#code name Duchess

[ordinorultor-if]

Welcome to Ordinor Ultor!

You’ve ruled the Duchy of Akize, the southwesternmost duchy in the Kingdom of Ribaur, for 15 years, since the year 1107 ME. 

15 years ago, your Liege had your parents executed for a plot they had no part in.

Despite becoming a ruler while only a teenager, your lands have done well - no thanks to your Liege’s proclamations. Despite the annoying interference, you would have been content to just administer your lands and pay your taxes.

But one day, your Liege goes too far, and wrongs one of your siblings - personally.

You’ve had enough. You and your siblings will chafe no longer under the yoke of that tyrant. You will be free from oppression - whatever it takes.

Choose your character's name, the name of their noble house, and whether they are a Duke (male), Duchess (female), or Dux (enby).

Choose which foreign land your mother hailed from - such as the northern court of Ostroway or the island nation of Sayland.

Pick the type of education you received - were you taught how to use the shadows of Intrigue? How to construct Martial strategies? Or something else?

Interact with your friends and family, possibly including your foreign cousins.

Choose how to deal with your Liege - will they be put on Trial, will you lead an armed Rebellion, or will you take to the shadows to have them Assassinated?

Pick from four gender-selectable ROs - two fellow vassals and two foreign nobles.

Deal with various interest groups - such as the Peasants you rule over, your fellow Vassals, the religious head known as the Hierophant, and more.

Ordinor Ultor takes palce in a low(ish...) fantasy world, with the protagonist's home country of Ribaur being inspired by medieval France.

I'm relatively new to coding, so I can't promise a concrete update schedule yet (also, if anyone has any advice and/or resources for me to use, I'd be very grateful!). That being said... VERSION 2 - RELEASED 5/4/25

VERSION 2.5 - COMING NO LATER THAN 8/8/25

I hope everyone enjoys!

If you would like to gain one week early access to updates and support me at the same time, you can do so on Patreon.

[queenbasicallynotbasic]

Rewatched Star Wars: The Clone Wars Season 2, Episode 13

Greatest Hits:

The episode name - Voyage of Temptations (like oh my god)

Anakin curious about Obi-Wan's relationship with the Duchess Satine

"Senators, I presume you are acquainted with the collection of half-truths and hyperbole known as Obi-Wan Kenobi?" "Your Highness is too kind." "You're right, I am."

Satine and Obi-Wan fighting (The senators trying to ignore the obvious chemistry)

"The sarcasm of a soldier." "The delusion of a dreamer."

Anakin watching the drama with great interest

Senators basically telling Satine and Obi-Wan to drop it (for now)

Also Anakin shipping the hell out of them

"But it’s obvious you had feelings for her. Surely that would affect your decision." "Oh, it did. I live by the Jedi Code." "Of course. As Master Yoda says, “A Jedi must not form attachments.”" "Yes. But he usually leaves out the undercurrent of remorse."

Anakin going to find his men so that Obi-Wan can have dinner with Satine (you cannot convince me that that was not his motive)

"Do you always carry a deactivator?" "Just because I'm a pacifist doesn't mean I won't defend myself." "Now you sound like a Jedi."

Obi-Wan and Satine just openly flirting at this point

"Just like that swarm of venom-mites on Draboon, remember?" "How could I forget? I still have the scar." "Begging your pardon, Duchess. I distinctly remember carrying you to safety." "I meant the scar I got after you fell and dropped me." "Oh, yes."

"I'll take care of this, Obi-Wan. You go find your girlfriend." "Right. Ah, no, Anakin! She's not my-"

"Oh, all right... had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order."

The episode ending with Satine basically making Obi-Wan blush

"[The beard] hides too much of your handsome face."

[haydenigmatic]

Members of House Oursbar 🐻

(Beware this family is numerous) Old as the frost and just as stubborn, House Oursbar oversees the kingdom of Rodkall from their carved-wood-and-ice stronghold, Greyrim. Born of forest chieftains and hardened by centuries of winter, they value resilience over razzle-dazzle. They're the kind of people who outlast you, not out talk you.

