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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 1 year

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BORIS JOHNSON RESIGNS AS MP. Thoughts? The people howl for a new update to the Big Dog the Clown saga.

Yes this was not on my personal bingo card; my most recent Big Dog event was that a friend of mine works for air traffic control and recently had to delay BoJo's holiday flight by four hours, and on being told that this particular plane had to be prioritised for a runway slot because it contained an Important Clown promptly pushed it to the bottom of the priority list. Lol. And then all this! What larks.

Okay not a lot of detail yet still but LET'S TAKE A LOOK AT THE EVENTS OF 9TH JUNE, 2023 and you know what? It's been a while. Let's do it properly.

7.15am

Another day dawns in the reign of evil Grand Vizier-turned-PM Rishi Sunak. He's a very boring flavour of evil, tbh. Say what you will about Johnson, but at least there was spectacle and showmanship to his clownshow. Something for the children to boo and hiss. An animate ham in a villain's wig, something to really enjoy as you sit back, relax, and savour a tall, cool glass of schadenfreude.

By contrast Rishi just gets sycophants - who are no less ridiculous, but far more grey and boring - who pretend he's a tech bro because "he understands AI" and they think that will make him a visionary and a man of the future and maybe some sort of Elon Musk figure, because that's obviously a smashing template to be copied in a leader of a country.

This briefing was presumably drafted using ChatGPT.

Anyway, this is what we thought the day would be: another dreary overcast washout, livened up by Downing Street's latest attempt at making Sunak seem like a good idea to stave off the hulking spectre of Labour's inevitable GE win next year. How trite. How tedious. How mediocre.

What a shame it would be if... something were to liven it up.

8.39 am

Fun fact!

When a PM's term ends, as their last act in office, they get to present an Honours List. This means they write a list of all the people they reckon have been Jolly Good Sorts who have done Good Clowning and Supported The Community, and nominate those people for honours. Honours here can be anything from an MBE/OBE etc, to a Damehood/Knighthood, all the way up to entering the Peerage i.e. becoming a Lord. Traditionally, people have been fairly reasonable with these lists. Apart from anything else, the outgoing PM can only write the list - the new Prime Minister has to sign off on it, and it's usually the case, of course, that PMs are deposed by the opposition party.

Why am I mentioning this? Well: Boris, you see, has now presented his list to Sunak to validate. You may be unsurprised to learn that it contains quite a lot of clowns.

Another fun fact!

If a sitting MP is given a Peerage, they cannot continue to be an MP. MPs are elected. Lords are not. So an MP offered a lordship right now would have to stand down if they accepted, triggering a by-election in their seat that... well. That anyone could win, couldn't they? Ordinarily. Except Labour's shadow is growing, isn't it? I don't suppose Sunak would be all that happy about losing, for example, any Tory MPs nominated for a peerage right now.

What fun facts.

At 8.39am, Politics UK reveals an as-yet-unverified report that Nadine Dorries and Alok Sharma have been removed from Boris Johnson's honours list, and will go back to vetting.

(They also reveal that Big Dog's dad has been removed from the list, because nominating your dad for a Peerage is "inappropriate". Sorry, Bigger Dog. Apparently even corrupt ghoul Rishi Sunak has a limit to what open corruption he will allow, which is news to us all, most of all Rishi.)

10.41am

Nadine Dorries decides she will play to her strengths, and appear on TV to do some Public Speaking, which always goes well for her of course.

Nothing, let's remember, has been confirmed yet at all. But she's here to put people's minds at ease! No power-hungry status-chasing pink maniac, she! She is very clear in her aims.

“The last thing I would want to do would be to cause a by-election in my constituency.”

Quite right, Nadine. That would be disastrous.

11.20am

Oh, it’s Tory think tank NRG’s conference in Doncaster today. Gideon George Osborne, pig-stupid former Grand Vizier and idiot fail-heir to David "pig-fucker" Cameron, gives a speech. Let's see some quotes!

On the Tories’ choices of chancellors since he personally fell on his sword over Brexit left the role:

“You can see when the partnership doesn’t work. The government's paralysed and the politics is terrible.”

Fair, but also you are a government, George.

On Tories who attack the civil service:

“We’re in charge of our country’s destiny. We should stop blaming others if we don’t get things right."

... right. But you just... Uh.

On Tory culture warriors:

“It’s really important that the Conservative Party is excited about the country we aspire to lead… and doesn’t get in to ‘we’re against all these groups of people’. We’re the inclusive people.”

Well, points for clearing that absurdly low bar, I guess. Christ, I cannot BELIEVE Suella Braverman is making George fucking Osborne look good-by-comparison.

1pm

Ooh. Nadine's attempts to put minds at ease have inexplicably not worked, can't think why not. She's such a reassuring and charismatic speaker normally.

But the rumour is now FLYING about that Nadine has indeed been dropped from the honours list, and specifically because Sunak wants to avoid a by-election that will lose him more seats at a time when he is desperate for even a mat on the floor as long as it's blue.

Sorry, Nads. Still; this morning you were very clear that the constituency comes first, so I suppose that's okay. The priority now is that she MUST stay in position, so the Tories can keep their numbers steady. It is VITAL she remains an MP. Let's remember her exact words!

“The last thing I would want to do would be to cause a by-election in my constituency.”

3.45pm

Nadine Dorries tweets her resignation.

The last thing she does as an MP is indeed to cause a by-election in her constituency.

3.50pm

Except this is Nadine Dorries we're talking about. She's found some flashy balls to juggle, look, and a boy to pour custard down her trousers.

Not five minutes after dropping the bombshell, she deletes the last tweet announcing her resignation, and tweets a new one.

The new tweet says, “it is now time for another to take the reins” as the MP for Mid-Bedfordshire.

The original tweet said, “it is now time for someone younger to take the reins.”

On Talk TV, Dorries says that "something significant did happen to change my mind", but doesn’t elaborate.

3.56pm

The whispers are whispering. The rumours are rumouring. The knives are sharpening.

Nadine's now-former seat is Mid-Bedfordshire, and has been Tory since 1929; a safe seat, which certainly explains how Nadine fucking Dorries managed to hold it for as long as she did.

An MP on the right of the Tory party says that if the Tories lose the Mid Bedfordshire by-election, it’ll open questions about Rishi Sunak's leadership CLOWNFALL 3: REVENGE OF BIG DOG LET'S GOOOOOO

3.57pm

Nadine Dorries is removed from the WhatsApp group.

I would love to know who leaked that image. I really should not have that image. Ah well. Now you do too.

4.12pm

Good tweet alert!

5.08pm

Phew! What a day. Let's see how Rishi's getting on.

He approves the rest of BoJo's honours list. Shall we take a look at our newly-honoured citizens? Shall we see what familiar names crop up?

Honours for staff at centre of Partygate Jack Doyle, Rosie Bate-Williams and Shelly Williams-Walker (and a lot of other terrible and disgraced people who were loyal to Johnson, and some of Carrie Antoinette’s friends).

Damehoods for Andrea Jenkyns and Priti Patel.

Knighthoods for Jacob Rees-Mogg, Conor Burns, and Michael Fabricant.

An OBE for Kelly Jo Dodge, Parliamentary hairdresser.

Also honours for Ben Houchen, currently at the heart of a media storm about dodgy property deals. His huge regeneration project in Teesside is subject to a government investigation regarding the governance, finance and value for money.

(Interesting point – Tory MPs Allister Jack and Nigel Adams were offered peerages, but decided to wait, since accepting now would trigger by-elections.

Why were they offered at all, do you think?)

So … this means Michael Fabricant is now Sir Michael Fabricant. Like, actually. Genuinely.

Nice one, Rishi. Thank goodness you understand AIs.

5.44pm

The Guardian’s Pippa Crerar - journalist who brought down Big Dog one Partygate reveal at a time - tweets her guide to he honours list:

Martin Reynolds, former PPS, invited 200 officials to drinks in Downing St garden. He told officials to "bring your own booze", later adding: "We seem to have got away with it".

Shelley Williams-Walker, getting a Damehood, was No 10 head of opps & now runs his office. At No 10 party the night before Prince Philip's funeral she was dubbed "DJ SWW" for her banger playlist.

Jack Doyle & Rosie Bate-Williams, who get OBEs, were press spox who repeatedly denied the parties happened

Dan Rosenfield, who gets a peerage, quit in mass exodus of senior No 10 staff as anger over Partygate grew. Former chief of staff faced reports he was among senior Downing Street officials who attended a Christmas quiz when restrictions were in place.

Shaun Bailey, who ran unsuccessfully for London mayor, gets a peerage, and Ben Mallett, a close friend of Carrie Antoinette's who ran Zac Goldsmith’s disastrous mayoral campaign, gets an OBE. Both are in this picture of a lockdown-flouting party at CCHQ:

What a sea of punchable faces.

7.58pm

But we've been so focused on Nadine! She's fucked up her juggling, look, but she's sliding around on the rollerskates, ever so distracting. But here's the thing, Tumblrs, here's the thing:

Among all of this, what's the Chief Clown doing?

The Privilege Committee reveals in their draft report that Boris Johnson misled Parliament, and recommends a sanction of more than 10 days.

Does that sound too little? Are you wishing it were smething more meaningful? Let me help put it in context.

This sanction would be enough to trigger a by-election in Johnson’s seat.

8.02pm

Boris Johnson

QUITS

as an MP

The committee said Johson had “impugned the integrity” of the House of Commons. Fascinating! I didn't know its honour had ever been pugned.

He accuses the inquiry of trying to “drive me out”!!!!

"It is very sad to be leaving parliament - at least for now - but above all I am bewildered and appalled that I can be forced out, anti-democratically, by a committee chaired and managed, by Harriet Harman, with such egregious bias".

Worth noting that the committee has a Conservative majority, mind. But you mustn't let things like facts get in the way of your feelings, BlowJo. You never have as a politician. Nor as a journalist, come to that.

(Also SIDE NOTE – “at least for now”?? What are you planning, Big Dog?? I suppose Nadine is leaving an empty seat...)

8.41pm

Christopher Hope of the Daily Telegraph reports he’s heard rumours of a THIRD Tory MP potentially resigning – and another Johnson loyalist at that. Lol. Trololol. Lmao, even. Perhaps rofl.

11.43pm

And finally, the day is wrapped up with the Guardian revealing their front cover for the following day:

Big Dog is OUT, hot trans bloke is IN.

Not a bad finish.

#asks #long post #politik #the adventures of big dog the clown

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franzivonkarma · 4 months

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I desperately need people to understand that Franziska's whipping thing really isn't solely a silly character gimmick. Of course it is to a degree, just like Godot and coffee and Klavier and air guitar in court, but so often I see people dismiss Franziska's whipping trait as an annoying feature that adds nothing to her character and I cannot stand it. This is a bit of a rant and I touch on gender inequality and the way I see a lot of men treat her as a character a decent amount within this because I feel like the fact that she is a woman is actually very important to this element of her character, and her treatment is also a lot of the reason why I feel compelled to talk about this in the first place.

Firstly what you need to understand is that not only is Franziska a woman, she is also laughably young when she becomes a prosecutor. She's a 13 year old girl trying to hold the attention of a courtroom of mostly grown men and be taken seriously. It's no secret that misogyny does exist in the Ace Attorney universe of course (see: Godot), but aside from this, maybe it's just because I've been playing Ace Attorney Investigations recently, but she is just very small all around. It's a running gag in Turnabout Reminiscence that she is short, she's small, she can't see things Edgeworth can - although granted Edgeworth is definitely fairly tall, most estimates I've seen linger around 5'8-5'10 (around 170-180cm). And of course, she is only 13 here, she's not done growing, but it's at this age that she actually did begin to prosecute. Naturally, she'd often be underestimated, and we can see a strong desire to prove herself during Turnabout Reminiscence, even just to her father; I can only imagine that this would extend further into her trials as a young girl. Secondly, she's the daughter of Manfred von Karma, whom she idolises to a godlike status and who teaches her everything she knows about prosecuting, and also a lot about life in general - he's her father. There's a lot I could say about their dynamic, but I feel that much of it doesn't need to be said in this specific post if you're already here dedicated to Franziska enough to bother reading this post.

Manfred's courtroom (and often, regular) behaviour revolves a lot around him taking complete control of the entire courtroom, with him even speaking over the judge, overruling objections he does not like and sustaining his own, and instructing witnesses himself. He also often snaps his fingers to direct attention to himself and his point. Franziska learns this, but how does a literal 13 year old girl follow her father in this regard? Well, by force. Whipping someone is a very clear way to get their attention. Not only the person it hits but the people around - whips cracking are loud, they take up a lot of visual space, and they also obviously cause harm to the person they hit. These are all things you can't really ignore - it forces you to look at her and pay attention to her and gives her control of the room exactly like Manfred. I've also been thinking a lot about the end of Justice For All in relation to this. She's lost to Phoenix multiple times and she couldn't beat him even once just to prove that she was better than Edgeworth as she so desperately wanted to. This brings me to another point about her use of her whip. While I think control is a huge aspect and is my main focus here, I think it falls more under the umbrella of Franziska's own perceived shortcomings. We also know that she doesn't believe she lives up to her father's genius, and that she consistently feels like she's walking in Edgeworth's shadow, she says it herself:

I think at least some part of the reason her whip is so important is because she believes she could very well be less than equal to others in the room in terms of certain traits. She sees her father as a genius, knows she isn't equal to him, and internalises this (whether she is actually less intelligent or not I personally don't know what I believe, I haven't played Justice For All in over a year and a half and I would have to replay it to decide my thoughts).

In having to be perfect, there are many expectations she cannot live up to, and this leads to many ways in which she falls short of what she believes she should be. By using her whip, again, she can account for her perceived shortcomings in other areas - control, her intelligence, her ability as a prosecutor. I think this last scene of JFA actually introduces us to the idea that Franziska is somewhat self-doubting in some ways and compares herself a lot with others, not just Manfred, but also Edgeworth, which we see more of in Ace Attorney Investigations during Turnabout Reminiscence, where we see her at 13 attempting to prove that she can "out-logic" Edgeworth for the entire case, and essentially, that she is "more perfect" than he is.

But to come back to her whip, control, and the end of Justice For All.

She is left with little of who she was before and doesn't know how to move on - everything she was taught to be from the moment she was born, she no longer is. She is 18 here, prosecuting for 5 years already and desperate to be prosecuting for even longer. As far as her life was set out, this was basically it for her - become a perfect prosecutor and prosecute perfectly just like Manfred - the ideal prosecutor in her eyes.

