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vague-humanoid · 2 years ago

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@chrisdornerfanclub

Each time he stood before a Chicago traffic court judge and told his story, the judge asked his name.

“Jeffrey Kriv,” he’d say. That was true.

Then he’d raise his right hand and get sworn in. What came next was also consistent.

“Well, that morning, I broke up with my girlfriend and she stole my car,” Kriv, who had been ticketed for running a red light, testified in January 2021.

“Yeah, I broke up with my girlfriend earlier that morning, had a knock-down, drag-out fight, verbally, of course. She took my car without my knowledge,” he told a different judge when fighting a speeding ticket in August 2021.

“I broke up with my girlfriend that day and she took my car without my knowledge. … I didn’t get my car back for like three days. But it was her driving the car,” he said while contesting a speeding ticket, once again under oath, in May 2022.

The excuse worked, just as it had many times before.

At the ticket hearings, Kriv often provided what he said were legitimate police incident reports as evidence of the car thefts; they had officer names and badge numbers, and he explained that he got the reports at police headquarters.

But Kriv did not let on that he, himself, was a Chicago cop.

As bold as he was when fighting his tickets, he was equally brazen in his professional life. He attracted a remarkable number of complaints from citizens he encountered — and even from other officers. And just as he did in his personal life, he defended himself vigorously against the allegations.

Kriv doesn’t register as one of Chicago’s most notorious corrupt cops — those who tortured suspects for confessions or shook down drug dealers. But his on-duty conduct regularly flouted rules and disrupted lives. Once, he punched a handcuffed man in the back of his patrol car, records show.

But given Chicago’s long-standing and dramatic shortcomings in police discipline, none of his on-duty misconduct cost him his badge and gun.

It took a tip to an outside agency and questions about Kriv’s testimony as a private citizen in traffic court to unravel his career.

A spokesperson for the Chicago Police Department would not comment for this story or answer any questions.

A lawyer for Kriv, informed of the reporting by ProPublica and the Chicago Tribune, said “many of the facts you compose are incomplete or not true,” though he did not say what was inaccurate. The lawyer, Tim Grace, said that Kriv had received nearly 150 commendations and recognitions and had earned two awards for saving lives.

“Officer Kriv has served his city with honor for over 25-plus years,” Grace said.

His Troubles Began Almost Immediately

In 1996, Kriv was sworn in as a Chicago police officer. The first complaint about him came about eight months later, while Kriv was still a probationary hire. A man said Kriv broke his car window with a flashlight while directing traffic; Kriv was not disciplined in that incident.

Supervisors reprimanded him a few months later, however, after Kriv failed to notice there was a marijuana cigarette on the back seat of his squad car.

But there was more to come, records show: being rude, offensive or physically abusive; flipping someone off; and writing in a police report that one woman was “white trash” and a “raving lunatic.”

He was held in contempt of court and arrested after he flung papers into the air and called the judge’s ruling “a joke.” He apologized in court the next day, and the contempt charge was vacated. An assistant deputy superintendent recommended against removing his police powers after the incident, records show. In another case, a different judge ordered him removed from a courtroom after he wouldn’t stop talking.

Most officers face only a handful of complaints over the course of their careers. But at least 92 misconduct complaints were filed against Kriv, according to city and police disciplinary records compiled and analyzed by the Chicago Tribune and ProPublica. Even more exceptional: About 28% of complaints against Kriv were found to have merit, compared with about 4% of complaints against all Chicago police officers going back decades.

In 2005, after a city Streets and Sanitation Department employee towed his illegally parked personal car, Kriv sent a letter via the city’s interoffice mail system threatening to ticket the cars of Streets and Sanitation workers in retaliation. He was suspended for 20 days. In 2006, he left the scene of a vehicle fire he had responded to, removed the numbers that identified his squad car and went into a strip club to visit a waitress, according to internal police investigation records. He was issued a 90-day suspension that was later knocked down to 45 days.

In 2009, Kriv was accused of punching a woman whom he’d arrested after seeing her arguing with her husband on the street. The woman was found not guilty at trial on charges of domestic battery and resisting arrest.

“I had to have surgery. I had to have plastic implanted under my eye because of this,” said Jessie Wangeman, who lives in Indianapolis. “My face is not symmetrical anymore. He really messed me up on the outside. And inside it was a really traumatic experience.”

Wangeman sued Kriv and the city of Chicago over the encounter; the city paid her $100,000 to settle in 2011. Wangeman declined to talk with investigators looking into Kriv’s alleged misconduct, and Kriv wasn’t disciplined.

Meanwhile, Kriv’s personal vehicles — a BMW sedan and a Harley-Davidson motorcycle — were ticketed 22 times between 2008 and 2013. He paid some of those tickets, records show.

At a traffic court hearing in December 2013, Kriv used the girlfriend alibi for the first time, authorities now allege.

“May I ask you why you’re contesting this ticket, Mr. Kriv?” the judge asked.

“Yes, my ex-girlfriend, well, took my car two days prior after I broke up with her. I filed a police report that it was stolen and they recovered it approximately a week after the fact,” he testified. “Here’s the police report that was done. I did have her arrested approximately three weeks ago and I got a court date coming up in January.”

The judge reviewed the report and dismissed the ticket.

False Statements and False Arrests

Kriv was investigated at least 26 times over allegations of dishonesty as a police officer. That included accusations of falsifying records, writing unwarranted tickets, performing improper searches, making false arrests.

One man accused Kriv of writing him false parking citations. A woman complained that Kriv issued her eight baseless citations in two weeks while her vehicle was parked in an assigned space on private property. And another man made two other complaints accusing Kriv of repeatedly writing tickets to him at his business as a way to harass him. Department investigators concluded that Kriv wrote unwarranted tickets to that man; investigations into the other allegations could not be pursued because the accusers did not sign formal complaints.

As a cop, Kriv’s specialty was DUI enforcement. He made more DUI arrests in Chicago than any other officer in 2021, and he topped the list statewide the same year, according to one anti-drunken-driving group.

But one woman sued him over her 2015 drunken driving arrest after she was acquitted at trial. The lawsuit alleged that Kriv falsely arrested her and made false statements against her. Kriv denied the allegations.

“He would lie under oath for a piece of bubble gum,” the woman, who spoke on condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation from Kriv, told a reporter.

The woman later dropped the lawsuit because she said Kriv was disparaging and intimidating her.

Even outside of his job and his chutzpah in traffic court, Kriv’s history is notable.

While Kriv was growing up in Highland Park, his father, an attorney, funded a messy fraud scheme, survived an assassination attempt meant to silence him about it, and was sent to federal prison for a second fraud racket that involved sending falsified accident claims through the mail, according to court records at the National Archives. Kriv’s father testified at trial in the first fraud case and did not face charges for his role in that scheme.

Kriv then attended the University of Iowa for six years. A university spokesperson said he never graduated — though he claimed that he had in an application for another city job in 2013. Kriv’s attorney did not respond to a question about his educational history.

When Kriv was in his late 20s, the unemployment insurance division of the Illinois attorney general’s office sued him to recoup about $3,800 in benefits for which the government claimed he wasn’t eligible, records show. Details about what led to the attorney general’s claim are missing from court files, and there’s no public record of how it was resolved.

Neither the Police Department nor the city’s human resources division could locate Kriv’s initial application to the Police Department, so it’s unclear how much hiring officials knew about his background.

It’s also unclear whether the department knew how often Kriv was being ticketed for traffic violations — nine times in 2014 alone, records show. He got all of those tickets dismissed, including a speeding ticket issued in the fall for going 21 miles an hour over the speed limit near a school.

“My ex-girlfriend stole my car,” Kriv told the judge. “There is this police report over here that was done and, a matter of fact, I had another ticket I contested last week … another speed camera.

“They only charged her with trespassing because it was my girlfriend. She stole my key and racked up all these tickets here.”

The judge reviewed the report and dismissed the ticket.

When Other Cops Complained

Kriv’s conduct as a cop stands out in yet another way: Even other cops complained about him.

Internal affairs records show that a police lieutenant filed a complaint against Kriv in 2016 accusing Kriv of failing to arrest an off-duty sergeant who was involved in a crash, even though the sergeant was unsteady, was slurring his speech and had urinated in his pants — “wasted,” according to a police report. Kriv was suspended for 15 days for violating five department rules in that incident.

His police partner once reported that he made her get out of their squad car after an argument, forcing her to walk more than a half-mile back to their station. Investigators concluded there wasn’t enough evidence in that case to discipline Kriv.

In 2014, supervisors — including the head of the DUI task force that Kriv was on — filed a complaint against Kriv alleging that he disobeyed commands from a higher-ranking officer and impounded a car without justification after a traffic crash.

Over the other officers’ objections, Kriv declared that the driver of the car involved in the crash was drunk, handcuffed him, and put him in the back of his squad car, according to accounts from the driver, Jaime Garcia, and other officers. He also ordered Garcia’s Nissan Altima towed and impounded.

“He kept telling me, ‘I know you’re drunk, I know you’re drunk.’ I didn’t know what to do, I was in shock, I was scared,” Garcia said in an interview.

The officers on the scene filed the complaint against Kriv.

“For some reason, he was trying to put a false arrest on this guy. I apologized to him, said, ‘Sorry you had to go through this.’ I told him about filing a complaint,” said retired Lt. David Blanco, the supervisor that night. After its investigation, the department acknowledged Kriv was wrong to have impounded Garcia’s car, knowing there would be no DUI charges against him.

Kriv ultimately wasn’t disciplined for his behavior that night, once again benefiting from the Police Department’s feeble accountability system, which has long been marked by delays, red tape and lax punishment.

Though he regularly escaped punishment altogether for alleged misconduct on the job, in some cases, he was reprimanded or received suspensions of between one and 45 days. The department suspended Kriv at least 20 times for 170 days total, according to a Tribune-ProPublica analysis of his disciplinary records.

One citizen told the investigating agency that Kriv was unconcerned when he threatened to file a complaint. Kriv, the man said, told him that complaints “are not going to go anywhere,” no matter how many an officer was facing. The man’s complaint was closed after he declined to participate in the investigation.

Kriv appealed disciplinary decisions at least eight times over his career, including through the department’s grievance system. A 2017 investigation by the Chicago Tribune and ProPublica found that 85% of disciplinary cases handled through the department’s grievance process since 2010 had led to officers receiving shorter suspensions or, in many cases, having their punishments overturned entirely.

“It doesn’t hurt to grieve it. Why wouldn’t I?” Kriv told the Chicago Tribune and ProPublica for that story.

Kriv got a five-day suspension reduced to a reprimand, another five-day suspension reduced to two days, and a 90-day suspension — for going to the strip club while on duty — cut in half.

“It sounds to me like several of these cases — each of them standing on its own, independently — should have triggered a discharge case,” said Mark Iris, who until 2004 was the executive director of the Chicago Police Board, the civilian body that decides disciplinary cases involving Chicago officers. He also studied the use of mathematical analysis to prevent police misconduct and taught at Northwestern University.

“The unit commanders had to have known this guy was a headache,” Iris said in an interview.

Records show the department never tried to fire Kriv.

Blanco, like many of the people Kriv encountered, said he doesn’t get how Kriv remained on the force.

“That’s what I couldn’t understand — with all the suspensions, why they didn’t get rid of this guy. There’s obviously a red light flashing over this guy’s head,” Blanco told ProPublica and the Tribune.

During Kriv’s career, the Chicago Police Department had eight superintendents, three iterations of an independent police investigation body and at least two versions of an internal affairs division. The Police Department has stalled on at least two attempts to implement an early-warning system to spot problem behavior.

In its 2019 consent decree with the Justice Department, the Police Department agreed to develop a system to identify officers at risk of misconduct, alert their supervisors and provide training. That system still has not been implemented, according to the latest consent decree update.

In addition, for most of Kriv’s career, the police union’s contract with the department allowed investigators to consider only the most recent five years of an officer’s disciplinary history. (The current union contract eliminates that requirement). That meant that even officers with extensive histories of misconduct could have looked problem-free when department leaders weighed discipline options.

As a result, when investigators in 2013 looked into a complaint against Kriv, his recent disciplinary history was clean, so they proceeded as if he’d never been disciplined. The truth was that, by then, he had been suspended or reprimanded for at least 15 different incidents, but the most recent complaints were more than five years old or didn’t appear on his record yet because they were still under investigation.

As Kriv successfully appealed Police Department discipline, he also was successfully beating more and more traffic tickets.

From 2015 through mid-2022, Kriv got 51 tickets but paid only two.

Other tickets — issued for reasons including exceeding the speed limit by at least 11 miles an hour, running red lights, blocking an area and parking where he shouldn’t — were dismissed.

He got some tickets dismissed by making technical arguments — claiming a ticket wasn’t filled out properly, for example — but most were dismissed after he blamed his girlfriend, records show.

Kriv contested tickets using that defense before at least 23 different judges. Sometimes he went before the same judge with the same story, but those appearances were typically years apart.

At a hearing in 2018, he tried to get out of a speeding ticket issued in a school zone.

“My girlfriend and I got in an argument that morning,” he told the judge. “We broke up. She took my fob and she took my car and I do have a police report.”

“I didn’t get it back until later that night around 9 o’clock. And I did have her arrested about a week later. We went to her workplace, but here’s a copy of the police report.”

The judge reviewed the report and dismissed the ticket.

“The System’s Like a Joke”

Citywide, it’s rare for people to succeed in getting their tickets dismissed. In a typical year, the city issues about 1 million automated-camera tickets for speeding and red-light violations. People contest about 4% of those tickets, and about 1 in 10 win, according to an analysis of city ticket data.

There’s no indication the Police Department knew how often Kriv was contesting his tickets in court. There’s also no indication in records that the girlfriend he used as his alibi was real.

Last year, the city’s Office of Inspector General received a tip to look at Kriv — not for his work in uniform, but for a potentially fraudulent defense of a parking ticket he had received, records show.

The OIG followed that tip and concluded that Kriv had provided false testimony and fraudulent documentation related to parking and traffic violations since 2009, according to prosecutors. Since 2013, he had contested 44 tickets by saying his girlfriend had stolen his car. All 44 had been dismissed.

The office notified the Police Department that it was investigating Kriv.

The Cook County state’s attorney’s office in October barred Kriv from testifying in court as a witness, placing him on a list of police officers whose truthfulness is in question. Nonetheless, the police department kept him on the streets and he continued to write tickets and make DUI arrests.

The final time Kriv took an oath to tell the truth and then blamed his girlfriend for a speeding ticket was in September of 2022, records show. Once again, the story worked.

“Well, I had her arrested,” Kriv said when the judge asked what happened to the woman. “They charged her with a misdemeanor trespassing to a vehicle. That pretty much went nowhere.

“She got, like, three months’ supervision or something like that. It’s kind of a, I don’t want to say the system’s like a joke, but it didn’t really do anything.”

As Kriv, who is 56, was defending himself in traffic court last year, he also was eyeing retirement, going back and forth with the Policemen’s Annuity and Benefit Fund of Chicago to sort out his pension benefits. He was told he’d gain another year of seniority — and a larger pension — if he stayed on the force until Jan. 15.

On Jan. 12, the department collected his badge and stripped him of police powers.

On Jan. 14, Kriv got another speeding ticket.

On Jan. 17, Kriv retired.

The next day, Kriv’s car was ticketed again for speeding.

On Jan. 31, Cook County prosecutors charged Kriv with four counts of perjury and five counts of forgery, all of them felonies, for allegedly lying to judges under oath and providing fictitious police reports in four traffic ticket cases.

The girlfriend story, prosecutors allege, was fake. Prosecutors calculated that, by getting out of 44 tickets, Kriv saved himself $3,665.

The state’s attorney’s office declined to comment about its case against Kriv.

Kriv emailed the pension board the day after he was charged and released on $10,000 bond, writing: “When do I start getting my pension checks and does it come bi-weekly or once a month?” His pension started at about $6,000 a month, according to the board.

Deborah Witzburg, the inspector general whose office helped build the case against Kriv, declined to comment for this story. In a news release about the charges, she said: “The truthfulness and credibility of police officers is foundational to the fair administration of justice, and to CPD’s effectiveness as a law enforcement agency.”

Grace, Kriv’s attorney, noted that the criminal charges are not related to his duties as a police officer. “He understands the importance of accountability by all citizens when it comes to paying his outstanding tickets and looks forward to resolving this matter by making good on any oversights he may have,” Grace said.

In late March, a Cook County judge called out, “Jeffrey Kriv,” and the former officer stepped forward to be arraigned. He pleaded not guilty. Each offense is punishable by up to five years in prison.

When reached by phone, Kriv said he didn’t want to talk because “nobody gets a fair shake with the media” and his attorney had advised him not to say anything.

“When it is all said and done, this will be dismissed,” he said. “There is nothing to it.”

Kriv got three more speeding tickets soon after he retired in mid-January. He didn’t contest any of them, and he paid the fines.

Then he got three more speeding tickets.

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swanlake1998 · 4 years ago

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Article: For transgender dancers, progress can't come fast enough

Date: March 8, 2020

By: Avichai Scher

Sean Dorsey was tired of being the only transgender dancer in the room. So he took the bold step of starting his own company, the San Francisco-based Sean Dorsey Dance, and become the first openly trans director of a full-time dance company. It was a milestone for transgender and gender-nonconforming dancers and choreographers, and Dorsey hoped it would lead to a more inclusive dance world.

The company is celebrating its 15th anniversary this year, yet Dorsey remains the only openly trans artistic director of a full-time dance company in the country.

“We’ve definitely made progress since I started, when there was really no context for institutional or social support of trans dancers,” Dorsey said. “But there’s still a major lack of representation across the dance world.”

Dance, especially older forms such as ballet and modern dance, is mostly structured around strict gender lines. While the growing acceptance of transgender people in the United States has extended somewhat into the art form, trans dancers are often forced to choose between being their authentic selves and career opportunities.

Issues start in training

Dorsey’s choreography often deals with trans issues, and he is committed to being an advocate in the dance world for transgender people. But even in his own company, Dorsey is the only trans performer.

“In San Francisco, at least, I don’t have the luxury of holding an audition for trans dancers,” he said. “There just aren’t very many at the professional level.”

Dorsey said this is largely because barriers for trans and gender-nonconforming dancers start at a young age — as most training programs are gender-specific.

Jayna Ledford, 19, made headlines when she came out as transgender in an Instagram post in 2018. She was studying at the Kirov Ballet Academy at the time, a traditional ballet program in Washington, D.C. It was the first time a dancer at an acclaimed ballet school had publicly come out as trans.

Classes at Kirov, like most ballet conservatories, are generally separated by sex assigned at birth, and when students are combined, teachers offer different steps for men and women. Ledford, however, found ways to get the training that matched her gender identity, including dancing on her toes in special pointe shoes, which is done almost exclusively by women and requires unique training.

“I wanted to do what the females were doing,” she said. “I’d do it on the side and not pay attention to what the guys were doing. I’d also stay after class and practice pointe technique with my female friends.”

She hadn’t had the training other females at the school had, but she was hoping to transfer from the men’s program to the women’s.

“I knew I had a lot of catching up to do in terms of pointe work,” she said. “But just being in the room with the females, that’s what I wanted.”

The Kirov Academy told Ledford she could not join the women’s program unless she physically transitioned. Ledford was not ready for that, so she left the school. She was disappointed but now says she understands the academy’s position. The school confirmed Ledford’s account but declined to comment.

Maxfield Haynes, 22, who is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns, said the large, prestigious ballet school where they trained was not supportive of someone presenting as male wearing pointe shoes.

It wasn’t until Haynes enrolled at Tisch School of the Arts at New York University that they were able to explore the more feminine aspects of ballet technique. Ledford also found higher education to be more supportive than a conservatory. She now studies at Montclair State University and practices pointe technique daily.

Lack of professional opportunities

After NYU, Haynes chose to dance with Complexions Contemporary Ballet partially because the company is explicitly supportive of gender fluidity, and even had a specific role for Haynes that is gender-nonconforming. In the David Bowie tribute piece, “Stardust,” Haynes dons pointe shoes and was partnered with male dancers.

“It was everything I could have dreamed of,” Haynes said of the role. “As nonbinary, I like to get to show all aspects of gender. I don’t think about dancing like a man or a woman, just myself.”

Opportunities to dance roles that are gender-nonconforming are rare in the concert dance world, even if dancers are becoming more open about being gender-nonconforming in their offstage lives. And those who want to physically transition face a stark choice, as none of the major dance companies in the U.S. currently have openly transgender dancers on their rosters.

Alby Sabrina Pretto recently made the difficult choice to begin physically transitioning with hormone replacement therapy at the expense of her performing career. She was a dancer with Les Ballet Trockadero de Monte Carlo, an all-male comedy troupe, for eight years. While she got to dance in pointe shoes, the style of the company is rooted in the comedy of men portraying women, which ultimately wasn’t how Pretto identified.

“There were moments I wanted to do things like a ballerina would and be ethereal and pretty,” Pretto said. “To dance like a woman.”

She knew that physically transitioning would mean she could not continue with the company.

“I wanted to have a career, and that slowed down my decision to transition,” Pretto said. “I waited until I felt like I had done what I wanted to do there.”

Liz Harler, general manager of Les Ballet Trockadero, said in a statement that transitioning does not disqualify dancers from the company.

“Dancers who expressed interest in transitioning to female have been told that their job would not be in jeopardy, though none have chosen to do so while continuing with the Trocks’ rigorous dancing and touring schedule,” Harler said.

Both Ledford and Pretto hope for the day when they can attend an audition and be hired without having to explain their gender identity.

Ledford said. “I’ll audition as any other woman. If I get in, then I’ll sit down and talk with them.”

Ledford is “optimistic” that this can happen in the next few years, but Pretto isn’t so sure.

“I am not naive, I know I cannot just audition for a major ballet company and join the female corps de ballet,” Pretto said. “But I would love for that to happen for me. It’s the ultimate dream.”

Her skepticism is partly based on the experience of her former Trockadero colleague, Chase Johnsey, who is gender fluid. He made headlines in 2018 when he was cast in a female ensemble role in the English National Ballet’s production of “Sleeping Beauty,” though it was not on pointe, and the heavy costume concealed his body. No additional female roles came his way afterward.

The question of who gets opportunities as a dancer often comes down to the taste of directors and producers and what they imagine their audiences want to see, not just ability.

Pretto danced a couple of character roles recently with Eglevsky Ballet, a growing ballet ensemble on Long Island, New York. The director, Maurice Brandon Curry, said he would consider Pretto for a female ensemble role next year, because her pointe work is “excellent,” though he wonders how some in the audience will react.

“Casting Alby in a female role would not be about passing as female, but I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge my concern about an audience member who was offended,” Curry said. “But art is not prejudice; it’s about inclusivity and open minds. If someone is not willing to have that experience, they don’t have a legitimate place in our audiences.”

Signs of change

Dorsey said that even having discussions about gender identity in dance is progress from when he started, and he’s encouraged by changes he’s seen: Most theaters either already have gender-neutral restrooms or create them for his company’s visit; trans and gender-nonconforming students attend his workshops in various cities and share with him their efforts to be accepted in their dance communities; the San Francisco Ballet persuaded him to lead a training session on gender identity in dance; and he was on the cover of Dance Magazine.

Ledford was recently a “Gaynor Girl,” a spokesperson for the popular pointe shoe brand Gaynor Minded. Pretto said she worked up the courage to use the ladies' locker room at one of New York’s busiest studios, Steps on Broadway, and no one seemed to mind.

Still, the art form has not yet caught up to reflect the audience, Dorsey said. His company has worked in over 30 cities in the U.S. and abroad, and he is usually the first trans choreographer a theater has presented. But he said the response from audiences is almost always positive.

“Dance audiences are ready and hungry for trans voices,” he said. “It's our dance institutions that are still catching up.”

#article #ballet #an article from last year but still important #sean dorsey #jayna ledford #maxfield haynes #alby sabrina pretto

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glitterytidalwavedragon · 4 years ago

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Expanding into my other Fandoms (I’m gonna have to take a stance) Read the whole thing please.

One of my oldest and most beloved anime is Inuyasha. As of late I have been binged watching the hell out of it as I am getting my BFF into different anime shows. We are really close to entering the Yashahime part of the series, and she asked if I planned to write fanfiction involving the one character which made me even watch the show as a 10-year-old.

