unhinged given his personality, but like Best Jeanist, Gang Orca was known for his compassion toward the younger generation and often sought to help them. That’s why it came as an utter shock to see him punishing the students when they happened to strike out or make mistakes during the game. 

While that’s not exactly the type of story you were looking for, it could be used to create one. So, you tentatively wrote everything down and used your ‘secret weapon’ to take some worthwhile pictures. You’d decide which one to use for the front page later. When Gang Orca went up to bat again Fat Gum happened to be the pitcher.

You grimaced knowing that Shishido had given Fat Gum an advantage, or at least that’s what you figured by the many punches you had witnessed Fat Gum take from him earlier. From what you know, Fat Gum’s quirk allowed him to absorb the force of an attack and redirect it.

As such, his throw was powerful, and something you debated for a split second would be impossible for Gang Orca to hit. Of course, you should have known better than to doubt the abilities of a Pro Hero. Not only did he hit it, but it soared toward the reinforced net that was supposed to protect the spectators.

Instead, the ball tore through the netting and while some may chalk that up to it being defective, the likely culprit was how much force Gang Orca used to hit the ball. Gasps echoed through the crowd and yet, fell deaf to your ears. This is because your body, against your will, chose to play possum in response to said ball hurtling toward you.

Even as it grazed past the side of your head causing a backlash of wind that made your hair dance around like wildfire, you remained stiff as a board. Your eyes were still wide with surprise and horror even as you glided shaky fingers along your cheek.

The skin felt warm from the close contact of the ball speeding past it and like a fish out of water, you desperately gasped for air a few seconds later. It was understandable why you were holding your breath. Your heart was racing, and when you realized just how many people were staring at you, a dark flush colored your cheeks.

You failed to realize how tight your throat felt until you swallowed heavily but this didn’t stop you from fixing your hair and standing up afterward. You briefly looked at the now busted section of the netting with strings sticking out at unusual angles. You wondered for a split second who would fix it, but that didn’t matter now.

You made your way to the middle aisle of the bleachers, and everyone remained silent as you walked down the steps, including the Pro Heroes and students on the field. Each of them was no doubt curious about what had happened, what was going to happen, and if you were all right. 

Once you stepped onto the field, the warm air dusted over the skin of your face, and the scent of grass and dirt accompanied it. “Looks like someone has made their way onto the field folks! What’s going to happen and what do they have to say!?” Present Mic’s voice echoed through the speakers. 

“Either way, after that incident, I’m sure I’d have a thing or two to say, ya dig!?” Despite finding his announcements annoying, your eyes were glued on Gang Orca, and the coating of dirt on his white suit. You raised your eyebrow and pressed two fingers to the side of your temple.

A certain glaze came over your eyes and your pupils dilated as you zoomed in on the dirty piece of clothing before making your way over to him. While it was unusual for a Pro Hero to show any weakness, be it nervousness or worry, a sense of deja vu washed over him as you approached.

Like a long last memory, the way you walked so determinedly was somehow familiar to him and when locking eyes, his heart was enveloped with nostalgia because your eyes were so unusual. Yet, he swore he had seen them somewhere before.

They were clear as a crystal and held a sheen to them like glass. Each iris was colored a subtle gray, but he noticed several rings surrounding your pupils and how they refracted in the presence of the sun beating down on you.

He hadn’t even realized that he had leaned down to get a better look at them until you spoke and snapped him out of his daze. “Did you intend for that ball to almost hit me?” You asked, making his eyes widen. For a moment, he thought that he had misheard you. However, the look on your face told him that he had not.

“I…” He paused and scratched the side of his temple. This action was familiar to you given your journalism experience and you weren’t afraid to continue questioning him, if need be. “I apologize,” he stated, pressing his fist against his chest. 

“It was not my intention for the ball to cause injury to any of the patrons present,” he explained, feeling somewhat uneasy as you continued to stare at him. You stepped forward and grabbed his tie. Like a statue, he didn’t budge even when you pulled on said tie and noted the concerned gasps that followed.

Unknown to you, he refused to budge because he wanted the concern level to remain minimal. In addition, being the man he was, unless you were a villain or student playing baseball and failing to live up to the sport’s expectations, he was unlikely to lay a hand on you.

So, he continued looking at you with those slightly widened red-gleaming eyes. “Grabbing a whale by the tongue! Who would’ve guessed it!” Present Mic announced, confusing the audience who continued to watch the spectacle between you and Gang Orca.

Others assumed his joke related to the Pro Hero’s tie resembling a tongue. Either way, you ignored the comment. “Ensure it doesn’t happen again,” you hissed before your pupils contracted and the rings that surrounded them rotated.

This would have been odd enough, but a second later your pupils expanded and released a bright flash of light that caused Gang Orca to hiss and cover his now irritated eyes. You stumbled and collided with his chest because your grip remained on his tie.

Shishido’s abrupt laughter filled the air while several students scratched their heads. “Well folks, I’m not sure what just happened,” Present Mic said, “but Gang Orca has been blinded by a flash of light, courtesy of our mysterious patron!” Seriously, how did the other heroes put up with him?

After releasing the tie in question, you made your way back to the bleachers. You ignored the stares you received as you made your way up the aisle. Once you reclaimed your seat, you gazed down at Gang Orca who had finally finished rubbing his eyes.

Although floaters remained, after he scanned the crowd, his stare lingered on you for a long moment but you seemed otherwise, unbothered by this. Yes, perhaps you were a troublemaker but it’s not like you broke any rules. You didn’t ‘attack’ him. More like, played a prank…or something.

“Hey! Are we playing or what fish breath!?” Shishido yelled, immediately causing Gang Orca to growl and stomp over to him. “Still such a pathetic insult from a land dweller like you!” He snapped, and once they had finished insulting each other, and slamming their heads together as if that proved anything, the game continued. 

You discreetly kept taking pictures the whole while and contemplated some ideas for the headline of your news story. You even jotted down some main points you wanted to mention, mostly about the mistreatment of students and the unnecessary bickering between Gang Orca and Shishido. 

You can’t say that you were surprised by the end of the game when both Pro Heroes managed to knock themselves out. It partly made you wonder how they handled fighting villains daily. Regardless, everyone appeared disappointed and as such, began to leave.

“Hm,” you put your notebook into the small bag you had brought and slipped it over your shoulder. You waited on the side of the bleachers and once the coast was clear, you walked onto the field where you cautiously approached the two unconscious men and leaned over Gang Orca.

It was weird how peaceful someone could look when they were knocked out. You gasped and stumbled back when a loud “Yo!” broke your attention. Pressing a hand to your chest, you took a deep breath to ease your racing heart and noticed who was approaching you.

The first person was the Voice Hero: Present Mic. His real name was Hizashi Yamada, and he was a previous graduate and current English teacher at Yuuei. Next to him was the Erasure Hero: Eraser Head otherwise known as Shota Aizawa. He too was a graduate of Yuuei and just so happened to be a homeroom teacher there.

As a journalist, it was good to know trivial facts about Pro Heroes on the off-chance you ever landed an on-the-spot interview with them. Of course, those were much easier than ‘live’ interviews because as much as you knew about some of the Pro Heroes, it was easier to yell ‘Cut!’ or fix a mistake when doing on-the-spot interviews.

If you made a mistake during ‘live’ interviews, it didn’t bode well for you or the company you worked under. The last thing you needed was to make Juzo News look bad or uh, badder than you already had. You would have been out on your can long ago if it weren’t for your father.

Then again, maybe you just tried too hard, and your motivation blinded you to all rational or reasonable thoughts and behaviors. Of course, this was influenced by your dream of being able to take your father’s place in the company one day.

He was the reason you got into journalism, but even he tended to point out your flaws, and avoiding doing ‘live’ interviews was one of them. “How ya do!?” Hizashi said, moving his hands rapidly through the air while Shota remained quiet.

“Heh,” you tried to put on your best smile, or at least the best smile that your father had taught you to put on when dealing with Pro Heroes. “Hey…” You replied, glancing at Gang Orca once more before looking at Hizashi.

“Guess he’s not waking up for a while, huh?” You rubbed the back of your head with a nervous chuckle. “Would appear that way,” Shota replied, “so…just who are you?” Hizashi nodded before pointing a finger at you. “Yeah, and what’s with the flashy eyes?”

You noticed the look that Shota gave him before he stepped closer. “That flash was considered an illegal and unauthorized use of your quirk,” he said. “O-oh, was it?” You replied, another nervous chuckle escaping as you took a step back. 

Like before, Shota stepped forward while Hizashi looked at him questionably. “Uh, Aizawa?” He shouldn’t have been surprised when he was utterly ignored by the man who locked his sights on you. “Yes,” he answered, and your body grew stiff when he reached for his capture scarf.

“While you didn’t put anyone in danger, it’s a violation all the same,” he said, his eyes darkening as he continued to look at you. “It might be a surprise but I’m not a fan of vigilantes either,” he informed you, wrapping one end of his scarf around his hand.

You could easily predict what was going to happen next and hissed through your teeth. “Well, this has been nice but-” Once again you triggered your quirk, allowing your eyes to absorb as much light as possible before another flash, much stronger than the one you used on Gang Orca, blinded the two heroes. 

Shota still tried to use his scarf, despite being blinded. Luckily, he missed you by only a few centimeters and you ran for it. “Ah, what the heck man!?” Hizashi wailed out before taking off his signature shades and rubbing his watery eyes furiously with the back of his hand.

Shota, meanwhile, grumbled in response. He was clearly irritated but luckily, he always had eyedrops on hand because of his quirk. He sighed as he reached into his pocket for the small bottle, and after adding a drop to each eye, his vision slowly returned to normal.

Hizashi grumbled, his eyes were puffy and tinted red. “Jeez, why’d ya think that was a smooth idea, Aizawa?” He demanded, slipping his sunglasses back on while the man in question glared at him. “Shut up,” he responded before sighing.

“It was a better approach than suggesting we inflict harm on them,” Hizashi frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean!?” he demanded. Yeah, he might have suggested that they beat up members of the media in the past but surely Shota didn’t take his words seriously.

“If I captured them with my scarf, there would have been little resistance and lowered risk of injury,” he explained before looking in the direction he assumed you had run. Hizashi crossed his arms with a huff, impatiently tapping his foot against the ground.