A Von Karma is perfect, but she is not - she lost, just like Edgeworth, whom she shamed for the same thing. She gives up her whip here, and I feel that it's truly symbolic of how she feels like she's completely lost control of herself, her life, her relationship with her father and most obviously her occupation as a prosecutor. How could she continue being a prosecutor when she no longer lives up to the idea of it that she's had her entire life? What use is her whip if she will not need to hold the court's attention any longer?

I'm sure a million other people have thrown their coin in the pot on this exact topic, and I'm sure many have said the same thing as me and many have said something different, but I needed to write my thoughts out about it because I couldn't stop thinking about her. This is one big reason why I feel like I see a lot of men who don't understand Franziska and see her as very annoying, gimmicky, and my least favourite - a "female Edgeworth." She is a woman who steals attention and space forcibly; both from characters in-game, and also from the player with her animations that take up time in trials and a lot of the visual space. Of course this makes her unpopular with a lot of men. I'm not saying that if you dislike her or the whip it comes from a place of misogyny, I am saying that I think her whipping trait is reduced to a stupid, annoying gimmick more than, say, Godot and his coffee, because a lot of people don't really care to see that there is intention behind it that reveals a lot about her character, just like how Godot's coffee problem is relevant to his backstory.

#if you read all of this thanks for being insane about franziska just like me #long post #franziska von karma #ace attorney #ace attorney justice for all #justice for all #ace attorney spoilers #aa2 spoilers #justice for all spoilers #val thinks #ace attorney investigations spoilers #aai spoilers #ace attorney investigations #aa2 #franziska ace attorney #ace attorney franziska

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forbebeandjam · 3 months

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STEP | BADA LEE X FEM READER | 21+

Summary: You see your first love for the first time in three years at your father's engagement party.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: VERY Explicit language and scenes. SMUT!!! 21+ Ex. Thigh riding, fingering, etc... MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

READERS DISCRETION IS ADVICED

A/N: Hello •u• I am brand new to this app and I... I feel like a baby learning how to walk but l am also happy I got to find this app... again... after five years ANYWAY!! I bring this small piece of work I made hoping you'll like it!! I don’t know how often I’ll post on here but I’ll keep you updated ☺️ Also feel free to check out my Wattpad books!! And thank you @dearminaa for your help!! You are awesome!

P.S. apology for any mistakes or errors in grammar. English is not my first language!!

You sat in front of your vanity getting ready for the party. A party to congratulate your father's recent engagement.

You couldn't care less on who he decided to marry this time. It was probably the same as the last person he married. Young, stupid, and a gold digger that only wants his wealth but will end up failing and he will divorce her. You could never forgive him for cheating on your sick mother.

You blame him for her death because he decided to cheat while she was in the hospital and when you took her home for a while, you two found him in bed with some girl. You mother become depressed and died a few day after that

You tried to push aside those thoughts and get ready. You were still dependent on him after all and had plans to take the company away from him. As you fixed you blush, you did one more brush stroke and looked through your jewelry box.

There, you spotted a choker your first love had given you. You met her in high school. She was two years older than you but you love her like you've never loved anyone and she was always there to comfort you when your mother passed.

She was your first kiss, your first love, and your first girlfriend. The day she graduated she was offered a big scholarship in the United States and since she was poor she decided to take the opportunity. You become so mad at her that you pushed her away and broke up with her. A few days later you received a box with that necklace inside and you kept it to cherish the beautiful relationship you two had.

"You look gorgeous, honey," your father said as he hugged you. You didn't return the hug and just stood there.

"Be nice to her okay? She's had a rough life. She suffer a lot and I really like her. Please?" He said and you looked at him with a wry smile.

"How much do you think mom suffered when dying, knowing you were fucking the maids daughter?" You whispered in his ear.

"Stop that. I made a mistake and I regret it. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. Now try to be nice to her and drop the attitude," he whispered back making you roll your eyes and sit back down.

A few minutes went by and the so called fiancé was no where to be seen. You sighed resting your chin on you palm until you spotted a familiar figure. Tall, slim yet well built and the same hair from years ago. You bit your lip as a scream was about to escape your lips. You didn't know why she was there.

You followed her figure until she reached the table and with a big smile she greeted your father.

"Bada, my darling. Was there traffic on the way?" Your father said a she placed his hand around Bada's waist. She didn't answer and just nodded before turning to you.

"Oh! This is my daughter. Honey, greet your future step-," he said and you stood up. You couldn't form a sentence and were already about to bust in tears.

"Hi." You said in a quick manner before looking away. Her eyes were scanning each part of your body. The outfit you were wearing was driving her insane and she didn't know how to hold back from touching you... and she didn't.

She placed hand index finger and thumb under your chin and turned your head towards her. You were startled by her actions so you froze under her touch.

"She's beautiful," Bada said. Her eyes showed sincerity and warmth but you were too upset to see it. You took her hand and tossing it away you excuse yourself leaving the guests astonished by your actions.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'll go talk to her," your father said as he was about to get up but Bada held his arm.

"Let me. I think it's best if we have a conversation from woman to woman. I'll ease my way into her heart, okay? Don't worry,"

"Just how you eased your way into mine. You're just perfect," your father said and Bada gave him a soft smile before walking out the door you went through.

You wonder the halls of the mansion talking to yourself. You were beyond mad, confused, and heart broken. How could your first love be engaged to your father? Your heels clacked and suddenly you began to hear an additional set of footsteps. You looked back but there was no one so you assumed it was one of the servers hired for the party.

"After three years of not seeing or talking to me she shows up. And she's going to marry my father? How disgusting can he be? She swore she would come back to me and she's with him. She can go fuck herself for all I care. I hate her guts. She's so annoying yet so beautiful and... I want her so badly. Am I the sick one? Oh, for fuck sake! I'm talking to myself," you rambled on and on.

"How about you talk to me instead?" You jumped when you heard Bada's voice but immediately kept walking towards your room ignoring her presence next to you.

She grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room where she assumed was your room and she was right. She pushed you against the wall and you let out a squirm as she did so.

"Let me go, you psycho! What is wrong with you!?" You shouted and pushed her away from you. She stumbled a back and chuckled. You look at her with a scowl. How could she find this funny when your blood was boiling?

"You find this funny? You're an asshole," you pushed her to the side and sat on your vanity trying to ignore her so she would go away. Your mind was clouded with thoughts and emotions so you fumbled trying to get the necklace off of your neck.

Instead of walking out of the door, Bada walked up to you and moved your hair to the side. She carefully took the necklace off and you began to melt under her soft touch. She put it in your hand and you just placed it on the vanity not caring where it landed.

"Why... why are you marrying him? My dad. You said you would come back and... I waited. I waited for three years and when I finally see you again you are engaged to... that? Why the fuck!?" You shouted not holding back anymore. Your tears began to fall and she only softened her gaze.

She walked to you slowly and took you hand while you wiped your tears away.

"I'm not going to marry him. I came here for you, my love," she said as she cupped your face.

"Don't. Don't do this Bada. If you're just going to break my heart and walk away from me again, just leave and go with my father," you said looking away but she pulled you into an embrace.

"Baby, look at me. I would never leave you again. Never again. I'll do everything I can to be next to you always..." he hand traveled from your cheek to your exposed shoulder. You shivered at her touch and then she planted a kiss on your shoulder making you bite your lip to prevent any noises from escaping your mouth.

"You have no idea how much I longed to touch you. To kiss you and make you mine. That is all I could think about. You wouldn't leave my mind for one second all I could think about was for a way to come back to you," she whispered into your ear as she walked. You took small step back until your legs hit the bed.

Her hands were on your arms and her gentle touch made it hard for you to hold back. You used your hand to create some space between you and her. You couldn't deny that you wanted her to touch you. You wanted her to make you her but you were sacred. Not if your dad. Never if your dad. He was a weak man after all, but she was engaged to him.

"Please promise me that you won't leave. That after this, you won't walk away from me. I will run away with you if we need to but please don't continue this if you can't promise me that," you said as you closed your eyes.

She cupped your face and you opened your eyes at the sudden skin contact.

"I promise with my life. I will never even again leave, my love. I will stay by your side and we can do whatever you want. We can stay or run away and I will be there because I love you and I should've never left but I had to think of my mother. Please understand. I'm so sorry," a tear escaped her eyes as she was practically begging for you to forgive her and understand her reasoning and you did.

You nodded and wiped her tears before kissing her lips. You kissed her hungrily and she responded with the same intensity. The kiss become for sloppy and wet as snacking sounds began to fill the room. You thanked your father for the first time for making the rooms sound proof.

"Tell me you want it. Tell me how you want it and how badly you want it. Tell me what you want," Bada said as she left love bites in your neck.

"I want you. I want all of you. I want you to touch me everywhere. I want you to fuck me, please," you said and let out a loud moan as she dragged her tongue across your collarbone.

"I didn't know you were so needy, my love. But you're such a good girl using your nice words for me," Bada said as she pushed you lightly on the bed. Your legs were slightly parted and she took the opportunity to crawl on top of you placing her knee in between your legs and slight pushing into your folds.

You moaned at the contact and moved your hips searching for more friction but her hands immediately went to your hips to halt your movements.

"Wait a minute, baby. I want to be the one to please you," she said sending you over the edge. You bit your lip and groaned in desperation . You need her touch. You wanted her so badly and when you opened and saw her remover her bra you almost came untouched letting out whispers and moans

"Calm down, baby. I'm all yours and I'm not going anywhere," she said as she lowered herself on you. She admired how your legas partner with no shorts and your panties were soaked. She pulled them down and kissed right above your sensitive bud making you part your legs even more. You wanted her and you couldn't handle any more emptiness.

"Bada, please..." you whispered.

"Yes, my love. Anything for you,"she immediately attacked you clit with her tongue and used her hand to pull you dress down revealing your tender breast and she didn't hesitate to begins massaging it as her tongue flicked on your bud in all the right ways that were making you let out moan after moan.

Your nipples were perky and sensitive and she let go of them to instead one finger into you. You were still a virgin so you felt a bit of pain as you felt her go in a cried out loud. She looked up at you. You were the most beautiful thing. Your skin glistened as small beads of sweat formed on your forehead. Your face was flushed in a a bright pink color and she moved up to kiss you tenderly still inside of you.

"It's okay. I'll be gentle. See?" She said as she began to slowly move her finger allowing you to adjust to the feeling. She placed soft kisses on your cheeks, forehead, lips, and chest helping you ease out the pain.

You slowly began to moan in please as you felt the pain dissipate and she sped up a little. You lips were slightly parted and your hand made it way to her breast. The soft skin was so pleasant you wanted to taste it. Using you elbows, you pushed yourself up and put her nipple in you mouth sucking and lightly tugging with your teeth. She began to let out soft and deep moans.

"That feels so good, my love. I'm going to add another finger okay, lay down for me and hold my hand," she intertwined your hands together.

She added a second finger and you felt like you were levitating as her warm tongue assaulted your clit. You felt her curl her fingers inside of you and you clenched around her as you felt an odd sensation at the pit of your stomach.

"Bada... Bada, fuck~ please. Let me cum please!" You begged as you back lifted from the mattress. She slowed down her pace making you take a a hold of her hair and tugging.

"That wasn't nice, my love," she completely pulled out leaving you feeling empty and a tear rolled down your cheek.

"I'm sorry. I just need you. Please~" you whined softly as your eyes begged for release.

"Please what?" She asked.

"Please, baby. Please, Bada," you said and she smiled as she thrusted into you with great force. You yelled at the unexpected motion but you began to moan as her tongue started to work on your bud once again but this time she was slight biting down making you shout her name in pleasure. A pleasure you had never experienced before and when you least expected you released on her feeling a pulsating feeling as she licked you clean and then her fingers.

"You taste so good, my love. All of these years of waiting finally paid off. Now helped me," she said. You were still trying to come back to your senses as everything was blurry and you could only see how she was undressing herself. Your dress was now bunched on your waist.

She hovered above you and you felt a wet warmth on your thigh. When your vision was finally adjusted, you saw her beautiful figure on top of you. Her fringe stuck to her forehead as she was riding your thigh trying to reach her high.

Your hands traveled down to her waist as you helped her ride you. You used one of your hands to rub on your clit once more and she watched you actions letting out shaky breaths and moans biting her lip.

"You look beautiful riding me like that, baby. Keep going. Cum for me. Cum in me please," you said making her roll her eyes back as her hands rested on your breast for support and with a loud moan she came on your thigh. You sided your fingers to collect her juices and taste her the way she did with you.

"Fuck, that was so good,"you said and she collapsed on top of you. The two of you lay there for a few minutes as you were still throbbing with pleasure and catching your breath.

After a few minutes, Bada fixed your position removing the dress you had on and you both cuddled your bare bodies under the covers.

"Thank you," you said. Bada pulled you closer to her.

"For what, my love?" She asked as she planted multiple kisses on your shoulder.

"For this. For coming back and for loving me," you replied as you turned your body to face her and play with a stand of her hair. You admired her body. Beautiful as always. Then when you saw a ring on her finger, it hit you. She was way out to marry your dad and you just let her fuck you... You felt like a monster. You were no different than your dad.

"Bada, I think this was a mistake. You're marrying my father and this doesn't make me any better than him," you said on the verge of tears but she quickly embraced you.

"How about we go down and I explain everything to you. Trust me, okay? Nothing is what it seems," she helped you stand up and you both got dressed. You fixed you hair into a high ponytail and fixed your makeup as well when you noticed how messy your face looked.

Bada also fixed herself and held you hand. You made your way down the stairs and into the big hall where majority of the guests had already gone home. That's when you saw you father kissing a woman around his age. You furrowed your brows in confusion.

"Mom!" Bada shouted and the woman turned to you with a bright smile.

"This is, Y/N. The girl I always told you about," Bada said and the lady pulled you into a hug.

"Wow! You're even prettier in person. I'm so glad I get to finally meet you. Bada and your father have talked wonders about you and do not feel pressured to call me mom or step mom. You can just call me Haneul," the woman said and you started to put the pieces together.

"I'll go to your father now. He seems to need me but let's all go on a ladies fun day one of these days. Bye girls. Y/N, honey... cover your neck," she said and waved before walking off.

Your face tired a bright shade of pink making Bada laugh. Bada pulled you out to the balcony where there was no one around before anyone could see the marks she left on your neck.