Sesshomaru

The first episode I ever watched involved this aloof, entitled dog fighting his brother over the sword in their father’s grave. Specifically, it was part 3 of that whole episode series were Kagome pulled out the sword. I at the time had 3 dogs of German Sheppard/wolf hybrid, they were MASSIVE dogs, fell in love with the big white fluff that was Sesshomaru’s demon form. I use to sneak staying up and watch the show faithfully to see the goodest boy as it was only on at 11pm EST on adult swim. Which meant it was bad and I was breaking the rules, I felt like a rebel.

Now I hesitated answering that question. She has no idea of what is in Yashahime, she is being careful not to spoil it so I told her I didn’t know. Recently, to find out what the feel is for Sesshomaru content, I looked into the tag on tumblr…

OH MY GOD.

Sesshomaru’s tag is FLOODED with hate. Like every four post, there is hate, distain, and attacking happening. As someone who watches Yashahime, I quickly knew why.

Sessrin.

Even now I sigh. And I sigh HARD. I am not for, nor am I against the Sessrin train. Same for the Sesskagu train. I think both sides need to look at things on a logical prospective. I plan to do just that. I know I will get hate from the either side and maybe some support as well. But if I am going to do anything in this fandom (as I like doing ships and reader inserts) it will come up.

So, like my Kaiba post, and my Sebastian Heel post, I will use my research skills as well as my COLLEGE DEGREE WHICH HAS BOTH ART AND MEDIEVAL HISTORY labelled on it to explain why this progression in the story is normal to anti-Sessrin fans and why this isn’t a crime by story standards nor should we look at it as a crime.

AS WELL

Explain to Sessrin fans why it is so weird for non-shippers to see it play out and why so much hate formed.

As I let out another sigh, we shall begin. Let’s start at an historical prospective. (Links at the bottom).

PLEASE READ THE WHOLE THING! I’LL BE ABLE TO TELL!

I will start with the information I can access right away.

While finding charts on the life-span of common folk in 1590’s Feudal Japan is rather difficult, Ancient.edu states that the average lifespan was about 50. To put this in perspective, the average lifespan of Europeans at the time was somewhere between 40-45 with the latter being rare. Since most of us reading are not from Japanese descent, I will through Europe in this first.

If we look at the same time frame of 1590, we are looking at most of Western Europe had now entered the age of Renaissance. According to sources from Learning Resources in association with the National Gallery of Art, marriage was not what TV drama’s from HBO or Hulu depicted. By today standards they would be a crime, as the average age for marriage of an adult female was age 14…

The reasoning behind the young marriage age had multiple factors. First being, females were considered an adult once they were menstruating. Birthing also proved to be fatal, and since the lifespan was at best 40 and 45 if they were lucky, there was really no room to wait. Also Europe at the time had became hugely focused on making sure blood lines were legitimate, meaning to ensure the girl was a virgin, the moment she was able to reproduced she was married off. Those they married were not young teenagers either. Most marriages, a man would be in their thirties, and had probably multiple wives as women died more than men when not counting the battle field.

To make matters worse for the Renaissance Lady, these marriages would leave many young males unable to marry and if their husband died in battle, well, unfortunately they were not seen as desirable. This was due to the idea of a ‘free woman’. Should the girl not have a father, brother or uncle to return to as they too died, a widow had her freedom. But that freedom came at a cost. She would be assumed to have slept around, and in many writings, such as the Canterbury Tales, where Geoffrey Chaucer writes about a Window on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land survived her five husbands and the men in her family. In short, she was made to be a slut and to be looked down upon as no man controlled her.

The point of talking about Europe is because that is something most of us Non-Asian or Japanese people consume and like to paint in large romantic brush strokes of knights and magic. Honestly, reading G.R.R.Martin Song of Ice and Fire, he uses this model as we see the Queen of Dragons, Danny start off at age thirteen shortly after she had her first menstruation.

Now let’s look at Feudal Japan.

As stated before, the lifespan was around 50 years. In some populations, this was even shorter. Nagaoka, Hirata, Yokota and Matsu’ura’s on demographic data at the Yuigahama-minami area in Kamakura, Japan and found both male and female remains that suggested life expectancy to have ended around age 24-25. This was largely due to living conditions and public health. In areas like these, it would make the most sense to marry and repopulate quickly as the expectancy of life was half the national average at the time.

To my frustration, I could not find a clear marriage age for Japanese women at the time of the edo period. HOWEVER, where there is a will there is a way. I took a look at famous Lords or Daimyo’s of the time. The average age of marriage of their wives was between 12-14. Much younger than I expected, but it made sense considering this is a time where war ran the show and marriage was strictly about political gain. One of these Daimyo’s was Masamune Date, who was also 13, but then as he got older took concubines who became considerably younger than him as he became older. The goal was to have as many children as possible for hires and for political marriages to gain power.

Now lets look at Inuyasha the MANGA

Lets get the manga timeline proper here. The whole adventure took place in 11 months, a month shy of Kagome’s 16th birthday. Doing a few estimations, Rin would have travelled with Sesshomaru about 8-9 of those months. But before we get into the relationship, lets look at something the ANIME made a huge mistake with in the beginning and tried to fix as the story went on.

For some reason I could only fine gifs for the Early appearances of Sesshomaru so bear with me.

Early appearances in the manga

^ He was so fickle and a trickster then...

Now early apperances in the anime.

Later appearance in the manga

Laster appearance in the anime

Notice the issue here?

Sesshomaru was CONSIDERABLY younger looking in the start of the manga. In the anime, he started off looking like an fully adult male. But as the anime went on, they tried to make Sesshomaru look younger with subtle changes to his jaw line, eye size, and his height. Yeah, his height had changed. They made him shorter.

While in the manga, we see this young-teen looking demon, slowly mature over 11 months to look like he is in his later teens and by series end, closer to being in his late teens or twenty. Yes, art changes over time, but the anime went a reverse route. I can only guess they spoke to the author of Inuyasha about her ships, as they did Drama CDs, and realized the mistake that was made in making him more mature than he was.

You can’t tell me he doesn’t look closer to his manga self in the final act, because he does.

Since we are on the topic of the anime, lets be clear. The anime timeline and manga timeline are very different. The story in the anime (in the English) suggests that OVER a year has past since Kagome started her journey. They try to fix this in the final act, but it was still so muddled as previous seasons are to be taken as cannon. This could have been due to an translation error in the early production when the anime no longer had anymore manga material to reference. But whatever the case, for English viewers the time the group spent together felt much longer.

So now we come to the heart of the issue.

Because of the mistakes of the anime, a lot of anti-sessrin see the relationship as father daughter. I’ll be honest, watching the anime and solely the anime as a teenager and as an adult (as the manga was on hold for a very long time due to author’s health. I was in college when it finished.), I too thought it was just a father-daughter relationship and Jaken the nanny who got punched all the time. In fact, the English took hard liberties with Kagura, as the English dubs often do with characters, and made it very clear her feelings for the demon lord and Sesshomaru very much recognized them (though he never responded). Even in her death scene, it felt as if he was saying good bye to a friend more than love interest. But who really knows, as there are things that point otherwise. When another demon mock’s Kagura’s death, Sesshomaru gets super pissy.

The manga did also play with this fact when it came out in English, idk if the wording or message is different in the Japanese. Translation errors happen a lot even in todays releases, look at Kuroshitsuji. So of course most anti-sessrin’s did not see this coming in Yashahime when Rin was named mother. In fact it felt like a betrayal as we were sure Sesshomaru had no romantic feelings.

Then there was the Kohaku/Rin mashup that was hinted left and right. The English anime, with its overly dramatic and blunt emotions made it appear one way. That in the end the two kids would probably be married. Then the anime as a whole made Sesshomaru older than intended. I can see why and understand how this became a problem.

On the other side of that coin.

If you followed the dub, seen ‘Swords of an Honorable Ruler’ and read the manga… Sesshomaru was not fatherly to Rin at all. In fact, Jaken picked up all of that leg work. Rin worried for Kohaku, but clearly loved Lord Sesshomaru. Sesshomaru cared about Kagura but he almost CRIED when he lost Rin.

We have to remember that Sesshomaru and Rin’s relationship must have been very hard for the demon. While we never see his mental process expect for a few rare times, we have to remember he hated humans. In the movie, he blamed a human for the early death of his father, Sesshomaru killed without mercy. It made sense that he wouldn’t be fatherly to Rin as her just being there should have caused countless inner conflicts. Hell, he even says his father’s weakness was humans, and look who picked up that trait.

Sesshomaru was designed to, someday, walk in his father’s footsteps. So sess/rin, not a surprise. Also when you see it in a historical perspective, Rin having kids around age 15-16, makes sense. In fact you could argue he waited too long for the time period.

We also need to look more at the manga when concerned with Yashahime. 8-9 months is all Rin travelled with him and he was like hold up, and left her at the village because he KNEW she needed to come to her own conclusion. That no matter what she picked he would live with and protect her. Unconditional love on his end. She cannon wise spent YEARS living with humans and MONTHS with Sesshomaru. Again, by manga standards of cannon.

Now I can already hear the screaming about age and what not. Some sources say Sesshomaru is over 900, by the rule of thumb, if we look at anime and movie releases, we have Sesshomaru being over 500 with no define age and Inuyasha around 270 years old being more pinpointed due to the movie. Just by going by ANIME CANNON. Kagome and Inuyasha, you have a 15 year old with a 270 year old man. If you say being pinned to the tree doesn’t count, then you have 220.

Also, here is something very interesting. In the episode where Inuyasha meets the unmother, he tells her, thinking it was his mom, she died when he was very small and we have flash backs later in the series of him being small running from demons. Demons clearly age much slower than humans, even half-demons. Inuyasha can be 270 but mentally and physically be 15, the same logic works for Sesshomaru, who in the manga is not much older than Inuyasha.

In the manga, there wasn’t any grooming, in the anime, there was a ton of mess-ups but no grooming.

Would this fly in todays world? HELL NO! NO, its gross, she’s a kid. Stop.

I know any fanfic I write will lean heavily on the side of father/daughter because that is what I grew up seeing on the screen. I can’t think of Rin as an adult because years of seeing her as a cheerful little girl. It’s like seeing G.O.T Arya about to have sex for the first time in season 8… I remember when she was a kid on the show. It was way to weird and I had to look away until it ended. But that’s my 2021 mentality.

But Inuyasha is not taking place in 2021. Feudal Japan is a whole other era with its own beliefs, morals and way of life. Those who understand this have nothing wrong with them. They just understand history.

Also, just to bang some nails in…

Anyone remember Bleach? Remember the MOST accepted couple was Ichigo and Rukia…. Rukia who was hundreds of years old and Ichigo who was 15… or Ichigo’s mom who was a teenager and his dad also hundreds of years old.

Most of this also boils down to Sesshomaru being a dude. As in reverse roles in animes its accepted and they don’t have the same historical context. Inuyasha is based off of historical context of Feudal Japan.

We need to stop spreading hate. We can’t accept some forms of literature because its European fantasy but bash other fantasy based literature for doing the same thing.

Sure, its weird for those who were use to seeing the father/daughter dynamic. Yes, there are extreme sessrin fans who post really questionable illegal content when they decide to leave Rin as an 8-year-old…

But this wasn’t ever meant to be perverted. The story was meant to make sense on a logical and historical base.

I hope everyone takes the time to read this. I love Inuyasha, I love Sesshomaru. I am just sick of seeing so many people fighting over what should be the revival of a beloved series. While yes, there is still room for sess/rin not being a thing, until it is stated otherwise, why hate each other? This fandom will only lose people by doing this. Calling people names or accusing them of illegal endorsement can hurt someone these days over social media.

Tumblr allows you to block tags. You don’t have to read anything or watch anything you don’t like. We gain nothing from attacking each other but can lose so much by doing so. Fanart, really good fan fiction, friends, ideas, sharing fond memories. Both sides have the right to feel as they feel, but no right in hurting each other.

A fandom is meant to bring people together. Not start a war…

Thank you.

https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/ajpa.20402

http://www.italianrenaissanceresources.com/units/unit-2/essays/husbands-and-wives/#:~:text=Marriage%20not%20only%20reflected%20order,to%20ensure%20the%20bride's%20virginity.

https://www.ancient.eu/Canterbury_Tales/

https://www.ancient.eu/article/1424/daily-life-in-medieval-japan/#:~:text=Just%20as%20Japanese%20people%20today,in%20Western%20Europe%2C%20for%20example.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Date_Masamune

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Megohime

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a-libra-writes · 5 years ago

Text

How the Peaky Blinders React To You Being Shy

ok so the original request was “could you do how they would react when their girlfriend is very quiet but talks a lot when she's excited but kind of cuts herself off in fear of talking too much?” but then i uh ,, ,went overboard like i do so here yall go lmao. bad title is bad

In this imagine, you’ll be with: Tommy Shelby, Arthur Shelby, John Shelby, Ada Shelby, Polly Grey, Michael Grey, Alfie Solomons, Isaiah Jesus, Luca Changretta, Aberama Gold

TOMMY SHELBY

Even if you had worked for the Shelbys for more than a year, he hardly talked to you directly. You were so quiet, and while you were very pretty, the shy sort of girls just didn’t catch Tommy’s attention. This changed on a day when he stopped by Charlie and Curly’s, and saw you excitedly talking to them about a horse Tommy had just bought. When he made himself known, you went red in the face, clammed up and shied away while Charlie talked to him.

First of all, it was strikingly cute, and Tommy didn’t often think that about anything. Secondly, he hated the idea that you might be anxious around him. Tommy said you could come see and ride the horse anytime, and still after that, kept trying to talk to you and see your eyes light up again.

Once you two are in a relationship, whenever you start excitedly talking about something, he’s quiet and pays complete attention to you. You’re still as quiet and shy as the day he met you, but not to him - which he privately likes. He enjoys being one of the few people you open up to.

ARTHUR SHELBY

From the day you first started working for the Shelbys, Arthur thought you were gorgeous. He completely lost his train of thought when he walked in and saw you, and John had to snap his attention away. He tried talking to you best as he could, but you were so quiet, and often had trouble looking at him. Arthur was convinced that you didn’t like him, so he tried to give up on his crush, as much as it hurt. (Okay, well, he couldn’t stop thinking about you that easily, so he just admired you from a distance).

One day he saw you outside the shop for the first time, and couldn’t keep himself from seeing what you were doing. You were bundling up a cat you found on the street. If that wasn’t precious enough, you were happy to see him and chattered about the cat, how you’d been feeding it and earning it’s trust, and you wanted to take it back home to treat its wounded leg. He walked you back home and once there, you blushed and clammed up, and apologized for taking up so much of his time. Arthur blurted you could have as much of his time as you wanted.

He visited you every day, using the cat as a lame excuse, and before long you two were dating. He was so relieved you weren’t afraid of him, he couldn’t help but confess as soon as possible. Whenever he gets you talking about something you like, he can’t help but grin and look at you like you hang the moon. He does tend to be protective of you, especially in big crowds, and he gets an adorably jealous expression whenever you chat animatedly with his brothers.

JOHN SHELBY

He was drawn to you right away, so he wasted no time in trying to chat you up and get to know you, even when Polly scolded him many times to let you focus on your work. You shied away so much and made excuses that he worried you were scared of him. John tried to brush that off, but it ended up bothering him more than he wanted it to. It was Ada who told him he was coming on way too strong, you were a shy and sweet sort of girl who didn’t need him messing with her heart (that last part may have ended with a not so subtle threat).

John wasn’t deterred, though. He just had to get to know you better, and when he he caught you outside of work, he noticed you were admiring several cars. This was his chance, and he was grinning like a dork once you began chattering away at different models of automobiles and engines. He absolutely showed you the Shelby car and even drove you home several times after work.

John is still much louder and more outgoing than you. During parties he'll take a minute to ask if you're comfortable and won't hesitate to take you home, he also makes a point to have everyone shut up if you want to say something during a family meeting. He loves it when you explain things to him because of how you word it and your voice - he could listen to you rattle off a weather report.

ADA SHELBY

Ada was drawn to your sweetness right away. She didn’t have many friends herself when you met, and while you were bashful, you were also honest. Ada always encouraged you to speak up for yourself and to not be afraid of other people’s opinions, especially after she stopped seeing her family for a while.

She adores how you light up when you talk about something you love, and she’ll always shush someone if you’re talking like this. It makes her SO angry when someone tries to speak over you. If you ever feel insecure about being shy or introverted, Ada will quickly tell you it’s one of your most endearing traits … though you’re certain she thinks anything you do is “endearing”.

POLLY GRAY

She wasn’t so sure about hiring someone outside the family for some bookkeeping and secretariat work, but Polly was impressed with your punctuality, thoroughness, and most importantly … You kept your mouth shut. Polly was the most hesitant to hire you at first, but once you proved your loyalty, she was quick to get to know you personally. She really felt you ought to speak up more, and not be so shy; especially in their line of business.

Pol has no regard for anyone who tries to talk over you or intimidate you, and anytime the Shelby boys (or anyone else) tries to flirt, they tend to get a glare from her. To say Pol is protective of you is a bit of an understatement; sometimes you worry she sees you more like a little girl than a woman.

Still, she means well, and it’s Polly who invites you to tea at her house and gets you to laugh and chat about all sorts of things. She’s very relaxed around you, and has confided in you many times, confident you’ll keep her secrets, as you keep the secrets of the Shelby company.

MICHAEL GRAY

At first, Michael got a little frustrated with you. He was fond of you, but he didn’t understand why you were seemingly afraid of him - okay, maybe he didn’t have the friendliest expression sometimes, and maybe you overheard him arguing business, but sometimes you’d just spend almost an hour in the same room together, saying nothing. Finally Polly had to give him advice, she thought you were a nice girl and not the type to be impressed by jewels and extravagance.

So, Michael started to do soft small talk and would bring you something nice, like a small vase of flowers for your desk or a cute box of sweets. You didn’t care for the grand parties that he’d partake in, so after work he’d linger behind and ask about your evening plans - probably slip and ask about a boyfriend, too. One of these evenings he got you chattering, and it was such a change, seeing your eyes light up and your cute smile as you talked. You both ended up staying way later than intended, and Michael was even later to the party because he wanted to drive you home.

Even after you’ve been dating for a while, Michael wants to spoil you with beautiful things and have you on his arm at parties and important business meetings. When he notices you start to shy away, he’ll ask if you’re alright and if you want to leave early. He always has a driver on hand to take you home if that’s what you wish, though he obviously prefers to do this himself. He has zero patience for anyone trying to egg you into talking more or asking pointed questions; he’ll shut them down harshly.

ALFIE SOLOMONS

You were one of the secretaries for their “legitimate” store fronts, one that Alfie had to visit often, and holy shit if you weren’t the cutest thing he’d ever seen. He always liked to tease the new secretaries once or twice, but you were the only one who lit up like a fire engine and stammered. He told your boss to make sure you were working the days he came in, and he’d spend several minutes teasing you and getting you to blush before starting business.

He did feel a little bad for always flustering you, and he wasn’t totally sure if you even appreciated the attention, so he figured he’d buy some flowers as an apology and (maybe) let up on teasing you. The thing is, you gave him the sunniest smile when he delivered them, and you started to chatter about the flowers with total confidence. You didn’t even shy away from his gaze or stumble over your words, you were so excited about whatever rare lily he bought - is that what it was? - and when your boss walked in to greet him, you clammed up. Alfie immediately told the man to fuck off and go back into his office.

After you’re together, Alfie still likes to good-naturedly tease you, but he’s great at getting you to chatter away at this or that. He encourages you to be more confident, but he knows it isn’t that easy. If anyone attempts to talk over you or interrupt, they get a terrifying glare from your boyfriend.

ISAIAH JESUS

Isaiah was SO sure you were just being aloof on purpose, that you were making him go through some kind of test. He heard about girls doing things like that, so he’d talk big game around you to impress you … Only to glance over and noticed you had walked away at some point. His father thought the crush was amusing, and it was him who said you were a shy girl who needed a gentler touch. Isaiah worried he’d mess it up somehow, but it ended up coming to him easily. His favorite thing was to stop by when you were leaving your workplace, so he could take you for a quick bite to eat, or he’d show up on your break to give you flowers or some sweets he just “happened” to have.

Once he found out how far your house was from your home, Isaiah liked to walk with you in the evenings. First the conversation was short and a little awkward, but then he started asking questions and got you talking, which he was very proud of. He’d quickly ignore anyone calling out to him in favor of walking and chatting with you. His friends would tease him once he finally showed up at the Garrison, but he’d just talk about how pretty and sweet you were, zero shame in his voice as he went on about his crush. It wasn’t too long before he asked you out.

Isaiah prefers to keep you separate from his gang life. Admittedly, he used to treat you like you were too fragile to handle the truth, but you quickly proved him wrong when you treated his wounds and scolded him for worrying you. Whatever you’re interested in, he likes to find out more about it so he can surprise you.

LUCA CHANGRETTA

Luca often flirts with the new girls who work for his family, and he found you especially charming. Once he realized how shy you were, he became gentler with his words, speaking to you in a more flattering way, loving how red your cheeks would get. He started to become very fond of you, and even a little protective - if his men tried to flirt as well, he’d irritably tell them to keep to themselves. He wished he could talk to you and learn more about you, but he also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

His wish was swiftly granted during the huge Christmas celebration his family always threw. They invited everyone from closest family to minor acquaintances, so of course you were there. Not only were you radiant in your dress, you were talking animatedly to some friends, and Luca couldn’t stop staring. He wanted to step in, to have you talk to him and look at him that way, but he didn’t want to interrupt the story you were telling, so he just listened.

The next he saw you, he made a point to casually bring up whatever you were talking about, and he tried to contain his happiness at how you began happily chatting away like you did with your friends. When you blushed and apologized for it, he was quick to ask you questions to keep you talking.

ABERAMA GOLD

Pretty girls often caught his eye, and not only were you that, you seemed to be the only quiet, reasonable person amongst the Shelbys. He liked to observe you, watching in amusement how you’d take careful notes, making little expressions as you wrote: rolling your eyes, biting your lip and so on. He casually asked after you when Arthur was drunk and got plenty of information. Whenever he’d see the Shelbys for business, Aberama made a point to say hello to you and exchange some words.

It was just fun flirting at first, but then he sent you into chatterboxing and when your hands hastily flew to your mouth to shut it, Aberama grabbed your wrists without thinking and asked you to please continue. Now he was too far gone. He’d bring you flowers, a bottle of wine, and you’d blush to your ears whenever Lizzie teased about where it came from. Tommy bluntly told him to stop flirting with his secretary whenever you were working.

It didn’t take long at all for him to ask you on proper dates. He’d want to take you wherever he goes, but he understands if you’d rather keep to yourself, especially at the rowdy boxing matches or big parties at the Garrison. His favorite thing is when you tug on his sleeve and make him lean down so you can whisper something to him.

LIZZIE STARK

Lizzie noticed you were a shy sort right away, and how easily you tended to blend into the hectic workplace of their company. She thought you were pretty, and had little opinion beyond that ... Until she noticed how clever and adept you were with the work, and how easily you handled the more interesting sides of the Shelbys. She made a point to talk to you, because in a way, she felt a bit of comradeship with you.

You started taking lunch together and she was delighted by how you’d go off on these tangents or deep discussions of work. Lizzie would sharply stop you anytime you apologized for talking too much, or anything, really - she wanted you to build confidence and insisted it started with stopping all these apologies. Anytime the men would talk over you, she’d give you a look and nudge you forward to say your piece. Polly and Ada teased her about her favoritism, and Lizzie thought it was very cute when you’d blush at their words.

You’re much more open with her in private, which she likes, and with her encouragement you’ve become more confident at work. If you’re still feeling nervous around strangers, especially all the parties you two are dragged to, you two have a system where you nudge her hand or say an innocuous word, and you both slip out and go home.

#peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #michael gray x reader #luca changretta x reader #alfie solomons x reader #isaiah jesus x reader #ada shelby x reader #polly gray x reader

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iraacundus · 5 years ago

Text

Butterfly Lies - Three

chapter three ✭ masterlist ✭ previous ✭ next ✭

mafialeader kun x reader

words: 4.5k

genre: fluff, smut (in later chapters), angst

warnings: implied murder, probably swearing idk i forgot

money makes people do strange things, is what people would say, it can even motivate them to murder. kun didn’t have people killed for the money, he had them killed for the power, he was a monster among men, is what people would say. in reality kun had only ever been motivated by one thing, his love for you

✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭

You had never been a person to waste time. The next morning you had already formulated an idea that would kill two birds with one stone. You just needed Kun to agree. So, when you put your interview suit on, you swapped your normal skirt for a slightly shorter one and made sure you wore the bracelet Kun had given you.

You were not opposed to such low tactics. You were a woman with a plan.

You grabbed your CV off from your desk, along with a copy of your university work placement letter that you needed signed.

You had thought all night about how to become a strength to Kun rather than a weakness. It didn’t take you long that your intelligence and good decision-making skills had always been a strength of yours.

Kun was smart, but you were smarter, therefore you could help him.

Well at least you hoped you could as you struggled to find the heeled shoe that matched the one you were currently hopping around in.

You spotted it under the sofa, pumping your fist in the air triumphantly when you finally managed to get it out from underneath.

You were running about half an hour later than you had hoped but it only occurred to you when you were already on the bus that Kun might not even be at his office. He might have taken the day off due to injury or at least have come in late.

You began to wonder if his line of work even tended to start at nine in the morning, seeing as it wasn’t your typical nine to five.

But by that point you were already halfway there so you decided to just hope for the best. Practicing over and over again in your head what you would say. You somehow guessed it wasn’t going to be an easy sell.

You pressed the button for the bus to stop as you approached the street where Qian Industries was situated. It was filled with buildings for some of the biggest firms in the country and expensive restaurants.

You still weren’t fully processing how far Kun had managed to go up in the world.

This time when you walked into the building foyer it wasn’t empty. Security guards stood just inside the door and there were four receptionists at the desk, working away. The other day when Xiaojun had gotten you both in the elevator you vaguely remembered him using a staff card, something you weren’t in possession of.

Instead you had to overcome the first obstacle, getting the people who worked on reception to let you inside. You approached the desk, putting a smile on your face. The man on the phone didn’t look up, neither did the three women next to him, even after you had been standing there for about thirty seconds.

“Hello, hi, excuse me,” you said, trying to get one of them to notice you. Eventually the man stopped typing and looked up from his computer.

“Welcome to Qian Industries, do you have an appointment?” he asked in a monotone voice. You had absolutely no clue why Kun had hired such standoffish members of staff.

“I’m here to see Mr Qian,” you said, not mentioning that you technically didn’t have an appointment.

“He doesn’t have any meetings this morning, you need to call him and arrange a time, please come back then.” The receptionist gave you a false smile before going back to typing.

“My name is y/n, if you could just call him, he will agree to meet me, we are close friends,” you endeavoured to explain. The man didn’t reply, he just gave a small nod to the security guards who immediately came over and started to drag you out.

“I can walk myself out,” you said, pushing them off you and walking the rest of the way out the door. You stopped for a moment and sighed, not in defeat but out of annoyance. Pulling out your phone, you clicked on Kun’s name, ringing him.

“Hey y/n, what’s up?” he said, answering the phone.

“Can you tell your staff to let me into your building, they didn’t believe we were friends and so I have been dragged out,” you told him.

“Why are you at my building?” he asked but didn’t give you time to reply, “never mind, I will come down now and get you,” he said, hanging up the phone. You stood with your arms folded, giving the receptionist your best glare. The security team were just doing their jobs, but the man, he was just rude.

Kun was taking his time in coming down to meet you and you were starting to regret your decision to wear heels, even if it had been part of your master plan. But seeing as step one: get into his office had so far failed, your optimism was somewhat dwindling.

Seconds later the elevator doors opened and Kun walked out. You took the opportunity to walk back inside the building to greet him.

“How’s your arm?” you asked. Kun didn’t reply and the look he gave you made you think you probably shouldn’t have mentioned the arm in front of these people.

“This is y/n,” Kun said loudly, causing all the staff to actively look over, whereas before they had been pretending not to, “she is allowed into the building at any time, please refrain from escorting her out in the future.”

He turned on his heels back towards the elevator, so you followed him, waiting until the doors had shut to bring him his arm again.

“Are you okay though,” you checked,

“I’m as fine anyone who was recently stabbed in the arm,” Kun replied. He didn’t ask you what you were doing there until you got to his office and he had shut the door.

You placed your CV and the university form down on his desk, side by side.

“I have a proposal,” you said, smiling.

Kun raised one eyebrow slightly but didn’t interrupt.

“I am going to be your strength, by using my brilliant brain to help your company.”

Kun shook his head and sat down in his chair, almost laughing out of shock.

“You are not going to work for me. Not going to happen, no chance, never, no, not happening.”

“Just listen to me before you make up your mind,” you urged. This was the reaction you had expected from him. However, you knew you had a card up your sleeve that meant there was no way he would refuse in the end.

“I am intelligent right, more so than the average person, I’m not trying to be arrogant… but we have all seen my test scores,” you began, “I want to be able to help you and with my amazing strategy and logic skills I can. I also need a work placement for University and you technically own a large firm.”

“Still no,” Kun said, “can you not find work experience, literally anywhere else, that’s not, you know, an illegal organisation.”

“Not by next week. The work placement I have currently got is not one I really want,” you explained, pulling out a third piece of paper and unfolding it. Pointing to the part you wanted him to see, “because it would make Minjun my supervisor, he skipped uni, his dad has a lot of influence, so he is already quite high up in this firm. I refuse to work for Minjun.”

Two birds with one stone. Help Kun, avoid Minjun. Minjun whose dad was one of the richest Korean businessmen in China and the ex-boyfriend Kun hated.

Kun rubbed his temple in frustration before looking up at you. He held up your CV, glancing at it quickly, as if that was going to make any difference at all, before throwing his hands up in the air.

“Fine, you win. You can work here. Nothing is worse than you working with that asshole.” He languished in referring to Minjun in a derogatory fashion.

Two weeks later you once again entered Kun Industries but this time you held an employee pass that had intern printed in large lettering.

You had been told to go to the third floor to meet the strategy department. You had expected to go in and see Xiaojun or Ten. Instead you saw a room full of people you had never seen before.

You greeted the supervisor who explained to you briefly what your job would consist of. It became clear very quickly that these people weren’t really involved in what Kun was really doing. Their jobs were to create the façade.

Your first task had been to come up with a presentation that one of the senior managers could give at a conference of what “Qian Industries” were planning on doing in the future. He said you could go with whatever engineering project you wanted, as long as it could be faked easily.

You were less than impressed.

It wasn’t that you wanted to be doing something dangerous or violent. You defiantly didn’t want that. You did however want to do something that would really benefit Kun.

You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he really did need help creating the façade, convincing everyone in the business circle that Qian Industries was a legitimate firm.

So, you worked hard. You came in everyday you were meant to be there from eight in the morning until nine at night. You came up with the best proposal and presentation you possible could.

Your work was impeccable, if you did say so yourself. Your manager said the same, he said he had never seen anything so impressive and that the boss would be pleased.

“Can I give him the proposal myself? He’s a friend of mine, I’m sure he would like to see me,” you asked the manager. On hearing Kun was a friend of yours he immediately said yes. He had always been nice to you, but he managed to become even nicer after that.

You smiled. Gathering up your files and walking out into the corridor and down to the lift. You pressed the button for the fourteenth floor with confidence. You had diligently done the work and now you were going to get what you wanted.

You knocked on Kun’s door,

“Come in!” he called out as you pushed the door open. A man exited the room as fast as possible as you entered, a fearful expression on his face.

“Tough day?” you joked, trying to ease the slight tension in the air. Kun didn’t bite.

“Not that I don’t love to see you, but why are you here may I ask?”

“To deliver your presentation,” you said, “read it over before you say anything.”

And he did, he spent five minutes carefully glancing over the key points of your work before smiling up at you.

“This is really good,” he said, “I think we should hire you full time,”

“Or you could let me do an actually useful job,” you countered.

“Those presentations are useful, without them people would instantly be suspicious of me and the company,” Kun said, trying to justify his placement of you.

“While that may be true, the presentations don’t need to be as good as the one sitting in front of you, the employee’s you have are competent enough. I want to do a job that really helps you, to make what you do less dangerous or more efficient, I want to be a strength, someone you can rely on.”

Kun closed your report, linking his hand with yours across the desk.

“I understand that, I really do, but I don’t want you to be sucked into the danger of what I do, because even with your brain, if you made it less dangerous it would still be life or death in some situations. You shouldn’t have to live like that just because you met me by chance.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You really think chance encounter friends is all we are. Yes, we met by chance, but we have been friending all this time by choice.”

“You didn’t know what I really did then,” he argued.

“I sort of did to an extent. And now I do, and this is the choice I’m making now, if you ever want there to be a chance of us ever being together you have to let me into your life. Not just a pretend part of your life where we eat ice cream, but the real part as well, where you make hard choices and do some questionable things. You don’t have to tell me all of it, I stand by that, I still don’t want to know all the grisly details, but I do need to know some of it and I want to be able to help you with that some of it. Help you make a better organisation. Make it so you don’t end up needing to save someone like Yangyang because something went wrong.”

Kun spun his pen, processing your words. He didn’t want to agree with you, but he also knew you well enough to know you weren’t going to give in.

He also knew deep down that you he couldn’t ever be your boyfriend if he had to hide ninety percent of his life from you. He needed to reduce that to about sixty percent at least.

“Okay. You’re right, I suppose I shouldn’t waste your intelligence when you could be a real asset.”

You clapped your hands together in excitement.

“I knew you would come around,” you beamed at him, mostly happy you had won the conversation.

Kun wasn’t smiling though.

“We are planning to expand to Korea, deal with some problems arising from there. I have a friend with a similar organisation there named Johnny. He’s a long-time friend of Ten’s. You can work with Ten to help plan the expansion. It’s not a super dangerous job innately but it will be super dangerous if it gets fucked up. So, use your 150 IQ to make sure that doesn’t happen,” he said, his voice monotone.

You squeezed his hand.

“Thank you,” you told him, “I’m not doing this to annoy you or upset you Kun, I hope you know that. I genuinely want to help you. That’s what best friends are for right?”

“I suppose so,” Kun answered giving you a small smile back.

Your first order of business however, turned out to be a black-tie event with Kun. Not the planning of Qian Industries expansion.

“I’ll get someone to drop off a dress at your apartment, it will be one of my top guys, I’m not just handing out your address, don’t worry,” he assured you.

About an hour later there was a knock at your door and Yangyang stood there holding a box.

“Not to be mean but how are you one of his top guys?” you asked, unable to take your eyes off of the horrible bruise all over his once broken nose.

“They call me young, dumb and enthusiastic,” replied, handing you the box, “well they don’t but I guess that is why, I am an enthusiastic team player. I’m also very good at grand theft auto – in real life, not the video game.”

“Fair enough, thanks for dropping this off,” you said, shutting your door. You walked into your room before opening the box. Inside was a note which told you to be ready by seven. You placed it aside and lifted the dress from the box.

It was one of the most beautiful black dresses you had ever seen. It must have cost Kun an inordinate amount of money. You had offered to wear one of your own dresses but Kun insisted he would buy you one.

You knew he had bought it so you wouldn’t stand out at a party of rich people, but he would never say that. It was one of the reasons you had a slight crush on him too.

You got ready, trying your best not to stab yourself in the eye with the mascara wand, something you usually had trouble with. You didn’t have a lot of time which made it particularly difficult.

You were still waiting for your nails to dry when you heard a knock at the door for the second time that day, cursing that you hadn’t sorted out the mess that was your nails before that point.

You blew on them as you grabbed your bag from the side, throwing your phone and keys in, hoping that somehow your nails would miraculously dry on the walk to the door.

You opened it to see Kun standing there in black tie attire, bowtie slightly lopsided but a mesmerising sight.

“Let me fix that,” you offered, stepping forward to readjust the bow tie. You could faintly feel his breath against your cheek as you sorted it out, “all better,” you smiled, stepping back.

“You look stunning y/n,” he said, his face beaming.

You had never seen Kun dressed this smart, he always wore a suit when you went to a fancy restaurant, but he never wore a tie or anything like that, so the tuxedo was something else.

“And you look indeed very handsome,” you said in a fake posh voice to indicate some sort of joke. It wasn’t that he wasn’t good looking, you just seemed to have an emotional issue, “shall we go and party with the rich?”

“We shall,” Kun said, shaking his head laughing, but yet still copying your accent, going along with it.

The drive wasn’t a long one, nothing was that far from your apartment in the centre of the city. You had no clue how you had found it for such a cheap price.

The event was being held at a large hall, there was a red carpet outside and tabloid photographers waiting, camera’s poised, hoping to get the best shot of a famous couple or a wealthy heiress.

The driver opened the door and Kun helped you out of the car, offering you his arm. He led you up the carpet as you did your best not to look awkward when there was so many camera’s in your face.

“What is this event for?” you whispered to him. Kun shrugged.

“I don’t know, some sort of education charity or something, Ten wanted to donate money, so we did, clearly a sizeable enough donation that they invited us here,” he explained.

“I think you’re more attractive now I know your such a philanthropist.”

“My only act of philanthropy was not killing Minjun, the rest is just being rich, it’s not hard to donate money when you have a lot of it.”

He wasn’t wrong there.

The people at the door didn’t even ask for your name, clearly, they were aware of who Kun was and so you just walked straight in.

As expected, it was all très extravagant, champagne towers, seafood platters, men in expensive suits, women in even more expensive dresses. A single bottle of the champagne they were serving could probably have paid your rent for three months.

“I don’t think I’m quite fancy enough for this event,” you said to Kun, staring at the other people around you, “I’m not rich, I’m a broke college student.”

“Yes, but I am rich, these days anyway, and you’re wearing a twelve-thousand-dollar dress.” He smiled at you softly, “care to dance,” he said, grabbing your waist with one and your hand with the other.

“Did you leave the tag on!? Can we take it back to the shop? That’s stupid money on a dress Kun,” you whispered forcefully in his ear. Kun just chuckled.

“That’s what it takes to fit in at an event like this, especially when you are as terrible at waltzing as you are.”

“Why would I know how to waltz, that wasn’t on my PE course thank you very much.”

You waltzed terribly with Kun for a while longer before gave you a reprise. Unfortunately, the next activity was much worse. Kun dragged you around to introduce you to many rich people and engage in the most harrowing of small talk about yachts and stories from swiss boarding schools.

At some point you just started making things up.

“Yes, my friend Marcos had a yacht that we stayed on in Italy for a week, we just got so bored of ski class you know,” some people around you nodded sympathetically and you had to pinch yourself to avoid laughter.

“I might actual die, how often do you do this?” you said to Kun when you finally sat down at a table away from other people.

“Twice a month or so, but only in the last two years have I had the money to do this, I got rich in a short period of time. Also, you seemed to fit right in anyway, what’s the issue, how is Marcos doing these days?”

You poured a shot of vodka in your champagne and downed the whole thing in one, hoping that somehow it was be better, if you were drunk.

A few drinks later and you were very tipsy and very warm.

“I am so hot, is it me or is it warm?” you asked.

“I’ll call the car,” Kun said, picking up his phone. Before he could dial you put your arm out and stopped him.

“Do you wanna maybe walk around for a bit,” you asked, and he nodded. You grabbed his hand and made your way for the exit. Thankfully the paparazzi were on a break. They would come back at around midnight to take picks of the less sober exits from the whole affair.

The hall wasn’t that far from the river, which was always beautiful when the city lights reflected in the water at night. You and Kun stopped by the railing, staring out across the water.

After a while you realised Kun wasn’t looking out over the water anymore, he was looking at you. You started to notice the lights reflecting into the depths of his eyes more than the river in front of you.

“I’m happy I could finally take someone to one of those events, they are so much worse when you are alone,” Kun said.

“Why did you never take someone else, surely I can’t be the only girl you know, there must be a rich girl out there, or a scary but cool girl in a leather jacket who works for you?” your eyes searched his for an answer.

Kun brought his hand to your face, slowly brushing his thumb across your cheek.

“You know you’re the only girl I care about, the only one I have ever been interested in.”

Your heart was on fire, it hurt so much to hear him say that when you knew that you had never said anything of the same kind back. That it wasn’t something you felt ready to say, even if you felt it too.

Instead, in your tipsy, adrenaline high state all you could do was close your eyes and step forward. Your hands tangling in Kun’s hair as you brought your lips to his. Kun didn’t react for a second, clearly surprised.

When his brain finally seemed to connect with his body, Kun’s arm snaked around your back and pulled you closer to him, somehow taking control of the kiss with ease.

Your brain was screaming at you to stop, that it wasn’t a good idea, but you couldn’t you were too intoxicated by his lips. You were surprised, Kun was usually so sweet, you hadn’t expected him to have a dominant side. On reflection you weren’t sure how you never guessed that of your gang leader… friend.

Before anything could go any further Kun’s phone began to ring. You pushed him away softly.

“You should take that,” you said, before covering your lips with your hand, contemplating how to beat yourself up.

Kun glanced down at his phone,

“It’s just Ten I can call him back later; I think it’s probably more important that we talk about…”

‘It’s late he probably wouldn’t call you unless it was important,” you said, the phone still ringing.

Kun turned around, picking up the phone,

“I’m kinda busy, is it important?” he asked, not wasting time to say hello. He listened silently for a moment before raising his hand to his forehead, “Fuck. Well you have to kill him then, the rule on that was always clear. If we don’t kill him then you know what will happen.”

You were in your own state of shock. You were witnessing Kun, smiley Kun, order someone’s execution, and you wanted to be sick. You started to feel dizzy and so sat yourself down on the cold asphalt.

Kun ended the call moments later. He turned back around and saw you staring blankly into space and remembered that you had just been there to hear everything you said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, apologising for the hundredth time that month. His voice snapped you somewhat back into reality, “I hate being the bad guy, you shouldn’t have kissed me, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have let you.”

You just patted the ground beside you, just wanting him to sit with you, even if it was ridiculous for you both to sit on the ground outside in the middle of the night. Kun obliged and tucked his phone back into his pocket before sitting down next to you.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” you agreed and Kun’s face fell, even though he had said it himself, “not because of that phone call, I’m not stupid I have an idea of what you do, even though I don’t like it and even if it shocked me to actually hear it. I shouldn’t have kissed you because I’m still not clear about my feelings regardless. It wasn’t fair on you.”

“You shouldn’t be sympathetic towards me; you should run and never look back.”

“You’re being melodramatic Kun. Would you really be happy if I transferred university to a different city and never came back?”

“I would miss you, but I think you would be happier… It’s hard for me to watch you struggle internally with the idea of me and what I do.”

“You ignored me for a month, and I missed you enough to break every rule I had about not interfering with your life Kun, there is zero chance moving away from you would make me happy. But I promise, if I ever feel like that isn’t true, I will leave and never come back. Clean break.”

Kun took off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders.

“Then I only have one question,” he said, you nodded form him to continue, “was kissing me so bad you had to reassess your feelings. You laughed out loud.

“Your kissing skills are not under question here. I just need to do a bit more… internal struggling as you called it. That’s my fault not yours though. You are pretty great Qian Kun.”

#wayv #kun #wayv scenarios #wayv fic #kun fic #kun scenarios #kun smut #wayv smut #wayv fluff #kun fluff #kun angst #wayv angst #nct #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct u

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 5 years ago

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🔥Disney's marvel movies

1) They aren’t bad movies, I thoroughly enjoy most of them, there’s only like 3 I don’t particularly like, not everything has to be deep emotional meaningful cinema to be good. sometimes I just wanna see hot people in ridiculous outfits punching each other. that’s valid.

2) Bucky Barnes is overrated, I truly am tired of hearing about him, just let him sleep in his nice little hut in Wakanda and tend to his goats...he really doesn’t need to keep up with the superhero thing....I’m genuinely annoyed that I’m gonna have to watch a whole series about him just to understand what’s going on in like, Thor 4 or Spider-Man 3, it’s dumb

3) If they actually handled Spider-Man right, he’d wipe the floor with like, 90% of the Avengers lineup, but marvel’s not ready for that conversation

4) I like Wanda!!! I don’t even know why!!! I am appalled by how they handled her introduction and whitewashed her character and have downplayed her powers so far!!! But Elizabeth Olsen won’t let me not like her!!! WandaVision is actually the only Disney+ show I wanna watch!!! Help!!

5) I kinda just don’t want them to bring the X-Men into the mcu...I feel like that’s only gonna get really messy

6) If MJ was being played by literally anyone other than Zendaya, no one would like her...like there’s a lot of Potential for the character but they just haven’t done a good job writing her so far, and I keep seeing dumb rumor articles that she’s gonna become a bigger character or even a superhero herself and I’m like! how! she only has two personality traits that you won’t expand on! she’s had like, 20 lines total in two movies! what’s the deal! She’s just a run of the mill underdeveloped love interest so far, and the only reason no one’s complained about that is. Everyone loves Zendaya lmao

7) Tony Stark is,,,,,,good

8) steve rogers fucked his niece. no, I will not drop it. no, I don’t care what the russos say about split timestreams. he. fucked. his. niece. and we really just....let him

9) listen I DID like Infinity War and Endgame but....they never explained Why the stones were so powerful that using them would like, disfigure strong people and kill humans. They literally never explained why that was a thing...like that wasn’t a thing in the comics???? Also I understand they wanted the #drama of a big sacrifice moment in Endgame, but the first GotG movie literally HANDED you a way to survive the stones....and we had Every Superhero In The Franchise on that battle field....and somehow got no payoff for that??? Like even the one’s that were THERE (Rocket was alive the whole movie!!!!) didn’t think to mention you could split the power of the stones between each other by touching??? apparently Marvel CANNOT tell me what foreshadowing is

10) Star Lord’s actions in Infinity War made sense and while he like, shouldn’t have done that, it’s not correct or fair to blame the snap on him. Also, it fully doesn’t make any sense that he lost his powers after he killed his father??? Can we expand on that more???

11) when they hire different writers and directors for different movies...they legitimately need to let them talk to each other??? In order to tell a concise story??? Like, the end credits scene of GotG2, with Adam...you’re telling me it’s gonna take (in universe) upwards of ten years for that to payoff? the hell? Tom Holland’s only slated for 2 more movies so....is Nobody going to bother to help Spider-Man after ffh??? Some characters just have completely different personalities depending on what film they’re in....The writers and directors for endgame all had completely different answers to fan questions....like guys. consistency shouldn’t be This Hard

#marvel #avengers #asks #molly mumbles #ronin-warriors-fanatic

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enchystemporarydomain · 5 years ago

Text

A quick story wrapped around an idea I had. It involves superheroes, but is mostly about a budding BDSM fetish… I have a few more ideas for these particular characters, exploring a Super, Mortal relationship...

I’m reposting this because I can’t find it on my other blogs...

A blue cape of smooth material. with a lustrous gold frame, connected to a massive frame of muscle. She was wrapped in white kevlar from neck to ankle, and stood on sturdy black boots with blue soles and rims. No symbol upon her breast just yet, as she was fairly new on the super block, but aside from so there was no doubt she was a fully fledged, capable powerhouse. She walked across the small bunker room in pronounced, careful strides, her hands balled into fists. Her gaze focused.

She tossed her hair back and posed. And smirked.

Watching her was a man dressed in black. His ensemble was practical and protective but not without aesthetic appeal. The black bulletproof vest could be overlooked altogether thanks to the much more noticeable sleek shoulder pads and electronic gauntlets. He wore unusual sunglasses with rims made of some sort of technology and dark red lenses. Where his partner exemplified strength and power with her muscular frame and walk, his ensemble painted the picture of the mechanical and engineering genius he was.

He watched his partner-slash-boss and laughed as she posed. She joined as well, obviously cheery about testing out her new uniform.

“Man, what even is that hair flip?” he said. “I said show me your power pose.”

“Hey! I will do a hairflip when I see my enemy,” she said.

“Oh? Is your hair bulletproof too? Parry bullets?”