“Do you know who they were?” Shota asked. “Meh, who knows man,” he responded, shrugging. “But I get the feeling they were some kind of reporter, ya dig? That quirk’s gotta be useful for the media,” he stated, and Shota nodded. “Yeah…” he responded, his voice was low and had a slight undertone of disappointment.

Hizashi looked at him with concern but didn’t get the chance to ask what was wrong considering Shota started walking away. “Hey, wait for me!” He called after him. “Keep your eyes peeled for the next issue of the local paper, I have a feeling what the headline will be,” Shota stated.

This was why he hated the media. Give them an inch and they’d take a mile. An exaggerated and blown out-of-proportion mile at that. The last thing Yuuei, much less the Pro Hero world needed was for their names to be dragged further into the mud.

But it was far too late to do anything about it now. Whatever you witnessed at the baseball game was going to be public soon. Unlike the rest of the patrons who witnessed what had happened, there was something special about social media and public influence.

Not to mention some idiots only helped add fuel to the fire because they believed everything they saw or read from the local news. Either way, Yuuei would likely respond the way it always has regarding whatever allegations you published. 

In that sense, he wasn’t worried. But given your odd interest in Gang Orca, there was the likelihood that you would try to taint his name along with Yuuei’s. “I did it!” You screamed when you barged through the front door, scaring Taneo half to death.

The metallic sound of a knife hitting the floor echoed through the kitchen and he sighed, fisting his hand into the front of his hair. He wasn’t annoyed by you per se, but rather by your intrusion. You tilted your head, trying to distinguish what the noise was before hurrying to the kitchen.

“You okay, Dad?” You asked, peering around the doorway. You spotted him crouched on the floor, picking said knife up. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he replied, his gaze shifting to you before standing up and promptly throwing the dirty knife into the sink. 

Then he walked over to the counter and grabbed his plate, in the center of which was a sandwich he had just finished preparing a few seconds before you walked through the door. He took a bite of it, letting his eyes linger on you.

“What did you do?” He asked after swallowing. “I got a newsworthy story!” You declared, waving your notepad in front of him. He eyed it a moment, taking another bite of his sandwich and smiling as he chewed. Again, he saw a resemblance of his younger self in you.

He was proud that you were following in his footsteps, but at times he did worry that you were pushing yourself too hard for a story. “Let’s see how well you did,” he said, taking the notepad. He briefly glimpsed over your notes with a raised eyebrow.

If what you had written is true, it was certainly hard to picture and a small part of him felt bad for the students involved in the fiasco you described. “Well, this is certainly something kiddo,” you took the notepad back. “Yup!” You agreed.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, this story isn’t going to write itself,” you said, turning to leave. “Don’t stay up too late!” He called but you waved him off. “Yeah, yeah,” you replied, knowing you would do the exact opposite of what he instructed.

Hours ticked by as the rapid clicking of keyboard keys permeated the air, and while your fingers throbbed dully from the repetitive activity, there wasn’t a chance in hell you were stopping until your story was finished. Some may think that writing was a skill that anyone could do.

But, in your humble opinion, it took a true artist to be able to capture one’s attention through words, much less convey emotions, and keep the audience interested. That’s why you loved journalism, there was nothing like the rush of words that swirled inside of you, dying for an escape that only you could grant. 

Your eyelids were growing heavy by the time you finished, and you leaned back, cracking your knuckles. “Okay,” you said, yawning loudly. “Let’s see…” you rubbed one of your eyes as you scrolled up the length of your finished article. Having edited through it a few times, you deemed it ready enough to be published. 

Of course, there was only one thing missing. After all, there had to be something eye-catching that would draw your audience in and pique their curiosity enough to read your article. This, of course, was the picture that would act as the foundation of your story.

Another yawn passed your lips before you shook your head, trying to suppress your drowsiness as you grazed your index finger along the side of your laptop. Once you felt the USB slot, the tip of your finger morphed into a connector.

This, as one can imagine, allowed you to connect to the laptop. Unlike your father who could print the pictures he took from his chest; you could upload your pictures to your laptop or any electronic device. It was slightly more convenient than a paper copy.

Although at times you wished that you had your father’s ability to simply print pictures from your body. Then again, there was a chance that if your quirk manifested that way, you would be wishing that you could do exactly what you were doing. Uploading them digitally. 

You watched as a series of pictures began to appear on your laptop and proceeded to copy them into another file before pulling your finger out of the USB slot. After that, it was simply a matter of choosing the correct photo that would showcase what your article was about.

Another hour ticked by, and you slumped over your desk with your cheek cradled in your hand, yawning yet again. Your eyelids were drooping, making it difficult to focus on the screen that illuminated your otherwise dark room. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes briefly before shaking your head.

“Stay awake,” you hissed, opening another tab on the browser. With the article complete, and the picture chosen, the last thing to do was send it to the appropriate people, including your father, to get it approved before it was published.

“There…” you said, hovering your finger just above the touchpad of your laptop. Another click sounded when you hit ‘Send’ and leaned back in your chair. “This story…will be newsworthy,” after closing the laptop, you wobbled your way to your bed and carelessly plopped onto it.

Succumbing to sleep was easy, although dreams of Gang Orca danced in your head. Maybe it was wrong to purposely ruin his image, but if there was one thing you learned it was that social media didn’t care about the rights or wrongs.

It only cared about the views, likes, and popularity that stemmed from ludicrous stories and scandalous headlines. The truth essentially didn’t matter or maybe that’s just what you told yourself to ease the guilt. Either way, you slept easy that night.

His steps echoed against the pavement as he made his way to the gated entrance of the Okuto Island Aquarium where Shota and Hizashi stood on the other side, waiting for him. Shota looked as he usually did, tired and a frown decorated his lips.

Hizashi on the other hand, had his hands shoved into his pockets and was impatiently tapping his foot against the ground. “What is this about?” He questioned, entering a code into the keypad that was located on the left side of the wall.

The gate jiggled and screeched when it began ascending, leaving nothing separating the three heroes. Hizashi was quick to answer. “Have you seen today’s paper, yo!?” he stated, moving his hands around rapidly. 

“I have not,” Kugo responded before his eyes shifted to Shota who grabbed the newspaper tucked underneath his arm and held it out. He raised his eyebrow and took it as Shota said, “Look at the front page.” His curiosity was piqued, and he unfolded the paper with care.

“Very well,” he replied, only to freeze when he saw a headline that read ‘Hero Or A Villain in Disguise?’ A side-by-side picture was underneath the headline that showed him grabbing and forcibly throwing a student into the air, the look of horror and panic was evident on their face.

He glanced at the two heroes, noting Hizashi urged him to continue reading. ‘So-called Killer Whale Hero: Gang Orca subjects Yuuei hero students to unfair and unethical punishment during the final season of Hero Baseball.’ He looked back at the two men and a concerned expression decorated his face.

“This doesn’t work well with Yuuei’s reputation,” Shota said, sighing as he fisted his hand into his hair. “People are already beginning to question your position as a hero, the position of the Yuuei teachers, and why this mistreatment of hero students was allowed,” he explained.

“Yeah, and that’s the last thing we need jamming us up!” Hizashi exclaimed frantically much to Shota’s annoyance. “The individual that confronted you was a journalist from Juzo News,” Kugo narrowed his eyes, replaying the moment you had walked up to him in his mind.

“Juzo News...hm,” his eyes shifted to the article. He recalled the few times he had been interviewed or involved with Juzo News, is that why you were so familiar to him? It would be hard for him to forget such a determined and strong individual like yourself.

Perhaps he needed time to recall if the two of you had truly crossed paths before. “Yeah, and they have those crazy flashy eyes!” Hizashi commented, waving his hands in front of his face before Shota sighed. “Yes, I recall how they approached me” Kugo replied, folding the newspaper.

It was rather bold that you had approached him, and the way you pulled on his tie was something he wouldn’t soon forget. “I assume that was their quirk,” he stated and Shota nodded. “They are the child of Taneo Tokuda,” he explained.

“Taneo Tokuda?” Kugo repeated. “The Editor-in-chief of Juzo News, yo!” Hizashi chimed in with a grin. Shota lowered his hand. “We suspect that flash from their eyes was an adaptation of the quirk they inherited from their father,” he stated, crossing his arms to lean against the nearby wall. 

“What is his quirk?” Kugo asked. “Whole-body lens, it allows him to sprout camera lenses anywhere on his body and take pictures,” he explained. Kugo slumped his shoulders. “What do you suggest we do?” He asked, handing the newspaper back to Shota.

“I say we organize a hero meeting!” Hizashi announced, placing his hands on his hips but Shota shook his head. “It would exhaust more effort than it’s worth to organize a meeting for something like this.” However, any suggestion preventing heroes and more importantly, Yuuei from being tainted further would help. 

Hizashi frowned. “You’re always putting down my ideas! What’s the dealio?!” He asked, curling his hands into fists. Shota glared at him before looking at Kugo. “Maybe Yamada has something,” he said, making the man in question look at him surprised.

Kugo, on the other hand, didn’t quite follow. “You wish to organize a meeting?” He asked, and Shota shook his head. Hizashi raised his eyebrow. “Then whaddya suggest?!” He demanded, wiggling his finger at Shota. “Get in touch with Juzo News and request an interview,” silence filled the air.

“An interview?” Kugo asked a few seconds later. “Mmhm,” he responded before looking at Hizashi. “Anything else you want to add?” he asked. “Just make sure you clear Yuuei’s name along with yours, ya dig!?” He said, once again rapidly moving his hands around. Kugo nodded.

“Understood,” he said, although he wasn’t sure what the results of his actions would be when he called Juzo News. However, he agreed that it was in everyone’s best interest that he keep his and Yuuei’s reputation in good standing.

The dial tone sounded in his ear for a few minutes before someone finally answered. After revealing that he was the Killer Whale Hero: Gang Orca, he was transferred a few times before hearing a loud click followed by a cheery voice that said, “Editor-in-chief of Juzo News, Taneo Tokuda speaking.”