"You see? I'm not marrying your father. My mom is. When I saw her get engaged and I saw your father I didn't hesitate one second to leave it all behind and come here with you," she said and you internally smacked your face at how dumb and clueless you had been.

"I'm sorry, Bada. I should've listened and now I just feel stupid," you said as you lowered your head. She used her index finger and thumb to raise your chin and kiss your lips with tenderness and love.

"It's okay. I'm here and I'm here to stay. I love you so much," she said and connect your forged with hers.

"I guess now we are even," you said making her chuckle. She hugged you from behind placing her chin on your shoulder and you two watched the sunset with sweet kisses and soft laughs.

#bada lee #bada x reader #bada lee smut #street woman fighter 2 #honeybee156 #forbebeandjam #Bada #bada lee imagine

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pastel-nature · 2 years

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My Pretty Little Bastard

Yandere!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

A/N: All characters in this fic have been properly aged up to 18+. Please forgive spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.

TW: abusive behavior, stalking, breach of privacy, targcest between uncle and niece, violence, implied noncon.

You had no dragon. The egg given to you did not hatch nor did the riderless dragons at the pit and Dragonstone responded to your attempts.

And so, that is how you were made to stood beside Aemond at the Dragon pit during mandatory lessons. You both are alike. Or so that’s what people think. You and Aemond share not one likeness besides being a dragonless Targaryen. And no, you did not share any fondness toward each other.

The flowers he gifted you are beautiful, not so much with the words that escaped his lips when he gave them to you. Pretty flowers for a pretty bastard.

His clammy cold hand as he jerked yours away from Dreamfyre. Helaena often thought it would be fun for you both to at least know what it feels like to pet a dragon. Thankfully she catches up fast.

His feet quick to catch up with you whenever you would run to your twin, Jace. A bastard and a craven, he taunted.

So you learn to keep your distance from Aemond in the first place, avoid him, say nothing to him, look away when his eyes met yours. You even learn to identify his steps, so you can quickly turn away whenever he was near.

Yet his rage and distaste for you grew stronger by the day. If your brothers or parents are near, he would look at you in the eyes and mouthed the word ‘bastard’. When he catches you without them, he would lean in and whisper to you, nadresy, it means bastard in valyrian. God have mercy if he catches you all alone with no one around to help you, one time he slammed you to the wall so hard your ears rung. Recently turned 10 and in growth spurt, he stood over you, his deep blue eyes bore to yours as if willing you to die right there and then. His hand crept to your neck, you were sure he would go and squeeze the life out of you. Luckily your septa realized you were missing and was calling out for you. Then that night at Driftmark happened, and your life changes forever.

Her, he pointed towards you as if you were some cattle. I want her as recompense for my eye.

You cried, clawed, plead to no avail. Everyone thought it best for you to bind and appease the boy who now rode the largest dragon.

They promised to visit and send you letters, yet it did not ease the dread as you sail to King’s Landing.

And that is how you end up amongst the Greens in King’s Landing, alone, largely ignored safe for the occasion when you had to show up as Aemond’s betrothed.

Aemond quickly grew into the role of the warrior for his family, known for his skill as a warrior and his dragon, Vhagar. Ruthless and ambitious, he is a fearsome sight to behold.

You had heard maids and nobles described as being tall and handsome, with silver long silver hair, the Targaryen family traits. What good husband he would make, you heard a lady swoon.

They did not know, they never will. Much to your chagrin, Aemond had mastered a sweet and loving facade to mask his violent and obsessive behavior.

As your wedding day approaches, Aemond becomes increasingly obsessed with you, and begins to exhibit signs of worrying behavior.

He would follow you or have people do so everywhere you go. It is clear by now that all your maids and guards are deep in his pocket.

Enraged whenever you speak to or spend time with anyone else.

You are my betrothed, do you seek to besmirch our family name by acting so wantonly with others?

And if harsh words fail, he would gently stroke your hair, citing that this soon to be marriage is the only thing keeping the Seven Realms from civil war. He is proud to serve his duty and so should you.

Even your family letters were not save from his hands. Sure, you received them on regular basis, yet at times the letters felt… fabricated. The stamps and handwriting in tact but as a princess you know there are people for hire who are good at forging one.

You tried to convince yourself that this is just your paranoia talking.

But then you secretly paid one of the stable boy to send a letter for you. Send it outside the Red Keep, you said as you slipped the boy one of your emerald ring. No, you did not have access to any coins either, thanks to Aemond.

He found out. The boy was dragged before you, half dead, his back flayed open. You were terrified of Aemond's violent outburst, and begs him to calm down and listen to reason. Aemond, however, is beyond reason, and is consumed by his rage. In the end the stable boy was ‘mercifully dispatched’, but only after his mother was involved.

You realize that it is impossible to be with someone who is capable of such violent and obsessive behavior, and seek to break off the engagement. Every minute you spent with your delirium and sickly grandfather you would whisper -beg, for him to wake up and put an end to this nightmare of a betrothal.

He knows, he must have, but you did not care, for Aemond could not possibly hurt the King.

Stupid you, he did not need to.

Rumors began circulating on how you had been so enamored by the prince that you seek his bed every night. Wanton and brazen, Rhaenyra’s daughter for sure.

Moon teas have been prepared for you on a daily basis.

Within weeks everything fell into place, your mother’s consent, The King and Queens’s approval, even House Velaryon agreed to bank your dowry.

It just so happens that the High Septon himself appears to be in the court, as well as notable Lords and Ladies of Seven Realms.

What perfect time for a wedding, Aemond in his gleaming black and gold tunic, leaned in and whispered, don’t you think so my pretty little bastard?

A/N: Thank you for reading. I have another scenario in mind where Dance of Dragons civil war still happens but I have no idea whether to make it a part 2 of this story or start another one. Stay tuned, all feedback and criticism are welcome.

Part 2 is out:

#aemond #targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #house of the dragon x reader #yandere #yandere aemond #yandere aemond x reader #tw yandere #tw toxic relationship #house of the dragon

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hallowsden · 1 year

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DC x DP idea thing #1

Uncle Scarecrow Au

Essentially, in this AU thing, Maddie, and Jonathan Crane are cousins (their moms were sisters) that often see eachother when Maddie's family visits Georgia before contact was cut due to Grandma Marion and Great-Grandma Keeny

Jonathan and Maddie managed to reconnect for a year or two through letters when Maddie started college and Jonny boy is in the middle of getting his doctorate but lost contact after Maddie got busier with studies and Jonathan went to Gotham. They're on good terms with each other and once in a while in recent years, they'd give each other updates (and gifts. Danny and Jazz grew up hearing a bit from/about Jonathan when they were younger but stopped hearing about him around the time when he became the Scarecrow. So, let's just say when Danny's... 6? Ngl, DC timeline is messy and confusing at times)

Maddie and Jack only recently learned that Danny's a halfa, the ghost king at that, and accepts it. They start helping him wrangle up some of the rogue ghosts and throw them back to the GZ when not even a week later, the GIW started swarming Amity Park immediately.

This causes the Fenton Family to escape (though not unscathed) and end up going to Gotham, not just cause Jazz is studying there, or the fact that there's enough ambient ectoplasm energy there to cover up Danny's signature, but because Jack's apparently from there, has connections too, while Maddie knows that Jonathan could help. She's his favorite cousin after all and adores Danny and Jazz from the bits and pieces she sent him about them.

"Madeline," The man in the burlap mask nodded to her.

"Jonathan," she nodded back.

Danny can't help but feel tense and wary as he stares down at the tall figure in front of him. This was Uncle Jonathan? Don't tell him he's as big of a fruitloop as Vlad.

Maddie stares at him before raising an eyebrow, "I see you still aren't taking care of yourself as you should, huh, Jonny?"

He scoffs, southern accent becoming a bit more prominent as he spoke, "like you're anyone to talk about habits, Maddie. Intellect may run in our blood but having normal, sane habits aren't. Don't you remember Great-Grandma Mary?"

The two burst out into some chuckles.

"Glad you're still alive and well, then, cousin," Maddie says, taking the hood of her jumpsuit off along with her goggles.

"Likewise," Jonathan replies, taking his ratty hat and burlap mask off revealing a sharp, gaunt face with a long, hook nose, pale blue eyes, and rusty auburn-colored, bordering brown, hair, "Now, what's this about a government branch coming for little Danny, and how... Sensitive are you to gore and other graphic imagery of sorts?"

"I mean, I already died and have to fight ghosts-..." Danny piped up immediately, only to shut his mouth up just as quickly.

"... Remind me to set up a proper therapy session for you later, child."

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dc x dp prompt #Uncle Scarecrow AU #danny phantom #danny fenton #maddie fenton #Jack Fenton #Jack is from Gotham #Maddie is Jonathan's cousin #The GIW sucks #I apologize if Maddie and Danny are OOC here #I'm more knowledgeable with Batman Rogues stuff tbh #I'm biased and like Jonathan just as much as I like Eddie boy #Danny's gonna learn more about chemistry and psychology now #Does Fear Gas affect ghosts? I like to think maybe #GIW are gonna be suffering a lot in the future #Jonathan's real protective for the people he cares for #Not sure if the Fentons would join Jonathan's villainy or not #maybe they do thinking batfam and the JL are aware of the GIW and all so they retaliate #idka I have too many drafts already for this au #I'm having a too much fun with his idea thh #Then again #I have a few other au idea thingies involving the rogues in this crossover #Danny's gonna get therapy #That's for sure #Danny's also gonna meet a lot of crows #Oh and he might meet the other rogues #He's definetly gonna meet Edward though cause I personally ship him with Jonathan

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seiya234 · 3 months

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henry was no stranger to anger, he thought as he weeded his garden.

there was the anger of his father. the anger of being the youngest in a large family and a million perceived slights, real or otherwise. the anger of wanting to be a big man or at least a bigger man, but corduroys chopping trees were a dime a dozen in oregon, and dad had not just eight siblings, but twelve uncles on the corduroy side, seventy two first cousins, and god knew how many second cousins or first cousins once removed.

arnold tried to fill the world by being a Man, a Big Man, and when he didn't get the respect he thought that he deserved well.... he was angry.

his mother was angry as well, though it took him a little more time to figure that out. she would of course, never, ever, ever admit it because of course, it wasn't what good church going god fearing ladies felt but-

rita was blazingly angry at her family, at the world she grew up in that clipped her wings and denied her opportunities at every turn. but because part of her was forever nine and in a dark basement (henry wished he didn't know about that anecdote) she was also, equally, angry at herself for having desires, for wanting something more than what she had. she was angry, and rather than ride that anger to do something useful, she used it to manipulate and control the one person she could instead.

so yes. anger.

henry wasn't scared of his parents any more- there would always be a frisson of fear, yes, but the majority of that fear had dissipated knowing that he was gone, he was free, and they weren't chasing after him.

but henry feared the anger. he feared it because it was very much there- he had his mother's quick temper, the depths of his father's rage.

he feared his anger because he controlled it, constantly, all the time, at every waking moment. first because he had to, as a small child, in order to survive, and then for fear of what it had become all those years pushed down deep inside of him.

the anger was useful, he had to admit- it was the fire that kept him alive, the fire that enabled him to escape.

he... he didn't think he would end up like his parents. at least, he was doing his absolute best to not be like them.

but the anger scared him. it's intensity. it's depth.

it's ceaselessness.

but he had it under control. he had it under control because he was always under control, had been from his earliest memories, and would continue to be so until he died if he had any say about it. he had it under control because henry wasn't an idiot, he was almost seven foot tall and in pretty good shape for approaching middle age, he could do some pretty serious damage and that was unconscionable to him.

then the woodsman happened.

recently, henry found himself spending all of his free time in the garden.

partially, it was because becoming some weird tree deer monster thing meant that he was basically the plant whisperer. he didn't just have a green thumb any more, but a green body. sure the roots of the plants would twine around his fingers and try and sink into his skin, but he learned how to gently shoo them away while he worked.

the vegetables were going to be the best harvest he had ever had in his life, he could tell that much.

but the other part, the bigger part, was that henry's control was slipping.

it was easy when he was just... henry pines. tall and strong, but nothing else going on there. he could control his anger, control his emotions just. fine.

but there was power crackling under his skin now, power that made his heart race and his skin run hot, power that was still changing his body in a million imperceptible ways even though the woodsman had only happened twice-

(twice for now)

his body wasn't recognizable as his own, any more.

more frightening than that, his body was no longer under his complete control. inside of him was a being that ran on pure emotion, pure anger. no rationality whatsoever.

the woodsman's motives were pure, henry supposed. but there was no leash, no control.

no knowing what would happen.

and that uncertainty? it terrified him.

so henry spent as long as he could in his garden, where nothing bad happened, and everything remained under his control

#transcendence au #seiya writes!

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serenit-teas · 8 months

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Me, riddled with delusion <- (is a 6'3 P enjoyer and believer)

I just!!! I know everyone has commented on it in some way shape or form and I guess it's my turn to throw my two cents in😔 god I should not have the freedom to ramble on this app

Like!! This guy, this one man battalion is terrifying in concept. A puppet with an incredibly rare (and deadly) ability to lie, with advanced combat skills and power that only seems to enhance thanks to the Ergo that can be encountered in his ventures, and an imposing figure to round it all out. In theory it screams threat, danger.

But then you meet him, see how meek and gentle he is with everyone in Hotel Krat. Once, witnessing Spring recoil at his advance, hissing and all but swatting at him. Though being able to emote was one of the few things he could not yet do, you swear he seemed to wilt after the encounter with the feline. During the rockier moments of becoming acquainted with the cat, he would never grow frustrated after the failed attempts, understanding and respecting that she's not comfortable around him. He would simply leave her be, and try again later.

He rarely speaks, and if he does it's one word or a clipped phrase, not out of rudeness or anything of the sort, it's new and quite frankly, there's a high chance that he simply wouldn't know what to say.

There's something of a quite excitement and giddiness in P when he brings a new record back to the Hotel, not only does it mean that he gets to experience what this recent find has to offer, but also that any of the other residents of the Hotel can enjoy the spoils of his journey.

He listens and takes heed in what people say, no matter if it's critical information in regards to his outings, passing comments of bygone days, or just ramblings in any variety, he listens, makes the people around him feel heard and understood. (Even if some things go over his head)

He'll realise some time or later that he LIKES making the people he's met happy*, seeing their faces light up in glee or relief.

It's a small victory in the hell they're all surviving.