The two had a laugh, admiring their new uniform. They were somewhat frightened inside about their job. As upcoming supers their first job was incredibly important if they wanted to be recognized by the major organizations. Fighting supervillains and street criminals was a service to the people and definitely a noble idea, but they also needed to eat and pay bills and the Justice Ensemble offered grants, loans, and benefits.

The two made their way out of the secretly enormous bunker beneath their basement (hidden via a door behind a shelf) and got ready to pursue a lead.

“I mean this legitimately, though,” the lady said, smiling down at her much smaller partner. “I really do love the outfit. To be able to weave not just program nanomachines but weave them into stylish nylon and kevlar… it’s amazing I found you with just a Craigslist Ad.”

“It’s what I do,” he responded, wishing he could think up a cooler quote.

“And you do it much too well for what I’m paying you,” she said, guiltily. “Anyway, hop on my back. I’m flying us.”

“Alright, Madame Bolt!”

“Strap on tight, Puma.”

*** *** ***

Grant had been a medium fish in a small pond back in his home town. An engineer working at his uncle’s garage work. With the internet he had access to fellow geniuses. Cliques of talented, gifted engineers to whom the greatest goal in life was being hired by a fantastic tech firm. Worshipers of tech giants like Bill Gates, or Hurrit Akkar (known among the hero world as a cold villain).

Grant had different dreams. Not bigger or necessarily more ambitious dreams but great dreams. He idolized the controversial supers of the world. The Justice Ensemble, Do Gooders United, Robots For Justice, and all that they did. He had a few years of vigilantism under his belt in the small crime filled towns of North Ontario.

He wasn’t quite sure what was it that made him make the leap, though. A craigslist ad written by an otherwise unknown superheroine looking for an engineer to design suits? The job would take him to America, relatively far from his home, and would be an incredible risk. What if the start up duo never made it to the big time? What if the money dried up and he was left stranded here? What if his employer was incompetent? What if he was incompetent? So many risks, and yet he took the chance anyway.

Now, holding steady on his new partner’s back, flying over the buildings of Candesfinning City wearing his beautifully designed outfits, the wind in his hair, Grant put away all of the worries in his mind. They still had a long way to go, but the thrill and excitement was intoxicating.

They landed in front of the buildings they knew their targets, a low level cartel base, to be residing in.

Alicia, super name Madame Bolt, set Grant down.

“Alright, Puma,” she said, holding back a grin. This was the first time they were using their super identities, so the campy ridiculousness was still fresh in mind. “I’ll do all of the fighting. Follow behind me, but not too close.”

“Got it, Madame,” Grant said.

*** *** ***

Super fast, bulletproof, and strong enough to easily bench over two thousand kilograms, the low level street gang didn’t stand a chance. Alicia had such a handle on the situation that even when stray bullet was fired in Grant’s direction, a potentially devastating tragedy, she saw it moving as slow as a floating slug and stopped it.

It would have struck Grant in his specially designed bulletproof suit, but he was still happy he didn’t have to take that risk.

With the gangsters taken care of (most of them hired teens plucked from the streets and only five armed adults), and the evidence of illegal firearms and drugs gathered, Grant hacked the three computers in the building. It was an easy job: even without his advanced equipment these cpus had no firewalls in place. Alicia was watching over his shoulder. She must have been expecting more quick-typing and code on screen because, judging by her face reflection on the monitor, she was somewhat disappointed.

“Nothing big. However, in one of their emails they let slip something about 821 Glasglow Island. A meeting between them and another organization, though they were careful enough not to be specific.” Grant said. “I think we should leave that to the feds, perhaps?”

Alicia shook her head.

“We can handle this better than any feds. Gasglow Island is just a few kilometers east from the piers,” she said.

“In that case we could head their right away, if you like-!”

The two of them heard police sirens outside. Alicia swallowed, nervous. There were rules about supers taking the law into their own hands, and so far the two of them hadn’t stepped of line according to them. However…

“...Do you want to make yourself known?” Grant asked his boss.

“No. Let’s get out of here,” she said.

“Okay. Want me to hop on?” Grant unplugged his USB drive and put it away.

“Nope. Stay still.”

“What do you-?”

Before Grant could get a word in edgewise, Alicia’s cape had expanded in size. It’s nanomachines, designed by he himself, manipulated the fabric and bound around Grant. His arms wrapped together in a tight, inescapable hold, then bound to his sides. His entire body, like a mummy in blue and gold. Shocked and helpless, Grant could only give out muffled cries.

He felt himself being picked up by his larger boss. She held him tightly against him, almost protectively. She was gently holding the back of his head as one would an infant, and another on his thighs, ignoring his squirming.

“Stay still, this is going to be incredibly quick,” she whispered, before lifting up off the ground.

She hopped out the window with Grant bound and in tow, then fled at incredible speed.

*** *** ***

She let him down at the island less than a minute later. Though she set him down feet first as carefully as she could he still fell on all fours.

“Grant! I’m so sorry,” she said, helping up.

“I… I just need a moment… Woof!” he said, catching his breath. Being bound caught him off guard. And now… he was on Gasglow island now? How?

“I’m sorry, Grant. I didn’t have time to explain. It’s dangerous for a normal person to accelerate as quickly as I can so… So I used the cape you made for me to protect you,” she said. “It was entirely necessary.”

“Alice, it’s… it’s fine. I was just shocked…” Grant said. He was blushing rather hard and turned his back to her. Alice raised an eyebrow at this.

“Grant? You’re not hurt, are you?” She reached for his shoulder but he stepped forward.

“No, I’m fine. It was just frightening. Er…” He cleared his throat. “Are… are we going to have to do that everytime you have to fly me really fast?”

Alice shrugged. “Well… I personally don’t mind. It’s the most effective method we have right now and it doesn’t hinder me in any way. But if you don’t like it maybe we can workshop it? You can whip something up?”

Grant nodded, rubbing his hands together in a way Alice hadn’t seen him do before.

“Yeah. We’ll do that for now. Maybe I’ll invent a neck brace or something,” he said. He cleared his throat. “So… this is the island. Should we look up this warehouse and see what the mob wants with it?”

Alicia didn’t answer for a moment. She was watching him, curious about how he was acting… He prayed she wasn’t putting two and two together.

Then she smiled. “Yes. Let’s go.”

She lead the way. Grant sighed and followed her from behind.

*** *** ***

The warehouse, it turned out, was fairly simplistic. No security cameras or even guards. A great many creates full of wrapped goods. Most of them legally owned by, presumably, one of the mob higher ups. But using Grant’s X-Ray tools and Alicia’s speed (and immunity to X-Ray radiation, thankfully) they found a crate of bullets hidden deep in one of the crates, beneath old boxes of cloths and linen. One quick anonymous picture sent to the feds and the two of them left.

Alicia tapped Grant on the shoulder before they left.

“I want to leave as quick as we can, less we’re sighted here and the mob will change tactics before the feds can investigate,”” she said. She beckoned for him to get into her cape.

Grant swallowed.

“Yeah… yeah sure. Just…” He stiffened and turned around. “Go ahead.”

Alicia smirked and wrapped him up in her cape. She held him firmly but carefully. And then they were off, faster than a speeding jet.

*** *** ***

As the weeks proceeded and the two spent almost every day zooming from place to place, Grant began to feel a bit more in his nature. Seeing his tools being used to take down monstrous organizations and help the needy made him happier and more excited than he ever dared. Alicia was similarly giddy, with every successful day celebrated at their home base (currently a modified house’s basement) with chinese food and netflix.

It seemed the city had caught on that it had two new vigilantes to worry of (not that they were hiding this at all). Simply by leaving some clues about their names, usually via cleaned, finger print-free notes with their signatures, the two of them had managed to spread the name Madame Bolt and Puma quite far in such a short time.

They still hadn’t decided on an insignia for Madame Bolt’s costume yet, however. They haven’t allowed anyone aside their enemies to even see them yet, so there wasn’t much to present on that front anyways.

One thing Grant still had to get used to was… the travel…

When they flew, generally she would allow him to ride on her back. It would be an awkward position, but the two acknowledged that it was the most efficient way to travel and they were mature about it. The cape between their bodies made the mode of travel less awkward as well, keeping them apart.

It was when a quick escape was needed where things were a bit… uncomfortable. Or rather, and Grant still had barely admitted this to himself yet, entirely too comfortable. Alicia would wrap her bolt all around his body so tight snug… She would cradle his body against her own, supporting the weaker man… And each time it felt much too nice. Much too comfortable.

And, damn it, it was far too arousing...

Grant was certain it would make Alicia far too uncomfortable if she found out just how much he was starting to like it. Would she fire him and find a less… awkward tech guy? Alicia, the great Madame Bolt, his boss and partner, seemed more like a roommate and friend these past few weeks, but he wasn’t so sure their companionship would withstand the test of… whatever this even was.

Little did he know, Alicia knew more than she was letting on…

*** *** ***

“Alicia? What’s the matter?”

Grant had come out of the little tool lab he had in the bunker to see the blonde avenger staring contemplatively at nothing. He sat down in front of her and leaned foreward. She sighed.

“Grant… Are we ever going to show ourselves to the public?” she wondered aloud.

Grant nodded, thinking it over. He knew this was going to be something they needed to speak about soon. He let her continue.

“I mean… I know it’s my fault, I’m sorry. I mean, you work so hard. Not just making the tools but managing our brand… leaving those little notes and making sure the police see us as allies… And we need to go public one day if we’re ever to attract funding and attention…”

Grant looked over to the trash bin. Filled to the top with take out boxes and fast food bags.

“The funding would be nice,” he admitted. Alicia nodded. She looked so apologetic it hurt Grant.

“Grant… Right now we’re just vigilantes, and I know we have to move on upward to public crime fighting eventually. And though I have the budget to keep going as we are now for a while longer, I don’t want to put you through this if you don’t want,” she said. “I’m sorry that you’re stuck here. You have such talent…”

“Do not apologize,” he said, firmly. “Is the idea of going public really stressing you out?”

She nodded and sighed, leaning back on her chair. Though still muscular and strong, it would be difficult to tell this was the great Madame Bolt herself. The same Madame Bolt who was invincible, powerful, walked with grace and flipped her hair with gusto.

“Yeah, it is. I just don’t feel ready for it. Truth be told, even being an underground vigilante has been a huge step forward. I… I most likely would never have been able to do what we’ve been doing without your support. Not to… you know, guilt you into staying,” she quickly said.

“I want to stay,” Grant said, rather firmly. “If… if you want to keep being a vigilante instead of a full on hero, I’ll stay right here with you.”

Alicia looked surprised. She smiled. “Really? But why?”

“Because… Well… We do important work. But to be honest, that’s not all. Um…” Grant found himself becoming a tad sheepish. He willed himself forward… “Whenever I see you work… Whenever we’re flying across the city, and we solve a crime, it’s amazing. And you let me share in the feeling… of… you know… being a strong hero. I feel like I’ve done more here in this city with you in the past weeks than I ever got done on my own. I’m thankful you let me be a part of this.”

Alicia didn’t say anything, but her expression softened. Her hand crept closer to his own, though Grant didn’t notice and stood up, retracting it. She looked disappointed.

“I mean, we can stay anonymous if you want. I’ll have to take up a part time job, maybe make some extra cash on the side for us. Not sure where I’d-!”

Alicia had, with tremendous arm strength, slid the table between them out of the way and grasped him. She kissed him then and there, holding him tight. Grant closed his eyes, letting go of his thoughts and letting himself enjoy this…

They separated and looked at each other. He looked up at her, and she down at him. They said nothing for a moment. Then Alicia whispered…

“The bunker room…”

*** *** ***

She threw him down onto the queen sized bed. She chuckled as she crawled over him, letting her long blonde hair drape down over his body. Grant, in turn, reached up to stroke and feel her muscled sides and arms. He grasped at her shirt and reached up to kiss her again.She responded vigorously.

Her knees surrounded him on both sides. Then she got down and pressed her whole body down on him. Since he was much shorter, however, her hips made it only to his thighs. Frustrated, she curled up again, splitting her knees outward so she could comfortably rest her hips over him. Nice and comfortable, and obscenely intimate. She kissed him while holding him down this way.

Grant needed to vocally mumble for her to stop, so he could remove his shirt and shorts. She was halfway doing the same.

“Alicia… don’t kill me, okay?” he whispered to her, half jokingly. She laughed.

“Oh no no, I’ll keep you nice and safe…” she said. Then she stopped trying to remove her shirt. Her expression became thoughtful again.

“Is something the matter?” Grant said. He worried if, maybe, she was already regretting this…

“Stay here…” she said. She got off of him (which disappointed him greatly) and walked out of the room…

*** *** ***

A minute later she came back in… in full hero uniform. Grant smiled at her return, but his face fell a bit when he noticed what she was wearing…

She grinned mischievously, waving the blue and gold cape around…

“Not fair,” he whimpered. “You get to be Madame Bolt?”

“Well, I personally think Puma’s costume is too, well, hard and rough for bed,” Alicia said, walking back to the bed. She let the cape drape along Grant, who swallowed nervous. His erection, which was already quite visible, seemed to tighten and grow right then and he knew she could see it… There was no kevlar armor to hide it this time…

“But I know that my costume can be a bit more… enticing…” she said. She bent down and lifted his feet. He watched curious… and then in horror and excitement when she wrapped her cape around his feet, binding them tight together just over the ankle… Like rich, nylon socks…

“...You knew?” Grant said.

“Of course. It was so obvious,” she whispered, letting the cape crawl upward, pulling him closer off the bed…

“I’m so sor-!”

The cape pulled him right up and she caught him in a hug.

“Don’t apologize.”

Then she tumbled back down on the bed while holding him against her. She landed on her back and he landed upon her… face right against her chest. The cape tied him down and she held his squirming body…

“Alicia...M-Madame Bolt… Please…” Grant said.

“Please what?” she asked, continuing to bind him up and cradle him.

Grant didn’t know. He was so excited… his naked body bound, feeling the material quite vividly now… She was pressing him against her breasts… He wasn’t afraid of being kept wrapped up… with his hands stuck to his sides, his legs kept together, squirming against the inescapable hold, and her strong, gentle hands cradling him… He was afraid he wouldn’t last long this way…

But instead of voicing this, all he could do was whimper. Alicia, Madame Bolt, was so mighty… so strong… too strong to push up against… He wanted to be there, wrapped up, played with by her…

Sure, sex with her as an equal would have been amazing… but…

Her hand was on his ass. She was squeezing it. Grant groaned in pleasure…

“It’s okay, Grant. I’ve felt your erection so many times while carrying you. I know what you want to do. I know what you’re afraid of and I want you to know… it’s okay…”

She rolled over so that she was atop him now. She positioned his wrapped up body so that their crotches would align. His head and face just above her chest… smelling and feeling her cleavage, still covered in the protective kevlar..

“I know you’re a strong, capable hero, and I won’t forget that just because you want me to be your mommy…” she whispered, and gave him dry hump.

That did it and he lost control. It wasn’t how their first time should have gone, really… But as he was mercilessly humped and pleasured within her cape, accepting his place in her power, he didn’t care at all what others would have thought. He loved this feeling…

She wrapped her strong thighs around him, groaning as she humped him nice, thoroughly, uninterrupted… Her strong thighs, her sensitive crotch, in the suit’s fibers, against him… She pressed down just firm enough to squeeze his dick, his balls, just firm enough to scare him, and released very slowly each time… She herself enjoyed this power over him… Oh how she wished he wasn’t so fragile… But that was the beauty of it all, wasn’t it?

He loved being bound, and she admitted now she loved binding him so much. She loved having this cute little man under her power. In her cape. In her arms. Kept safe by her, but more importantly kept close. She yearned to bind him more. To strap him against her forever, and never let him escape. Never let him free.

She’d pocket him, encapsulate him, belt and lock him, completely own him if she could. As she thrusted against his wrapped up body she fantasized all of these things… That each thrust was pushing him into her until he was thoroughly caught in her essence. The fact that the cape kept them from feeling each other’s warm skin was frustrating, but it would be worth it… building and building the need they both shared for each other...

She stopped when she could tell that he, and also she, were coming close to cumming…

He groaned, wanting to continue, but she held him firm and didn’t allow it…

She released him from the safety of the cape, despite his protests… Then she stripped down…

She wrapped not her cape, but her warm, large, muscled body around her precious little super-partner instead. And as she allowed him to insert himself in her before continuing to thrust, she thought: “Yes. Now I’ve really got you bound…”

And she thrusted...

*** *** ***

It was almost morning when they finished, relaxing together in the king sized bed, surrounded with concrete walls, safe from the rest of the world. She still had her legs around his.

“...I quite enjoyed myself,” she said, breaking the silence. Grant chuckled.

“...Um… so… I guess I shouldn’t make that neck brace I mentioned back when?” he said.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispered.

They fell asleep in each other’s arms, her legs wrapped nicely around his.

*** *** ***

“Oh Puma… Come here~” she called for him. Grant turned off the power drill he was using and took off his mask. Still in the smithing apron he left his lab to see his partner, now in more ways than one, standing excitedly. She was in uniform, though her cape covering her up.

“What’s going on?” he said.

“Grant… Next time the police come, I think we should stay and reveal ourselves to them,” she said.

Grant gave a proud smile as well. “So. It’s time for Madame Bolt and Puma to meet the adoring fans?”

Alicia nodded. Then she unraveled the cape revealing her uniform and Puma’s smile fell.

“Surprise! Since you’re always working so hard on everything-” she began.

“Oh no…” Grant whispered.

“I decided to design my emblem by myself. What do you think?”

Grant, AKA Puma, the great engineer, stared in horror at the red emblazoned symbol on her uniform, just on her breasts downwards. A wonderful star image, and inside an image a bound up mummy, obviously meant to be him. Just stylistic and abstract enough to be mistaken for something else without context…

“Isn’t it wonderful? It represents our bond and teamwork quite well, I believe,” she said.

“Please change it.”

“See? The star is me,” she said. “And this cocoon here represents…”

“Please… No…”

[The End]

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padme-amitabha · 5 years ago

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Is Anakin and Vader the same person?

I think I have talked about this before but I’ll reiterate the main points.

Of course they are the same person at different points in life. I don’t choose to follow Disney’s interpretation of anything about Star Wars. They hire writers and pay them to write their own fanfiction and interpretation and it’s far from George’s vision so I don’t see any reason to. Only 1-6 movies are canon to me with few exceptions such as 2003 Clone Wars and a few legends material but I’ll always put more emphasis on the movies.

Now from Revenge of the Sith movie we see Anakin become Vader (and by that I mean undergoing a surgery and being put into the suit). While the mask is being lowered we can see the fear in his eyes and his face is still recognizable. Fast forward 23 years and there’s no reason to believe he’s a different person. The only time he talks about his name is when Luke brings it up and he says “that name no longer has any meaning for me” not “I destroyed Anakin” or something similar to that. He is completely right because obviously it doesn’t hold any meaning for him - everyone who called him and knew him by that name (Shmi, Obi-Wan and Padmé) were all dead and his master called him Vader. And he had gotten used to the name in over two decades. Also, Palpatine probably preferred that he distance himself from his past hence referring to Luke as “the offspring of Anakin Skywalker.” Vader wasn’t a personality; it was just a new name he went by and since the mention of his real name brought back unpleasant memories he tried not to think of himself as the same person as a coping mechanism. This is why Vader tells Luke it’s too late for him to redeem himself - because he knows he commited some terrible deeds and hurt his loved ones and he can’t ever take that back. If he wasn’t Anakin, he wouldn’t feel that guilt or remorse for Anakin’s wife and mentor.

It’s the same as Padmé in TPM really - we see Padmé first as Queen Amidala who is a regal authoritative figure and then we see her true self when she’s in disguise.

Anakin winced, then quickly picked up another holograph, this one showing Padmé a couple of years later, wearing official robes and standing between two older and similarly robed Legislators. He looked back at the first holo, then to this one, noting that Padmé’s expression seemed much more severe here. “My first day as an Apprentice Legislator,” Padmé explained.

Then, as if she was reading his mind, she added, “See the difference?” Anakin studied the holograph a moment longer, then looked up and laughed, seeing Padmé wearing that same long and stern expression. She laughed as well, then squeezed his shoulder and went back to her packing.

Anakin put the holographs down side by side and looked at them for a long, long time. Two sides of the woman he loved.

This is from the AOTC novelization and this can be applied to Anakin as well. (More about similarities between Darth Vader and Queen Amidala in this post.) Just like Queen Amidala is really Padmé Naberrie, in the same way Darth Vader is really just Anakin Skywalker.

The reason why he has a different demeanor in OT is mostly due to his age and because he had years to adapt to his new persona. Vader in ROTS didn’t immediately become all stoic and impassive - he got very emotional on hearing Padmé’s death just like he would as Anakin. Vader isn’t some kind of demon possessing Anakin - Vader is Anakin after he has lost everything and he isn’t holding back as he did as a Jedi. It sounds very poetic to state both Anakin and Padmé died on the same day but Anakin truly didn’t though. Anakin lived on for years and died a redeemed man on the death star. The ROTS novelization supports this and it was approved by Lucas so it’s authentic to me.

And there is one blazing moment in which you finally understand that there was no dragon. That there was no Vader. That there was only you. Only Anakin Skywalker.

That it was all you. Is you.

Only you.

You did it.

You killed her.

You killed her because, finally, when you could have saved her, when you could have gone away with her, when you could have been thinking about her, you were thinking about yourself ��

I do think it was Anakin who choked Padmé on Mustafar even though some people like to blame it on “Vader”. Anakin was unhinged on Mustafar but even in the beginning of ROTS, he was beginning to show some aggression. Though people complain the first part of ROTS is slow and too much happens in the latter half and he falls too suddenly, that’s not the case. This moment has been building up from the very first movie to the first half of ROTS. The fall isn’t just that one action of attacking Mace Windu, he was gradually falling to the dark side for years starting from his mother’s death and he only made the actual decision in the rumination scene. That’s when he finally sheds a tear and makes the conscious decision to join the dark side.

For the record, I think conflict has always been a part of Anakin Skywalker. The prequels portray him in a negative light, particularly in the last two films. Anakin in the movies is a very, very flawed individual and even meant to be unlikable at times. He struggles with his emotions, he struggles to communicate with others and he struggle to fit in the order. I wouldn’t say he was mentally stable either - he could be unpredictable and his actions depend on his mood. But the movies also show the good aspects of him, especially about people he cared about. He even starts off as a kid with a good heart. The conflict and his flaws cause him to fall to the dark side and his good qualities (like selflessness and loyalty when it comes to family) ultimately redeem him.

So I don’t think “Anakin” was the good side of him and “Vader” was the dark side. Vader is Anakin after he has lost everything he cared about and since he is not a Jedi anymore he is no longer required to hold back on anything. Ambition and desire to rule the galaxy is often associated with “Vader” but I think people forget Anakin was just as ambitious and in ROTS being denied the rank of Master deeply upsets him and increases his resentment towards the Jedi. He admitted that he wanted more in ROTS even though he knows he shouldn’t. He also told Padmé in AOTC that he would prefer dictatorship over democracy so it’s not like his ideals changed either. Vader until he discovered he had a son had no interest in ruling the galaxy. Later on he essentially offered Luke the same choice he gave Padmé on Mustafar. From the conversation in AOTC, it seems he’s more dissatisfied with the system and being from a lawless and harsh world he sees dictatorship as the solution. While he doesn’t want to actively take part in it, he wants to enforce the system which is exactly what he does later on (and perhaps he preferred leaving the actual ruling bit to Padmé or Luke). I don’t see Vader as “evil” - I mean the only times he killed people were for failure and he did keep Admiral Piett alive since he proved to be competent. Vader in OT (when Luke isn’t concerned) is just doing his job and punishing inefficient people who aren’t letting him do his job. He only serves the emperor and does his bidding. After Luke rejects his offer, Vader still plans to seek him out but in ROTJ his resolve definitely grew weaker and it’s more like he’s imploring him to reconsider than being forceful.