Kugo’s eyes widened, if his memory was correct, Taneo Tokuda was your father. Because he was briefly lost in thought, he failed to realize he hadn’t said anything until Taneo’s voice echoing, “Hello, hello?” sounded in his ear. “Apologies,” he replied, and when Taneo heard his deep and slightly raspy voice, he raised his eyebrow.

“Who is this?” He asked, a tingle of suspicion lingering in his tone. Kugo, of course, was able to pick up on this. However, he did not typically jump to conclusions. In addition, for personal reasons, he didn’t partake in prejudice.

Although he wasn’t entirely certain, he imagined your father might become defensive when he revealed that he wished to have a private interview with you. However, this was how every father might act when someone wished to be alone with their child, especially a Pro Hero like Kugo whose name was all over social media now.

Granted, you were an adult but that did not necessarily make a difference. Kugo reached up, loosening the pink tie wrapped securely around the collar of his blazer. “Hello,” he replied, “I am Kugo Sakamata.” Taneo knit his eyebrows and leaned back in his seat, propping his legs onto his desk.

“Is that right?” He replied, his tone casual and laidback unlike before. Kugo heard the shifting of papers before Taneo continued speaking. “And what can I do for you today, Mr. Sakamata?” Kugo took a deep breath, resting his opposite hand on his thigh while the other remained holding his phone.

“I am also…Gang Orca,” he stated, and Taneo’s eyes widened. He dropped his legs to the floor and his chair gave a loud squeak as he stood up. “Gang Orca,” he repeated before smiling, “let me guess, you’re upset about the story Juzo News published.” 

He should have suspected this would happen, and in the back of his mind, he wondered what you would think if you knew he was talking to the very man who was the star of your story. “I am not,” Kugo replied, his tone was calm but stern.

“Oh, then why are you calling?” Taneo asked, having been far too used to the world of social media and news to care that he was being blunt. “I am concerned about the story,” he explained, “and how it is affecting the hero students and Yuuei’s reputation.”

Taneo raised his eyebrow and pressed his shoulder against the bottom of his phone to ensure it stayed in place as he moved more papers around on his desk. “Heh, and you’re not worried about your reputation? That’s pretty bold for a hero,” he replied, “usually they try to keep up their appearance and keep their name clear.” 

Kugo nodded. “Yes, I understand,” he said before taking a breath. “That is why I wish to request an interview to clear both Yuuei’s name and the name of heroes associated with it,” he heard Taneo snicker and raised his eyebrow, he failed to see what was so amusing.

“I’m afraid Juzo News doesn’t take requests,” he stated, yet again being blunt. His grip tightened on his phone, and he briefly turned his head to glance outside before his eyes shifted to the papers that littered his desk. Then resting on the corner of said desk was a framed picture of him and you.

It was taken shortly after you had begun interning at Juzo News, he remembered that day well and how proud he had felt of you. At the same time, he had to pull some strings when you finished your internship and insisted on working at Juzo News.

It was shortly after this that he noticed something. While you seemed to enjoy your work as a journalist, you also tried too hard. You became obsessed with finding the perfect story which led you to some troublesome situations.

Many a time, he had to rescue you or smooth things over because you decided that doing something like trespassing on private property was beneficial for a story. While he could have punished you, like a responsible parent would, he decided that trying to encourage the talents he already saw present in you would help.

Understanding how to be safe while capturing a worthy news story was an important aspect of being a journalist. This seemed to work for the time being, but he still noticed the obsessive traits you displayed. Your bulletin board was evidence enough of that.

That’s when he made the connection that something was ‘off’ about you. He often wondered if journalism was the ideal fit for you, but he supposed that watching him through the years influenced your need to join him in the field.

But if he were being truthful, he sensed that you were chasing something you didn’t really want. Ultimately, he knew he couldn’t deprive you of doing what you thought you wanted. Sooner or later, you had to face facts just like everyone.

“Mm…” he pressed his lips together and picked the framed picture up. Examining it closer, he brushed his finger over your face before taking a deep breath. “However,” Kugo’s eyes widened, and he leaned forward in his chair, anxious to hear what Taneo had to say.

“I can pull some strings,” his tone was upbeat, and a smile decorated his lips. He placed the picture back down and walked over to the window in his office. With thoughts of you on his mind, he said, “How does this Friday sound? Say eleven o’clock sharp at the Juzo News studio?”

Kugo certainly wasn’t expecting this, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “Yes,” he replied, “I will be there.” Taneo smiled. “Wonderful, I’ll be conducting the interview,” he lied. “Oh, and better pick out a nice outfit. This interview will be live,” he warned, and before Kugo could respond the call ended.

He turned back to his desk, and that satisfied smile faded as he focused on the picture frame again. Walking over, he picked it up and once again stared at you. ‘I just have to know that hope won’t be lost when I retire, and you’re doing what you love,’ he thought.

But whatever career path you chose, be it journalism or not, he wanted you to be more successful than he was. This is why he had tirelessly provided you with guidance and mentorship since you first set foot into the work world. He wanted you to shine, and as your father, he would do anything to help you accomplish your dreams.

Although it was humorous to think you didn’t need your old man’s help as you were a natural go-getter. Very little stopped you and soon, he was going to make you face one of your weaknesses. Yes, maybe that sounded cruel but everyone in the media business had to know how to do certain things.

This included jumping into live interviews with nothing but your wits, and previous or present knowledge to work with. Despite imagining how amusing your reaction would be when he allowed you to conduct the live interview with Kugo, he knew you wouldn’t disappoint him. 

[probablyasocialecologist]

WEAPONS USED BY the Israel Defense Forces, security cabinet leaks, and stories about people held hostage by Hamas — these are some of the eight subjects the media are forbidden from reporting in Israel, according to a document obtained by The Intercept. The document, a censorship order issued by the Israeli military to the media as part of its war on Hamas, has not been previously reported. The memo, written in English, was an unusual move for the IDF’s censor, which has been part of the Israel military for more than seven decades. “I haven’t ever seen instructions like this sent from the censor aside from general notices broadly telling outlets to comply, and even then it was only sent to certain people,” said Michael Omer-Man, a former editor-in-chief of the Israel’s +972 Magazine and today the director of research for Israel–Palestine at Democracy in the Arab World Now, or DAWN, a U.S. advocacy group. Titled “Operation ‘Swords of Iron’ Israeli Chief Censor Directive to the Media,” the order is not dated, but its reference to Operation Swords of Iron — the name of Israel’s current military operation in Gaza — makes clear that it was issued sometime after Hamas’s October 7 attack on Israel. The order is signed by the chief censor of the Israel Defense Forces, Brig. Gen. Kobi Mandelblit. (The Israeli Military Censor did not respond to a request for comment on the memo.)

[...]

The order enumerates eight topics the media are forbidden from reporting on without prior approval from the Israeli Military Censor. Some of the topics touch on hot-button political issues in Israel and internationally, such as potentially embarrassing revelations about weapons used by Israel or captured by Hamas, discussions of security cabinet meetings, and the Israeli hostages in Gaza — an issue that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has been widely criticized for mishandling. The memo also bans reporting on details of military operations, Israeli intelligence, rocket attacks that hit sensitive locations in Israel, cyberattacks, and visits by senior military officials to the battlefield.

[...]

“In order to get a visa as a journalist, you have to get approval from GPO” — Government Press Office — “and therefore you have to sign a document that says you will comply with the censor,” said Omer-Man. “That in itself is probably against the ethics guidelines at a bunch of papers.” Nonetheless, many journalists do sign the document. While The Associated Press, for instance, didn’t respond to The Intercept’s query about whether it cooperates with the military censor, the news wire has in the past reported on the issue, including admitting that it holds itself to the directive. “The Associated Press has agreed, like other organizations, to abide by the rules of the censor, which is a condition for receiving permission to operate as a media organization in Israel,” the agency wrote in a 2006 story. “Reporters are expected to censor themselves and not report any of the forbidden material.”

[electronickingdomfox]

"The Entropy Effect" review

Novel from 1981, by Vonda N. McIntyre (same author of the novelizations for the Star Trek movies II, III and IV). This is also the first TOS novel of the Pocket Book line, not counting the novelization for TMP. Even though the Bantam books have some nice stories (in particular, those by the Haldeman brothers are pretty decent), they all seem more like episodes of the series. This is the first time I had the impression of reading a proper novel, and the leap in quality is evident. I really, really liked this novel. It's also veeeery sad; it even made me shed some tears. Of course the reader knows this is Star Trek, and everything will turn out fine in the end, but the sense of despair the author conveys is quite effective nonetheless.

The characters are given much depth, and even the bunch of new additions receive proper attention, and their own side-stories and aspirations. The relations between the triumvirate are pretty much flawless (with echoes from "The Tholian Web"; Spock and McCoy are the real protagonists here). And surprisingly, Sulu has his own subplot and a romance story.

I can't really think of many downsides. Maybe it's a bit slow at the beginning, specially since it needs to introduce the new cast. But as I found the original characters interesting and likeable, it wasn't a major issue for me. Also, the story involves time-travel, so expect the usual head-scratching moments. Though as far as I noticed, there were no plot holes.

Some spoilers below the cut:

Spock is investigating an unusual black hole, and his observations make him reach the disturbing conclusion that entropy is rapidly accelerating, and the universe may have little more than 100 years to disappear. He's about to confirm his suspicions, when the Enterprise is suddenly diverted to the Aleph Prime station by a maximum priority message, so Spock has to leave his work half-finished.

In the station, they're greeted by prosecutor Ian Braithewaite, who is confused at first, since he didn't send any urgent message. Nonetheless, he had asked for a ship to help him bring a prisoner to a rehabilitation colony, so Kirk accepts, once he learns the identity of such prisoner. He's an old physics professor of Spock: George Mordreaux, and Spock is sure he can prove his mentor's innocence, for the charges of murder and unethical experimentation. But when he tries to learn more about the case, he finds all info and details have been erased, so there's something definitely fishy about it all. In the station, Kirk also reunites with Captain Hunter, an old girlfriend, and has serious doubts about his decision to break up with her. He even considers the option of leaving the Enterprise and giving another chance at their relationship. For his part, Sulu has fallen in love with the new security chief: Mandala Flynn. But leaves her, and the Enterprise, to join Hunter's crew, in the hope that this will further his career.