Every time I think of P I imagine this gentle giant who is so achingly soft spoken and sweet, who is aware of his immense strength and takes care to never harm those he treasures. And in turn that leads to the BEST juxtaposition of the raw carnage he's capable of! This guy can rip through sturdy puppets and manmade horrors like they're wet tissue paper, has stared down monstrosities and come out on top, can bounce back from injuries that would leave others utterly mangled at best.

He is a terrifying concept and there's no denying what he can easily do if he so chose, but his conscious effort to exhibit the utmost care when surrounded by fragility makes my heart MELT. Soft boy P will forever have me hooked no matter what, but there's something about a tall boy with a heart of gold (literally) who, despite still learning how to live and experience, understands his presence around others.🥺

*(Not that he would want to see them upset, I think at first there would be a nuetral understanding of "What happens here affects me and my progress." Just a thought though!)

#AND I WOULD JUST LIKE TO SAY!!!#SHORT BOY P LOVER AND ENJOYERS ARE JUST AS VALID!!!#YALL DONT HAVE TO CRANE YOUR NECK UP TO LOOK AT HIM #EASY SMOOCH ACCESS #DONT HAVE TO REACH UP UP UP TO TRACE HIS FRECKLES #TALL AND SHORT P ARE BOTH VALID AND WONDERFUL AND HE LOVES YOU REGARDLESS!!!#Have a hc that whenever he's feeling nervous or shy or flustered you can hear his springs and cogs working overtime #and that!!! is what you do to him!!! you make rattled silverware noises come out of him!!!!#clinking like a mfer i know!!! because he told me!!!!#lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #kinda but still #text post #chels mumbles #chels writes

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toms-cherry-trees · 9 months

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Don't Hold My Hand (I'll Break Your Heart) || Tommy Shelby x Fem OC ~ Prologue

Summary: How can one recover from having their life swept out from under theit feet? When a promising future becomes lost, shattered by a past that should have remained long forgotten? Is care and love enough to undo the damage, or will it just be a sweet balm to give a brief respite of the pain before the unavoidable end?

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Vague description of war injuries

Author's note: This fic is loosely based on Me Before You, keyword loosely. I don't have many information on what voluntary nurses did after the war nor how did they treat those with long term injuries, but I am working as best as I can with what I know so do not expect this to be entirely historically accurate. There also may be some ableism akin to the period but it will be kept minimal

This is also my first time writing Tommy with an OC! Say hello to Charlotte Florence Tindall everyone! She is an OC I've had for 3 years based in Lady Sybill Crawley from Downton Abbey

Next part 》

The gates to Arrow House stood tall and imponent amidst a thick grove in the depths of Warwickshire. The estate’s name had been forged in sturdy steel and perched high above the iron and brick archways, kept in pristine condition despite the long exposure to the elements, with the family’s proud surname hanging just below in equal condition. Charlotte could easily imagine an unfortunate servant sent there on the daily with a ladder and some polisher, his only duty being to keep the family’s name spotless, literally.

The journey towards the manor was brief and silent, the bumps in the road barely noticeable in the luxurious car that had picked her up from the train station, with leather seats and a smoothly purring engine. She knew little about the brands and commodities money could afford, but the vehicle, driven by a smartly dressed man in a crisp suit, surely cost more than all the money she had ever owned or would ever own in her life as a former VAD nurse.

The Great War had taken many opportunities, but in its wake, it had unexpectedly given some. Hordes of girls and women turned to their nearest recruitment offices or hospitals to receive express courses in nursing and home care, to serve their country side by side with the men, restoring to health those who had been wounded in combat and caring for those who had given it all until they had no more left. Field hospitals, Red Cross stations, local hospitals, and convalescence homes; all packed to the gunnels with soldiers who had been wounded, scarred, maimed, and traumatised beyond repair.

But the war had come to an end. The volunteers, the ones who had risen to the task, scattered and went back to their lives. And so did Charlotte. Only to realise the long battle had just begun. The men would not recover only because the conflict had concluded. Many remained who would need lifetime care and attention that not many families were trained or willing to provide. The nurses returned, offering their skills in little advertisements printed in newspapers or glued to shop windows.

She had it easy, in a way. Early in 1919, a man she cared for harnessed her in to be his private nurse, but that lasted until he came forward with less honourable propositions. Then came an elderly colonel, whom she watched over up until his last breath. And most recently, a strapping young sergeant, whose fiance, who didn’t take kindly to having a young woman dress and wash him, nearly chased Charlotte off.

She quickly grew disenchanted with the job, having found mostly trouble and no small amount of tears in it. Perhaps she was not made for this as she originally thought. Maybe she would do better as a cashier or cook; she could seek a post as a secretary or a board girl in the telephone company. She had learned enough to defend herself as a seamstress. Anything to keep her clothed and fed while sparing her the suffering.

But one day, a letter arrived at her door. A letter sent by the treasurer of Shelby Company Limited. The infamous Polly Gray. A shiver ran down her spine when she read the name in elegant calligraphy over expensive paper, and a part of her feared the envelope would burst in her hands like a hand grenade.

Who in Birmingham didn’t know about the Shelbys? In the slums and the rookeries, people didn’t pray to God; they prayed to the Peaky Blinders. They owned the factories, the distilleries, the pubs, and the institutions. They owned the police. They owned the very streets the people walked every day, their houses, their money, and their lives if they so wished.

And now, it seemed they wished to own Charlotte.

Mrs. Gray convened her for an interview at their estate since they requested her services as a nurse to care for a war veteran. The letter provided little more information other that they offered generous pay, accommodations, and a day off of her choosing. A preset date and time had been included, next to a train ticket to get her to the station closest to them.

Charlotte could not tell exactly what drove her to actually assist. Perhaps she wished to know how and why they found her. Maybe the lure of a salary twice the average had lured her in. Or the morbid curiosity of meeting this soldier; as far as she knew, the Shelby brothers didn’t need anything from anyone.

When she arrived at the manor, a stern-faced woman took her coat and bag. She barely had time to admire her surroundings before the maid led her towards a drawing room. Dark wood in panels and furniture, crimson wallpaper, two walls entirely lined with bookshelves filled with books of all sorts, some in pristine condition and others worn and falling apart.

Amidst all, in a settee of black velvet, sat Polly Gray. Pearls hugged her neck, hung from her ears, and adorned the front of her silver frock. Bracelets and rings decorated her fingers. Masses of papers covered the tea table before her, which she methodically separated into neat piles. By her side were a glass of whiskey and a cigarette with crimson stains, the ashtray filled to the brim. The face powder could not conceal entirely the dark circles underneath her eyes, and some fine streaks of grey contrasted against her golden chocolate curls. A woman not quite old in age but worn out tremendously by troubles and tribulations Charlotte didn’t know.

She cleared her throat, since she appeared so immersed in her paperwork she didn’t notice her.

“Mrs Gray”

“Sit” The harshness of the command contrasted with the undeniable softness of her voice, edged with barely contained nervousness, as if she stood ready to collapse. Hurriedly, she collected the scattered papers and dropped them in a pile at her side, just in time for the stern maid to place before them a tea tray, all polished silverware and hand-painted porcelain. Mrs. Gray and her spent several minutes in fraught silence, stirring a cup of fragrant tea with two sugars, while Mrs. Gray added the last of her whiskey glass into her cup. Charlotte waited for her to speak first, but the woman seemed to be in no rush, which only added to her own anxiousness.

“Mrs. Gray. You called me here. You sent me a train ticket and a driver to pick me up. Why?”

She stirred her beverage methodically, making five perfect clockwise rounds with the spoon and gently tapping it on the rim twice. Staring into the steaming liquid while she pondered her words.

“You are a nurse, aren’t you? You have field experience, and have also have cared for disabled soldiers." Not an interrogation, merely a statement. She didn’t question her about how she knew that. If she so desired, she could track down her school teacher and ask her how well she did in maths when she was nine. But that still didn’t provide her with answers.

“I am. I have worked with several patients, and if you wish, I can provide referen-”

She cut Charlotte off with a wave of her hand. “I already have your references. I spoke with your previous employers myself.”

A cold shiver spread down her legs. What could she possibly require from her that she take such an effort to map out her past? If she had that information, it meant they had checked her background and that of her family and close friends. And she assumed she had passed whatever unspoken test they carried on her; otherwise, they wouldn’t have brought her straight into their den.

But again, why?

Mrs. Gray put down the teacup and finally looked at the other woman’s face for the first time since her arrival. Her eyes were large, deep in colour, and full of wisdom and caution.

“Do you have any experience with men with reduced mobility? That is, men who are wheelchair-bound?”

That treaded closer to her area of expertise. For a brief moment, she feared she would be taken to a dimly lit basement where she’d be asked to save the life of a grievously wounded man with a gun pressed to her temple. Or maybe she just read far too many crime novels.

“I do. I worked with many men who had lost their ability to walk, either by spinal injury or loss of limb."Before the following pause prolonged for too long, Charlotte pressed the matter further. “Is that why you called me? You have a veteran who can’t walk."She spoke the words carefully, since she had learned through trial and error that not all people reacted well when she spoke too harshly about the state of the patient, so she tiptoed around the subject with carefully chosen words.

Suddenly she stood, setting the cup aside with such carelessness that the tea splattered everywhere, staining the lace covering the side table.

“Come with me." She headed towards the hallway, not even looking to see if Charlotte followed. She barely had time to steal one more sip before rushing behind her, straining her legs to keep up with her pace. She led her through a back door and out of the house, towards a stone and gravel backyard, smelling of horses and petrol. Other than a few hounds and a lone gardener trimming some bushes, no one else was around. No one listening but Lottie.

“My three nephews enlisted around the same time in 1914. And I will forever be grateful that the three of them made it home alive." She walked with her hands behind her back like a man. With that ramrod straight posture and her puffed chest, she could put a general to shame. It certainly worked to intimidate her, and she walked a step behind her, feeling unworthy of keeping up her pace.

“John and Arthur came back okay. Or as okay as men could after the things they saw and did” John and Arthur. Both names rang a bell, but she hadn’t seen them personally. They acted as henchmen more than businessmen, terrorising the factories and the foremen in their factories. Legend has it that a foreman in a Sparkbrook steelworks bought a house with bribes for tossing bodies in the furnace.

“But Tommy” She continued, bringing her attention back to the present. “He was a tunneller. There was a collapse near the end of everything. I don’t know the entire story, but the tunnel caved in on them. Out of fifteen boys, only five were dug out."She fell silent for a moment and made the sign of the cross. Pain wrung Charlotte’s heart, but she didn’t allow it to settle. She had quickly learned to push pain into the back of her mind during the war. If she allowed herself to feel it, she’d collapse like wet clay.

“They brought him back on a stretcher. I never thought a person could be more blue than white and have more broken bones than whole ones. He spent the rest of the war in a hospital room and remained there for a good part of the next year. Every doctor expected him to just die in his sleep, but he refused to give up. He made a full recovery and came home as if nothing happened.”

The tone of her words and Lottie’s very presence there indicated that not all had gone well.

“He took over his duties in the business and married a girl he fancied. They even had a son. No indicator that something could be wrong". Her pace had slowed, allowing her to catch up, now walking by her side, not wanting to miss a word. She had left the backyard behind and now moved into bare grass; from the entrance, she hadn’t quite grasped how far the estate stretched. It could easily and comfortably house two manors equal in size with their own stables and gardens.

“He suddenly started complaining of pain in his legs. Stiffness, soreness, especially in the mornings” She recognised the symptoms immediately but chose to remain silent while she spoke. “Soon he had trouble walking; sometimes his knees gave out and he just fell. He resisted the cane as much as he could, but in time he could not remain upright without it for long.

“We sought a doctor in London. He said a disc in his back had cracked in the accident. The fracture had been stable, but as time passed, it worsened and began to collapse and compress his spine."She waved her hand dismissively. “I didn’t understand any of the technical words, but the doctor said the injury would progress. The spine would be compressed more and more until he lost all use of his legs.

Even though Charlotte didn’t see her expression, she noticed in her words the sorrow she felt for her nephew. And she didn’t blame her. To have him delivered home in pieces, seeing him go through a miraculous recovery only for this to happen. His life robbed from him, one sliver at a time, seeing his own body fail him day by day.

Mrs. Gray exhaled slowly, as if regaining her composure. “Ever since he got the diagnosis, he changed. He became irritable and wrathful. He refused to be seen with the cane; whenever he met people in the office, he leant into something or sat down. Then he refused to be seen altogether and handled business locked in his office." She pulled out a cigar case from her dress pocket and offered her one, which Lottie kindly refused.

“When he no longer could manage stairs easily, he started working from home. He seldom saw people; only his brothers and I could visit him” The smoke left her mouth with each word, since she consumed the cigarette so desperately she barely had time to breathe out. She thought that she didn’t need all that information to do her job, but she didn’t interrupt her. She sounded like she needed someone to listen to her at least once.

She finished the first cigarette and quickly lit a second with the leftover stub. Her crimson coated lips parted, as if she wanted to say something else but chose not to at the last second. Instead her features contorted in a snarl briefly, lips pursed like she tasted something bitter, and then shook her head and regained her composure.

“He bought this manor to be away from everyone. He wanted to live alone, with only the staff to help him, but I couldn’t leave him alone in that state, even if he refused to be helped. He may be an arse, but he is still my nephew” Lottie snickered at her last statement, disguising the inappropriate sound as a cough.

“I realise I could not handle it alone. There is just so much to be done, and many things he would never let me do for him” Another lit cigarette, consumed as frantically as the first two. “I tried to hire him a personal maid but she had the talent of a doornail”

“That’s why you sought me?” It made sense now. A common maid couldn’t handle his injuries and his needs like she could.

A bitter laugh fell from her lips “I sought a nurse, yes. And another one. And another one” She didn’t pay heed to her concerned expression “He never got along with any of them. Despised them, I dare say. Tommy cannot stomach being stared at or treated with pity” She made a mental note of that for her future work, that is, if she survived the day “Not all the pay raises and benefits in the world convinced them to stay long. I offered to pay the last one’s bank loans if she reconsidered her resignation, but that only held her in for another three weeks”

Charlotte’s resolution to take the job faltered by the minute. Why would she want to care for a man who seemed hellbent in making his caretakers miserable? Sure, his situation was nothing short of horrible, but did that really give him the right to spread his venom to those who tried to do good by him? And most importantly, did she really want to put herself through that? The pay was the best she had ever been offered, but would the money be worth it?