Anakin as we have seen in AOTC is very much capable of mass murder (and confessed that he felt they deserved it) so should he really be defined as the good side? You could even argue as Vader he killed people for legitimate reasons whereas Anakin killed defenseless people when he was blinded by rage. And even in ROTS he kills Dooku as revenge. I’m not saying Anakin is evil (that would be grossly oversimplying things); I am saying he was a complex character. The reason why he turned out the way he is has already been explored in the prequels but I also believe it’s a combination of nature and nurture. Anakin as a child has a good heart, wants to help others and free the slaves but in TPM script/novelization he lashes out at a Rodian who claims he won the race by cheating, meaning he didn’t handle accusation very well. It might be dismissed as a childish reaction but we see he struggled to control his temper in later years as well. A person has both good and bad qualities and that’s the case with Anakin here, though his negative traits were expressed more. But the prequels are all about exploring his downfall so it was necessary to highlight them.

Anakin to me was never a “hero” who fell to the dark side due to circumstances; he was a complex character who made some hard choices. If the roles were reversed and Padmé was the Jedi with Anakin’s life at risk, I don’t think she would go that far to commit murder. Sure Palpatine is very manipulative but at the same time he understood that it was in Anakin’s nature to be manipulated very easily. You need to have some form of fear, insecurity and resentment in you for someone to utilize them.

I blame TCW, Rebels and the fanboyish Marvel comics for dissociating Anakin from Vader. “Anakin Skywalker was weak, I destroyed him” again makes him very one-dimensional than accepting the fact that people can be morally complex. Not to mention the Marvel comics’ tendency to make him react violently and unnecessarily ruthless to prove he isn’t Anakin drastically reduces his character depth for me. It may also have to do with the fact that movie Anakin was not well-received so they are trying to distance him from Darth Vader, whom fanboys worship. Anakin’s story is incomplete without Vader - he made a choice to embrace the dark side and sacrifice his morality so like the tragic hero he is, he has to suffer and face the consequences for his actions. Similarly, Vader’s story is incomplete without Anakin - without Anakin he is a faceless man. Sure he’s mysterious but without his past we would not know what a complex character he was or sympathise with him.

If Vader wasn’t really Anakin, he wouldn’t have felt remorse for his actions or believe it was too late for him. If he wasn’t Anakin he wouldn’t refer to Luke as his son and if he was so desperate to erase any trace of Anakin, he would have definitely killed Luke as he was a reminder of his past. It was Vader who saved Luke in the end and while it is fine to figuratively say “Anakin was back”, taking it literally undermines his sacrifice. It takes a lot to come back from the dark side, face your demons and after being that way for decades, attempt to redeem yourself when you believe you’re far too gone. He redeemed himself as an old man after a long life full of sorrow and regrets, which also sounds much better than saying “he was evil no longer” and that “Anakin was back”. It makes everything seem black and white and the prequels were essentially all about exploring the gray area. Luke didn’t even know “Anakin” and really where was Anakin when “Vader” cut off his hand? Or fought him? Vader’s inner struggle was between accepting he was far too gone and going on as he did for years, and accepting change, letting it go and forgiving himself for his son’s sake - not a struggle between two personalities fighting to take control. If they were different personalities, Anakin wouldn’t have almost all of Vader’s qualities; he wouldn’t be morally conflicted both as Anakin and Vader. George said the reason why he later replaced his force ghost as a younger version was because he stopped being Anakin after he fell to the dark side and I have to say that’s the only time I disagree with George because Anakin in prequels still had dark tendencies so I do believe Vader never stopped being Anakin hence the original version with the old force ghost made more sense to me and the new version does rob some of the depth from his character. I’m sure George has his reasons - he might have wished to preserve the black and white simplicity of the OT but after the complexity of the prequels, it seems more appropriate for the saga to have a more imperfect, realistic ending. In retrospect, it seems to me they are very much the same person when you study his personality and consider his whole life, which was full of ups and downs.

#ask #my thoughts #anakin skywalker #darth vader

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poptod · 5 years ago

Text

The Story of Golden Fish and Red Duck (Ahkmenrah x Reader, Ch. 3)

Ch. 1, Ch. 2

Word Count: 6.5k AO3 Link: The Story of Golden Fish and Red Duck

True to his promise, you never ran into Ahkmen again after that day, much to Unas' disappointment. He'd taken a liking towards the prince, something you despised with every ounce of your being. Even worse, Unas had taken to teasing you almost as much as Ahkmen had. Fortunately he knew when to stop, and what jokes were off limits, just as you knew what to not say around him.

All good things come to an end, and your long period of peace without Ahkmen was one of those good things. It had been several long months since you'd seen him, during which Unas had kept asking when you were seeing him again.

"I'll tell you if anything comes up," you told him every time, but you never got the chance to tell him when the opportunity arose.

Some sort of dinner, a much more exclusive one this time, required the Pharaoh to invite his high priests, personal physicians, and architects. What the event was specifically for you weren't informed of - all you knew was that the meeting would start a little before sunrise, and continue deep into the night. Ever one for formalities, the Pharaoh invited the entirety of his high priests' families for dinner, the only issue being that there was a long time to wait for the dinner.

Thus, before sunrise, your father shook you and your siblings awake, telling you to dress in your best clothes. Eyes barely open, you called servants into your room, standing right as they entered with your good robes.

"Do you know what's happening?" You asked one of them drowsily, raising your arms when another directed you to.

"I've only heard rumors, but I think you're going to the palace for the day," she murmured, paying close attention to the beads sewn into your top, arranging it so they drooped off your shoulders in a soft, flowing fashion.

"Ah. Wonderful," you grumbled.

Another day trying to avoid four kids, you thought, hoping that if you ran into anyone it'd be Khufu.

Slowly the sun rose over the horizon, indicating to your father that everyone needed to hurry up. Going from room to room, he pulled Teremun, Kesi, your mother, and yourself till you all stood in the living room, fussing away at the imperfections in your palace robes.

"Are you sure we have to go too?" Kesi asked, trying to tighten the buckle on her sleeves.

"Yes. As much as I hate the bastard, I do have to obey him," your father said, moving to help Kesi before moving onto your mother, wearing a white dress that dripped down to her ankles.

A knock at the door brought you out of your thoughts. Your father quickly opened the door, obviously expecting someone else, as his shoulders fell at the sight of Unas. Polite as ever, Unas smiled as he shook your father's hand.

"Hello! I'm here to see -" as his eye caught you, his expression fell into confusion, examining you in your expensive clothes.

"Bad time, Unas, we're going to the palace today," you said, stepping nearer to him to keep your conversation quiet. Behind you, your father continued to help Kesi and Teremun, the soft sounds of their voices a background noise to Unas.

"Perfect, I've been wanting to see Ahkmen again," he said with an excited smile, rubbing his palms together.

"Not really, this is sort of a private event I think - I mean," you glanced back at your family, "I suppose I could ask my father. Might be room in the carriage."

"Don't you live like, just down the road from the palace?" He asked, furrowing his brow.

"Yeah, I don't know why we hire it every time, you'd have to ask my father," you said, trying to push him out the door as your mother scowled at you.

Turning back around with Unas safely outside, you went up to your father, tapping him on the shoulder. He faced you, almost frowning, but you knew the lines on his face were more due to stress than annoyance with you.

"Unas wants to come with. He's already -" could you mention that Unas met Ahkmen without revealing that Ahkmen left the palace? "He has this - this, um, assignment that we're doing together. Needs to be finished soon, and since I won't be doing much there anyway, I thought maybe -"

"Sure, that's alright little one. Just make sure he's dressed well," he said, barely even facing you as he spoke, more focused on your mother than you.

Sweet, you thought, almost pumping your fist before recollecting yourself. Heading outside, you told Unas the verdict, to which he was overjoyed.

"I don't have any nice clothes though! At least not with me, and I can't make it to my house in time," Unas said, grasping your upper arms in a tight grip that whitened his knuckles.

"Calm down, you can wear some of mine."

The ride to the palace was a lot more awkward than it usually was, most likely due to the fact that Unas had to change inside the carriage. Everyone knew each other, you knew that - Unas had met your father before, your mother and siblings knew about him, but it didn't stop the tension from growing thick in the air. As usual the ride was short, which considering how awkward the entire ride was, was a blessing. Unas left the carriage first, helping your mother out when she got out, followed by your father, Teremun, Kesi, and then yourself.

No matter how many times you'd seen the palace before, it always took you by surprise just how big everything was. All of it was larger than life, a sick reminder that they held all power over their subjects. As much as you adored the architecture, you couldn't note on the deeper meaning, at least not without seeming treasonous. Though, considering how much your family hated the Pharaonic family, talking about psychological control of subjects was pretty low on the list of things that'd get you executed.

On the way there you'd forgotten, but sparing a look at Unas you remembered he'd never seen the palace before. Not out of not being invited, hell, he'd been invited to events like this before, he just never found a legitimate reason to go. Even with the festivals he'd rather stay home, something you fully respected, just as he respected the fact that you had duties due to your connection with your father. Now he had a reason - now he stood before the palace entrance, the massive pillars casting reflections in his teary eyes as he stared upwards.

"Quite the sight, hm?" Kesi said, recognizing Unas' expression.

"Something like that," he murmured almost dreamily, earning a chuckle from you.

"Wait till you get inside."

Guards awaited you at the entrance, the pair of them splitting up to direct your father and the rest of your family in different directions. While your father was led upstairs, the remaining guard took your family (and Unas) towards the gardens, a place you'd only seen once before. For some odd reason or another the gardens were something of an off-limits place, an area only the royal family was able to frequent. The last time you saw it was quite a few years ago, when you were around five years old, so the sight of a garden flush with greenery and vibrant flowers caught you by surprise.

Down the side of the garden ran a stream, the sides of the stream covered in soft grass almost overgrown into the water. A sort of pathway made of white sand ran a circle around the garden, the center housing a massive tree, two dark, wooden benches on either side of it. On every wall protecting the garden from the view of citizens flowers grew, tangled in lush vines and scaling towards the sky. Near the entrance, just to the right of it lay a pool in which the small creek ran into, fish and tortoises lounging in the water and sun.

"You are to stay in this wing of the palace till Pharaoh calls upon you," the guard told you in a monotone voice, shutting the door as he left.

"Fun," you whispered under your breath, the word only caught by Unas, who giggled.

The family dispersed, Kesi heading immediately to the large tree in an attempt to scale it, as Teremun went to the fish. Eshe, your mother, set off on a long stroll around the massive garden path.

"When are we going to see Ahkmen?" Unas asked you nearly immediately, tugging on your sleeve.

"I don't know. If anything, at the dinner tonight," you said, unwilling to think about having to talk to the man again.

"Gods, that's a long time to wait," he said, resting his hands on his hips as he looked back out across the garden.

"Not long enough," you grumbled, starting off down the path your mother took. Unas followed, catching up to you in a jog and stopping by your side, adopting your pace as his own.

"You need to open your mind a little more. He's really not that bad! I feel like you're exaggerating a little," he said, wrapping his arm over your shoulder.

"Exaggerating?" You hissed. "He's an asshole. I can't believe you can't see that. Besides, aren't you supposed to take my side?"

"Not if it's a stupid side."

With many hours ahead of you, you and Unas passed the time with several activities, the first being a general look-around of the garden. Following that Kesi showed you how to climb up the tree, something you had to take your sandals off to do, though the view in itself was worth it. The entirety of the garden was visible from the high branches of the tree, obscured only a little by the leaves but generally beautiful.

"I wish I brought my rope," Unas said regretfully, picking at the bark of the branch he sat on.

"Why's that?" You asked, leaning forward.

"I could've launched something from these branches. They're rather flexible," he said as though it was a normal thing to say. You on the other hand, had a little trouble seeing how rope would be able to launch something, only understanding when Unas explained in detail how a catapult would work.

From there you ventured towards the creek, walking down the side of it till you reached the pond filled with lily pads, where Teremun sat with his feet in the water. Running your fingers through the water, you noted the cooler temperature, the pond glittering in the midday sunshine.

Once all the opportunities the garden gave had been exhausted, Unas brought up a good point.

"The guard did say that we were restricted to this wing of the palace, meaning we can technically leave the garden," he said with raised eyebrows, wiggling them so you'd get his insinuation.

"You know what? That's fair," you agreed, a look nearly as clandestine as Unas' on your face.

Sparing a quick glance back at your family members, and finding none of them looking in your general direction, you and Unas quietly opened the massive doors of the garden and headed out into the sunlit halls.

Arches lined every area possible, soft breezes and sunshine blowing in and exhilarating every painting on the walls. Images of daily life, both for the Pharaoh and for the citizens decorated everywhere you looked, religious texts and stories accompanying the scenery. You weren't much for paintings, neither was Unas, but you could both agree that they were well done, and the feat alone of completing such a numerous amount of them deserved a fair amount of praise.

"So where's Ahkmen's room?" Unas asked, smiling despite the fact he knew the question would irritate you. Looking over him again, you realized the bastard was trying to annoy you.

"You're an irritating friend, I hope you know that," you said, mostly ignoring his question in favor of sitting on the ledge of a massive archway.

"You remind me consistently," he laughed, only to stop at the sight of someone down the hall. "Ahkmen!"

"Unas," Ahkmen acknowledged, quickening his speed till he came to stand before you, hugging Unas as a friendly greeting.

"How have you been?" Unas asked, patting Ahkmen on the shoulder as they parted.

"Not bad, not bad at all. You?"

"Just about the same. This one," he gestured to you, "has been dreading seeing you again."

"I see nothing's changed then," Ahkmen said with a chuckle, ruffling your hair, and retracting his hand before you could claw at him.

"Since you're here, have you any idea what this meeting's about?" You asked, trying to make the time you had to spend with him at least slightly bearable.

"None at all. My father won't tell anyone his business. Actually, he's been more secretive than usual recently," Ahkmen said, a legitimate answer (for once) to a legitimate question.

"But," he continued, "I'm glad I got to see you again."

"Shove it up your ass," you replied.

"Mm, I'm not happy for the reason you're probably thinking," he said with a sly smile, kneeling down to your level, making continuous, mildly uncomfortable eye contact with you.

"Really? Mind explaining and not being cryptic for once?"

"Mother of fuck, watching you two talk to each other is like watching some fucked up mating ritual," Unas exlaimed out of nowhere, sighing deeply.

"Thanks for that, Unas," you gritted out as Ahkmen's smile widened.

"This pertains to you, too," Ahkmen said, gesturing for Unas to join him on the floor, which he did. "I want to recruit the two of you for a mission, not entirely unlike the last one we did."

"That was a one time thing, we agreed on that!" You said, almost offended that he so easily forgot his promise.

"No, I promised that you'd never see me again, which we both knew wasn't going to hold up for long because you can't get enough of me, and now th-"

"I'm going to fucking strangle you," you said, biting the inside of your cheek and digging your nails into your arm to stop yourself from actually killing him.

"Now that the promise has been broken as we both knew would happen," he said, glaring at you to make sure you wouldn't interrupt him again, "I can recruit you for another mission. Personally, I think we work well together."

"I don't think we do," you grumbled, sinking deeper into your seat.

"Well I think we do, so that's two to one, so we're going to do it," Unas said with a smile, winking at you when you tried to protest.

"This is entirely unfair."

"It won't be bad, you won't be in danger. Trust me," Ahkmen said in a soft voice, patting your shoulder with a smile far too kind compared to the smirk he usually wore.

"You confuse me, Goldie," you mumbled, allowing the both of them to lead you down the hall. On the way to wherever you were going, Ahkmen took the time to explain his plan, the purpose, and the execution.

"A few days ago I ordered Naguib, my uh, manservant, to go into the market and find a blue lotus cultivator. Now that went as well as one might imagine, which was actually rather well, but it didn't arrive until today. At least, I think it arrived today - I don't have a fantastic memory."

"Obviously," you muttered under your breath, Unas snorting when he heard you. Ahkmen just glared.

"Anyway, rude comments aside, now is the perfect time to poison some rich assholes," he said, almost excited as a smile lit up his face.

"Ahkmen? All of us are rich assholes," Unas pointed out, his serious tone contrasted greatly by his grin.

"No, we're freeloaders off our parents, there's a difference. Back to the point, we're going to brew some blue lotus tea and, if you haven't ever taken blue lotus before..." he looked at the both of you, searching for any indication that one or both of you hadn't been high on the plant before. You hadn't, but Unas did it once, though granted a very small amount. "It basically makes you relax quite a bit. Usually you'll talk a lot more, maybe get a little horny, you know. The usual."

"Fantastic. Who are we poisoning?" Unas asked, trying to keep his short steps up with Ahkmen's long strides.

"That damned meeting none of us know anything about."

"Wait, what?" You grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking. The jolt had him stumbling back, till you were face to face, far closer than you could ever deem comfortable. "I - I don't know about your relationship with your father, but I actually like my father and I don't feel like poisoning him."

"It's not really poison. It'll just loosen them all up, which we all know they could do with," Ahkmen said, rolling his eyes when he thought of his father and the various high priests.

"What's the point though? What will this achieve?" You asked, following him when he continued to lead you down the twists and turns of the palace halls. Soon the arches disappeared, torches taking their place and lighting the vast pathways with a warm, dim flame.

"Not much. I just want my father to embarrass himself."

"You dislike your father?"

"Not exactly," he said, pursing his lips together as though in deep thought. "But I don't like his advisors."

"I'm in for anything that hits the rich where it hurts," Unas said with a shrug, voicing what was technically your own views, but it didn't cover the fact that you still didn't want to drug your father.

"Is there any way to drug everyone besides my father?" You asked, knowing the answer would most likely be an avid 'no.'

"Nope! Also, if we get caught, you're taking the blame," he said, blowing a kiss in your direction.

"What? Why me?! I didn't even organize it," you said hurriedly, your anxieties suddenly taking over.

"Because I think your father loves you more than my father loves me, and besides, I don't think you've ever been in trouble before. You're such a goody-two-shoes."

"Well he's not wrong," Unas said, a technically correct statement paired with a pat to your shoulder as he entered a door after Ahkmen. Nearly seething with hatred for both of them you pushed the door open, following them down a flight of stairs till you came to the cellar.

The cellar itself was well made, with architecture almost as nice as the rest of the palace, but not quite there. Pillars kept the roof from collapsing under the weight of the ground, hundreds of barrels lining the walls. Built into the clay of the ground, the barrels sat in holes made especially for them, protruding only an inch out of the wall. Boxes and carts full of various bags and foods lay in the corner, ready to be sent to the kitchen. In the corner, hidden behind a sheet covering lay an upright barrel, the top firmly closed on it.

"There's our treasure," Ahkmen said, biting his lower lip as he grabbed a long, thin metal stick. Jabbing one end of it under the lid, he pressed down on the other end, the barrel popping open as the lid fell to the floor with a clunk. The three of you peeked inside, seeing blue lotus petals fill the barrel up around halfway - more than what you needed, something you all realized with a devious smile.

"How are you planning on getting this to them?" You asked, picking up one of the petals.

"Around noon my father always has tea with his meetings, and since it's rude to not offer it to everyone else, and it'd be rude of them to decline, everyone in the room with him also has tea, so... this'll be pretty easy. Just need to boil some water," he said, looking far too delighted about doing something so illegal.

"Will the servants go along with it?" Unas asked, following Ahkmen's lead and helping him lift the barrel. As they did so you joined, helping direct them safely up the stairs and into the kitchens.

"What the servants don't know won't hurt them. Besides, if we're caught Ducky is taking the blame, remember?" He said, laughing when he caught your angered expression.

"At least I'll be banned from coming back to the palace, so I won't have to see your ugly mug ever again," you said, smirking when he scowled. For once the positions were switched, and the power was something you found yourself enjoying, however sick the play was.

Safely inside the closed doors of the kitchen, the few servants there paid little attention to you. Ahkmen was with you, so by all accounts you were allowed to go wherever you wanted, so long as it was Ahkmen who initiated it. With that Ahkmen set off towards the fire, making sure the water was simmering around the edges of the large metal pot. Waving you over, his head still held over the water, he grabbed a handful of the petals, sprinkling them over the steam.

"How many do you think we need?" Unas asked in a whisper, looking inside to watch the flowers steep.

"About enough to tint the water, so," he grabbed a larger handful, sticking a large amount of petals into the water, "maybe a little more."

You took the initiative, taking your own handful of flowers and putting them in the boiling water. Slowly the boiling ceased, the water changing from clear, to a vague blue, eventually ending on a misty white.

"Um... is it supposed to look that color?" You said, squeezing your hands anxiously.

"It's not like it matters," Ahkmen said, sounding less and less like he believed himself with every word.

"I heard they're supposed to be like, purple or something. Maybe it was green - but it wasn't white... well..." Unas mumbled uncertainly, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what color blue petals would tint water, if not blue or white.

"Shit, the server's coming, no going back now," Ahkmen hissed, pushing the both of you out the back door of the kitchen with hurried hands. Laughing the whole way, the three of you ran back towards the gardens, only relaxing when the large doors shut behind you, and safety was guaranteed. A dizzy smile on your face you fell to the ground, sitting beside Unas as Ahkmen stood, his back still against the door as though it'd keep it shut.

"That was close," Unas said, coming down from his high and trying to catch his breath again.

"My only regret," Ahkmen knelt beside you and Unas, "is that we won't be able to see their faces."

"That would've been nice," you agreed, still smiling blissfully.

"See? Working with me isn't that bad. Hasn't gone wrong yet," Ahkmen said, gently punching your shoulder. You shook your head, looking towards the sky.

"Sure, but never again. You could've easily done all that without us."

"But it wouldn't have been nearly as fun."

Although you were in a mild quarantine to one wing of the palace, Ahkmen snuck you and Unas past the guards, up several flights of stairs till you came to stand before double doors larger than those of the garden. Watching both your reactions carefully he opened the doors, golden light streaming into the dark hallway from the room. As they fully opened, your eye was caught by the silk sheets of a canopy bed, closely followed by white curtains billowing in a gentle breeze surrounding the balcony. A single strip of paintings, one brick tall, surrounded each wall, running around the room and depicting every sort of thing - farming, sunlight, gods - the life source of your world. Standing tall on each side of the door was a vase, black and covered in a foreign gold design. To the left was a desk, littered with papyrus and ink, and to the right a bundle of blankets and pillows on the floor. You shot him a quizzical look at the mess, to which he shrugged.

"I'm assuming this is your room, right?" You said with a quiet snort. He hadn't told you where you were going - apparently it was a surprise, albeit not a very good one.

"You would be correct, dear Ducky," he said with a too-wide smile, patting your head like you'd done a fancy trick. Unas snickered, ceasing immediately when you turned to glare at him. "There's more things to do here than there is in the garden. I also thought you might like to see what actual luxury is like."

"Seriously? Your family gets pretty much all its' money from mine," you scoffed, pulling the chair out from underneath his desk, facing them and sitting down with your legs spread in a wide, relaxed position.

"That's because we know how it should be spent, unlike you prudes," he said, stalking towards you and leaning down to your height, your face close enough to his that you could see your reflection in his eyes.

"If you two are going to fuck, I'm leaving," Unas said, breaking the tension Ahkmen had built.

"I wouldn't have sex with Goldie even if Nut and Geb got back together," you said, smirking as he did the same, lost in the connection your eyes couldn't seem to break.

"That's good, because I don't think your family likes me very much," Unas said with a sigh and a small grunt, falling backwards into the massive pile of pillows and blankets Ahkmen had in the corner of his room. Turning to him Ahkmen tsked, shaking his head.

"There's not much else to do now, just sit and wait till someone comes to kick our asses," he said, lying down next to Unas, his fingers knitted together behind his head.

"If we're lucky Teremun might take the blame," you said, turning to all the documents on his desk. There was a fair number - all scattered and disorganized, flipped about here and there with codes and doodles lining the edges.

"I thought you liked Teremun?" Unas said.

"I do, but I like staying out of trouble more... not that either of you would understand that," you mumbled beneath your breath.

"Oh, I understand it perfectly," Ahkmen said with a laugh. "I just prefer to stay out of punishment - two different things, vastly different. And that, dear friends," his gaze drifted lazily between the two of you, "is why I'm the favorite son."

"Don't ever call me your friend again."

"As you wish, my love."

Unas had to restrain you from choking Ahkmen.

The morning passed quickly into noon (the time seemingly sped up by your interactions with both Unas and Ahkmen), and as the sun began to fall from the sky Ahkmen led you back into the garden, where your family awaited you, along with six guards, who were certainly not there before. At the sight of them you froze, and before they could spot you walking in, Ahkmen grabbed your wrist and Unas', pulling you away from the door and hiding you behind them in the hallway.