Thus the Enterprise, minus Sulu, starts the trip to the rehab colony, with Modreaux and Braithewaite aboard. Spock insists the professor isn't dangerous, and places minimal security on him. Everything goes awry when the professor appears inexplicably on the bridge, and shoots Kirk and Mandala with a spiderweb gun. This spiderweb has really gruesome effects: it creates some sort of metallic web inside a body, which expands quickly through all organs, even covering the eyes. However, Mordreaux doesn't seem to have left his cell at all, and no intruder or imposter is found aboard. Soon thereafter, Mandala is dead. While McCoy completely breaks down, and insists on keeping Kirk artificially "alive" through machines (though deep down, he knows Kirk is dead for real). In the end, Spock convinces McCoy to disconnect the machines. And there's a gut-wrenching scene, in clinical detail, where McCoy starts turning off all the life systems on him.

After Kirk's death, Spock and McCoy are left in a similar situation as in "The Tholian Web". Though in the episode Kirk had simply disappeared, so there was still hope. Here things are far more depressing. McCoy can't accept Kirk's death, and pressures Spock to try time-travel to save him. Spock refuses to play like that with the space-time continuum. However, while interrogating the professor in his cell, Spock learns that the real reason he's convicted, is because he's been tampering with time travel through a new device. This disruption may be behind the entropy effects Spock had previously discovered. And it's also behind the murder of Kirk, at the hands of a future, insane version of Mordreaux. Since all these events are the results of time alterations, Spock needs, in fact, to travel back in time, and restore things to their original order.

With the help of the (still sane) professor, Spock initiates a series of failed attempts at fixing things in the past. While gradually deteriorating through each time travel. And McCoy has a hard time, being left in charge of the ship and covering up for Spock (they can't tell anyone else about the device, in fear of being arrested for it, just as Mordreaux). Meanwhile, Braithewaite is being a pain in the ass, and gets paranoid about Spock and McCoy having conspired to murder Kirk. He even manages to make Scotty suspicious of them, so things get even more complicated.

In summary, the stakes are pretty high, and the story gets really exciting (and sometimes frustrating for poor Spock and McCoy).

McSpirk Meter: 10/10. I usually only rate the Kirk/Spock material, since is far more common, and ranges wildly from one novel to another (with some of them being borderline slash). But in this occasion is impossible to separate the members of the triumvirate, as the love goes in all three directions.

For starters, there's Spock casting aside all his reservations about hand touching, when Kirk is shot with the spiderweb (maybe this is the first time it's explicitly stated that Vulcans avoid touching hands?). He tries to mind-meld with Kirk while he's dying, perhaps to die himself instead, but Kirk pushes him away to save him.

Then there's the absolutely devastating effect that Kirk's death has on McCoy. He gets totally drunk, breaks down among sobs, and finally passes out. Spock carries him in his arms and puts him to bed; then keeps watch while he sleeps. Later, McCoy starts crying again while viewing Kirk's last will. But once he learns it's possible to bring him back, he's all sunshine once more. Still, the mere reliving of his death is enough to bring him to tears, even while on the bridge. McCoy's pain for losing Kirk is also compared to that of Hunter (who was Kirk's lover), and Sulu's grief for Mandala (also a lover). When Hunter asks McCoy what he has to gain by helping Spock in his mysterious plans, he answers "everything".

Spock deals with the loss of his Captain in a far more subdued, Vulcan way, but it's evident he's falling apart too. He doesn't want to stay in the Enterprise anymore, and once he completes his duties aboard, he's probably going to leave Starfleet altogether.

McCoy has also some tender moments with Spock while treating his wounds, and choosing civilian clothes for him (which he says that enhance Spock's eyes).

Once everything's been solved, Spock lies in bed while recovering, and Kirk and McCoy take turns watching him. Only Spock remembers the events of the altered timeline (for everyone else it feels just like a nightmare). And Spock's reaction upon waking up and seeing Kirk alive has to be read to believe it. Let's say, a mixture of "this simple feeling", and his smile at the end of "Amok Time".

[kallie-den]

Reformation

The Queen of the Gods finds her mind, her body, and even her identity becoming corrupted and depraved when the habits and beliefs of her mortal worshippers change

A story voted for by my patrons! They wanted goddess corruption, and since that's one of my favorite little concepts, I was happy to provide. With a little hucow-esque twist, of course ;)

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

---

When Theanax the Mother, the queen of the gods, the Bull-Queen, summoned her sister, Dolea the Trickster, to Ouranos, sanctuary of the highest gods, she met her with a look of perplexed amusement on her face.

“My sister, my queen,” Dolea said as she knelt. “To what do I owe this summons?”

Theanax was resplendent in her authority as she watched the trickster goddess kneel. She sat on her throne wearing golden robes, a bull-horns crown proud atop her head. She had never thought to see the day. After their victory over the First, she and Dolea and their other sister had contested to divide the old gods’ domains amongst themselves.

To Theanax had gone the highest throne. She ruled the heavens as Queen of the Gods. Their third sister had gone to rule the underworld, and Dolea had won the least of all the domains: the realm of mortals. Instead of a throne, she was fated to live and move amongst them as a traveler and trickster.

Unsurprisingly, she had not been pleased with her lot.

But perhaps that had changed, Theanax mused. At long last, Dolea seemed to have adjusted. Certainly, her sister was smiling as she rose.

“Welcome, sister.” Theanax rose to meet her in an embrace. “It’s been too long.”

They hugged. It was an awkward maneuver, given Theanax’s full, pregnant belly. The eldest sister was permanently with child. That was the way her mortal worshipers envisioned her, and so it would forever be. To the gods, belief was reality. It shaped their memories, their abilities, their domains - everything.

“I have a question I’d like you to help me answer,” Goddess Theanax continued as they pulled apart. “The doings of mortals puzzle me. Very specific doings, in fact.”

She led Dolea over to the golden altar near her throne. On it was a huge scrying bowl, the artifact Theanax used to view the mortal realm and receive her due offerings. Theanax waved her hand over the bowl and an image appeared within. It was of her chief temple, where all kinds of prayers and sacrifices were regularly held.

Dolea peered into the bowl. “I’m afraid I don’t see anything remarkable, sister.”

“Look closer,” Theanax instructed. “At the statue, for instance.”

Looking deeper into the scrying bowl, Dolea set her eyes on the huge marble statue that had newly been raised up atop a pedestal in Theanax’s temple, at the head of all those rows of immaculate marble columns. It was, recognizably, her sister. Her countenance, her marks of divinity.

“Please, tell me the reason for your concerns,” Dolea implored wearily. “I did not make this journey lightly.”

“You really don’t see it?” Theanax was frowning. “The robes! It’s disrespectful. Blasphemous. It does not befit a queen of the gods.”

Dolea looked for a third time, and finally nodded. There was, she had to admit, something a little unusual about the statue. Theanax’s golden robes were finely and densely layered in the manner anyone would expect for a queen or a noblewoman. But on the statue, it wasn’t so. They were lighter, with a lower neck to expose her upper chest and the sleeves raised almost to her shoulders. It made her look a little more casual, and a little less formidable.

“They’ve made me into a courtesan,” Theanax said dangerously. “A concubine.”

“Sister, sister!” Dolea held up her hands to mollify her. She knew full well what her sister’s wrath could do to the mortals who had carved the statue if it was allowed to rage unchecked. “Allow me to explain.”

“What is there to explain?” Theanax’s nostrils flared.

“It’s what you wanted from me, no? Answers?” Theanax still looked heated but slowly she nodded, inviting Dolea to continue. “I know the ways of mortals,” her sister explained, “and I can promise you they mean no disrespect.”

“Oh?”

“It’s simply the style of the time!” Dolea assured her sister-queen. “They depict you as they would one of their own queens. Nothing less.”

“Is that so?” Theanax sounded doubtful.

“Of course.” Dolea spread her arms wide. “I’ve been to every court in the land. Robes like those are the highest fashion.”

“I see…” Eventually, Theanax nodded acceptingly. “It’s strange, then, to think that one day soon I might find myself wearing them, if they worship ardently enough. They seem cold.”

Dolea laughed politely. “You see, sister? There’s nothing to be worried about.”

She turned as if to leave, but the pregnant goddess put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Wait. That’s not nearly all.”

Dolea turned back, a bemused look on her face. “Oh? Do you suppose it’s more of the same?”

“It concerns me,” Theanax replied in a warning tone. “I hear their prayers, you know. Every one.”

“Of course. We all hear the prayers of our worshipers,” Dolea said, before adding in a quieter voice: “few as mine are.”

“They’ve changed as of late,” Theanax continued imperiously. “New epithets replacing the old. They call me a sybarite. A hedonist. ‘Theanax the Decadent’ it’s become, in their songs. I dislike it. What’s the meaning of this?”

Dolea just sighed and smiled. “Ah, sister! You must learn to see it from their perspective.”

“Explain,” Goddess Theanax demanded, folding her arms above her belly.

“You’re a queen,” Dolea began. “A glorious, resplendent, powerful queen. But what a queen means to those little mortals changes with the times. Sometimes, it means a mother. At other times, a protector. At others, perhaps, a tyrant.”

Theanax looked displeased at that last comment, but she didn’t interrupt.

“It’s an age of riches down there, sister,” Dolea continued. “And in their prosperity, they wish to worship a queen whose wealth is a mirror to their own. They admire a queen who basks radiantly in all the evidence of her power. In all the tribute she is owed. In all the luxurious and wonderful things she is entitled to! A hedonistic queen is a glorious, righteous queen.”

“Hmm.” Theanax’s lips were pursed, but she seemed swayed. “I… suppose that also goes some way toward explaining the sacrifices.”

Dolea’s ears pricked up. “The sacrifices?”

Theanax turned away, and felt no need to beckon Dolea to follow as she led her sister across the marbled hall of her throne room. Dolea sighed as she followed, but took a moment to enjoy the view. Ouranos was a magnificent hall set above the clouds, on the highest mountain mortal men could conceive of. Only the stars were above it, and below, the whole world could be seen.

Dolea suppressed a pang of jealousy. Theanax didn’t seem to understand how good she had it.