Suddenly Mrs. Gray gripped the younger woman’s hand, so tightly her fingers ached. She should have shaken her off, but the desperation in her eyes deterred her from it. She looked like a woman standing on the edge of the abyss, hanging only from her grasp.

“I personally collected your reference letters. All of your previous employers spoke of your patience and your affection. Of how your softness and cheerfulness helped them. I think you are what Tommy needs. I think you are the one who can help my nephew” Her grip tightened and an involuntary mewl of pain came from her throat. She released Lottie’s hand, and instead placed a pleading touch on her bicep.

“Please give it a try. At least for a month. I know he won’t live to be an old man. And whatever life he has left, whether it is 4 years or 4 decades, I want him to find peace. Happiness, even. I want him to have a reason to wake up in the morning” She could tell she wished to say more, but had cut off her words.

With all she laid out before her, Charlotte barely resisted the temptation to grab her purse and run for her life. But something in her words, in the story she narrated for her, it pulled at her heartstrings. She had a thing for lost causes and broken things. In the worst scenario, she would walk out depressed but with enough money to start anew.

She only had one request

“Can I meet your nephew before I make my decision?”

Mrs Gray dropped her arm and pressed her lips into a thin line, eyebrows knit together in a scowl. She wanted to say no, that much she could tell. Maybe she thought she shouldn’t see Thomas until she had her signed up so she couldn’t back out. But Charlotte wouldn’t agree on anything until she spoke to him

“Of course”

Back into the house, she took her to the second floor. Lottie quickly noticed the house had been retrofitted in ways most couldn’t afford to offer Thomas a semblance of comfort. Large paintings hung in the stairway, most of them displaying a man with blue eyes and a dominant posture, always standing with his hands behind his back.

A set of double doors stood ajar towards the back of the floor. The room behind stretched almost all the length of the house, and Lottie noticed in the wall the dents where walls had been taken down to create such a large space. The furniture stood well spaced between each other to allow wide passages, enough to comfortably fit a wheelchair. Sunlight filled the alcove, coming from the many windows with the drapes drawn back. A set of glass doors led to a magnificent veranda that overlooked the estate.

Just outside, close to the balustrade, sat a black-haired man, his back turned to them. The wheelchair he sat upon was far more complex and luxurious than the ones she had in the ward. He wore a robe and slippers, as if he had just risen from bed despite being well into the afternoon.

Mrs. Gray walked out first, while she waited just under the lintel. She stood next to the man, one hand on his shoulder.

“Tommy, there is someone I want you to meet”

“No” His voice cut through the air, deep and curt. It sounded manly, and would have been pleasing to hear in other situation

“Tommy, please give her a chance, I promise-” He cut her pleading short with a smack of his fist on the wooden armrest.

“I said no! I don’t want her here. Put her in a cab and send her away” Mrs. Gray seemed to be at her wits’ end. She crouched next to him, like when one speaks to a child. She couldn’t make out the words she hissed at him through clenched teeth, but whatever she said, he didn’t like. With surprising skill he turned the wheelchair around and nearly ran Charlotte over, having barely managed to stop the chair with a heel on the floor.

The paintings did little justice to the blueness in his eyes. A vibrant blue not often seen, but filled with ice the moment they laid on her. The smart haircut had been replaced by an overgrown mane, jet black strands curling behind the ears and waving around the top. A five o clock shadow obscured the clenched jaw down to the neck. But even unkempt like that she felt the aura of haughtiness and pride bordering on arrogance emanating from him. He held her gaze for endless seconds, and not once she shied away from his cold eyes.

“Whatever it is you think you can do for me, save it for someone else. And now, get out of my home”

He wheeled past her, moving towards the main double doors. He couldn’t really go anywhere, but she figured he planned to hide somewhere until she left.

Lottie stood there, a bit dumbfounded, while Mrs. Gray returned to her side, despair plastered in her features, mixed with barely contained anger

“He is like that sometimes, but I promise you, some days are better. I will talk to him and get him to behave, and if you-”

“I can start tomorrow” She cut her off. Her jaw hung open, eyes widened as she struggled to wrap her mind around her words. Words that shocked Charlotte as much as Mrs. Gray, for she hadn’t actually allowed them out of her mouth. They just left in a blurt. But she meant them, even if she couldn’t quite tell herself why. It went beyond the money; she wanted this job. As if something invisible pushed her to stay there; as if there she’d truly find a purpose. It made no sense, but hunches and feelings rarely did

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Gray. I think I can help your nephew.”

#marsie writes #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby x fem oc #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby series #tommy shelby one shot #charlotte tindall #female oc #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #don't hold my hand (i'll break your heart)

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uwukillmenowowo · 28 days

Note

Yandere Enki X Therapist Female reader

I GOT’CHU—

Cuz the best thing I love about Enki is his brother 🥰

Nah but still- Enki is 😍

But I might make a part two because I just wanna see if im on the right track of a good storyline.

Forgive me for this because I've only watched Nanbaka until season 2

(ノ ─︣ ⏥ ─︣ )ノ

Keeping Me Sane

(Yandere Enki Gokuu X Therapist! Female! Reader!)

Notes:

You were a recently appointed therapist.

Since you had to look over some inmates and guards one on one you got to learn how to use Qigong from the best of the best. Building 5.

You got along with one guard in particular, Samon

He taught you more about close combat and how to block out Qi channeling.

That way if an inmate gets to aggressive, you can paralyze them.

Basically you're like Ty Lee from ATLA.

Somethings wrong... You can feel it. It's coming from building 5. However, you ignore it, thinking that it was just some inmates. That is... until you get too close to a certain guard.

{Second POV}

~~~~~

You were heading to building 5 because of a supposed urgent process that needed to take place. The train stopped and you got off, taking a deep breath as you walked towards the Chinese setting. 'No matter how many times I walk through here it still smells like lotus flowers.' You thought optimistically as you saw a familiar fabulous teal haired queer Queen.

"Ruka! Good afternoon!" You called. Ruka turned around happily and squealed, rushing over to you and wrapped his arms around you. "[Y/n], dearie~ So glad you came. Ugh, that inmate was about to become absolutely insufferable..." You chuckled and pat his shoulder, telling him that you were here to help. He thanked you profusely and then told you that the inmate was in a lover level cell because of protocol. You understood and started to make your way to the cell.

But that's when you noticed... an extremely tall male.

[REALLY THO- HOW THE FUCK IS ENKI THAT TALL????]

You've never seen him before. However, he was wearing a guard uniform and he had a belt quite similar to Samon. 'Oh wait! Samon said he had an older brother. Perhaps that's him.' You thought and kept walking, eager to become acquaintances with another college.

You waved your hand and was about to greet him when all of a sudden he grabbed you by your coat and slammed you against the wall with incredible speed. You gasped for air and coughed. "Whoa are you?" He demanded as he glared at you.

He lifted you up. Since you were much smaller than him, you were suspended in the air. Because of the impact you felt blood in your mouth. Not wanting to cough it out, you swallowed hard. You tried to speak but no words came out. Thankfully though, someone came to your aid. "HEY! LET HER GO! SHE'S THE NEW THERAPIST THAT IS CHECKING UP ON THAT INMATE!" You couldn't see him but you knew it was Samon's voice.

The taller male let you go and finally you coughed some blood out as you held your throat. Samon raced over to you. "[Y/n]! Are you alright? I'm sorry about Enki." You just nodded and looked up to see Enki's gaze now looking nonchalant. "I'm... fine. Just a little banged up. But overall I'm good." Samon pouted. " Do you need Doctor Otogi?"

You shook your head again, telling Samon repeatedly that you were okay. But Samon refused to believe that you were okay. Since you two were good friends, Samon asked for Enki to apologize to you. You tried to tell him that it was fine but Enki did apologize to you.

You felt embarrassed about that so you just smiled and told Enki how it was no big deal. After that, Samon pat your shoulder happily and told you to visit the doctor if anything started to hurt before leaving.

After that it was just you and Enki. The taller male just stared down at you and you felt like you were in the presence of the warden all over again. "So you're a therapist?" He asked. You quickly nodded. Enki just hummed to himself before he started to walk off.

You just let out a deep breath. 'Scary!' You thought and just made your way to the inmate's cell to do the job you're paid to do.

{Ruka's POV}

~~~~~

"So~ How'd it go?" I asked and chuckled, using my Bashosen to cover my mouth. "... Awful... I tried to do as you say, pin her to the wall. But I slammed her head into the wall instead." I sweatdropped and sighed deeply as I saw Enki glaring at the wall. But immediately after, he smiled lovingly. "She's so tiny. I could do whatever I want with her with only one hand." I grit my teeth and just nodded along. 'What perverse thoughts.' I thought as I narrowed my eyes at Enki's lovestruck gaze.

'How in the hell did I get into this situation again..?'

"Shut up. Either help me win her over from my brother or I'll snap your neck right here an now. After all, you're one of her admirers too aren't you?"

'Right... that's how...' I sighed and fixed my hair and my cap before I proposed another plan. "Fine. Let's start off easier. Just ask her that you want to schedule a therapy meeting but instead, take that moment to apologize for hurting her. You could ever get her a gift or a snack." Enki then smirked and I flinched. It was the same look he gave me after almost murdering me after all.

"Perfect." His smirk grew wider and I just nodded. "Keep the grin down. You look like you're about to murder someone again... Also, don't. I've already covered up the first one. We don't need a second one." Enki stood straight up and fixed his guard coat. "That inmate deserved it. Talking about what's mine in such a way." Enki then went back to glaring at the wall and I facepalmed.

Ehhhhh- Am I doin' good?

(っ ─︣ ᵜ ─︣ )っ

#Yandere #Yandere Enki #Yandere Nanbaka #Nanbaka X Reader #Nanbaka Enki #nanbaka samon #Samon Gokuu #enki gokuu #Ruka Goujo #Enki X Reader #Female Reader #requested #yandere requests

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nightmarerodent · 1 month

Note

Respective Jacqui , Frost and Takeda hcs?

Let’s go in order, shall we?

Jacqui:

She is not the voice of reason on the team. She is the enforcer of reason on the team.

She graduated top of her class in army boot camp, above Cassie even, and was asked if she wanted to continue with officer training but declined. It wasn’t the career path she wanted. She’s much happier as a specialist.

She did not fall for Takeda as quickly as he fell for her. She wanted to keep things strictly professional within the team (or as professional as things can be with Cassie leading the change) but damn if his nervous attempts at flirting and puppy dog personality weren’t the most adorably charming thing she’s ever seen. Didn’t help that he was also really nice to look at. Try as she might, she’s only human. She caved halfway through their first real mission together.

She and Jin have a brother/sister relationship where their friendship is purely based on fucking with one another. And beating the crap out of the haters.

She was more rebellious as a teen than even Cassie was. Her father’s overprotectiveness smothered her and hanging out with Cassie was really her only release. The kick boxing was one thing but her ultimate act of rebellion: joining the military.

Frosty:

Did not believe in divine intervention until she met the Kombat Kids because Jesus Christ, how are these idiots still alive?

Repressed lesbian.

Her obsession with strength comes from her feeling powerless her entire life.

Kuai Liang was the first person she truly ever wanted to impress and she has a deep seated fear of disappointing him.

Until recently she’s always viewed kindness as weakness. Something to be exploited in others. It’s a slow process, but she is learning that kindness can be a strength too.

Takeda:

Can’t be in a room where multiple loud conversations are going on at the same time. The noise overstimulates him and the voices become one big, garbled, indistinguishable mess. This is also why he does not enjoy conversations with Ermac.

Cares a lot about his hair and is dreading the day he’ll find his first grey hair.

Prefers layers that conceal his frame when going out as a civvie. People tend to pay less attention to those that look like they have weaker builds and Takeda likes to use this fact to blend into crowds and not stand out. Also easier to hide small blades in too. Just in case.

He likes to perch. The backs of benches, countertops, trees. Jin jokes that it’s because he wants to be tall. The amount of times people at the SF have panicked thinking he’s gone AWOL only to spot him in the rafters on his phone is insane.

Gets very defensive whenever someone refers to the Shirai Ryu as a cult.

#mortal kombat #mkx #mk10 #kombat kids #jacqui briggs #takeda takahashi #frost mk

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meowkn · 3 months

Text

𝐹𝒶𝓁𝓈𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓉

Warnings- light smut, use of cannibalism as a metaphor for love.

Word count- 5kish

𓍯 ִֶָ .「 ✦ False saint ✦ 」

I want you to always remember me. Will you remember that I existed, that I stood next to you here like this? You were always so fragile in the morning, unable to hold onto anything long enough to care about it. You can’t pretend that we always keep what we find. Everybody splits apart, living in the wake of the overwhelming changes. We’ve become strangers, even to ourselves. I believed you, when you told me that we’d never be apart. And so maybe that was more my fault than it was yours. We were once evidence of a love that transcends hunger, I still remember what you told me, “To be loved means to be consumed. To love means to radiate with inexhaustible light. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.” You said that after our first night together, and so those words remain biblical to me. I still miss you to pieces.

You’re somewhere with light touching you.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

I dipped my hands in holy water just to touch him.

The first rain shower was always the gloomiest, especially in this town. They always told you that April showers bring May flowers, but for you it just brought back the aching feeling of fruitlessness. You’ve gotten used to the emptiness over the years, the sound of the hollow floorboards creaking underneath your feet as you walk around the pier, the wooden boards weathered and worn, familiar and comforting. This is how a girl becomes holy; she becomes empty. The pitter patter of the rain echoed around your feet, the gentle breeze blowing around you like a mothers caress. You felt a hand grab your wrist, pulling you out of your thoughts. The blur of soft blonde hair awakened your senses as the fruitless sensation left your chest. His bright blue eyes and mellow aura blurred in your blurred vision stood out to you as he spoke to you.

“I knew I’d find you here.” His voice rang out, flashing you his usual boyish smile. Recently you’ve grown acquainted with a boy, for the first time, in what? Years? It was strange, you saw him next to the pier, your pier, that has now become his as well. He muted the aching feeling that was in your head, so you kept him around. He was nice enough, a little sheepish, but still undeniably charming.

You looked up at his face, the dim light caressing the contours of it. The sound of his voice immediately filled you with a sense of solace. His words rang through your ears as he spoke to you. He knew where to find you. Of course he did. He had learned you and your habits well enough to know that in times of melancholy you’d be found out here; on the pier; watching the rain fall as the baroness of the town enveloped you. Without you realizing, he had learned your secrets, and now he was taking what he had learned and using it to seek you out. Have you really become this easy?

This boy was dangerous and you knew it.