"Six guards. That's not normal, they must've drunk the tea and I'd say probably aren't happy about it," Ahkmen whispered to you, poking his head past the door to check what was happening. You followed below him, Unas peeking below you, till your heads were in a neat row, all of you watching the guards surround your family.

"Well obviously they aren't happy about it. It's not exactly legal," you whispered back.

"It's perfectly legal, there's no rule against it," Ahkmen refuted.

"Yes, because our Pharaohs probably thought no one was stupid enough to do something like this!"

"To be fair, Ma'at's principles do say not to pollute the water," Unas pointed out helpfully, earning scowls from both you and Ahkmen as the three of you retreated back to safety, out of the guard's line of sight.

"I think we can take that in a less literal sense," Ahkmen said, sinking to the floor.

"I think it means exactly what it says."

"No one actually follows those rules anyway! We've all cursed, we've all been sad for no reason, we've all exaggerated, they're dumb rules," you hissed, gritting your teeth as the reality of what you did settled into your mind - how could you have thought that punishment wasn't the end?

"That's a little treasonous of you," Ahkmen said, almost sounding impressed.

"It's just what I believe," you mumbled, shying away from his pleased grin.

"Can you two stop flirting for three goddamn seconds?" Unas hissed, slapping your shoulder as he looked into the garden again.

"I'm not - quit hitting me!" You tried pushing his hand away, but he was adamant, his eyes still trained on the garden.

"Oh Gods, we need to pretend like we haven't been sitting here, now," Unas said, standing up, quickly followed by Ahkmen and you. How the three of you had come to trust each other without hesitation was a mystery to you, but you were glad you did, as just a few seconds later two guards opened the door fully, exposing you to the afternoon sun.

"My Prince," one of them said, their voice surprisingly calming. You almost lost your worries of being caught - almost.

"Something wrong, guards?" He asked, seemingly calm, though he had a tell - whether or not the guards knew that was unknown to you. His eyes would narrow, but only by the bottom. When he was telling the truth he'd stare unblinkingly, a look you'd become uncomfortably familiar with.

"Someone roofied the King's tea," they explained, eyes narrowing suspiciously upon you and Unas. Out of the two of you, you definitely looked the most guilty - not due to any behavior of yours, but simply because your clothes were a major sign of a disobedient delinquent. Unas, standing a head taller than you next to you, was dressed in your school clothes.

"Is he okay?" Ahkmen asked, pretending very well that he was worried.

"Should be. The dinner had to be delayed... he's keen on finding the culprit," they said, glancing at you again before doing a once-over of all three of you, leading you inside when they found nothing wrong.

Sitting around the tree, your family welcomed you back happily, ignorant of what had happened. Chuckling nervously you sat beside them, Ahkmen introducing himself quietly to a very disgruntled Kesi.

"I know who you are," she bit, not bothering to look his way. Somehow surprised, Ahkmen turned back to you, his eyes wide.

"She's a little mean," he mumbled as he sat next to you, Unas on your other side.

"What do you expect? My family hates you - well, you and the rest of your family."

"I suppose we're the only ones that like each other, then?" He said, an expectant smile twitching at his lips as he turned to you. You frowned.

"Keep telling yourself that, Gold fish."

His smile fell, and Unas hit your side, chiding you for your response.

An hour or two must've passed (at least that's what Unas claimed) till anyone could leave the garden. This ban on leaving, unfortunately, also applied to Ahkmen, as his brothers were apparently 'not serious suspects.' Despite being the so-called favorite son (this was one thing that you actually believed), he was still a suspicion, since you and Unas, already distrusted, were the only ones who could back up his story.

Muttering emanated from the hall, distant and quiet from your position. You must've been the first to hear it, since only you turned your head to the guarded door, waiting for someone to come bursting through. The arguing grew louder, and it wasn't long at all until the words were clear, and the doors swung open with the force of two very, very angry men.

"This is all your fault, you and your insidious family thinking that you own this place!" The Pharaoh said, the white in his knuckles desperate to meet your father's face, who looked equally as angry.

"May I remind you that I was drugged as well? Do you think I would put any of my children up to this?!"

Your mother stood, hurrying to your father's side to whisper to him.

"Yafeu, what has happened?" She asked urgently, fussing over his unkempt outfit.

"It's alright, Eshe. Someone must've snuck into the kitchens, our tea was..." his eyes glanced over you, "poisoned."

As a deep despair settled into your heart, you could feel your face going pale - this was the end. Were you going to be executed because of a stupid prank that was most definitely Ahkmen's fault and not yours? Either way there was little time to think; the Pharaoh was approaching you, clearly annoyed at the fact his son was sitting beside you, and a little confused at Unas' appearance, but somehow still mad at Unas all the same.

"One of you did this and for that you will pay, dearly," he hissed, his teeth gritted as he pointed an accusatory finger at you and your siblings, as well as Unas. Teremun would be the most likely to do something like you did, you knew that - as quiet as he was he was daring, and he always retaliated when his family was hurt.

There wasn't enough time to interview each of you privately, you all knew that, especially since the Pharaoh wanted you out of his sights as soon as possible. This line of thinking was probably what led to his next order.

"I want all of you out. None of you are ever to come back to the palace for any occasion, except you," the Pharaoh turned back to your father, still louring at him, "only because you're a necessity." He said the words like venom in his mouth, spitting them out as the two men never dared to break eye contact.

"Wait, Father, you can't do that," Ahkmen said quietly, rushing to grab his father's shoulder and turn him to face him.

"Yes I can, and what do you care? It's not like any of them are worth your time," he snapped.

"It wasn't them! They haven't done anything wrong, none of them have," Ahkmen insisted, surprising both you and Unas - he was being far too sincere, acting far more worried than either of you would've guessed he even could. "I did it, alright?"

The blood in your veins slowed, dredging along your arms and legs as your fingers went numb. Surely, you thought to yourself, surely he wouldn't do this.

Surely I heard him wrong.

But you hadn't; Unas stared gaping at Ahkmen, almost bewildered, as you gripped at the grass against your knees, pulling it out anxiously. The Pharaoh's expression was one of betrayal and anger, mixed in with confusion and a hint of spite - there was no way you were going to guess the outcome to this, so you didn't bother to try. With careful eyes you watched as Ahkmen told him what happened, leaving your name and Unas' out of the picture, moving the blame that was originally yours unto himself.

"None of them have done anything wrong. It was me, and I'm sorry," he finished with, your father and mother standing close together as they listened, nodding when he finished.

"Thank you for your honesty," the Pharaoh said quietly, his arms crossed as he looked down to his feet. Looking back up his gaze switched from Ahkmen to you and your family, to Unas, and back to his son. "As punishment, you are not to see any of them again," Ahkmen tried to protest, quickly cut off by his father, "I know you find them entertaining, or... whatever, and that is why you are not to speak with them."

It was a dream come true for you, never seeing Ahkmen or his rotten family again, so why did you feel sick? Why, when you looked to Unas, did you share the same expression of desperate wishing, hoping that what would come to pass had never been spoken? You couldn't like him; you barely tolerated him, which only made you more confused when he and his father left out the garden door.

"Come," your father murmured, gathering you and your siblings up and leading you to the palace gates, guards ensuring your protection.

Something numb, numb or despondent, or perhaps both, clawed into your chest. Every step was slow, calculated, unnervingly even as you had nothing else to concentrate on, nothing else that wouldn't make you burst out in what could've been anger or despair. It was all so surreal - it couldn't really be happening, and if it was, you certainly wouldn't feel like this. You wouldn't feel empty. You wouldn't feel confused.

As you took your first step down the long flight of stairs leading out of the palace, someone gripped your upper arm, pulling you back and spinning you around. Before you stood Ahkmen, panting as his eyes flickered across every feature on your face. You couldn't ask what he was doing, the words wouldn't come out, so he spoke instead, taking your hands in his.

"Listen, I'm sorry about today, I didn't think my father would react this violently and -"

"It's alright. What's done is done," you said, but he shook his head.

"Please, if ever your need be, come find me, and, um," he dug into his pocket, pulling out a pendant on a leather string, "keep this. It's - it's good luck. And it'll make sure you remember me."

Of course I would remember you.

He placed the necklace in your upturned palm, the medium warm and smooth beneath your fingertips. It had to be made of bone, or something of that ilk - you found most unearthly materials were made of that which was dead. Carved into the white rectangle were blue inscriptions, hieroglyphs, none of which you could read. You weren't a scribe. Unas' father was, but that fact escaped you in the moment, and you asked what it said.

"This is beautiful, but I don't know what it says," you murmured, knitting your eyebrows together in concentration as you flipped the pendant over. It had inscriptions on the other side too, and when you looked back up at Ahkmen, he was smiling - soft, almost affectionate.

"It's a secret," he said with a wink. Over his shoulder you saw his father yell for him to come back, which he did, smiling at you one last time before he disappeared in the dark corridors of the palace.

"What was that all about?" Unas asked in a quiet voice as you and your family headed down the steps.

"I'm not sure," you said.

Turning the pendant over in your hands again, you tied the string around the back of your neck, fiddling with the dangling necklace all the way back home.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader #rami malek #rami malek x reader #Night at the Museum

36 notes · View notes

harryandmolly · 6 years ago

Text

Complicit // 2

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, possibly gratuitous fashion description

WC: 5.3k

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

Niall drops his head and leans into the final note, squinting and scrunching his face as he riddles out this one song that’s been driving him up a wall for almost a week. He feels a flicker of inspiration, reaches for it as he looks out the window toward the balcony of his Hollywood Hills home. His brow furrows, his fingers wind up to strike the strings again, and--

Buzz. Buzzzzzzz. Buzzbuzz.

He swears under his breath and tosses the acoustic beside him on the couch. He can’t admit to himself that he’s grateful for the distraction, so he decides to be annoyed with whomever is calling.

Shawny Boi.

He sighs. He can’t be annoyed with Shawn. It’s like being annoyed with a labradoodle puppy.

“Hey, mate.”

“Hey man, how’s it going?”

Niall laughs. Shawn’s voice is bright and edging toward chipper. He can hear his doofy, multi-million dollar smile through the phone. And Niall knows who put it there.

“I guess that first date was good, then?”

Shawn, pacing around barefoot in his kitchen, grins eagerly and strokes a hand through his messy curls. “Oh… man. Dude, it was… so good. I should’ve done this years ago.”

Niall, bemused, shimmies further into the cushions of his couch, trying not to feel like the old and wise man Shawn sees him as. “Shawny, you’re 21. How long ago are you talkin’ about?”

Shawn laughs, bubbly and strange somehow, like he’s high. Niall’s seen Shawn high when they’ve smoked weed together. He doesn’t get giggly, he gets philosophical. And hungry.

This is a different high altogether.

“You know what I mean, man. Feels good, feels like I can like… handle shit now. Y’know? Like I was so tired and didn’t even realize it and then I got to sleep for like two full days and I’m all good again.”

Niall’s familiar with the feeling. His first date with Karina was similarly revitalizing. He was bouncing off the walls for a week. He nods in understanding.

“‘S a great feeling, havin’ someone take all the pressure off and force you to just… feel good.”

“Yeah,” Shawn answers dreamily, “I just wanted to like, thank you again. I think this kinda saved my ass.”

Niall smiles to himself and bounces his bad knee, glancing out the window. “Gonna see her again, then?”

“Definitely. I’m gonna call again today.”

Niall’s knee slows. He bites his lip and tilts his head from side to side. “Listen, mate, just don’t get attached. I know it feels good, but it still doesn’t compare to something… real.”

Shawn bobs his head at the reality he’s been trying to remind himself of in the 24 hours since she slipped back into her Roger Vivier heels and left him in bed with a kiss on the cheek and a glint in her warm, tired eyes. He drops his head and rolls it, stretching his neck.

“Yeah, no, I mean, I know. I just feel like I got so much shit pent up over the last few months. And I’m about to go home for a week and then this whole festival thing is lined up to kick my ass all summer, plus I’ll be flying back and forth to LA to be seen with Bex, so… I’m just… I dunno.”

It’s a weak explanation. He huffs, his chest deflating, indignant at the idea of having to explain himself at all. He’s a grown man, he can do what he wants with his time and money and attention. He needs this. It’s therapeutic. It’s good for him. And it feels so fucking good.

Niall rubs a hand against the scruff under his chin. “Hey, it’s all you, mate. Whatever you wanna do. I’m glad it’s helped.”

“Yeah. Thanks again, dude. I’ll see ya soon.”

Shawn hangs up and, with color in his cheeks, skims through his contacts to find La Splendeur saved under the name “Dentist,” just in case. His hand shakes a little as he holds the phone to his ear.

The temperature change leaving the LA heat wave outdoors to stepping into Silver’s 6 bedroom Beverly Hills modern monstrosity of a home has Penny wincing and cursing herself for not remembering a jacket. Twice a month they have this meeting, always in the quiet security of Silver’s house rather than discussing business out in the open, and nearly every time Penny sits and shivers.

“Welcome home, love.”

Silver’s voice rings through the high-ceilinged foyer, crisp and lightly accented by British boarding school and Cambridge. Penny looks up to see her on the landing above in a white Theory pantsuit that’s tailored so sharply she looks untouchable. Penny smiles. Home, indeed.

Silver’s steps down the staircase are quiet, despite the sleek marble beneath her stilettoed feet. Despite the facade of the outfit, she takes Penny in her arms and kisses her cheeks three times, offering her arm to guide them into the living room where a full Japanese tea service waits.

Silver’s friendship is an odd and somehow comforting mix of formality and family. Penny’s never seen her underdressed, or sick, or overly emotional. And despite Silver’s perceived coldness, reflected in her choice of home and interior decorating, Penny has always felt safe and loved in her presence, ever since Silver first hired her as an escort at 20.

Penny, respectfully also in business formal, a pale pink Max Mara pencil dress and creamy nude Louboutins (a gift from Silver for her birthday), perches on the edge of the snowy white chaise and faces her best friend.

Silver sweeps a lock of dark hair behind her ear and grins.

“So how was it?”

Penny’s face lights up. She drums her fingers against her knee and tries to play coy. “Spectacular.”

“Good, tell me everything.”

Penny lifts a cleanly filled brow. “Hard up, are we?”

Silver chuckles and eyes the tea service. “Have you ever known me to be without?”

Silver, long since retired from escorting herself, has had a long line of pretty young things hanging around since Penny has known her, but never for very long. Last Penny heard, Yvette, a fresh faced lingerie model from Nice, was the flavor of the month. Silver doesn’t spend a night alone if she doesn’t want to.

Penny cedes with a nod and a smirk. “So you’re just girlishly curious?”

Silver lifts a toned shoulder and sips her tea. “It’s nice to see how the other half lives sometimes. And it’s good business for me to know what clients like him can be like. Makes me a better manager.”

Silver launched La Splendeur two years after hiring Penny with the idea that Silver would largely oversee the personnel -- drivers, girls, clients -- and Penny with her head for business would run the logistics -- the books, legal, and some of the legitimate earnings attached to La Splendeur that keeps curious eyes from gazing too close. They became partners, each sharing equal cuts of the profits, each assigned to manage the parts of the organization where they had the most acumen.

This bimonthly meeting is designed to keep both ends running smoothly as well as serving as an excuse for two busy friends to meet up under legitimate circumstances. Silver doesn’t often show much interest in Penny’s dates after they’ve been vetted and approved. Penny wonders what it is about Shawn that has her curious.

“He was very nervous. We did a lot of work to get him to let go. Honestly, he’s one of the trickier clients I’ve seen in a while. But once I got him there…”

Penny’s eyes flutter shut as she revisits her night with Shawn. Even after she made him come twice in a row in her hand, he had more for her. They were up most of the night with brief naps in between wild, uncontrollable orgasms. Truthfully, Penny’s not sure she’s ever had such an enthusiastic first date with a client. She’s been on cloud nine for days thinking about how calm and deeply satisfied he looked the next morning.

When she looks back at Silver, her intensely dark eyes are gleaming mischievously. Penny rolls her own.

“I’m glad he enjoyed himself. He called to rebook you. You have a room at The London tomorrow night at 9.”

Penny tries not to lick her lips insatiably but Silver knows her too well. She releases an echo-y, delighted laugh.

“Seems like maybe you have a new favorite?” she guesses.

Penny’s eyes drop to her own half-drunk cup of tea. “We’ll see. Some guys like this, they start hot and heavy and lose steam fast. Maybe he just needs this boost and he’ll be on his merry pop star way.”

Silver, ever unnervingly wise and all-seeing, nods and glances out her windows that look out onto the Los Angeles skyline. “Maybe.”

Penny feels the hair raise on the back of her neck and swallows, reaching for her laptop. “Let’s go over this month.”

Shawn recognizes the guy in the dark suit standing outside the room when he gets off the elevator with Winston Churchill on the doors. He offers him a shaky smile, trying not to imagine what he must be thinking about why Shawn is seeing this woman twice in one week. Shawn’s been trying not to look too closely at that himself since he booked the second date.

Gus, Shawn thinks his name is, gives a nod at the wire transfer confirmation on Shawn’s phone screen and lets him in.

The room is more standard glam-modern hotel vibes than the Chateau. It’s just a little cold, very clean, basic art, matching furniture. Shawn’s eyes skim over it, unfocused. They fix on the hardcased luggage sitting discreetly in the corner. His fingers twitch, imagining what’s inside it.

He sits on the end of the bed this time instead of in the lounge area where he felt a little more innocent and less like he was waiting for a prostitute to come nail him into a hole in the mattress.

Despite his eagerness for tonight and his relative comfort, having spent the night with her once before, Shawn feels some nerves creeping through his forced calm. He wonders for a moment if he won’t get used to it, waiting for her, never really forgetting the circumstances that brought them both here.

Not that he plans to continue seeing her for much longer. Just until the festivals start, maybe once or twice after when he’s back in LA getting papped with Bex at a Starbucks with his hand in her back pocket or something. His jaw tightens slightly, and then the door opens.

Penny is glowing in an emerald green cocktail dress that clings to her every curve and ends dangerously high on her sculpted, bronzed thighs. Her hair is sleek and straight, parted down the center and back over her shoulders. Her toes are painted to match her dress. Shawn shivers and wonders if she did it on purpose, if she’s been planning her outfit for him.

Shut up, his brain tells him, Why would she do that? She doesn’t need to impress you. You’re a sure thing.

The corner of his mouth lifts. He stands and smoothes his sweaty palms down the front of his inky black jeans. Gus shuts the door behind her. She smiles like she’s been waiting for this.

“Hey, you.”

Any remaining nerves vanish. Her voice is like heroin in his bloodstream. His eyes drift shut, his head falls back for a moment as he revels in her comfort.

“Hi, Penny.”

She steps forward in heeled black sandals with a jeweled brooch around each ankle strap. He takes his time looking her up and down, then feels a flash of guilt when his eyes settle on her pretty face.

She seems to know what’s on his mind. She stops before him and rests her hand on his cheek.

“It’s ok. You can look. Can even touch, if you’d like.”

The words have his fingers twitching hard where they rest at his sides. He swallows and proceeds with caution, keeping his eyes focused on hers, lined and smoky tonight, to watch her reaction.

He rests his hands on her bare upper arms, stroking her skin with his rough, calloused thumbs. Carefully, slowly, he drags them up over her narrow shoulders, brushing along the line of her collarbones, teasing the warm skin of her throat. His mouth waters. He curls his hands down over her shoulder blades, finding with a noticeable hitch in his breathing that the dress has a very low back. His fingers skate over naked skin, following the hollow of her back and stopping above the swell of her ass to fold around her hips, admiring the feel of the deep green silk.

He releases a ragged breath and closes his eyes. “I couldn’t wait. I n-needed to see you again this week before I go home for a while.”

When he opens his eyes, he sees her nodding gently, raising a hand to cup the back of his neck. She steps a little closer until they’re chest to chest, or as close as they can be considering the height difference.

“And how do you feel now that I’m here?”

Shawn smiles a little -- at her, at his own willingness to be totally honest with her. He wets his lips and says, “Like I’m amazed I waited a whole four days.”

Satisfied, Penny hums from the back of her throat and leads him down to kiss her. She starts slow, gentle against his mouth, brushing little soft kisses over his top and bottom lips like she’s memorizing the shape of them. Her free hand, by contrast, drags tight and hungry up his swollen bicep, squeezing as she goes, stopping to grip his shoulder.

He’s obedient for her despite his urge to take more than what she’s giving. He keeps his returning kisses as light as hers, but she’s holding him so tight he knows she can feel how hard he’s trying. It makes her smile and coo into his mouth. She pulls away slightly, massaging the back of his neck.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs without taking his eyes off hers. She chuckles.

“Thank you, so do you.”

Shawn laughs and starts to duck his head. Penny’s hand holds him firm and guides his lips back to hers. These are real kisses now. He groans into her mouth, opens wider so she can tease his tongue the way she likes. His hands draw her hips in closer until they’re pressed against his. He starts to lead them toward the bed, but Penny stands firm.

“What do you want?” he pants softly, his forehead tilted against hers. He hears her lips pull into a smile.

“Your mouth.”

Shawn’s nervous system goes erratic. His eyes snap open, his hands sink harder into the fabric around her hips, he pants against her cheek.

“Really?”

If he had any self awareness right now, he’d flinch and squirm at the timid excitement in his voice. Good thing he’s too fucked for her to notice.

Penny gently detangles herself from his grasp and nods toward the bed. He sits on the end, legs spread, his elbows on his knees as he vibrates in place waiting for her. Now it’s Penny’s turn to look him over.

He looks less tired than he did when she met him. His eyes are a little brighter, his skin a little clearer, his shoulders a little further from his ears. She lets the power of it flood her system, feels that old animal that lives inside her stretch its legs and awaken for another night with him.

She did that. She gave him that. She took a man who needed her, who needed release and comfort and affection and she gave it to him tenfold. She took something a little broken and made it brand fucking new. And now she gets to let loose a little more, build upon the foundation she started.

He’s looking at her like he did last time, waiting to see her when she bares herself to him. She wets her lips, painted a light mauve color, and steps closer, heightening the tension.

“Are… uhm, are you gonna take your clothes off?” he asks hopefully.

Penny lifts a shoulder with a smirk. “No need.”

His face falls a little. She grins, or more just bares her teeth, and lifts a toned leg to press the sole of her shoe to his chest. Shawn inhales sharply and lets it nudge him back to lie against the bed, blinking up at the ceiling.

She watches his broad chest rise and fall, picking up speed as the anticipation builds. She gazes at him hungrily, at his large hands running up and down his thick thighs as he self-soothes. She can feel him trying not to lift his head to look at her. Her patience runs thin.

Penny lifts herself over him, one knee on either side of his torso, climbing on top of him carefully until she’s centered above his pretty face.

“Shit. You weren’t wearing panties this whole time?”

His voice is squeaky and breathless. Penny tips her head back and laughs, tugging her skirt up.

“They don’t really work with this dress,” she explains, reaching down to curl a lock of his hair around her finger.

He learned from their first night together not to touch her until she tells him to, so his arms rest limp by his sides, despite how badly he’d like to plant his hands on her hips and yank her warm cunt down to meet his mouth.

But that’s not what he’s here for. He’s not here to take, he’s here to let her give to him. He closes his eyes, recenters himself, and looks up again to see her watching him.

“Want to taste me, Shawn?”

He pauses. He nods. “Yes please.”

Penny slowly lowers her hips until she meets his face and the eager lips that are already pressing needy kisses against her folds. She hums and settles further, reaching for his arms to secure them around her as she starts to rock against him.

“I’m gonna ride your face. Just… just keep your mouth on me,” she instructs, her voice going soft and breathy as she starts to pick up speed.

Shawn is in fucking heaven.

His eyes are wide open, staring up at her as she takes what she needs from him, her clit bumping his nose with every tight stroke. His dick strains in his jeans, but neither of them seems to care. His hands fit into the dips at her waistline and hold her, supporting her as she rolls her hips.

Shawn likes oral, he always has. But this is beyond anything he’s ever experienced. He’s never had a woman use him for her pleasure like this before. He would’ve guessed it would feel odd, disconnected somehow, lacking. But with Penny, he swears he’d give her fucking anything.