Soon, the pair arrived at a second altar. It was a perfect mirror of the first, but instead of a scrying bowl, it bore a massive pile of offerings and sacrifices. Everything in the world given in Theanax’s name found its way here, and Dolea’s jaw dropped at the scale of the hoard. Her sister, though, seemed displeased.

“Look at this!” Theanax said crossly. “Look at these… these baubles! These trinkets! It’s all so gaudy. So tasteless. Is this what mortals think of me?”

Once Dolea had moved beyond her shock at the quantity of the offerings, she was forced to admit that the quality was, indeed, lacking. Theanax was no stranger to gold, but her style had always been austere. Unadorned rings and simple circlets had traditionally been considered fitting offerings. The objects sitting on the altar, by contrast, were dripping with gemstones and ornamentations, most of which were far from tasteful. The display of ostentatious wealth was staggering - but not in the way Theanax might have hoped for.

All in all, the bangles and rings upon the altar were more like something Dolea might have used to dazzle a petty merchant rather than something she would gift to the queen of the gods.

“It is, I’m afraid, the same,” Dolea said hurriedly. She didn’t wish to see all the well-meaning supplicants who had given these gifts be smote with Theanax’s wrath. “Mortals and their fashions. I’m sure you know how they can be, sister.”

“I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it,” Theanax agreed begrudgingly. “Let us hope the fashion changes quickly, before I become used to it. Before it etches itself into my very mythology. I don’t want to become a vain, tacky goddess. Can you believe this isn’t even the worst of it?”

“Oh?” Dolea’s curiosity was piqued, especially when the tips of Theanax’s ears started to burn with something close to embarrassment.

“This,” Theanax said hesitantly, “demands further explanation, I think.”

She reached into the pile of treasure and plucked out a very particular object. Dolea had to hold back a giggle when her sister held it up for her inspection. It, too, was gold, and just as ornamented as every other offering. But it wasn’t a ring, or a crown, or a bangle.

It was a dildo.

The queen of the gods held up the hard, proud phallus like it was something distasteful, and the wrathful look in her eyes demanded appeasement.

“I-I fear it is not so different, my queen,” Dolea said hastily, smothering her amusement. “It’s like the prayers, yes? Your worshipers admire a queen who is, ah, shameless in her pleasures. In all kinds of pleasures.”

“This goes beyond that, and you know it!” Theanax shot back. “What do they take me for? Some kind of whorish love goddess?”

“Well,” Dolea replied cautiously. “You must admit, there is a certain… plausibility to the connection. You are not a love goddess, indeed, but you are a mother goddess. And motherhood… fertility… well…”

For a moment, Dolea thought she was about to be struck dead. But then Theanax simply groaned and threw up her hands.

“Ugh! Mortals. You must start to teach them better, sister.” Theanax flashed a good-natured smile. “This is truly ridiculous. At this rate, they’re going to turn me into some kind of slut. How did they manage to associate me with one of the few pleasures I do not partake in?”

Dolea laughed, and dared to push her lack. “Perhaps you might take it as an opportunity, sister.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… when was the last time you thought to take a mortal lover?” Dolea asked.

Theanax snorted. “You jest.”

“Not at all!” Dolea protested. “A queen deserves her concubines, does she not?”

“I may deserve them, but I don’t want them,” Theanax retorted. Her anger had returned. “You overstep yourself, Dolea.”

“It was merely a suggestion, sister!” Dolea said hurriedly.

“If I need your advice, I’ll ask for it!” Theanax cried. “Maybe you’ve been amongst mortals too long. It’s as if you’ve been infected by their foolishness. Begone!”

Dolea sighed as she bowed. This was the sister she knew - tempestuous in her moods, and fierce in her anger. Just as she had always been, she was every bit the proud queen. The trickster goddess decided not to risk arguing with Theanax further, and so she turned and departed Ouranos, leaving the queen of the gods to stew in her indignation.

The second time the trickster goddess Dolea received a summons from Theanax, it was a markedly different queen of the gods who greeted her in the halls of Ouranos.

“Sister!” Theanax rushed to Dolea and pulled her into a shockingly warm embrace. “Thank you for coming. My halls are brighter for your presence.”

“Thank you,” Dolea replied slowly as she let Theanax hug her.

She was immediately and completely distracted by what Theanax was wearing. Gone were the long, heavy robes of state that draped so far from her sleeves. Instead, the queen of the gods was wearing a light, simple tunic, daringly cut to expose far more of the goddess’s figure than Dolea had ever seen. The way it clung to her heavy, rounded belly was breathtaking.

It was still gold, of course. Theanax and her gold.

The jewelry she was wearing was anything but simple. It was even more distracting than her tunic, and no less gaudy and tasteless than all those offerings had been. Theanax’s hands were dripping with rings and her arms were adorned with so many bangles and bands she clattered as she moved.

It was exactly the kind of jewelry Theanax had so strenuously protested against at their previous meeting.

“You look well,” Dolea said diplomatically.

It wasn’t untrue. Theanax looked brighter, somehow. Younger, perhaps. Dolea wasn’t sure if it was simply due to her outfit, or if that too was attributable to the devotions of her mortal worshipers. Perhaps it was both. Dolea would have to look carefully at her statues. There was something else about Theanax too, though. Something missing.

“Thank you!” Theanax said again, beaming. “I decided to change with the times. It’s better, don’t you think?”

It was very doubtful she remembered it as anything more than that. The deep magic that bound divinity and worshiper was a curious thing. It wove a spell over both, making them think that whatever they now believed was how it had always been. Dolea was glad her own following was smaller and less prone to sudden trends.

Theanax pulled away and led Dolea deeper into Ouranos. It was the same as it had ever been, all sterile, cavernous marble, open to the stars, but as they approached the queen’s throne, Dolea noticed that they weren’t alone. There was another figure there, lying beside it. At first, Dolea wondered if it was one of their fellow gods, but once she got closer, she saw that they were lacking the telltale glow of divinity. No; it was a mortal.

A mortal woman, in fact, and one of remarkable stature. Dolea judged that, by her fierce muscles and sun-baked skin, she was of the Amazons. Judging from her state of undress and rosy, post-coital glow in her cheeks, there was little mystery about what she was doing here. She didn’t look up as the two goddesses approached, and that was no mystery either. There was a spilled cup lying beside her. The Amazon was drunk off ambrosia. Mortals could handle no more than a few drops of the stuff.

“One of yours?” Dolea asked her sister, grinning.

“A favorite, for now.” Theanax’s eyes twinkled.

“You took my advice! That’s a first,” Dolea ribbed. “I’m pleased. Mortal lovers can be delightful.”

“As I have been learning!” Theanax laughed. “Her kind in particular. Warrior women can be so… vigorous.”

At that, Dolea raised an eyebrow. She’d never heard her sister sound so nakedly lustful. Once, she’d have considered it beneath her dignity. How times had changed.

“She’s not the first, then?” Dolea ventured.

“Nor the only.” Theanax winked shamelessly.

Dolea had to smile. She liked this new version of her sister, even if it was a little uncanny. It was then, though, that she realized what Theanax was missing: her crown. Once, Theanax’s name had been synonymous with the bull horns crown. She had insisted on wearing it at all times, no matter how heavy and burdensome it was.

“Sister, where’s your crown?” Dolea had to ask.

“Don’t worry yourself. I haven’t lost it.” Theanax waved towards a small plinth some distance away; her old crown was resting on it, looking a touch forgotten. “But this better suits my mood.”

She pointed up to the thin, dainty, golden tiara nestled on her head. It was embellished with gemstones so bright and gaudy they looked fake. Her sister must be in quite the mood these days, Dolea mused.

“But I didn’t summon you here to talk about fashion,” Theanax added, her face darkening. “Nor mortal lovers. I require your advice again, my sister.”

Dolea performed a small bow. “I’m at your service,” the trickster replied.

“Very good.” Turning away from her throne, Theanax led her sister back over to her scrying bowl and, with a wave of her hand, conjured up another image of her greatest temple. “Now, look at this!”

An amused smile flickered on Dolea’s face. The queen of the goddess was angry again, that much was obvious. But given her new appearance and manner, it was more like a princess’s petulance than the wrath of an almighty monarch. Still, though, Theanax was mighty, and Dolea didn’t want to earn her ire. She peered dutifully into the scrying bowl.

“It’s your temple, sister,” she said, after a moment of searching. “What am I to be looking for?”

“Oh, for…” Theanax stamped her foot crossly. “You cannot tell me you don’t see it! Just look at the new statue.”

Dolea looked. “I suppose it is in a rather exotic style.”

“Exotic?” Theanax repeated dangerously. “Tell me, in what exotic land is it the custom to depict the highest of gods naked?”

“Not naked,” Dolea demurred. “At least, not quite.”

Theanax simply snorted. Dolea could understand that it seemed like a meaningless quibble. The new statue that Theanax’s devout mortals had erected did, indeed, show a lot of the goddess’s skin. Almost all of it, in fact. Besides a prodigious collection of jewelry, she was wearing nothing except for a very slender thong and a sash that covered her breasts - just. That was it. Theanax wasn’t depicted naked, but Dolea had to admit that ‘clothed’ wouldn’t have been accurate either.

“It’s a modern trend,” Dolea soothed. “Nothing more.”

“Mortals and their trends,” Theanax scoffed. “It’s all you seem to say, Dolea! I’m not sure I believe it. This is blatant disrespect.”

“I know, I know. But mortals are so very fickle!” Dolea pleaded apologetically. “They have such little lives. You know this, sister. It’s simply their way.”

“And the proportions?” Theanax retorted. “Is that another trend? What am I to make of that, hm?”

Dolea could immediately see what Theanax was referring to. Though the statue in the temple was undeniably of Theanax, its sculptors had clearly gone to some lengths to exaggerate certain features. Her hips, her curves, her bosom. The effect was immediately rather spectacular in its lewdness, and obviously Theanax had taken offense.

And she was tired of hearing about mortal trends. Dolea decided to change tack.

“It’s foolish, certainly,” Dolea allowed. “Tactless. Crude. But, sister, answer me this: don’t you think it looks good? Don’t you think you look good, like that?”

“Look good?” Theanax cocked an eyebrow. “Is that what you think, sister?”

There was a dangerous look in the goddess’s eyes, but Dolea also sensed that she’d caught her regal sister’s attention.