He held your wrist tightly, pulling you away from the pier and taking you further down the shore. The rain had slowed down to a gentle drizzle and the clouds were beginning to break away. You were surprised at the suddenness with which he was dragging you so far away from the pier, but you went along with it, curious to see where he could be taking you, or maybe it was the feeling of comfort his hand around your wrist gave you that made you follow him. “Armin, where are we going?” You asked, your voice quiet from not using it all, you were getting more curious as he continued to lead you away from the pier, dragging you deeper and deeper into the woods. Your senses were beginning to sharpen as the rain and clouds cleared, and the forest around you was becoming more vivid and detailed. The trees were tall and thick, and the dirt path under your feet soft and loamy, the scent of the lush greenery around you filling your nose with a fresh and gentle fragrance. You’ve always enjoyed the smell after it rains.

“I want to show you something.” He said, flashing you a lazy smile over his shoulder, his hair falling perfectly into his eyes, you never understood how someone could look so, seraphic. His gaze lingered on you for a moment before quickly leading you further into the woods. Armin finally came to a sudden stop, turning to look at you with an expectant expression. You had no idea what he wanted to show you, or even why you followed him blindly into the woods. The wind had kicked up and the trees were swaying in the breeze, the birds singing softly in the branches. There was a small clearing, covered in rich green grass, which was dotted with patches of clover and wildflowers. It was idyllic. He led you through the clearing before stopping once more, pulling you closer to him and bringing you to a sudden stop. His eyes locked with yours, and a soft smile of longing crossed his features. He was staring at you with such intensity, it felt like you could get lost in those eyes of his. The thought made you dizzy.

“Look up here, look towards the sky.” He said softly, his hand wrapping around yours and pulling you with him as he reached up towards the sky. “Can you see it?” He whispered softly, leaning even closer to you and bringing his face within inches of yours. His eyes were shining brightly, they looked like heaven. Whenever you looked at him you realized just how fragile and unholy you truly were, you wanted him to make you holy, with that little boyish smile and curls of blonde that could only be described as the purest thing. “You wanted to show me… The sky?” You hesitated, looking up at the sky, there wasn’t anything notable about it. The clouds were clearing up and the stars were dim in the vastness of the early night. You could hear the laughter in his voice as he pulled you down with him, sitting on the grassy floor of the forest. “You never look at it.” He whispered, drawing you even closer. His arm falling over your shoulders as he pointed up to the sky. “Do you know why they call it a skyline? Because it’s the edge of the horizon, you can’t see any further than that. But if you look up, you can see much, much further than that. There’s so much beauty in the night sky, so much promise.” He says, his voice longing for something, something that belonged to him, his eyes brighter than the stars themself. He was pointing at the stars but you were looking at his hand.

Armin thought you had a lot in common with the stars; it’s light and it’s beauty, and how distant they were. But he would never tell you that. He gently kissed your hair as you tried to see the beauty in what the two of you were looking at. He wondered if you knew that he wasn’t talking about the stars, and instead was talking about you.

Swoony type, soft hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine, lips of honey. He adored you, you were so soft, so diabolically angelic looking.

“I don’t get it.” You sighed, leaning back on your hands as you glanced over at Armin. He smiled at you like you had missed the most obvious thing in the world, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes and return your gaze to the sky. “Just trust me alright? It might not be something that everyone always sees, but it’s still there. It’s always there, waiting for you to notice it.” He said, sitting up as the wind danced through his hair. He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling, and dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Maybe if your head wasn’t always down you’d understand.” He flicked your forehead, enjoying the way your eyes widened and cheeks flushed. “Never looking up to see the world from a different angle.” He was teasing you, Armin Alert was, actually, teasing you. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his audacity. “And you really ought to look up more often, I can see it now, the stars reflecting in your eyes.” He said, tilting his head as he analyzed you.

“Yeah, sure whatever. I can’t believe you dragged me away from the pier for this.” You replied sarcastically, nudging him. He smiled, his lips curling up into a boyish grin. “I promise, you don’t mind.” He said softly, bringing his face closer to you and your eyes once again locked with each other. His breath was warm against your skin, his eyes shining in the darkness. He was still holding your wrist, the way his hand held yours made your heart beat faster. He was good at that, playing with your emotions in this way, never letting anything happen completely straight to the point, there always had to be some sort of push and pull between you both, a little game you’ve been playing. You snort and roll your eyes, your eyes drifting away from him, the dreamy look in his eyes is starting to get to you. “Oh come on, as if you’d rather be watching that dreary view of the ocean instead of having a bit of fun by the moonlight.” He said, gently shaking you by your shoulders, as if trying to shake the thoughts of calamity out of you. “We all deserve a little bit of magic in our lives, even you, Ms. Cynical.”

How could someone cynical be ready to bleed at your hands? You could have shown me your thorns and I would’ve showed you hands ready to bleed. I desired very little, but the things I did always consumed me. I can still remember when too much was never enough. I wonder if I still remain the cynical one to you after everything?

“I am not cynical.” You groan softly, you wanted to be annoyed at him, but you never really could, could you? His starry eyes that shined brighter than the stars you were supposed to be watching, always brought the smallest of smiles to your face. “Oh, come on.” He says playfully, lifting his hands from his shoulders and tucking your hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing against your cheek. “Of all the things I’ve said tonight, that’s the one you take umbrage with?” He chuckles softly, the twinkle in his eyes returning. “It’s kind of cute.”

You roll your eyes again, looking away from him.

“Don’t be like that.” He whispers softly as he scoots closer to you, the scent of his cologne filling the air and the heat of his body radiating off of him. He cups your face with both hands, his fingers caressing your cheeks, guiding your gaze back to him as he pulls you in close. “The way your eyes glint in the moonlight, the way your hair spills down your back- it’s like staring into a million stars. I can’t take my eyes off of you, so please, please don’t look away.”

You gulped.

He was so pure, he was practically glowing as he stared into your eyes.

I shall eat your heart.

He chuckled softly, the sound like a chime from the heavens. He continued to lean closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “I make you nervous, don’t I? Am I making you nervous? I like making you nervous.” He whispered. He could feel how breathless you were, the way your eyes dilated whenever your eyes met his. The heat of his touch was almost overpowering. “I’m not…” You muttered, you wanted to say more, but your words were lost in your throat, choking you. He hummed in response, obviously taking your words with a grain of salt. His mouth hovering just an inch away from your own and his breath filling the space between you. His eyes staring deeply into yours. “Don’t look at me like that…” You whisper, each breath you take catching in your throat. But his eyes were already locked on you, his gaze holding your own, and his mouth already hovering just inches from yours. It was surreal, the tension rising between the two of you like pressure of an oncoming thunderstorm.

I can’t look into your eyes, but they’re all I think about. I memorized your face as if it’s my mirror, or a prayer that needs to be said every night. I will forget my name before I forget you. My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . . I wanted you. I wanted you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately, I was starving for you, I still am, if you must know it. What lived and died between us — haunts me still.

His breath whispered across your lips, you could feel it on your skin, hot against the cool night air. His hands had slowly moved to the side of your face, and they now cradled it softly, holding you in place so you could not move, his thumb brushing against your cheek. Every sense you had was heightened, and you could feel everything; the soft grass under your feet, the scent of flowers mixing with his cologne, the warmth of his breath, the vibrant intensity of his eyes, the subtle contact his clothes were making with yours. All your thoughts of reason had faded away, all that remained was the two of you standing underneath the pale moonlight. His blonde hair blurred in your vision as his lips met yours with a soft passion that could have been misidentified as a promise. Armin had fallen in love with you long before your first kiss, though. He loved you more than he had ever loved anyone before that moment. He thinks he loved you more than he’s ever loved anyone after that moment. The stars will go out before he ever forgets you. Just as your mind caught up with your heart, a sudden flash of thunder and lightning in the distance jolted you out of the moment. He laughs as he pulls away, his smile lighting up the night around you, his face glistening with the rain. “It’s raining.” He states, holding his hand up to catch the rain in the palm of his hand. “Thanks for stating the obvious.” You laugh softly, rolling your eyes. As you looked up at Armin, you noticed his hair was soaking wet and hanging lazily over his face, still with that boyish grin, in this moonlight he looked angelic.

“Well, someone had to, since you seem incapable.” He chuckles softly, his light hearted tone masking the more tender thoughts behind his words. He takes off his jacket and gently throws it over your shoulders and pulls it tightly around you, almost as if it’s second nature to him. “I should get home.” You whispered softly, brushing a strand of wet hair out of your face. “Let me walk you.” He says, his hand grabbing your wrist and guiding you out of the forest and down the path. The rain continues to pour down around you, the wind blowing softly, brushing against your skin, and you can feel your clothes clinging to your skin as they soak up the rain. Armin doesn’t speak as he leads you home under the cover of the night. His hand felt warm on your wrist, giving you comfort even as the rain came down in droves. The sound of the raindrops hitting the ground and cars driving by in the distance filled the silence, and the smell of dirt and grass permeated the air.

You looked up at him as he walked, and for the first time you didn’t feel like the only way to become holy was to be empty, holy, to you, was loving him. With him things are both holy and sweet, something you never thought could coexist.

༘ ೀ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

It was a long, quiet walk from the pier to your house, but with Armin it was nothing, the thunderstorm a distant memory as his hand stayed wrapped around yours, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you like a hug from Armin himself. You stepped up the porch to your house, your eyes meeting his as you turned around to say bye, but he was already staring at you, like he hadn’t seen anything more beautiful.

“Do you want to come in, I mean, I’d hate for you to walk all alone in this rain?” His answer was immediate, his face lighting up like a golden retriever who’s owner had just come home from work. “Yes, thank you.” He smiled, walking into your house with you, shaking the water out of his hair before he entered. You walked inside and he sat down on the couch as you went to turn on the light, this wasn’t the first time he’s been over, or the second, or even the third. It was a familiar scene, seeing him look up at you from your couch, that same grin and innocent twinkle in his eyes.

It was the same every time, you’d sit down next to him and you’d talk for a while about everything and nothing at all, your head resting on his shoulder and his fingers twisting through your hair. Telling stories of your childhood and tales of your futures, sometimes you’d be together and other times not. But it always ended the same, you pinned to the couch and his mouth on yours, that hand that was in your hair now sliding in between your pretty thighs, reaching for a place that shouldn’t be touched, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist. The way you craved each other couldn’t be described as anything as shallow as ‘physical desire’, because it wasn’t shallow at all. You wanted each other in the way of flesh wanting to knit itself together over a wound.

He felt warm and familiar, he felt solid and safe. You wanted to cling to his shirt, bury your face into the warm curve of his neck, and never let go.

“I want you.” He was breathless, his lips leaving marks on the skin of your neck, you can feel the soft smirk on his lips as he sank his teeth into the flesh. He liked the sounds you made when he did that, something in between a whine and a gasp. You stuttered over your next words, your nails digging into the fabric on his back. “I need you.” You muttered, moving your head so your neck was more accessible.

“Yes, but do you want me?” His tone was gentle, but there was something else in there, something you couldn’t put your finger on, something that made you want to flinch.

“Badly.”

His fingers were undoing your bra, pulling it from underneath your shirt, and tossing the pink fabric onto the floor. You feel a soft kiss land on your neck., just below your ear, and his breath is hot against your neck. His blue eyes, darkening with something you could only pinpoint as desire.

“I want you to want me as I want you. I want to make you shiver from my touch. I want to hear your voice, breathless and shaky. I want you, all of you. Your bones. Your body heat. The bite marks your teeth leave. To see how bad and beautiful those eyes look beneath me. I want you to say my name like a prayer.”

He whispered against your skin, shivers running down your spine. This was more than desire, it was something primal, wild.

You kissed him passionately, possessively, it wasn’t soft or subtle anymore, no, it was rough and wild, it was a hunger that couldn’t quite be filled, it was sinful.

His lips were warm and violent against yours, his fingers sliding underneath your shorts, grazing against your underwear, a quiet moan escaping your lips into his mouth. His eyes were open and locked on yours, he wanted to see you, every flutter of your eyelashes, the red spread across your cheeks, everything. His eyes were like the sea. . . This is how people drown.

You realized this man wasn’t a saint at all, rather a fallen angel, handsome devil.

His kisses became harder, more urgent, and his hand moved faster underneath your shorts, his fingers probing at the sensitive spot on your skin, a whisper of a moan escaping your lips. His lips were like a hot flame, burning away everything but your desires, his mouth consuming you with a deep and desperate hunger. The way he touched you was rough and almost cruel, with an intensity that was almost unbearable. Your body responded to every thrust, every bite, every kiss, every touch, and he knew exactly how to take you to a place where there was no such thing as pleasure and pain. Every moment was just another opportunity for him to touch you, worship you, and leave his mark on your body.

Your clothes were on the floor, mixed with his next to the piles of books you had laying around, his hips pressed against yours, your nails dug into the skin of his back as he painted another hickey of red and purple on your neck. His skin smelled of ash and wild strawberries, sweat glistening off of him. Your hips carve into his like your Michelangelo and he’s something holy. His actions were desperate and primal, but there was a certain tenderness to them, as if he was savoring every moment he had with you. Your body was flushed, drenched in sweat, and he could feel your breath coming faster and faster. Your bodies were becoming one, almost like you were melting into each other. It was so hot and humid and you could feel the tension steadily rising between the two of you. Every touch was like a knife cutting into you, every kiss like he was eating you whole.

“You're heavenly.” He whispers against your skin as he thrusts into you. You can only whimper in response, your lashes fluttering over your cheeks as your eyes rolled back into your head.

༘ ೀ⋆｡˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You slept next to him as he sat up in your bed, analyzing your girly room, lace curtains, linen bed sheets, the small desk next to your bed with your makeup and books, and a singular stuffed animal on your bed. He couldn’t help but chuckle softly, taking the time to brush the strands of hair out of your eyes. If only he knew how to love someone without swallowing them and consuming them fully. Then maybe he could’ve loved you properly. Armin was carnivorous about love, eating it to the ankles.

He presses his lips against your forehead, careful not to disturb you from your sleep. He’s gentle, letting his lips linger and rest against your head instead of pressing together. He just wants to taste you without needing to eat you whole.

He was gone the next morning, he left the smell of coffee and freshly baked pancakes on the kitchen counter for you. And that was the last time you saw him all spring, you sat by the pier, hoping, waiting, praying, that you’d hear his giggle behind you and his bright eyes and boyish smile, but it never came. His touch still lingers on your body, as if he’d blurred into you. Why can’t you keep anything good? God, you would have let him eat you up, drain you of everything you had to offer, just to keep him with you.