Shawn groans, flattening his tongue for her to work against as she soaks his mouth and cheeks. The slick insides of her thighs make an incredible noise against his face as she moves faster and grinds harder. He can feel the tension in her legs and the erratic rise and fall of her chest. She’s getting closer. She’s going to come on his face.

Shawn moans, overwhelmed at the very idea. His toes curl in his boots. He blinks desperately up at her, watching as her tanned face flushes. Suddenly, without warning, her pretty brown eyes snap shut and she fists a hand into his curls, whining loud.

“Shawn! Oh… fuck,” she squeals, meeting her orgasm without slowing down. She continues riding him hard and he doesn’t back down either, massaging her waist and watching greedily as the motion slips her dress up her hips and shows him more of her pretty skin.

Finally, it abates and he’s left cleaning her up with his tongue, eyes fluttering drowsily, his breathing regulating in time with hers.

Penny releases his hair from her fingers and sighs, easing up on her knees. He holds her steady as her legs shake, looking pleased with himself.

Penny laughs, climbing down his stomach so she can lean in to kiss him, tasting herself on his tongue. He whimpers, cupping his hand beneath her hair, letting her explore his mouth as she pleases.

“You really liked that,” she breathes. It’s not a question -- she doesn’t even really need his confirmation. She can see it all over his face, could feel it in the way he stared up for her and let her have him.

He blushes and nods, smiling. “You… yeah. Fuck, yeah. You taste amazing.”

Penny’s heart clamors against her ribs like it wants to get a look at him. She runs her hands through her now sex-fucked hair and laughs.

“Good. I want another one.”

Shawn blinks and feels a moment of deja vu bring him back to their first night. “Yeah?”

Penny nods casually, unbuckling the straps of her shoes where her legs are folded beneath her. She kicks them away, dropping them off the side of the bed and reaching back for her zipper, fumbling with the awkward angle.

Shawn perks up. “Can I help with that?”

Penny kisses the tip of his nose. “Sweet. Yes, please.”

Shawn focuses his gaze on a freckle on her collarbone while his fingers tug at her zipper. When he feels it meet resistance, he stops, looks to her for instruction, then continues undressing her when she raises her arms.

Naked on his lap, she plants her hands on his chest and admires the way his heart pulses frantically for her. She sucks his earlobe between her swollen lips and feels him sigh.

“Where do you want me, Pen?”

Penny’s lips twitch at the nickname and how quickly he’s caught on. She lifts a knee and drops onto the bed beside him with a soft thump, spreading her legs and cozying into the pillows like she owns the place. He chokes on a breath that comes up short in his chest.

“Get comfy. You’re going to be down there for a while. I want to come until I can’t anymore.”

Again, she has him floored. They experimented with his overstimulation before, and tonight she wants him to help her test her own limits. He swallows and nods eagerly.

“Yeah. Of-- of course. Yes. Do you want me to…?” He gestures down at himself, still fully clothed.

Penny, with her hair spread out around her head like a halo and a manicured fingernail between her teeth, shrugs. “Take off your jeans. I don’t want your pretty cock to suffocate.”

Shawn’s abdomen clenches and he covers the inhuman noise he makes with a weak chuckle. His “pretty cock” twitches hard, reacting to the compliment.

He ditches his boots, socks and jeans and nestles up on his stomach between her thighs, breathing softly.

“So fuckin’ pretty and wet,” he praises, shaking his head in disbelief. She smiles like she’s heard it before, and he’s sure she has.

He turns his face into her inner thigh and sucks some soft, wet skin into his mouth, releasing a muffled groan as she inhales. Reluctantly, he releases her without leaving a mark, knowing he should ask permission before he tries to go that far. His eyes flicker to hers. They’re dark and unreadable, steady on him as she waits patiently. He figures she’s not in a rush. They have all night for him to make her come. His own needs are barely a blip on his radar. He’s focused on her, on her flushed pink folds, her clenching stomach, her full, touchable breasts.

She might need to beg him to leave her alone once she lets him loose. He’s not going to want to come up for air ever again.

Shawn takes a deep breath and dives in, humming as he sucks her inner labia into his mouth. Penny’s hips shift, her body melting into the bed gracefully as she relaxes. Shawn eyes her from over the soft curve of her stomach, easing up to swipe his tongue against her slowly and watch how she reacts to every little move he makes.

If she can study him, he can study her, too, learn exactly how she likes to be touched, to be tasted, to be fucked. He wants to know everything, wants to internalize it so he can attempt to bring her a fraction of the bliss she’s brought him. By the way her back arches slightly when he flicks at the hood of her clit, he’s making progress.

Shawn has officially lost count of her orgasms.

He’s past painfully hard and it’s becoming more and more apparent that he needs to come or he’s gonna, like, die, but he refuses to break and beg for it.

They’ve taken short breaks, but he hasn’t left her, receding only as far as her inner thighs that he sucks and lavishes with kisses while they talk quietly as she recovers. He tells her about his trip home next week, about having to get on the road for the festival tour soon after. He mumbles hopes and nerves and dreams and concerns as she runs her fingers through his hair and asks thoughtful questions even after four or five orgasms, so her brain is more mush than useful. But he shows no signs of wanting to go anywhere, especially now that he’s learned the tricks that get her loud and twitchy and coming hard on his needy tongue. So they lie there on the bed in the same position, right into the small hours of the morning.

Shawn hums gratefully as he sweeps up her next orgasm, relishing the shivers he feels as he holds the base of her ribcage. He grunts and noses at her neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair, sighing hot and loud against her folds.

“Yes?” she chuckles.

He shifts uncomfortably against the bed and lifts his gaze, looking like a guilty puppy.

“I’m… nothing. It’s ok.”

Penny comes up on shaky forearms and traces her soft toes up his back, snagging at the t-shirt he’s still wearing.

“You sure? You don’t need anything?” she whispers. His ears go red. She’s teasing him. He juts his chin out stubbornly and shakes his head, focuses instead on tonguing circles around her throbbing clit. He watches in satisfaction as her abdomen tenses and she releases an involuntary grunt of approval as her body beckons to him.

“You’ve been hard for a couple hours. Keep grinding your hips against the bed. Wouldn’t you rather me help you come?”

Shawn’s eyes fix on hers tentatively. He’s not sure how she wants him to proceed. He wasn’t going to ask, he really wasn’t. But at the idea that he might get to come soon, his cock pulses in his boxers, still leaking in the same spot.

“Only… if you want me to.”

Penny beams down at him in a way that has him hiding his face in her slick inner thigh. She strokes his curls, encouraging him to look at her.

“I want you to ask me nicely.”

Shawn heaves a sigh. He noses curiously at her clit, presses a little kiss to her folds.

“May I please come now?”

His voice is soft and quiet. He’s not used to begging.

Not yet, anyway.

Penny keeps her fingers moving through his hair, waiting for more.

“Say it again, Shawn.”

“I… please, Penny. I’ve been so good. Please let me come for you?”

She blinks slowly, lazily, drugged by the power he so freely drops into her hands. At her reaction, he swallows and continues.

“Please,” he hisses, pressing more needy kisses to anywhere he can reach, “Penny, I’ll come so good for you. I’m so fucking hard. Just want to come once and then I’ll keep eating your fucking perfect pussy. Please, Penny, I want to come.”

The corners of her mouth lift in a dangerous grin. She bobs her head, pushing at his hair so he’ll ease back from between her legs.

“Take your shirt off.”

Shawn sits up and yanks at the collar, throwing it over his head. His chest is pink, heavily flushed from their hours of fucking. Her eyes scrape over his every curve and angle, and she’d be lying to herself if she thought it wasn’t mostly to keep him waiting for her. She pulls her legs together, rubbing her wet thighs as she considers him.

“Boxers, too.”

Shawn stands for expediency’s sake and drops them without ceremony, kicking them off his ankles. His hands curl into fists to keep himself from grabbing at his swollen pink cock.

Penny licks her lips obscenely. She eyes him, head cocked, and crooks her finger. He climbs back onto the bed.

“Come here,” she whispers, flattening her legs and waving him forward.

Unsure of what she wants, unable to do anything but follow her lead, Shawn kneewalks on either side of her until he straddles her torso, positioned over her chest.

Penny smirks as she looks him over, lets her hands wander over his tensed thighs, his rippling stomach, his slim hips and tight little ass. Shawn’s toes curl. His hands stay at his sides.

“Wanna watch you touch yourself. Wanna feel you come on my tits, would you like that?”

He chokes on air. Would he like that? Jesus Christ.

He nods frantically, curling a fist around his cock. His whole body shakes with a relieved sigh. As her small hands smooth up and down his quads, he pumps in and out of his fist, scrunching his face at the filthy sound of it.

“Oh, fuck,” he swears, shaking his head, “Fuck, I love being good for you.”

When he can manage to open his eyes, Penny is staring up at him in wonder, looking between his face and his thrusting hips. She bites down on her lower lip.

“Good. God, you’re so fucking hot, so hard for me.”

Shawn hangs his head, groaning loud and unabashed as his orgasm starts to coil hot in his lower abdomen.

“Penny… gonna come. Gonna come on your pretty tits.”

Penny wets her lips and tries not to look like she’s aching for it. She closes her eyes briefly, brushes her hands up around his hips to grip the cheeks of his ass.

Her eyes open.

“Shawn, are you my good boy?”

She brings a hand down hard on his right cheek, the resounding smack of skin on skin propelling him forward through the wall of his orgasm.

He screams, breathing into a growl of her name, spurting hard onto her chest. His hips snap desperately, his hand pumps his cock through one of the strongest orgasms he’s ever had. His head falls forward to rest against the cushioned headboard, looking down at her as he remembers how to breathe again.

“Guess you are my good boy, then,” she preens, skimming her hands over his body again as he sits back on his heels.

“Holy… shit.”

“Feel good, Shawn?”

He blinks blearily and manages to nod. With a huff, he lifts himself onto newborn horse legs and stumbles to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. Without her even asking, he carefully sweeps the cloth over her chest, cleaning his orgasm off her perfect breasts. He tosses the cloth aside and gazes down at her. She smiles. He sighs.

“You’re… exactly who I need right now.”

They’re Penny’s favorite words to hear from a client. They represent absolute success. They make her proud, despite the prejudices and misconceptions surrounding her job. The look on his face right now is the reason she is here. Her heart gives an extra squeeze. She reaches for him, folds him down beside her and guides his head onto her chest. Without another word, they fall asleep.

--------

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singledarkshade · 5 years ago

Text

New Circumstances

Part Two

(Part One found here)

Waking up slowly, Miranda listened to the sound of the waves outside their cottage as she cuddled close to the man at her side. It was the last day of their holiday and she’d loved being hidden away with her husband without having to think of anything outside them. They had spent the past two weeks hidden away with nothing but sun, sea and sex. She’d even put behind her the night at the hotel and the woman they’d met there. The waitress of their favourite restaurant had helped with that two nights ago.

“Morning,” Rip murmured, pulling her close and pressing kisses to her shoulder.

Miranda smiled, “Good morning, my darling.”

Their gentle early morning kisses quickly turned into something much more serious, and soon they were cuddled together enjoying their afterglow.

“Do we have to leave?” she sighed as Rip slowly slid his fingertips along her spine.

Rip smiled, “You’re not getting bored?”

“Never when I have you,” Miranda murmured before adding cheekily, “And maybe another waitress or two to play with.”

He laughed, “Your favourite appetiser.”

“You know you’re the only one I have ever loved,” Miranda said softly, “That anyone else is just fun.”

Rip pulled her closer to him, “As long as you tell me and I get to join in every so often, I don’t mind you having some fun.”

“As long as you remember that you’re not allowed to have fun with anyone else without me,” Miranda told him, before letting out a squeal of laughter as Rip began to tickle her.

Rip checked they had all their luggage and passports for the flight while Miranda was taking one last walk barefoot in the sand. He knew they’d have to see what jobs there were now their holiday was over, but first he had to go see his mother.

She’d sent a message a few days ago asking him to get in touch as soon as they were able to.

It was odd because they had agreed times to contact one another as well as the set times he visited. The only time that he had visited her outside one of these was just after he married Miranda.

Rip had never imagined he’d fall in love, he kept any liaisons brief and never got emotionally involved until he met Miranda. She was perfect for him in every way and Rip had fallen so fast. He knew, just like him, her childhood had been unusual and despite the fact they were both broken, they fit together perfectly.

“Are we ready to go?” Miranda appeared, sandals in her hand, her long dark hair falling loosely around her face.

Nodding Rip grabbed their bags and they headed to check out before going to the airport.

Rip had never been a fan of flying but first class did make it at least slightly bearable. When Miranda returned from the toilet and slid into her seat looking self-satisfied, Rip smiled amused.

“Should I ask which flight attendant you got to know well?” he asked.

Resting her head against his shoulder, sliding her arm across his waist, Miranda replied, “I just wanted to see if the redhead’s lipstick suited me.”

“Did it?”

Miranda smirked and cuddled into him without replying.

“My mother wants to see us,” Rip told her, changing the subject, “So, I booked us a connecting flight.”

“It’ll be nice to see Mary again,” Miranda murmured, her fingers playing with his.

Rip frowned, “It will but…”

“But?” Miranda sat up to look at him.

“It’s odd for her to call like this,” Rip reminded her, “And I’m worried something’s happened.”

“There’s nothing you can do until we get to the house,” Miranda told him, “So, have a glass of something and relax. We’ve got two flights before we see Mary.”

Rip smiled slightly and pulled her close again, Miranda rested against him with a smile. She was right, he couldn’t do anything until they got home so he closed his eyes and rested holding onto her.

*********************************************

The housing estate hadn’t changed in all the years he’d known it, and Rip couldn’t stop his smile when the taxi drew up to the house he’d grown up in. He’d been taken in by Mary when he was eight years old after several years living on the streets, because he picked the wrong pocket or more accurately the right one.

Although he’d tried to run away several times, Mary had worn down his walls with her love and patience, finally he accepted her as his mother. Miranda squeezed his hand before sliding out the car to meet the woman standing waiting for them in the doorway.

“Hello, dear,” Mary hugged Miranda tightly, “You look wonderful.”

“So do you,” Miranda replied before stepping out the way.

Rip wrapped his mother in a tight embrace, happy to be here even if he had been confused by her call to come see her.

“Come inside, you two,” Mary ushered them, “I have fresh made scones sitting and tea is ready.”

Heading into the kitchen he’d spent many years doing dishes or helping make dinners, Rip smiled. He and Miranda took a seat at the kitchen table, they weren’t guests so did not rate the living room.

“Why are we here, Mother?” Rip asked once she sat across from them after serving them tea, scones and cakes.

“Rip,” Miranda scolded him.

“It’s alright, dear,” Mary told her, “Ever since Michael decided to follow in my brother’s footsteps, he only visits on specific days.”

“It’s what I’m good at,” Rip replied, hating that she used his childhood name, “And my choice.”

Mary held up her hand, “Let’s not argue, dear. I called you here because I was contacted by an old acquaintance of mine. He wants to offer you a job.”

“A job, Mother,” Rip frowned suspiciously, “You’re finding me a job?”

Mary rolled her eyes, “Actually this is a little more legitimate than your normal employment opportunities.”

Before Rip could say anything, Miranda rested her hand on his and said, “We’ll listen to the offer.”

“What?”

“Excuse us for a moment,” Miranda said, pulling Rip into the corridor and out of hearing range.

“Miranda…”

“We’ll listen,” she told him.

Rip frowned, “Why?”

“Because your mother is asking you to,” Miranda reminded him, “And we both know she’d like to see you much more.”

“Miranda…”

“Besides,” she cut him off again, “I enjoyed staying in one place the past few weeks, it might be nice. But,” Miranda looked up at him with a smile, “We will do whatever you want, darling.”

Sighing Rip nodded, “We’ll listen to the offer.”

Rip lay in the guest room watching his wife sleep beside him. Miranda hadn’t been as lucky as he had been when it came to foster parents. Whereas Mary took him in and loved him, letting him choose his own path (even if she didn’t like the one that he chose), Miranda had been exploited by the man who fostered her.

The first time they met had been an intense day. They’d been hired as part of a team to steal diamonds from a vault. Partnered together, the two of them had almost been caught because of the idiot who thought he was a mastermind didn’t check the security guard’s schedule. They were trapped for three hours in a small room until the shift change and they’d got to know one another very well. Rip never thought he’d ever fall in love and especially not so quickly, but Miranda was brilliant, sweet, mischievous, beautiful and was able to read him like no one ever could

They’d been together for almost two years now and he would not trade their relationship for anything. She was everything to him and since Miranda wanted him to take this meeting, Rip would do it.

“Why are you awake?” Miranda’s sleepy voice made him smile.

“Just thinking,” he assured her.

Sliding closer to him, she placed soft kisses on his chest, “I can stop you thinking.”

“You know my mother is in the room across from us right?”

Chuckling throatily Miranda murmured, “I can be very quiet. You know that.”

Rip laughed, “I know, I remember but I just don’t want to do anything within hearing range of her.”

“Then go to sleep and stop obsessing over nothing.”

Rip shifted slightly getting comfortable with Miranda tucked against him and closed his eyes, falling asleep with her in his arms.

*********************************************

“Agent West?”

Rip stared in amazement at the man drinking coffee in the living room with his mother when he and Miranda returned from their run that morning.

Joe West stood and smiled at him, “Look at you. No longer that small skinny kid I left here, and I believe you go by Rip now.”

Nodding Rip took the offered hand saying sincerely, “It’s good to see you again.”

“And who is this lovely young lady by your side?” Joe asked with a winning smile.

“This is Miranda,” Rip stated, wrapping his arm around her waist, “My wife.”

Joe stared at him for a moment, turning to Mary before looking back to the couple, “Your wife?” he shook his head, “I didn’t know. That’s fantastic,” he offered his hand to Miranda, “And lovely to meet you also.”

Miranda gave him one of her charming smiles, “And you.”

“Joe is whose pocket I picked when I was eight,” Rip explained as they all took a seat, “He’s the reason Mother took me in.”

Miranda smiled, “Of course.”

“Why are you here, Joe?” Rip demanded, he glanced at Miranda when she rested her hand on his.

Joe shrugged, “I’m here to offer you a job.” He held up his hand to stop Rip replying, “I’m very well aware of your skillset, Rip but I also know you are better than what you’re doing. Bouncing from job to job, stealing for people that would turn on you the moment they need to.”

Rip took several breaths to force down his anger, relieved Miranda was there to keep him focussed. Finally he asked, “So, what are you offering?”

“I’m putting together a consultancy team to work with different agencies such as Argus,” Joe explained, “You know Ray Palmer?”

Rip shrugged, “Who doesn’t?”

“He is funding the team as well as providing the technical team and base of operations,” Joe explained, “Your job would be using your infiltration and retrieval abilities.”

Amusement covered Rip’s face, “You mean breaking in and stealing.”

“But with the backing of a team and for a reason,” Joe replied. He stood, “I don’t have long to let you think about this,” he stood and turned to Rip’s mother, “Mary, may I take you for lunch to allow Rip and Miranda to think over my offer?”

Mary nodded, “That would be lovely.”

Miranda sat watching Rip pace the living room once Mary and Joe left them. She waited to give him time to pace off his frustration before stopping him.

“Tell me what you’re thinking?” Miranda asked softly.

Rip sighed, “I don’t know.”

Miranda caught his hand so that he would sit with her.

“It’s a tempting offer,” Miranda noted.

“It is,” Rip murmured, “But staying in one place, being tied down, I never wanted that.”

Miranda gave him an amused look, “What about me?”

“You don’t tie me down,” Rip reminded her before asking, “What do you think?”

She sighed softly, “I think that it might be a good idea. As much as I enjoy what we do,” she continued, “I hate working for people like Thawne. If you do this then it’ll still be fun but safer and working to stop people like him.”

Rip frowned in thought, “Are you sure?”

Miranda kissed him, “Have I ever told you a lie?”

Sighing Rip pulled her close, “Okay.”

When Joe and Mary returned from lunch, Rip and Miranda were sitting waiting for them.

“I’m guessing you’ve made a decision,” Joe said.

Rip turned to Miranda who nodded, “I have one stipulation.”

“Which is?” Joe asked intrigued.

“I don’t work alone,” Rip told him, “Miranda and I are partners in everything. So, if you want me then you hire Miranda too.”

Joe nodded, “Agreed.”

“Then we’re in,” Rip told him.

“Welcome to the team.”

#fic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #miranda coburn #mary xavier #hunterburn

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wiz-witch · 5 years ago

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DuckTales 2k17 3x03: Double O Duck In You Only Crash Twice

"The Lost Harp of Mervana!" So fun fact: all I know about James Bond is from the Mythbusters episode, that Jimmy Neutron special, and Goldmember. And I haven’t seen either of those in over a decade. So let’s see how many references fly over my head.

Also this is my second viewing but I’m going to try to keep my commentary as if this is my first

“Dew-ble O Duck” Dewey, sweetie, I will pay you to stop

Wait her name is Red Feather? Boo

Obviously evil guy is obviously evil

“What are you doing?” Being a theater kid with middle child syndrome

...Wait, Ben can sing??

Okay, that was impressive

Yay foreshadowing

Dewey: “Oh fuck, he’s messing up, this was a bad plan”

Daw, Dewey calls him LP

Also I cannot get over the fact the glasses they were wearing in the released screenshots were VR glasses

Hey, it’s the Phantom Blot! I can’t wait until you do something cool this season

My favorite House of Mouse shorts were the ones with him (and one where Von Drake tried to take Mickey’s heart. Yup, the show had more influence on Epic Mickey than causing the company to get Oswald back)

Aw, he sad :(

“Am I a joke to you, lad?”

“Uncle McDee”?? :D :D :D

Webby is a bro, and Scrooge is everyone’s uncle

Ball pits are terrifying, and this just proves it

I love how Heron’s welding mask is built to compensate for her mask. It makes her look like a plague doctor

Yes, intruders in the very public Chuck E Cheese knock off. Geeze, got Magica working there, got Phantom Blot as the mascot, got a FOWL lair underneath... Frank? Why is there so much evil in the Chuck E Chee--oh, wait, never mind

Are we ever going to get the full intro with Della?

Yeah, his kids come here all the time, why are you surprised at this?

He’s asking the important questions

She didn’t want to answer because she made it

I love Whack a Mole. I had a home version even

That is such a mood. I hate being in public.

...Ouch. Those things are heavy

...That’s all.

That legitimately looked like something out of the Carmen Sandiego choose your own adventure

Wait, how did they even know the passcode in the first place? It’s not like they were given a briefing or anything

...what.

Dewey has the brain cell at the table

jlkajlkdajlkdsj SOMEONE PLEASE GET ME A REACTION GIF OF DEWEY SILENTLY GOING ‘WHAT?’ WHILE WATCHING THIS DISASTER

I love the cutting between the game and reality. I also love how Steelbeak felt the need to put on the glasses to beat them up

Webby, that is not how you hold a skee ball

Himbo versus... Is there a term for a himbo who’s an ass? Is it just “attractive idiot”?

...Did I just imply that Steelbeak is attractive? Ew

Webby was right, it is a trap!

Okay, as someone who’s been hit in the face a lot and wears glasses, those glasses should’ve broken from that

Oh my gods...

Aw, sad baby

Ooh, are these the guys I have beat up Huey in my FOWL fics?

Did Steelbeak spend too much time with Quackerjack or something?

...Okay, part of me is actually highly disturbed at the fact Steelbeak changed their clothes while they were unconscious

Ch-Ch-Ch-Chip and Dale! Rescue Rangers...

they play the f*cking theme song...

Daw, he helped them, and they helped in return

Oh snap

Webby is DoneTM

“This department has worked 322 days without an accident” I feel like that’s a facility record. Would be at my work

.......what.

I love how he didn’t know what the device did and knew it was a game and still sacrificed himself for Dewey. That’s adorable

Did you guys really get multiple lives in that game? Because it seemed kinda insta-lose

Also, are the glasses currently off or are they still seeing things differently than we are?

Oh, I think this is a direct Bond reference--it looks like something from Jet Fusion

Why is he British?

...Please give us our himbo back. Please. I will pay money for that.

Aw, he calls him Dewford now. I do not like this, please make it stop.

...was that English?