“Look for yourself,” Dolea urged. She pressed close to Theanax’s side and pointed, guiding her sister’s gaze. “Set aside questions of dignity for just one, small moment. In fact, imagine that the statue was of someone else. Wouldn’t you find them appealing?”

“I…” Theanax paused hesitantly, but a slight breathiness in her voice was all the encouragement Dolea needed. “Well… perhaps.”

Dolea pressed closer still. “Wouldn’t you think she was hot?”

Theanax paused for even longer, before: “Yes… yes, I suppose so.”

“And that’s how the mortals see you.” Dolea made her voice as soft and as pleasing as she could as she whispered in her sister’s ear. “Their beautiful queen. Their radiant goddess. The very image of beauty. The very avatar of fertility and feminine magnificence. The-“

“Y-yes, I see,” Theanax cut her off abruptly. Her cheeks were tinged red, perhaps from flattery. “Well… that’s all well and good, I suppose. But there’s more. And worse.”

Dolea braced herself. “Yes?”

“The offerings, for one.” Theanax was still blushing. “More of those… those instruments of pleasure! That’s almost all they seem to offer. As if I don’t have enough of them already! Which is not to say that I’m not a goddess of love… or that they aren’t enjoyable, of course. I’ve certainly… but rather, do they really need to be getting so large, and so realistic? And besides, it’s-“

“Sister?” Dolea frowned. Theanax was raving. The queen of the gods did not rave. “Is something the matter?”

Theanax looked away. “It is. Something else those blasphemous mortals are responsible for.”

“Tell me, what-“

Dolea happened to glance down, and then she saw it: two growing stains at the front of Theanax’s tunic.

The queen of the gods was lactating.

“Ah.” Dolea made sure not to stare. “I can understand your frustration.”

“My so-called worshipers make a mockery of me with these willful blasphemies!” Theanax hissed. Dolea now understood the source of her blush. Not flattery, but humiliation. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t ride down from Ouranos and teach them the error of their ways.”

“I beg you, sister, don’t be too hasty!” Dolea begged urgently. “Surely you can see it from their perspective.”

Theanax’s eyes flashed with rage. “From. Their. Perspective?”

“Surely, merciful queen!” Dolea pleaded. “After all, you’re a mother goddess. Isn’t that so?”

“I preside over motherhood,” Theanax agreed cautiously. “But I am not - I will never be - a mere wetnurse.”

“The furthest thing!” Dolea agreed swiftly. “But milk is the mother’s bounty. It seems innocent enough to me, for that aspect of your worship to have come to prominence.”

“I do not like it.” Theanax folded her arms over her pregnant belly. “What kind of proud mother-queen sits on her throne with milk dripping out of her tits? And anyway, I worry about what this particular little trend represents.”

“What do you mean, sister?”

“I am the Bull-Queen,” Theanax said firmly. “The bull is a proud symbol of strength, dominance and kingship. It always has been. That is one thing I won’t forsake.”

“Of course!” Dolea replied. “No one would expect you to.”

“I’m not so sure!” Theanax shot back petulantly. “I’ve been listening very carefully to their prayers. I hear what they say about me. It’s in my ears all the time. But I’m determined not to let it shape me.”

“Surely it cannot be all that bad, whatever it is.”

Theanax went very still and tight-lipped before spitting out a firm vow. “I am not a cow goddess. Do you understand me? I will never be a cow goddess. It is unthinkable.”

Dolea made a great show of being scandalized at the very thought before even attempting to assuage her sister’s anger. “Absolutely, sister. Unthinkable. Though, I dare to venture… perhaps, in your great wisdom, you can bring yourself to understand how those foolish mortals could have committed such an error without meaning any offense against your esteemed divinity.”

The look on Theanax’s face as she stared at Dolea was more dangerous than ever. “And how would that be, precisely?” Her voice was as cold as winter snow.

Dolea was almost certain she’d overstepped, but she’d already committed herself. “Bulls and cows are, after all, essentially the same except for-“

“Enough!” Theanax shrieked, stamping her foot. “Begone at once! Never return here! I hear my lover waking, and if they don’t soothe my wrath, perhaps it will be you who witnesses my fury instead of those mortals you hold so precious. Get out of my sight!”

And so, for the second time, Dolea the trickster fled the halls of Ouranos.

The third time the trickster goddess Dolea was summoned to Ouranos, she came cautiously, remembering her sister’s threat. But as it transpired, she needed not have worried. The Theanax who met her there was so completely transformed as to be all but unrecognizable.

“Sister!” Theanax cried, throwing her arms around Dolea with wild abandon. “Ah, I’m so glad to see you! It’s been too long.”

“Sister,” Dolea echoed. “You look… well. Well as ever, I’d say.”

Theanax grinned and preened at the praise, giving Dolea more than enough chances to stare in disbelief at the changes that had washed over the queen of the gods.

She looked young. Younger than ever, in fact. She had the youthful beauty of a nymph, and about the same sense of propriety. She wore the clothes Dolea had previously seen on Theanax’s statue: gold-woven lingerie so small and thin it hid almost nothing. A massive collection of jewels and gems clung to her form, all in gold, their quantity and lack of quality making her look even cheaper and more shameless than her clothing did. She held in her hand a refilling cup of heady ambrosia, which she kept drinking deeply from. Theanax had become so wanton.

Her full, pregnant belly was about the only way Dolea could still identify her sister.

The other telltale signs were still present, though. Most notably, Theanax’s crown - although ‘tiara’ seemed a better term. No one but Theanax would dare wear a crown in Ouranos. It was just as frivolous and gaudy as all her other trinkets, but Dolea could pick out a new marker of Theanax’s divinity, a plain mockery of the old in size and stature.

Two small, nub-like horns, sculpted into her little tiara.

How the Bull-Queen had fallen.

But it wasn’t Dolea’s place to judge, so she bowed her head and asked: “What service can I perform for you, my queen?”

“I need your advice,” Theanax replied, with a slight sense of urgency. “Your worldly wisdom.”

“Is it your mortal worshipers again?”

“Yes!” Theanax seized on the notion. “At least, I think so. It’s become difficult for me to… please, come and take a look for yourself.”

Dolea nodded. Theanax’s confusion was understandable, Dolea mused to herself, given how rapidly and drastically mortals’ perception of her had shifted. Especially since wisdom did not seem to be a trait they now attached to the queen of the gods.

Theanax led Dolea through the sky-halls of Ouranos, towards her altar, and Dolea took a moment to look around. Ouranos itself was as changeless as ever, but there were still changes to be seen. Notably, there was not one mortal lover sleeping beside Theanax’s throne. There were dozens. A huge pile of muscular women; all flushed, olive skin and dripping, sex-scented sweat, occasionally twitching and humping and moaning sleepily.

How Theanax’s appetites had grown.

“Here,” Theanax said.

The altar she’d led them to was covered in mortal offerings and sacrifices, but Theanax swept them all aside so she could wave her hand over her scrying bowl and conjure an image of her greatest temple. She gestured for Dolea to look. The trickster goddess braced herself, and peered within.

The sight of what was going on within Theanax’s sanctuary was so shocking it made Dolea’s breath catch in her throat. It was complete debauchery. The light was low and incense smoke hung heavy in the air, lending the proceedings the intimate, lurid quality of a brothel. All over the walls and altars, imagery of cows had all but supplanted that of bulls, and imagery of queenship was nowhere to be found. Theanax as a goddess of motherhood and fertility remained a prominent theme, but all the mosaics and carvings seemed to depict her motherly form with perverse, leering eyes.

And then there was the ritual being carried out at the heart of the temple.

Dolea had to suppose it was a ritual, although there was little to elevate it beyond what it was: a hundred mortals clambering over one another in a religious frenzy, all fucking and kissing and groping, and, when their mouths weren’t filled with one another’s bodies, moaning delirious prayers to Theanax. It was plainly an orgy, but the most obscene blasphemy was reserved for the figure at its heart.

At the heart of the orgy was a woman - a priestess, Dolea guessed. She was the one everyone was reaching for and adoring with pleasure, and her lustful moans were shocking given the way her belly was swollen with child. But she didn’t just moan, she brayed and mooed like a beast, and wore a tiara that was a match for the one currently rested on Theanax’s brow.

Theanax’s mortal worshipers were fucking an avatar of their goddess.

Dolea steeled herself. This one was going to be difficult.

“I… suppose you’d like me to explain this?” she ventured.

To her surprise, Theanax shook her head. The great goddess wore an expression of worry on her face.

“What needs explaining?” she lamented. “This is normal, it seems. The same thing plays out in all my temples, all across the world. And I can’t deny that it feels so very…” She trailed off for a moment to close her eyes and shiver rapturously, before opening them again. “But I also feel that… sister, it wasn’t always like this, was it?”

Dolea blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.

“I keep having these thoughts,” Theanax confessed in a hushed voice. “These doubts. Sometimes, it doesn’t feel right. I know I’m a goddess of pleasure and hedonism, yes, but… wasn’t there a time my breasts didn’t always drip with milk so lewdly? Wasn’t there a time I had a crown with mightier horns? I remember - I think I remember - people respecting me. Fearing me.”

“Oh, sister…” It pained Dolea to see her own sister beset by such doubts. Clearly, she needed to help her.

“Is it true, Dolea?” Theanax pressed. “You’d remember, I think. You’ve always had a talent for such things.”

“Let me set your mind at ease,” Dolea said softly. She put her arm across Theanax’s shoulder; she sensed the closeness would be welcome. “Close your eyes, sister. Allow me to enlighten you.”

Theanax did as she was bid. Dolea put her lips close to her ear.

“Now listen,” she murmured. “Open your ears, queen of the gods. Open your mind. Not to me. But to them. Listen to the prayers of your followers.”

Theanax shivered, and Dolea could tell she was listening. “It’s all so… so obscene.”

“Listen deeper,” Dolea urged. “Quiet your mind for a moment. Breathe deep. Remember, you are on the highest throne in the highest hall. You are unassailable, my sister. There’s nothing for you to worry about. Nothing at all.”