They asked me, ‘Do I love her to death?’ and I said, ‘Speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life. You were obsessed with the color red, this dangerous girl with scarlet lips. With sweet kisses written in blood on a page I couldn’t turn. I remember when you said that love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love, that it was life a religion. And that was terrifying. It is dreadful how I miss you, but I see you in lilies, misty mornings, angelic smiles, and pink skies. Because of you something in me wants more. I can’t rest. My thoughts filled with you, my angel.

Pale spring becomes dazzling summer with a tender, capricious sky, and the fading flowers buried in a wash o the summer grass, and you've got a new guy, he’s strong and real, and undeniably a sin, the complete opposite of Armin, but you’ve grown to forget all about him.

Someone had to leave first for the story to blossom. This is a very old story, with no other version. It’s a tragedy the way your story goes; maybe, perhaps, almost.

You sit in the arms of the brunette who picked you up and put you together, his arms wrapped around your waist as he peppered kisses across your neck as you read.

“Read to me.”

“Why?”

“Because you always go somewhere else when you read. I want to go there with you.” He said, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Don’t be silly, Jean.”

#meowkn 📝🌠#೨౿ani’s work೨౿#warning:frisky ᠀𓏲 #armin x reader #armin aot #armin arlert #armin smut #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin attack on titan #aot fic #aot #help I’m losing my mind

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vi-sigoth · 3 months

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Watching the most recent interview with Ellen/Eliot Page makes me so fucking ill that I don’t have any jokes left in me about her appearance. I just feel like crying when I look at her. Juno came out when I was in high school, and a lot of people told me then, and continued to tell me, when I was in my early 20s, that I looked like her. I don’t think we bear a huge resemblance to each other but we could be related, maybe cousins or half-sisters, and we both presented sort of quasi-androgynous, not butch at all but not extremely feminine either, and we have very similar low-timbred voices and I had and still have kind of weird, off beat humor, sorta like the character that Page played in Juno. I don’t think we looked like each other more so than my general demeanor and mannerisms sort of reminded people of Page. I always took it as a compliment. Ellen was very pretty to me. I was a fellow flat-chested, low-voiced brunette, someone that a lot wouldn’t consider, looks-wise, a feminine bombshell knockout. And that was devastating to me when I was younger. I hated my perceived ugliness. Hated my flat chest. Hated being tall and having a low voice. Hated all the jokes made about me when I was in music school about how I was “a man” (I have a low mezzo-soprano singing voice and can sing contralto roles pretty easily too). As I left my teens and then my 20s behind, I gradually started to like the way I looked. I started developing my own personal clothing style that was flattering to my body. I started not caring if others didn’t like my appearance. So some guy got insecure because I was taller than him? His loss. Some guy didn’t want to date me because of my tiny A-cups? Good, I don’t want to be with someone that shallow anyway. A lot of men thought I was too weird? I am weird and I’m not about to stop being weird anytime soon. My husband loves the way I look, and the way I am, and that’s good enough for me. And I learned, even as I became more conservative and traditional in my leanings, that the TERF girls are really correct: there is no wrong way to present as a women. A butch lesbian with a shaved head that wears nothing but cargo shorts and t-shirts is just as much of a woman as the girl who loves 1950s fashion and rolls her hair every night and applies makeup every morning.

But I don’t think Ellen got to have that realization. I think Ellen grew up as a child actor, suffered grooming, abuse, and the casting couch (she said as much in her memoir) and then suffered years of cultural grooming and brainwashing from Hollywood and leftist media that tells women that they are either Kardashians or men, and there is no nuance and no in-between anymore. Look like an inhuman bimboid sex doll freak like Kylie Jenner, or just simply, quit participating in it, and become a sexless object. Ellen Page has allowed a doctor to cut off her breasts, and she now exists in a bizarre state of not being a woman, but not resembling a man either. Her voice is bizarre and uncanny, coming from vocal cords too thick for a female throat. If she continues taking testosterone, she will have joint problems, as her muscles continue to grow too big for her 5’1 frame. She will be at a massively increased risk for liver failure and heart problems. Her vagina will possibly atrophy so much, that it will be impossible for her to have any sort of penetrative sex at all.

I laughed along with everyone else at that absurd picture of her at the Met Gala a few years back, but it’s not funny to me anymore. She looks like a lost little girl, wearing clothing not meant for her, that don’t fit her. That never will.

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butterflydm · 1 year

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wot reread: a memory of light (chapters 32-36)

spoilers for a memory of light, the final book.

Ah. It's a Mat PoV. I never really know what to expect out of Mat PoV these days, I have to admit. Early-to-middle Mat is always an enjoyable read, but I learned to despise reading Mat PoV during CoT & KoD, the two books that made me dislike Mat. The Sanderson Mat PoV chapters have varied wildly between "ugh I hate this"; "huh, that's intriguing"; and "Mat! <3". So, yeah, never know what I'm about to get when I start a Mat PoV these days.

2. Mat considers going out onto the battlefield again but changes his mind when Tuon glares at him from her ten-foot tall throne (...someone is overcompensating; that thing is twice as tall as she is). We get another of those bizarre thoughts from Mat where he praises Tuon for things that he dislikes from anyone else (Min did the same thing in her recent PoV too -- she's all "I don't respect any titles... except yours, Empress! I'll kiss the ground you walk on, Empress! I'll tell you anything you want, Empress!" ...I am mildly paraphrasing). I mentioned this earlier, how Mat starts having super-weird "I was born a native Seanchan" thoughts at a certain point, and this really feels like one of them.

In this instance, he claims that Tuon's ~way of giving orders~ "gives him a thrill", which... I'm torn between two things:

A. it just sends me right back to slave-conditioning (go back to Bethamin's Rules of Slave-Breaking back in Winter's Heart! It is downright eerie how much Tuon followed the rules there in how she interacted with Mat in CoT & KoD; it reminds me of how the most heartbreaking damane moments are when the channelers stop fighting and start desperately wanting to please their mistresses).

but

B. his actions don't really seem to back up that he enjoys getting ordered around by Tuon? Or enjoys watching her order other people around? It might be a thing, I guess, where his body has been conditioned into getting a thrill out of her being a slave-owner but emotionally and intellectually he's turned off by it?

3. Hmm, so Tuon gets incredibly jealous about Mat being in the same room as other women (who aren't slaves), but she doesn't want him looking at her with lust either. Interesting data point.

This is also a place where we really dive into the toxic ways that Mat is using the phrase 'Aes Sedai', where it basically is twisted to mean 'woman with power that I'm scared of' -- Tuon is an Aes Sedai in Mat's thoughts here, despite never actually channeling or having gone through the training to become an Aes Sedai. She's 'one of them' because she is a woman who is capable of having a power that Mat doesn't understand. If Mat had gone to Merrilor and learned what damage his fear and mistrust of Aes Sedai had caused in Caemlyn, he might have learned a healthier way to think about Aes Sedai.

4. Ah, @markantonys, here's that line: "You're doing a fine job of persuading Tuon not to use damane" (Mat sarcastically thinks to himself).

?????

It really is a fascinating/horrifying/mind-boggling contrast between what Mat's intentions apparently are and what he's actually done when he interacts with Tuon. Now, this is not the first allusion to the idea that Mat wants Tuon to stop using damane -- he told Min a few chapters back that "Rand" would want her to selectively use her viewings to try to encourage Tuon to think more favorably about Aes Sedai (Min proceeded to completely ignore him and just spilled literally everything to Tuon that she wanted to know) -- but it's the first time that Mat has actively tried to claim that he has been attempting to persuade Tuon on the matter of the damane.

So, in theory, Mat wants to persuade Tuon to stop using damane.

But in practice, Mat has always been silent and complicit when it comes to Tuon's use and abuse of damane, just as he is in this scene here. It kinda seems like the only way Mat is willing to risk himself for the damane around Tuon is by trying to place other people in her path who will argue on their behalf.

Mat is "unnerved" by how quickly the new Sharan damane has taken to her captivity. I mean, I could say the same of you, Mat.

5. Hmm, Mat is charming Galgan now. Maybe I spoke too soon on thinking that Galgan would no longer try to murder Tuon now that Mat is next in line for the throne, displacing Galgan's claim. If he ends up liking Mat more than he likes Tuon, then Mat might 'accidentally' become the (first?) Emperor of the Seanchan.

Ugh, now Mat is using "marath'damane" instead of "channelers". ...and, by contrast, Galgan is using "Aes Sedai" on Mat's orders. Hmm.

I guess we're supposed to be wondering who will 'win' in the corruption game between Mat and Tuon -- does Tuon manage to break him into being a proper husband-slave or does Mat manage to reach whatever tiny shreds of empathy might still lurk inside Tuon's heart?

6. idk why Mat keeps thinking that Tuon's behavior is mysterious and a puzzle to figure out. It's the omens. She's told you this. He wants to think that she's deeper than she really is, I guess. I suppose if I were trapped in a similar situation, I'd be doing my best to make the best of it too (but that runs into my other big problem of: Jordan's fatalism infecting all the characters even when it's contrary to their past behavior).

7. Tuon is currently interrogating Min on all the omens that she sees for every member of the Blood that's around. And Min just, you know, obeys. For whatever reason.

"He had an inkling of what Tuon might be capable of, if she grew displeased with Min."

Hmm.

"He loved her-- Light, he was pretty sure that he did. But he also let himself be a little afraid of her. He'd have to keep watch so that Tuon didn't decide to 'educate' Min."

Hmm.

Much like Mat himself, Min is in an 'honored' position... but Mat is very aware that this will not actually protect her from getting 'educated' if she displeases his wife-owner. And, once again, Mat gives us nothing he loves about her. Yet when it comes to why he's "a little afraid" of her, Mat does have reasons -- what he's alluding to here is that he's worried that she might hurt his friend's girlfriend (because he's seen Tuon hurt other innocent people in the past).

And we know the kinds of lessons that sul'dam teach. To quote from The Great Hunt again:

Renna took the chair, frowning at Egwene. "I must punish you severely for this. We will both be called to the Court of the nine Moons -- you for what you can do; I as your sul'dam and trainer -- and I will not allow you to disgrace me in the eyes of the Empress. I will stop when you tell me how much you love being damane and how obedient you will be after this. And, Tuli. Make me believe every word."

8. As a result of Min's reading of the 'omens' around one of the Blood, Tuon (through Selucia) announces that the woman will be executed, making both Mat and Min startle severely. Wow, maybe it's a bad idea to hand that kind of surveillance 'technology' over to an unhinged dictator, Min? Who could have guessed?

Anyway, Min is completely shocked by this (completely predictable) reaction from Tuon at an 'omen' that hints at potential betrayal.

Mat's thoughts about Tuon, the woman that he "loves":

Mat shivered. He didn't like it when Tuon got like this. That stare of hers... it seemed like the stare of another person. A person without compassion. A statue had more life to it.

That's literally just Tuon being Tuon, bro. Not sure what to tell you. This is the way she behaves the majority of the time. If you dislike this about her, then you're going to be unhappy for most of your marriage.

9. Min 'wins' this round pretty much the same way that Mat 'won' Tuon telling him that he was more than a toy to her -- she says that she won't tell any more omens to Tuon if Tuon continues to behave this way. If Tuon executes people based solely on Min's 'omens', then Min will stop giving her any omens.

I will say... this has been pretty consistent in the narrative so far -- Tuon only really responds to the threat of her toys being taken away from her. Anything less that that and she will continue to push the boundaries of making someone uncomfortable. Only the threat of losing her toys entirely really makes it through to her brain.

Mat worries here that Min's "lack of respect" towards Tuon is going to get her executed, but for the moment, Tuon agrees that she will not kill anyone based on what Min says they 'might' do.

...given how 'well' Tuon has kept her word so far, I'm pretty sure that she'll have trumped up an excuse to kill this member of the Blood in the next couple of days. But she'll be able to convincingly lie to Min that it wasn't because of her viewing.

I do think it's weird/fascinating how Min seems to view her 'job' with Fortuona as an all-or-nothing affair -- Mat suggested that she pick and choose what she tells Fortuona in an attempt to influence her, but Min seems to feel like she can either tell Fortuona everything or nothing at all. But we don't get any reason why that's the case. Especially since Tuon is a lot more interested in hearing Min's viewings about other people than the ones about herself, which was something that Min claimed she did for Rand as a ~special exception~ to her normal policy of respecting people's privacy. Again, why is Min going out of her way for the Seanchan? Tuon wouldn't actually know if Min lied to her about this.

10. Awww, Egwene is speaking in code to Mat about his medallion so as not to give his secret away to the enemy Seanchan. It's too late, Egwene. Setalle Anan betrayed Mat's secrets long ago, but it's very sweet of you to care.

Okay, so Elayne joins the, uh, conference call at this point ("thick with child". Um, exactly how far along do you think she is, Sanderson?) and so I am going to try to figure out what, if anything, she knows about the Mat situation. Thom told her a heroic story about Mat freeing slaves. Perrin told her Mat was doing "something" with the Seanchan. She's been pretty busy since then, so I wonder if Egwene has had time to update her on anything.

Mat wants to merge all the forces together. Mat's thoughts on Elayne: "She maintained the posture of a queen, but her disheveled hair and clothing burned in several places indicated what she'd been through." Meanwhile, ~Fortuona~ sits in pristine silks and lets Mat do her talking for her. I suppose she views him as acting as her Voice-husband-slave right now.

11. Elayne and Mat are the two people talking over the tactics at this meeting, btw (so consider that another spit in the eye to Perrin for trying to diss Elayne's tactical knowledge). Mat laying out the plan and Elayne questioning the details and reasoning.

Elayne doesn't acknowledge Tuon's existence at all during this entire section. She is absolutely and 100% only talking to Mat, and there's never even a mention of her looking over and noticing Tuon. She also doesn't seem to be treating Mat any differently than she had before.

I am so curious about Elayne's thoughts on this situation! Did Thom tell her about Mat's marriage being an accident when he came to Merrilor? Does she even know that Mat is married to the Seanchan Empress? She knows he's married to someone, because of his letter, but does she know who?

...also, she doesn't mention the Horn of Valere and Mat needing to blow it. That's maybe the one thing here that does indicate that she is aware of Tuon & the Seanchan even if she doesn't acknowledge them, not wanting to give away the Horn's believed ties to Mat. Which implies that she's ignoring ~Fortuona~ as a deliberate snub (good for her).