Me either

“Oh heavens, you don’t want them to think you don’t know what you’re doing” My constant monologue at work

that was epic

Why is he still wearing the glasses?

“They’re back?” Okay, those two words bring a lot of questions I want answers to

Huh. Guess I wrote the wrong triplet getting kidnapped by FOWL

#priorities

Scrooge... Sweetie...

I love how Webby keeps wanting to kill Funzos employees... Oh, what if all of them secretly are part of FOWL?

...Except Magica. Maybe she was hired so they could see if she was FOWL material

Oh, I wanna break that innocence so much...

....... [slams head on desk]

Okay, how could Launchpad hear Dewey clear as day, but Dewey can’t hear anything Launchpad is saying?

Aw, that fear on Dewey’s face when Launchpad crashed... Oh, what if unconsciously Dewey knows this is real now but hasn’t quite consciously processed that?

He’s Launchpad McQuack, that’s how.

Dewey is Done with this guy and is showing signs of being like his brother

Well that’s unnecessarily badass

How can you be so DoneTM when being tied up like that. Also why is he tied up up there

Boo, bad pun

No, “Me” was correct there

I’m sorry, is that just going to become their thing? Just casually coming into a scene to help rescue the Ducks and then leaving?

...Oh you are not doing this.

We were robbed of a hug

Okay, the subtitles say this is Dewey singing, but it doesn’t quite sound like his voice while his song earlier did. WTF

"Stop the evil conspiracy out to get us.” Hey, Launchpad, before you do this, PLEASE TELL HIM ABOUT FOWL SO SOMEONE KNOWS

Launchpad has ADHD and RSD

That was adorable. Dewey is a good kid. Reminds me of half my cousins, but a good kid

...Wait, wasn’t that shot in the original season 3 promo?

Dewey, why did you jump, that was really unnecessary

Well, there’s that hug I wanted

...what.

Because of a joke from a friend, I’m mentally retconning that line into “Huey’s going to freak when I tell him that I--we beat the game.”

Seriously, I love how it took him not being in an episode to not have a mild breakdown

I hate how realistic that is

Let’s see, one ball got him 2 tickets, and one quarter gave him 5 balls...so one quarter equals 10 tickets, which means a dollar equals 40 tickets... That comes out to 75 grand. Scrooge, wtf

I love how Dewey clearly is trying not to crack up

I’m sorry. I cannot get over the subtitles calling him “Suave-Pad”. Who on the crew came up with that.

Ooh, are they going to learn?

...I hate everything.

Scrooge’s reaction is mine

Well, that explains a lot

Okay, if she specializes in rays but Bradford doesn’t want more rays... Imagine them looking for fresh brain...

Shut up, I like hurting Huey, let me do so in peace until canon gives me the conspiracy theorist Huey hunting down FOWL I was promised

...Okay, that is the most terrifying thing this episode.

Me picking up pretty much anything in the house for the first four years of my sister’s life

So what’s next week? ["The Lost Harp of Mervana!"] ...ARNY MAERMADIDS NEAZXT WEK!

#ducktales 2017 #ducktales season 3 #wiz-witch commentary

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jedicollins · 5 years ago

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Journal Entry #1

Based on the RP with @itsxlucifer

it’s a beast, hence the read more.

Sunday, July 26th.

Hey Mom and Dad.

I met the Devil.

The real one. This isn’t a metaphor. Not some kind of flowery exposition.

I met the Devil.

Satan.

Beelzebub,

The Prince of Darkness,

The Morningstar,

The Lightbringer….

Whatever you want to call him.

And honestly?

He’s not that bad.

He’s not the evil guy I thought he would be.

Sure, he’s into all the sinful stuff, and fuck if I can’t hear him say “naughty” in his accent…

But he isn’t evil.

At least, I don’t get the sense he is. I don’t know for sure. For all I know, he is manipulating the shit out of me and the entire club is demon invested. But right now? I don’t think the Devil is bad.

No, not the Devil, I shouldn’t say that.

Lucifer, his name is Lucifer Morningstar.

He owns the nightclub, LUX, and I can’t think of a better place of work. Bullshit isn’t tolerated. The security is top-notch. No-one gets the chance to fuck with the staff. The slightest hint of it, the slightest signal, and they’re on it.

I’ve honestly never felt saver working for a club, and hell, I’ve already made a friend there, too. His name is Reese. He’s Latino, fucking gorgeous, and sadly, really fucking gay. Just my luck, right?

One of the other bartenders, Maze, is apparently a demon who works for Lucifer, handling his finances. Never thought the Devil would need a banker or whatever they’re called.

Things are fucking weird in my life right now.

And I don’t know how to make heads or tails of it. how am I meant to process I’m dealing with the man who is meant to be the Devil? And on top of that, finding out I care about him, and he isn’t the bad guy everyone claims him to be?

What is my life right now? Seriously. How the hell do I unpack all of this?

I guess the best way to start is at the beginning, right?

This guy literally hired me straight out of my old job. Like, he took one look at me and decided I should work for him. Just like that. Saying he knows a good, hard working person when he sees one. That’s all he needed. Like, what? I didn’t believe him, at first. I thought it was some kind of scam or something.

But it turned out it wasn’t. LUX is a real club. Which, by the way. Fucking on the nose. LUX? Light in Latin? The lightbringer is a different name for Lucifer?

He’s so fucking extra.

Still, he hired me after a trial run and here I am. Working in Lux as one of the bartenders, listening to terrible, thumpy music all the livelong night and sometimes, if he’s in the mood for it, listening to Lucifer’s beautiful piano playing. And his voice… holy mother of fuck, his voice… his singing. I don’t even know what to call it. it’s like this rich- I don’t know what to call it. His singing voice is probably best compared to what Velvet feels like. Rich and soft and you just want to stroke it all the damn time. And even that likely doesn’t come close. His voice makes my spine tingle. And not just his singing voice, his normal speaking voice, too.

And best thing yet? Him singing “perfect the way you are”. I love that song so much, and hearing him sing it? Holy crap. For real, I would pay to have an MP3 of him singing it. I think it’s the accent that does it. there’s something sexy about it. I think what made it even more special was the fact it was just the two of us when it happened. Fuck, I shouldn’t be swooning the way I am thinking about it, but shit. For real, it was something special. Especially as in the few days working there, I haven't seen anyone else approaching the piano while he plays. Let alone singing with him. He invited me to sit with him while he played, seeing his fingers moving across the keys? his voice? And that song. Just wow. What else was I meant to do then sing along with him?

The first night I met him at LUX, he was playing already, so he asked me what tune I wanted to hear. I told him that song. I admit, it was me being a little shit. Because I know there’s not a lot of people who know of it, or the band, Dead by April. So for him to know it, and to be able to play it perfectly? it was- something else.

So sitting with him, singing the song together, watching him play? Man, it was special. It was something- I don’t know. It felt like there was some kind of connection there in that moment.

If only I realized back then what the connection was, you guys.

So the whole point of me gushing on the piano playing? It was all caused by him asking one question I never thought I would have to answer. ‘What do you desire?” and the answer still hurts. And I don’t know, being made to answer it? It was like Lucifer’s hand was reaching down deep into my soul and dragged the answer out, kicking and screaming.

I don’t want to repeat the answer, but it led to me avoiding him for a few days. Which spawned the singing moment at his piano. I eventually laid down everything. What happened to you, what had done it. and he just believed me. He said he would help me. I didn’t believe it, but he did. He kept his word. I fully expected to be fired for being crazy. But, he didn’t.

We went back home. Back to Independence. 11 years passed since that night.

And God… it confronted me with so many things I thought I’d pushed away deep down in the back of my mind. It all came rushing back. Things I never want to think about again. The worst part of it all was the fact Margaret still had some kind of hold over me. She still was able to manipulate me the way she did when I was little. She still had the power to make me pass out. Though, I admit, it might just be because shortly before? We had a conversation with a little girl and her mother… both of which reminded me of myself and you, mom, when I was little.

Margaret, however? She’s not the person I thought she was. It turns out she was a demon. Something I never realized. To me, she felt real. She felt like a real person when I hugged her or held her hand late at night. And that’s because she apparently was? Apparently, she was a demon inhabiting the body of a little girl. How the hell she’s been able to hide all this time, I don't know. I can only assume there’s some kind of vent or crawlspace in the bottom of my closet she was able to get in or out through.

There was a fight. Of course, there was. I want to say I was badass and kicked her ass, but that’s not what happened. She got in my head. She brought back all the memories of that night. It hurt so bad, I thought my head was gonna explode. I thought I was going to die of the pain. I don’t know exactly what happened in between, but somewhere along the line, Lucifer got hurt. I remember seeing a hole in the drywall connecting my room to yours. When the pain subsided, Margaret came at me with a knife. She put it to my neck and I fought, as hard as I could, to hold her off. If it hadn’t been for Lucifer, I would’ve had my throat sliced. Fortunately, the only thing I’ve got left from is a little cut on my collar bone, when the bitch dropped the knife. It’s more annoying right now than really painful. The scab is itchy.

In that moment, however? I found out who Lucifer really is. He commanded her to go back to hell, made her leave the little girl’s body.

That’s when I realized Lucifer had been telling the truth all along. He never lied about being the Devil, hell, if anything, he’ll flaunt it for all he’s worth. I was the issue. I was the one who didn’t believe him. I legitimately thought he was playing up some kind of bad boy, playboy persona he’d crafted for himself to be able to sound interesting and appealing to people. I was so fucking wrong.

I want to tell you I was brave and took this in my stride, I didn’t feel anything about him being the Devil. But, the truth is? Well, I passed out. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I mean, it’s a culture shock, right? And combine this with the whole thing with Margaret? Can you blame me? The last thing I really remember is staring at him, then waking up staring at the ceiling of a hotel room, lying on the bed.

Lucifer was kneeling on the ground, obviously hurt.

I thought about running. I thought about running away as fast and far as I could while he was down. I thought about running away forever, leaving L.A. behind and pretend nothing like this had ever happened. pretend I didn’t meet the Devil and he had been kind to me. Hell, I was afraid. I was scared I’d somehow made a deal and sold my soul. All those damn clichés about him.

Most of all though, I was scared because I had thought about having sex with him. Yes, I thought this about my boss, I know it's not professional, but come on… Mom, if you’d seen the guy? You would agree with me. Sorry, Dad, but that’s just the facts. Seriously though, his face and body, not to mention his fucking sexy accent? There is no way anyone is capable of resisting him. I can just barely resist jumping his bones. I really, really would like to meet the person capable of completely resisting this hot as hell man child.

Point is though, I didn’t run. I couldn’t. How could I just leave him while he was hurt? Not after the things he’d done for me? The fact he’d gone so far to help me with something that’s been haunting me for a decade? I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how to deal with this. From my understanding, he had broken ribs, and there was something wrong with his leg. But he refused to let me call for an ambulance, so he could get checked out. So I did the only thing I could think of. I ran to find someone to bribe for a medkit.

When I came back like 15 minutes later?

He was fine.

It was like he had never been hurt in the first place.

That’s the moment he told me what was going on. He explained he can’t be hurt or damaged. If he gets hurt, it’s more like a tap. And if he does get hurt, those things heal in like seconds. that’s the way it works for a celestial, apparently. But this time? It was different.

And that difference was me.

I was there when he got hurt.

I make the Devil vulnerable. Fuck, for all I know, with me around? He can be killed.

But why me? Why did I get picked for this curse? I don’t mean anything to anyone. Well, I mean, outside maybe the few friends I’ve made at the club, but beyond that? I don’t have anything or anyone, no-one gives a shit about someone like me? I’m a nobody, I’m just a bartender. I’m not special. You both weren't. I’m sorry, but, our family doesn’t have some kind of ancient special bloodline or like connections to famous historical figures or whatever. Not that I have found, anyway. You both didn’t pass anything special to me?

So why the fuck did it get decided I’m the one to have this curse? Why me? I don’t want to cause anyone pain. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want Lucifer to get hurt because of me. And yes, I’m more than aware this is a fucking, crazy thought. He is Lucifer, he’s meant to be evil incarnate, and I’m sitting here upset about the fact him being close to me means he can be hurt.

I’m really fucking scared. What does this all mean? Why did it get decided it’s me who has this? Why not someone else? Does this mean something’s going to happen? Am I meant to be involved into some kind of grand scheme God’s concocted? Am I meant to kill Lucifer to prevent the apocalypse or something? I don’t want this kind of responsibility. I’m not Buffy the Vampire Slayer? I barely know ow to make a proper Mojito, let alone how to fight? I’m not strong enough for something like that.

I don’t want this responsibility, I don't want this curse. I don’t want to be involved in some kind of major plot going on behind the galactic scenes.

I don’t know what to do.

Do I run away? Do I just keep going and see what happens? Maybe get the fuck away from Lucifer and find another job?

Thing is though, there’s something inside me telling me I shouldn’t run away. That I should stick with Lucifer. I don’t know what the feeling is or where it comes from, but I think it’s the same feeling that’s allowing me to accept Lucifer is actually meant to be the Devil, but at the same time making me believe he’s a decent person.

Because he is. He’s a decent person. He’s not evil? Seriously, all the ‘sinning’ that goes on in LUX? That’s not him. He doesn’t have any hand in it in the slightest. It’s the humans walking around themselves who do it. They’re the ones cheating on their partners, they’re the ones getting drunk or snorting drugs or whatever the hell they can get away with inside the club. Lucifer doesn’t cause anything like that. He just mingles, he plays his piano, he doesn’t seek out people to make a deal for their soul. Sure, sometimes people ask him for a favor, but that’s it. There’s no scroll coming out of his pocket to dramatically unroll so people can sign on the dotted line to sell their soul? He’s just… well, vibing is the best way to put it, I guess.

I know this because I’ve been watching him for the past week, watching the way he is around people, watching the way he acts. Lucifer is being blamed for so much stuff he doesn’t even do? “The Devil made me do it”. Yeah, how about no, pal? You just don’t wanna admit you’re a shitty person.

Fuck, I’m rambling.

The fact is, Lucifer isn’t a bad person. He can’t be with the way he is. How can anyone think this considering the fact he went this far for me? One of his employees, someone who shouldn’t really matter to him? Hell, if he wanted to, he could replace me just like that and not even bat an eye at it. I need to ask Reese if he did something similar for him. Whether he had some kind of problem Lucifer helped him with.

Is it strange of me I hope that’s the case? It probably sounds horrible, putting it like that. I don’t want to wish ill on my friend, but I guess I’m just struggling with the idea he’s singled me out to help. I still don’t really understand why he did. I mean, he’s the Devil, isn’t that kind of his gig? Punish the wicked and all that crap? But still… why does he care about someone like me?

I’m struggling with the idea of this “curse”. I don’t know what else to call it. I don’t want to hurt people. I don’t want people to get hurt because of me. and yet? There’s something inside of me that allows one person to be hurt. This is so fucking fucked up. This is even more fucked up than someone sneaking into our room at night and leaving ominous messages about Lucifer being the Devil.

Fuck.

I don’t want this power. There’s gotta be some way to suppress it, or get rid of it, right? There just has to be. that’s how these things go, right?

Maybe I can ask Maze? She’s a demon, she knows about this kind of stuff, right? Well, most likely. Maybe she knows where I can start finding answers to all this. I know I could and likely should talk to Lucifer about this, but what if it requires something big? Like a sacrifice or dying or something like that? Maybe I’m just being ridiculous now. But I don't want this curse. I want it gone. Whatever fucked up plan God or whoever the fuck decided I should have this power has for me? Fuck them. I don't want any fucking part of it.

They can go straight to hell and fuck themselves. I won’t play a part in their game. I refuse.

What am I gonna do?

Can this curse even be beaten?

I’m really fucking scared.

I wish you are here.

I miss you.

#Jedi's Journal #itsxlucifer #//man this is a beast #Jedi's got a lot to say about Luci #i mean #i can sum it up in 1 sentance what i think of him but uh... yeah #XD

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kiss-my-freckle · 5 years ago

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Ressler’s Brothers episode put a lot of things into perspective. Despite how much Liz cares about Ressler, I can't imagine her being the one to tell him Robby's truth, what he did to Markin and allowed Ressler to believe all these years. Take that to Red and Liz, and Tom dying to tell Liz his suitcase secret.

Back to Liz giving Ressler reason to look at Red’s medical file because I find it interesting as hell. Let’s start with their bounce off the blacklister.

Ressler: Could be the warden uses the isolated block to get them to toe the line. I mean, it explains why they wouldn't talk. Didn't wanna cause any trouble. Liz: Hmm, could be. But, trouble for whom? Who are they protecting?

Those prisoners are like Red, Dom, and Ilya - all unwilling to discuss Katarina. Protecting her or trying to kill her? Add in the consideration of Ressler’s dialogue in S6, and still knowing of this fact. “I mean, does it make sense that this is the answer he’d kill to keep quiet? That so many people have died trying to find out?” Ressler likely has an idea how much Katarina’s head is worth. And how many people would kill and/or die to cash in. Like Morozov.

Liz: Reddington wants to hand down his empire to me. Ressler: You seem surprised. What did you think, he was just gonna give it to charity?

Blood relatives are typically chosen as heirs.

Liz: I didn't think about it, and I'm not going to accept it, but it's a little odd that he would bring it up now. He found out I hired a PI to shadow Ilya Koslov. Ressler: So he knows that you know that's not his real identity.

Again, Ressler being right about Red not being Ilya. Why those prisoners would be so unwilling to talk - as Red, Dom, and Ilya are.

Ressler: But is it the truth? I mean, does it make sense that this is the answer he’d kill to keep quiet? That so many people have died trying to find out? Liz: It’s because so many people died that I gave up my child. To protect Agnes until I learned the truth. Am I sure I know why he guarded his secret? No. Is it possible that I’m overlooking some of the holes in the story because there’s a sweetness to it? Yes, it’s possible. But it’s more possible that it’s true. Ressler: “More possible.” Liz: Ilya Koslov had motive and opportunity. If this were a crime, you’d say it was solved, and you’d believe you were right.

Then they get into Red’s medical file with Stark.

Liz: Yeah, and instead of confronting me about it, he decided to try and hand down the keys to his kingdom, and there's got to be a reason. Ressler: What about mortality? Liz: His life is always in mortal danger. Ressler: Yeah, from criminals who don't scare him. But this is different. Liz: What do you know? Ressler: You remember when Reddington reconnected with Spalding Stark?

If this is a Ressler flashback, add in Liz’s dialogue to Ressler in Brothers.

Red: You haven't mentioned my blood panel results. Stark: You've been too busy.

Taking note how they cut off before Red gave his "good news” dialogue.

Red: Not for good news.

Liz: Because it's like I'm in the middle of a monsoon that's constantly threatening to drown me in bad news.

This next bit takes us all over the place.

Liz: Yeah. You said that was ‭for an investment purpose. Ressler: I told you ‭what he asked me to tell you. But the truth is, when I was in Stark's lab, I saw Reddington's medical file. Liz: What did it say? Ressler: I didn't read it. But it was ‭the size of a telephone book, and clearly he didn't want me to see what was in it. I let it go, but if he's thinking about his successor, my guess is that's why.

It takes us to the fact that Red wanted Ressler to keep this from Liz because he supposedly didn’t want her to worry. A man who will be handing her the keys to his kingdom when blood relatives are your typical heirs.

Investment purposes being the key words. Add in the scene cut from Ressler saying he probably wanted to reinvest straight to Red’s scotch glass. “And when we thought we were made, he snuck out the back and I palmed his scotch glass.“ Either Ressler will look at Red’s medical file, or he’ll have that Freelancer DNA report. Perhaps it will be both. The medical file can remove need for the Freelancer DNA report, but I question it because they’ve had Ressler twice now admit he didn’t like Liz in the beginning, and there has to be reason for that. Moreso to the fact that they cut that in half as well, much like they did with Ressler’s flashback of Stark. The first time Ressler admitted it, he said he didn’t like her and certainly didn’t trust her. “I didn’t like you, and I definitely didn’t trust you.” The second time Ressler admitted it, he said he didn’t like her. “You know, Keen, I didn't like you when we first met. I was wrong. You're a good agent.” Trust was cut from that piece because he was trusting Liz with the truth about him and his brother. Add in Ressler’s dialogue from the original conversation. “No, any normal person’s gonna wonder what Reddington’s obsession says about you.” Couple that with Red handing Liz the keys to his kingdom. “It takes a while to figure out that it says absolutely nothing.” It says more about both of them. While being Reddington’s daughter, isn’t a Reddington, but a Rostova. Back to Red, Dom, and Ilya refusing to give up intel on Katarina Rostova.

Then, the additional sections on Ressler’s willingness to look the other way. They started with Cooper back in Devane’s episode when he first saw it.

Cooper: You’re asking if we should look the other way. Ressler: Yeah. Again.

Red: About my chart. Ressler: I didn’t look at it. Red: Why not? Ressler: Because sometimes you’re supposed to look the other way. It was a pretty thick file, though.

Liz: Have you looked at my life? I'm a widow and a single mom. A marionette with a high-functioning sociopath pulling my strings. My grandfather tried to murder my mother, and my mother is a legendarily lethal Russian spy who moved in next door without even telling me who she was. I mean it. Have you looked at my life? I mean, really taken a close look.

Liz: What did it say? Ressler: I didn't read it. But it was ‭the size of a telephone book, and clearly he didn't want me to see what was in it.

Liz believing Red is pulling the strings when he’s handing her his empire.

Ressler: It was a pretty thick file, though.

Ressler: But it was ‭the size of a telephone book.

Twice, telling us how thick the file is. Should be, given what Dom said.

Liz: He’d need doctors, like Koehler - Someone who could change his face. Dom: And not just once - many visits over the course of a year.

Moreso if he’s trying to donate to someone.

Ressler: I let it go.

This part is just as big, with both Liz and Ressler. It’s the reason she found out Dom is her grandfather. Because Ressler didn’t let it go, he continued looking into her mother. Add in what Dom said of her while Red burned the real Red’s bones. “She may not know your secret, but she knows you’ve got one. She’s never gonna let it go.” And what Ressler said in S6. “The questions. The searching for answers. And the mystery. In the end, Liz he’s just a man who loves you very much.”

Then there’s this final bit, which plays in with the PI.

Liz: But it's a little odd that he would bring it up now. He found out I hired a PI to shadow Ilya Koslov.

Ressler: But if he's thinking about his successor, my guess is that's why.

PI: If Koslov has information that could save a woman's life, my guess it's in that archive.

Ressler assuming it’s because of medical reasons. Consider Alter Ego and the Van Ness fortune. As I said, heirs are typically blood relatives. His medical issues wouldn’t be a direct reason why. While it would be why he’s choosing a successor, it wouldn’t explain why he chose Liz instead of someone like Dembe.

Both Ressler and the PI “guessing” which is a basic assumption, but when you look at the difference between them, you see Rederina. The PI speaks to the woman. Ressler speaks to the man. That’s why I think Liz will go after the Sikorsky Archive while Ressler will go after Red’s medical file. With the Archive, the woman could prove she’s an imposter and walk away, whereas Red’s medical file will be the reason she doesn’t. If the woman walks away, fully able to clear her name, that will not only continue the Townsend Directive’s search on Katarina Rostova, the woman will then be able to move forward with vengeance. This means Dom, Ilya, and Red will die, while also placing Liz and Agnes in danger since Red wanted this done before she came home. I fully believe this woman lost her granddaughter and that’s why she and her daughter are estranged.

Red’s successor to his criminal empire is basic continuation of his legacy. His legacy. And he’s handing it to Liz. Twice, they’ve mentioned legacies in season one. With Zamani and The Cyprus Agency. Fathers and their children.

As I said before and stand by it, I think Ressler will end up with the keys. Just as much a federal agent, but that doesn’t mean he’ll stay a federal agent. I believe his family will come before his job and he’ll end up letting go of his badge. While I don’t think he’ll end up a criminal, I think he’ll at least try to legitimize most of Red’s business because he has billions invested. I could see him transforming it into something like Halcyon. Moreso if I’m right on Scottie being the next big bad. Halcyon will go in the shitter. It would be a great way to honor Red, and he can put Liz in control of the company. Imagine Ressler and Liz doing bad for good, and having legal authority to do so.

#Rederina #Keenler baby theory #Anti-Tom Keen #Anti-Keen2

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