Her soft, gentle, melodic words seemed to lull Theanax into a state of calm as she gave herself over to the prayers of her devout. The goddess seemed to become little more than a leaf falling into a stream, letting the current take her away. Dolea couldn’t hear the prayers for herself, but she had read some of them on the lips of Theanax’s followers.

“O Theanax, of the bosom and the bedchamber,” Dolea repeated softly. “Let us share in your bounty. Give us pleasure. Give us milk. Hear us, lady of the fertile field. Bequeath to us your shamelessness, that we may enjoy without fear. Bless us with the gift of your unrestrained lusts.”

Theanax shivered and let out a low moan that was almost a moo. Dolea allowed herself a smile. It was working. There was no fighting it. They were dealing in the deep magic of the gods.

“Foolish maiden of Ouranos,” Dolea intoned, echoing the beseeching of mortals. “Take our gaudy gifts for your pleasure, and in exchange, show us your favor! Bless us with the gift of fertility you yourself accidentally received.”

Theanax mooed and moaned again as she gave herself to the rhythms of her new worship. Just a little more, Dolea judged.

“Goddess of Pleasure,” she chanted. “Goddess of Sex. Goddess of Milk. Goddess of Fertility. Goddess of Debauchery. Breathe your indulge to us like a wind. Let us delight in all that glitters and sparkles. Let us dance, cavort, drink, consummate, as you do. Without restraint. Without care. Without shame.”

This time, even when Dolea stopped speaking, Theanax’s lips were still moving as she echoed the fervent prayers of her devoted. Dolea let her immerse herself in them for a few more moments, all the better to assuage those nagging doubts that had been eating at her poor sister.

“You see?” she said eventually, in a louder, clearer voice. “There’s nothing to worry about, my sister. This is simply how you’ve always been. Our scandalous, shameless, hedonist queen.”

“O-of course,” Theanax replied. She sounded breathy and absent. “Thank you for setting me at ease, Dolea.”

She opened her eyes. Now, when Dolea looked into them, there was no hint of the goddess’s former fierceness or sharpness. Her eyes were like dull glass. It was like a light had gone out of her.

It was perfect.

“In that case, I’ll leave you to your harem,” Dolea said playfully, glancing at the pile of drunk, heaving women. Theanax giggled and licked her lips. “But first, would you grant me the honor of anointing you?”

“Oh! Of course, sister,” Theanax replied. “It’s the least I can do. Forgive me for not inviting you to do so sooner!”

Dolea just nodded politely, and bowed as if she was grateful. Then, she reached for the offerings that had been transported to Theanax’s altar. Each one was some kind of pleasure-toy, wrought in shining gold, and each more obscene than the last. Dolea took her time selecting the one that looked the largest and meanest, and held it up to Theanax’s mouth.

With an expression of serene, regal divinity on her face, Theanax wrapped her lips around the end of the sex toy’s shaft and started to suck.

Dolea watched for a moment, a smile playing across her face. This was another delightful little ritual she knew that Theanax’s mortal followers had developed, and she was pleased to see that it seemed to have sunk deep into the goddess’s mind.

Once the phallus was slick with Theanax’s drool, Dolea lifted it away from her lips. Then, she used her other hand to pull aside her sister’s clothes. A moment later, she pushed the sex toy as deep as she could into Theanax’s divine cunt.

The moan Theanax made as the golden cock stretched her out was even louder and more shameless than Dolea had hoped. The queen of the gods started drooling, her eyes rolling back into her head, and as her body twitched with pleasure, milk erupted from her tits, soaking the golden cloth that covered her chest and dripping down over the rest of her body.

She looked nothing like a queen. She looked like a whore.

“T-t-thank you,” Theanax moaned. As Dolea pulled away, she squeezed her legs together to keep the massive toy inside her. “Y-you may go, sister.”

Dolea performed another low bow, and turned away. As she did, she saw Theanax walking bandy-legged as she made her way back over to her harem of mortal lovers, eager to drown herself even deeper in sex and pleasure.

This time, as the trickster goddess departed Ouranos, she left with a smile on her face.

The fourth time Dolea came visiting to Ouranos, she came uninvited. Once, she would have thought twice about trespassing in Theanax’s halls. Now, she knew that her sister was beyond such things.

Undermining Theanax had been so simple, in the end. All it had taken was Dolea realizing the power of a few words in the right ear, at the right time. That was all it took to spread myths and rewrite whole religions, if you were as patient as an immortal could afford to be.

And the results had surpassed her wildest expectations.

When she came upon Theanax, the once-great goddess was too lost to pleasure to even notice that her sister had arrived. The sight was nothing less than total debauchery. The whole of Ouranos stank of it. Theanax was at the center of a huge crowd of mortal women, all drunk off ambrosia and the aphrodisiac of their goddess’s presence, all crawling over themselves to try to touch and violate her.

It was a perfect mirror to the ritual Theanax had once balked at seeing.

Theanax, at the center of the orgy, was diminished more than ever. She looked like a young nymph in the throes of her first heat. Her golden clothes, such as they were, were torn and discarded, leaving the goddess clad in nothing but cheap jewels. Her tiara had become little more than a band for her small, nub-like cow horns, and she was wearing what looked like a golden cowbell around her neck like a collar.

Dolea’s smile twisted mockingly at the sight. She wasn’t directly responsible for that particular detail. Mortals could get so creative, once you set them in the right direction.

As dozens of mortals groped and kissed her from all angles, Theanax was bouncing on a golden cock that had been mounted to the floor, eagerly fucking herself on it in pursuit of more pleasure. Her tits, swollen and huge, bounced and heaved along with her, spraying milk all over the crowd of her faithful. That, along with the way her eternally-pregnant belly looked, heaving, covered in milk and cum, was beyond obscene.

Dolea was particularly proud of that little twist on Theanax’s personal mythology. What better way to ruin a mother goddess than by making her a maiden fallen into an illegitimate pregnancy because of her wild, insatiable lusts?

And now, she was no longer even a queen. That had been the last part of the old Theanax Dolea had erased, but perhaps the easiest. After all, who would worship the kind of queen who was constantly sinking off her throne to her knees to beg for sex?

Now, Theanax was a goddess of sex and pleasure - and little more.

Which meant that the throne of Ouranos was open.

It took Dolea a few minutes to locate Theanax’s old crown, forgotten and discarded behind one of the massive marble pillars. She was delighted to find that it fit neatly on her own head. The other gods would resist, surely. But now that Dolea knew how to influence mortals, her victory was all but assured - eventually.

That thought kept a smile on Dolea’s face as she sat down on Ouranos’s mighty throne, claiming the prize that her sister had taken from her long ago.

Dolea, the Trickster-Queen. Yes, that had a nice ring to it.

—

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[tdciago]

Fargo: This Useless Hand!

This post will contain some spoilers for events beyond episode 5.3.

Apparently episode 5.9 of Fargo will be titled The Useless Hand. I puzzled over the meaning of this, but have found a possible source. It's the poem Tiresias by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Part of it goes: "This useless hand! I felt one warm tear fall upon it. Gone! He will achieve his greatness. But for me, I would that I were gather’d to my rest, And mingled with the famous kings of old On whom about their ocean-islets flash The faces of the Gods—the wise man’s word..."

Tiresias was a blind seer from Greek mythology. He played a part in several stories, including that of Oedipus. He also famously lived as both a man and a woman. He was given the gift of prophecy as compensation for his loss of sight, often serving as the source of uncomfortable truths for Greek heroes. Sam Spruell calls Ole Munch a truth-sayer, noting that "Fargo has a history of truth-sayers that sit slightly outside of the story, that become kind of woven into the story..." He also says that Munch is “the kind of truth-sayer who reminds characters who are the spine of the story, what the world really is and how it really works and if they are suffering delusions and what their behavior means.” https://www.tvinsider.com/1112309/fargo-season-5-ole-munch-explained-sam-spruell/ I suspect that Munch is a Tiresias figure in season 5. We have seen the subject of gender non-conformity play out in several ways. Scotty Lyon, for example, is a girl who displays many stereotypically male personality traits. We also know from previews that Munch and Dot will begin to mimic each other's appearance, with Dot donning a long coat like Munch's, and Munch wearing not only a kilt, but also a plaid coat with a fur collar, much like the one that Dot has worn in the first three episodes. There will also be an IRS agent investigating Lorraine, whose name is Chip Boygan, which sounds like Sheboygan, a city in Wisconsin that has an interesting urban legend about its name. The story goes that a Native American chief had many sons, and wanted a daughter. When his wife delivered the newest child, the chief was informed, "She boy again." There will also be a male character with the unusual first name of Vivian this season. And it's definitely worth noting, given all of the Wizard of Oz references, that the character of Princess Ozma was kidnapped as a baby and transformed into a boy named Tip by a witch named Mombi. Eventually, Glinda discovered Ozma's whereabouts and forced Mombi to turn her back into a girl. During Ozma's life as a boy, she created the character of Jack Pumpkinhead, who was the inspiration for Jack Skellington. We know from interviews that Noah Hawley sees Gator Tillman as a Jack Skellington figure. And Jack Pumpkinhead considered Ozma his mother. Put these stories side-by-side and you get a potentially very interesting picture of the relationship between Nadine/Dot and her stepson, Gator. We know that Gator will, at some point, be blindfolded and that Oedipus blinded himself after discovering the truth about himself. Will Ole Munch be Tiresias to Gator's Oedipus? It was also said that Tiresias lived either seven or nine generations, which may explain the fact that Munch is over 500 years old. I highly recommend reading the Wikipedia page about Tiresias and all of the events of his fascinating l̶i̶f̶e̶ lives. It even involves snakes, and Gator has been compared to the snake in the Garden. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiresias Here is Tennyson's full poem: https://www.telelib.com/authors/T/TennysonAlfred/verse/tiresias/tiresias.html

[ncisfranchise-source]

“NCIS” wrapped up Season 21 with a high-stakes murder investigation, an underwater rescue mission and one of its agents accepting a new job on the opposite coast.

Episode 10, “Reef Madness,” followed the team’s investigation of the murder of three victims whose bodies were found aboard an old Navy ship that was set to be turned into an artificial reef. The start of the episode also featured Vance (Rocky Carroll) offering Jessica Knight (Katrina Law) a job as chief of a new NCIS REACT (Regional Enforcement Action Capabilities Team), which would have her leave her current team and potentially move away.