If the "Two Rivers coat" that Mat has been wearing was sourced by the person that Elayne found for Mat (by his request), then he is also wearing clothes that were supplied by Elayne during this entire meeting. Seanchan breeches and an Andoran coat.

Also, Elayne telling Mat, "I hope you know what you're doing," triggers the dice in his head. Is that... is that about more than the battle, Elayne? Are you speaking in code, Elayne? Are you talking about Tuon, Elayne?

Side note: Elayne doesn't get the whole "ugh no, she's a Dreaded Aes Sedai" treatment from Mat here even though she literally is one and Tuon is, in fact, not. I'm guessing because Mat isn't scared of Elayne?

12. Elayne then "passionately" explains and defends Mat's plan to Tam and, idk, some other leaders in the armies on her side.

lol so much at Galad's thoughts about how Perrin is so ~reasonable~ compared to other leaders like Elayne and how maybe the Whitecloaks should settle in the Two Rivers after the Last Battle. Perrin doesn't. He doesn't actually like you, Galad.

It is interesting that Galad is thinking of them as "Whitecloaks" though. When did that start?

Haha, just I was noting that, Galad also notices that he just did that and is puzzled at himself for it.

Elayne does not mention the Seanchan at all here, only "Mat" this and "Mat" that. Nothing about the Seanchan.

13. When Perrin asks Slayer if he thinks he'll be rewarded by the Dark One, Slayer tells Perrin "The Dark One does not discard useful tools" (citing the Forsaken as evidence) and I'm reminded of the many many commonalities that the Seanchan and the Shadow share all over again, because that is just about as true about TDO as it is about the Seanchan -- which is to say, sure, as long as you're still useful, you won't be discarded.

The Seanchan Empire is going to be the Great Evil of the Fourth Age, one way or another. I don't think there's any way for anyone to stop that. The poison is too baked into their culture as it currently stands, and the poison drips through to the people ("the poison drips through" is apparently a quote from Succession, which I've never seen, but that's a fantastic line).

14. Faile is hanging out with the Redarms, who are worrying about "Lord Mat" and wishing that they could be with him to protect him from the Seanchan. So that's now two sets of groups that care deeply about Mat and want to save him from the Seanchan that he's gotten himself tangled up with: Egwene & the Band of the Red Hand's Redarms. So it is 'known' among the general army that Mat is hanging out with the Seanchan (though not that he's married to ~the Empress~), so Elayne definitely knew last chapter when she was completely ignoring Tuon and only talking to Mat. And Faile is here to deliver the Horn to Mat (presumably without tipping it off to the Seanchan with him what they're doing?). To everyone except Faile herself, though, the delivery is "tabac from the Two Rivers" for Mat to enjoy during the battle, as a treat from The Amrylin.

Setalle Anan is also part of this group, it seems, and so is Olver, who is not dead (no thanks to Mat).

A bubble of evil sets their planned Gateway awry and they end up in the Blight instead of Merrilor.

15. ...Melaine is apparently "near to term" and just about ready to give birth. Which would mean that it's been less than nine months since Min first arrived in Caemlyn back in Lord of Chaos (and yet six of those months have apparently happened after Winter's Heart?).

It has been "many days" since Rand went up into the mountain of Shayol Ghul.

Aviendha catches Graendal in the act of attempting to influence the new commander who was put in place after Ituralde was taken out of command, and has an encounter with the red-veiled Aiel, realizing that they are the men who were sent into the Blight to die with honor upon realizing they could channel and that they have been Turned by TDO's channelers.

side note: this does remind me that one group that ends up not having a single Darkfriend in it are the Aiel Wise Ones. Not all of them are great people -- some of them are pretty awful -- but even the worst of the Shaido Wise Ones are not Darkfriends, I'm pretty sure? And no Aiel clan chiefs are Darkfriends either. No one who has been to Rhuidean and lived, essentially. Were the glass columns filtering out Darkfriends in addition to filtering out people who couldn't handle the truth about the Aiel's past?

16. Ah, I think this is our first real introduction to The Dark One as Entropy & the End of All Things. TDO 'wants' (or is driven by its nature) to consume the Pattern and leave nothing behind. I think, out of all the Darkfriends in the book series, that only Ishamael/Moridin actually understands TDO's goal. All the others are scrambling for temporal power and think they're actually going to rule the world after TDO 'wins' but there isn't going to be a world to rule. Only Ishamael/Moridin understands that the endgame is the ending of existence itself.

In the show, they've already tied us into this concept -- Dana, who gets dreams (presumably from Ishamael), talked to Rand about how TDO wants to end 'suffering' by 'breaking the Wheel'. So the show already set us up for the endgame battle which is great because it means (as long as Rafe & co know in advance that they're writing the final season), the show can always pivot to our endgame because they've already planted the seeds.

I'm curious about how much they'll tie Dana's argument into the Seanchan invasion. Because TDO is an existential calamity for everyone, but the Seanchan are an existential calamity for channelers in particular (though we do also have da'covale and I definitely hope that the show doesn't forget about them the way that it kinda feels like the books forgot about them). Once the Seanchan are on the scene, the question of "is it better to suffer in agony and humiliation for hundreds of years with no hope of escape or it is better to just end that suffering?" becomes an active question for the majority of the main cast (Moiraine, Egwene, Nynaeve, Elayne, and Rand too when/if the male a'dam comes into play -- and especially Egwene, who goes through that suffering personally).

17. Poor Faile actually has to worry about travel logistics -- they're stuck in the Blight and it would take 'months' to walk to Merrilor. Shame she doesn't have Mat's magical non-channeling teleportation skills.

However, they do see that they're not too far off from the peak of Shayol Ghul itself and decide to head in that direction, since some of Rand's troops should be there. But Faile worries that there's a Darkfriend in their caravan and worries even more that someone on the side of the Shadow knows that she has the Horn of Valere.

Somewhat nearby, as she is also in the Blasted Lands, after a lengthy battle with the red-veiled Aiel, Aviendha's group gets battered by Graendal, with one of the Aes Sedai getting compelled and two others getting killed.

18. Olver still hates the Shaido (and all Aiel by extension) for killing his parents and yet had zero lasting negative reaction to the Seanchan invading a city where he was living, causing destruction and death all around him and deeply injuring someone he cared about a lot (the wall falling on Mat). The contrast between Olver's trauma from the Shaido invasion and his lack of trauma from the Seanchan invasion really does remain so baffling. The Seanchan invasion should have brought back so many horrible memories for him, but he was basically the same in WH as he was in ACoS -- all he cared about was snuggling into a grown woman's breasts.

So Olver knows that Noal is dead, "filtered through what the Lady Moiraine had shared about what had happened at the Tower of Ghenjei" (haha so she did get around to saying more than "the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills" eventually). He also knows that Mat has "run off to join the Seanchan" (parental figure abandonment -- and Mat has not even spared a single thought for Olver this entire time, btw. Olver is worrying that Mat might die and Mat hasn't even had a passing thought about Olver's wellbeing; though I focus on the loss of Mat & Rand's friendship because of how... shallow... their reunion was, Mat's relationship to Olver also got shredded by Mat's off-the-page choice to desert his people).

Anyway, poor kid. He actually feels like a kid here, too, instead of a walking advertisement letting us know that Mat Cauthon Leers At Women And Teaches Kids To Do It Too, which is basically all he was for most of ACoS-KoD. He worries that he's going to end up all alone (again) as his companions die or abandon him. He has signs of trauma from Mat abandoning him here, too -- he thinks if he's able to train up and prove to Mat that he's useful, maybe Mat won't abandon him (again).

19. It sounds like the 'essence' of the Dark One in Shayol Ghul is basically acting like a miniature black hole -- it's trying to suck them into it. It's already eaten Nynaeve's shawl.

For Nynaeve and Moiraine, about an hour has passed. Rand's foot touched the darkness when he went to meet Moridin sword-to-sword and now the two of them appear frozen in time & locked in place. The wind pulls and tears at Nynaeve and Moiraine's clothing but Rand and Moridin are untouched by it.

20. Carefully moving around the chamber, clinging from rock to rock to keep herself from being pulled into the black hole, Nynaeve finds Alanna behind one of the rocks in the chamber. She's chained to the wall and has a bleeding wound in her side (matching Rand's, perhaps?).

Nynaeve realizes that the reason that Alanna here is to die at some point during Moridin's encounter with Rand, hopefully leaving him vulnerable due to the broken bond and making him easier prey for Moridin (and/or TDO? Though Nynaeve thinks here in terms of making Rand more physically vulnerable, making him more emotionally susceptible to TDO's arguments also seems like a likely motive to me?).

She wonders why Rand didn't notice Alanna's presence -- is he just so used to reflexively ignoring her? Nynaeve is feeling frustrated that she is unable to heal Alanna with the Power, because all her Power is in the link with Rand.

...oh, hey! I bet that's what Rand was feeling earlier! He could feel that someone he was bonded to had gotten hurt but the feeling was weird and he couldn't trace it. I bet that was about Alanna getting stabbed and it was wonky because it happened in the Weird Time Dilation Room.

21. Hmm, Mat is having memory issues. He blames his dice here on when "Egwene gave him control of the armies" but it was Elayne's words to him that triggered this set of rolling dice. We know because we were in his PoV when it happened.

Mat sees an old Andoran man that almost triggers an old memory for him, one of the ones that the dagger stole (it would have been when Rand was taking care of him on the trip to Caemlyn -- another one of the shoes that never quite fell for Mat, characterization-wise, is him getting back his foggy memories. We've seen a time or two that they are still in there, not just in this moment, but also back in Ebou Dar, when he saw the Darkfriend who attacked him and Rand in the stables). Mat actually remembering that everything Rand did to help him during the time he was sick with the dagger seems like one of those things that will inevitably happen post-canon, because the memories are still there, just hiding.

22. When Mat sees "his" Deathwatch guard among the working people here, he compares them to "wolves among the sheep". Mat does see it as a bonus that he was able to pull the armies together and pick his own battlefield but he's still pretty worried about the battle ahead.

Tuon gave Mat a new eyepatch to wear -- bright red. To remind people of the wound underneath? We know that she likes the active reminder to everyone that Mat has been bloodied in battle. Or we do get a reminder that the Deathwatch guards (all slaves) also wear a distinctive shade of red, so it's probably also another badge of her ownership over Mat.

23. When Mat tries to avoid the Deathwatch guard that are coming to "collect" him to be brought to Tuon's tent (the narrative keeps bringing up things that are so reminiscent of Tylin's behavior towards Mat), he runs right into Egwene and a group of Aes Sedai. Also... it's interesting that he thinks of it as "Tuon's tent" and not a tent that they share together.

When he mentions that he's running away from the Deathwatch guard, Egwene tells him that she's glad he's defecting back to the Westlands but the middle of the Last Battle is maybe not the best time. He walks back with Egwene (& Gawyn and Leilwin née Egeanin) back over to the Aes Sedai area of the camp as they talk.

24. Mat says that the reason he's running from the guard is not because he's defecting back to the Westlands but because Tuon wants him to sit in judgement over potential criminals (...in the middle of the Last Battle?). "Anytime a soldier is seeking the Empress's mercy for a crime, I'm supposed to sit in judgement!"

Mat thinks here that he's not going to 'order men to be executed' and, yeah, I keep going back to what Renna said to Egwene, all those books ago. Perhaps you believe that because you are valuable now, you will be allowed license. Or I think back to Mat's worries that Min's "lack of respect" towards Tuon will get her killed.

Because it kinda sounds like it's been made clear to him that "sit in judgement" means "condemn people to death" and that Mat would risk personal punishment if he rules against what Tuon would want him to rule. Is Mat worrying about how hard he can push Tuon without it painfully snapping back on him?

25. He obliquely asks Egwene if they've found 'it' (the Horn of Valere) yet. Hey, Mat, if you were so worried about that, maybe you shouldn't have defected to the Seanchan at the beginning of this book? Just a thought.

Yeah, we get a reminder of how easily Mat rewrites his own memory here when he talks about how he did all the hard work of finding the Horn and the dagger was barely a consideration for him. So for anyone wondering why I keep poking at Mat's professed reasons for doing things and doubting the surface level of what he says -- page 611 of the hardback copy of AMoL:

"It seems nobody can remember straight but me. I hunted down that bloody Horn like a madman. And, I'll mention, it was me blowing the thing that let you all escape Falme*."

"Is that how you remember it?" Egwene asked.

"Sure," Mat said. "I mean, I have some holes in there, but I've pieced it mostly together."

"And the dagger?"

"That trinket? Hardly worth anyone's time." He caught himself reaching to his side, to where he had once carried it.

(* side note: yeah, his mention of this here makes me feel even more sure that he deliberately didn't tell Tuon about Egwene being captured in Falme because he didn't think it was her business. He tells Tuon things on a need-to-know basis only, from what I can see, which feels like it's reflected in the advice that he gave to Min)

26. Egwene Travels them to the top of another location (to further move away from the Deathwatch guard) and Mat takes a moment to notice the grove of trees that Rand grew on the Fields of Merrilor.

[Mat] could feel something pulling on him, tugging him northward. Rand would need him soon.

27. Mat tells Egwene that this will have to be their last stand -- they don't have the supplies for a protracted battle. She says that they just need to hold out long enough for Rand to beat TDO.

But Mat points out that if they are unable to break the Shadow's advance, then they do still lose in some pretty important ways, because the Shadowspawn will flood the lands and kill all the non-combatants. "We can't just survive... we have to win."

We get another moment of Rand tugging on Mat from Shayol Ghul while the dice tumble in his head.

Mat turned northward again. A cool, somehow familiar wind blew across him, rippling his long coat, brushing at his hat. He narrowed his eye. Rand was tugging on him.

Ugh, I feel so cheated by this. Why set this up only to give us such a disappointing conclusion to this thread, Sanderson?

Anyway, the battle starts anew. And Mat successfully avoided being dragged back to Tuon's tent, so congrats to him on that.

Okay, the next chapter is the monster (nearly 200 pages all on its own), so that will be a separate post.

#wot #wheel of time #wot reread #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers #wot amol spoilers #wot a memory of light spoilers #mat cauthon #elayne trakand #seanchan content warning #faile bashere #olver (wheel of time)#next chapter of Voice is postponed until next week #due to covid making it difficult to do the polishing on the chapter that I wanted #but my reread vibe was still strong so there will be two reread posts this week #and we are almost done!

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