The investigation led Knight and Parker (Gary Cole) back to the ship on their own, where they end up trapped in the engine room, with Parker injured, after a suspect pursuit went wrong. The tense twist set the stage for a heroic moment for Knight as she swam in freezing waters in an attempt to find help to save herself and Parker before it was too late for them both.

By the end of the episode, the rest of the team solved the murder and rescued both Knight and Parker — who gave viewers a peek at his childhood while injured thanks to him having a hallucination featuring his childhood friend Lily. After her hero spotlight, Knight gave Vance an enthusiastic yes to his job offer, leaving a devastated Jimmy (Brian Dietzen) watching his girlfriend agree to the life-changing position from a distance — and Katrina Law’s future on the show in question.

“NCIS” coshowrunner Steven D. Binder said that the new job was a long time coming for Knight, teasing that audiences will be “pleased” with what happens next.

“What that means is [expect] surprises you’ll have to guess at,” Binder told TheWrap of the finale cliffhanger.

With a long summer hiatus ahead for “NCIS” fans, Binder broke down Knight’s big underwater moment, the future of her relationship with Jimmy and exploring “unusual pairings” within the team in Season 22.

TheWrap: The show has hinted at potential big changes for Jessica Knight when her father visited, but this new job opportunity took everyone by surprise. Why have her face this decision to potentially leave the team?

Binder: There’s this understanding of emotions driving the story. So either she’s happily in a relationship with Jimmy for the rest of their lives until the show ends, or they’re not. And if they’re not, what’s that look like? And we thought something larger would have to come along to set that wheel in motion.

I’ll use a good example of Michael Weatherly, Tony DiNozzo. When he left the show, that’s when we brought Ziva’s character — who we presume was dead — revealed she was not and brought in a child. Because we thought, what really would lead a character like that to leave the show in a way that you couldn’t fault them for, necessarily? Because you don’t want people yelling at your character for leaving the show.

At the end of the episode, Jessica accepts the job as the new REACT chief, meaning she’s leaving the team and potentially moving to the West Coast. What does this mean for Jessica, and Katrina Law’s future on the show?

Well, we hope it means good things for Jessica’s future for sure. As for Katrina’s future, you know, we like to keep the audience guessing, and surprise them. So I think what that means is surprises you’ll have to guess at?

So is Katrina leaving the show?

I will say that we strive to please, and the audience will be pleased.

Jimmy doesn’t have the best reaction to the news. He lashes out at Jessica while recalling all the people he’s said goodbye to in his life. While he regrets his meltdown, he looks pretty devastated when she takes the job. Could they make long distance work, or are they broken up for good?

They’re both mature people. Jimmy has his moments on the deck of the boat where he kind of lashes out at Knight… But even though he gets upset and lashes out at her, clearly, this whole thing opened up something larger that’s been brewing for him in their relationship. This isn’t just an instance of something happening and then them reacting to it and regretting their actions.

Things got pretty stressful for Parker and Jessica after getting locked in the ship and Parker’s injury. But it leads to Knight’s heroic moment when she swims in freezing cold water to save herself and Parker. How was it to translate that scene from what was written on the page?

It’s tough to really do underwater stunts like that… A major motion picture [would spend] $100 million on a sequence like that, and we didn’t have millions and millions of dollars. We had like a day or two to do it, but I think we did a really good job of getting the intent of what was on the page.

We obviously would have liked to shoot more underwater, but there wasn’t the screen time for it, to be honest. But we got a taste of it. I think the audience will get what is happening there, and that she is risking her life in a terribly frightening way… Going underwater and swimming in the dark to a place [she doesn’t know], with a guy who’s about to pass out holding the safety rope? That’s a lot of fun.

In his delirium, Parker hallucinates a little girl named Lily, who we find out is a childhood friend of Parker’s. What are you excited to explore from Parker’s backstory in Season 22?

This is one of the rare instances where we introduce something that we have an idea of where it’s going [from the start]. I’m a big fan of putting these concepts out there and letting our really great writing staff [follow it from there]. It’s like a little hook and they hook on to it.

But this is not one of those times. This is one of those times where the backstory was thought of first and we had to wait for the right moment to put it in an episode. This seemed like a natural fit. [Writer Scott Williams] is great at stuff like this, and I think he’ll be the one to pay it off [next season]. So keep an eye on scripts credited to Scott Williams.

A shortened Season 21 seems to have led to some impressively creative episodes — the Texas visit with Nick riding the horse to chase a suspect was a special highlight. How was it to craft a season with less than half the usual episode order for NCIS?

Now like most things, these things have their challenges and then also their benefits. It was challenging because we really didn’t have the time to create any sort of runners that ran through the episodes, or develop any any sort of character storylines to slow roll over the course of the 20 to 24 episodes…

But [it was] also liberating because now you don’t have to spend your mental resources on that, you can just really focus on interesting, good stories, which has always been the bread and butter of this show. Good, standalone stories that you can dive into with characters that you like — so it was helpful in that regard. And I finally had some bandwidth to write one, so that was fun for me too.

I had always wanted to do an alien episode. So I got to do that with a great team, Aurorae Khoo and Gina Gold. They came to me and they said, “That guy testifying before Congress about the UFO… what if he turned up dead?” And I said, “That’s interesting.”

So do aliens exist in the “NCIS” world?

I personally think they absolutely exist in the world. Whether or not they’re visiting us is an open question, or whether or not they’re going to let us know they’re visiting us. But I’m pro-alien, and I think probably most of the audience is too.

Season 22 brings the show back to a regular series order. Have you started thinking about where the show goes from here?

One of the things we want to focus on this next coming season is unusual and fun pairings. We’ve done that in the past to some degree… but people we don’t normally get to see together… We really want to shake things up.

And then the other thing I want to do is, haven’t come up with a catchphrase for it yet. But when an actor says “my character wouldn’t do that.” That’s the thing you hear all the time.

We want to come up with things that our characters wouldn’t do and put them in situations where they are going to do that, because the situations are so extreme and they have to do things they wouldn’t normally do. I want to make that a North Star for the writers next season, because it’ll be something interesting to watch and puts the pedal to the metal on some of these character psyches.

[houseofbrat]

What are the issues Kamala Harris is running on?

Seemingly none, which is why other corporate hacks are doing her work for her.

Still not answering questions either!

Addressing corporate power was not a big part of what she did as the attorney general of California, as a U.S. senator or as vice president. And as a candidate, while she has mentioned price gouging, medical debt and corporate landlords, she has not laid out a full policy agenda. Some signs, however, are worrisome. It’s often said in politics that “personnel is policy,” so consider the people around her. One of Ms. Harris’s closest advisers is her brother-in-law Tony West, who is taking a leave from his job as the chief legal officer of Uber to help with her presidential campaign. Mr. West, a high-level Justice Department official in the Obama administration, is reportedly bringing in a host of campaign officials. The team now includes former corporate advisers. David Plouffe, who worked for Uber and advised TikTok and the cryptocurrency exchange Binance, has also joined the team. During the Obama administration, Mr. West had a leading role in the flawed response to the financial crisis. The commercial strategies of his current employer, Uber, are based in part on controlling markets and undercutting labor standards. In addition, a key supporter of Ms. Harris is the billionaire LinkedIn co-founder Reid Hoffman. Mr. Hoffman seems to believe that Wall Street and big business are what make America great. Indeed, he co-wrote a book called “Blitzscaling” that endorses the business strategy of raising a lot of money from investors to corner a market. What, if anything, does the presence of such people in Ms. Harris’s orbit imply about her governing agenda? On one level, not too much: It just means that she is familiar with a lot of people involved in the Obama administration and on Wall Street. That’s not unusual among politicians. But that’s not the end of the story. Mr. Hoffman has publicly encouraged the firing of Ms. Khan, saying that she was “waging war” on American business, and has bemoaned tariffs. (I criticized Mr. Hoffman on X about some of this, and he responded by criticizing me.) In the face of these remarks, Ms. Harris has been silent. While a campaign aide has said that there are no discussions about replacing Ms. Khan, that is hardly an endorsement of the campaign to check corporate power.

~ Matt Stoller, "It’s Unclear What Kamala Harris Thinks About Corporate Power. But the Signs Are Worrisome."

[mitchipedia]

Jo Walton: “The worst book I love: Robert Heinlein’s ‘Friday’”

Walton:

Friday is one of Heinlein’s “late period” novels. The general rule if you haven’t read any Heinlein is to start with anything less than an inch thick. But of his later books, I’ve always been fond of Friday. It’s the first person story of Friday Jones, courier and secret agent. She’s a clone (in the terms of her world an “artificial person”) who was brought up in a creche and who is passing as human. It’s a book about passing, about what makes you human. I think it was the first female out-and-out action hero that I read. It’s also a book about being good at some things but with a large hole in your confidence underneath. No wonder I lapped it up when I was seventeen!

What’s good about it now? The whole “passing” bit. The cloning, the attitudes to cloning, the worry about jobs. The economy. It has an interesting future world, with lots of colonized planets, but most of the action taking place on Earth–that’s surprisingly unusual. There’s a Balkanized US and a very Balkanized world come to that, but with huge multinational corporations who have assassination “wars” and civil wars. There’s a proto-net, with search paths, that doesn’t have any junk in it–that’s always the failure mode of imagining the net. It was easy enough to figure out you could sit at home and connect to the Library of Congress, but harder to imagine Wikipedia editing wars and all the baroque weirdness that is the web.

Also:

Heinlein’s ability to write a sentence that makes you want to read the next sentence remains unparalleled.

The novel predicts a near-future California that is an independent nation. If I recall correctly, the chief executive is called a Sachem and wears a feathered headdress as a token of office. The whole government is structured like B-movie American Indians. Friday, the hero of the novel, says the government is ridiculous — but it works, and California is a good place to live.

I thought about that sequence often during the special gubernatorial election in 2003, when leading candidates included a washed-up action hero, an even more washed-up former child star and a porn star. The washed-up action hero won. He actually was a pretty good governor and has emerged since as an elder statesman.

Much after the election, I came across a retrospective on the former child star, Gary Coleman, which acknowledged he never had a chance of winning but actually had excellent grasp of the issues.