The Duke of Greyrim (Rodkall) Lord Caloghero "Cal" Oursbar

“The Laughing Bear”

He’s a mountain of a man, with a wild beard that somehow makes him look even more friendly than he already is, which pisses off his own advisors. He’s clever, kind, but not soft—he cracks jokes at council meetings, drinks with fishermen, and will smile before breaking a traitor’s jaw with a punch that sounds like an avalanche. Tired of the north’s squabbles but loyal to it still. He doesn’t want power. He wants peace—but if you try to take from him, you’ll find out what a peacekeeper with a war axe looks like.

The Duchess, Lady Orissa Winterbourne

Commanding, calculating, and fiercely intelligent. Doesn’t waste words unless they’re meant to wound or win. Devoted to her children, but won’t coddle a single one. She’s the only person who can shout Cal down and live. Whispers claim she has northern witch blood—and that she still bleeds by choice under the full moon. Her marriage to Cal: Arranged, of course. But the gods—or maybe just fate—made it work, and have seven kids, each one madder or more charming than the last.

The Heir, Ser Helios Oursbar

Firstborn. Dutiful, grimly handsome, and carries the weight of the north like a damn yoke on his back. Basically Cal 2.0, just less hairy and more exhausted. Fights because he must, not because he likes it. Secretly dreams of giving it all up to live as a fisherman. Engaged to some noble daughter he barely knows—but he’s low-key in love with a stable hand's daughter.

The More Suited Second Born, Ser Willard Oursbar

Obsessed with runes, stars, and strategy games. At 10, he outplayed one of Gerard’s war-captains in a war table exercise and then calmly said, “You would’ve lost 3,000 men.” People are low key terrified of him. Cal believes Will sees too much—but protects him like a sacred relic. Second son, but a better mind than Helios by a mile—and it messes with both of them.

The Life of the Feast, Ser Frederick Oursbar

Third in line, first to start a tavern brawl and the last to leave the bed of someone else's spouse. Charismatic lunatic with a love for fighting and living too hard. Would make an incredible warlord… if he didn’t get distracted by every shiny object or ass that crosses his path. Cal alternates between cursing his name and laughing like a madman every time Fred survives something stupid.

The Wonder Twins, Ser Raylon and Ser Jaylon Oursbar

(Yes, they were born minutes apart. But it is not probable they'll inherit so no one knows who's the eldest twin)

Shared a girlfriend once. Still argue about who she liked better. Gerard fucking hates them. Sleep back-to-back when on campaign. Fought their first skirmish together at fourteen. Never lie to each other. Ever. Jay once broke a noble’s nose in court for mocking Ray’s quietness. They have a whistle code from when they were boys—still use it during combat. Currently being considered for a diplomatic mission—or exile, depending on who you ask.

Ray: Keeps Jay out of trouble more often than not. Would kill for his brother without hesitation.

Jay: Tells Ray everything. Brags about conquests, schemes, and when he actually feels something, it’s Ray he confesses to.

The Eldest Daughter, Lady Jasira Oursbar

Former tomboy turned bow-wielding northern goddess. Used to wrestle her brothers, now shoots faster than most men can blink. Grew into stunning beauty around 17—but it pissed her off. Has matured into a walking contradiction: beautiful, deadly, and no one can control her. Her arrows are known to whistle like ghosts—they don’t miss. Ever.

The Youngest Child, Lady Glissandra Oursbar

Sweetest soul in the entire cold north. Tames beasts, sings to crows, once made a snow bear cub follow her home. Her voice can quiet drunken soldiers, and even Cal listens when she speaks. People say she’s the heart of Rodkall. She’s everyone’s favourite—even Fred lets her braid his hair sometimes. Loves animals, flowers, and whispers to things in the woods that whisper back.

Lord Torvin the Red – Older Brother (Deceased)

Cal's elder brother and original heir to House Oursbar. A warrior-poet, known for his battle fury and his strange obsession with old songs. Died heroically during a fucking doomed raid on a Lonkalt border outpost, when he stayed behind to hold a mountain pass alone so the others could escape. His death haunts Cal. Some say Cal keeps Torvin's axe above the hearth not just for memory—but because he hears it whisper in the night.

Lady Elska Oursbar, Eldest Sister (Deceased)

The pride of the Oursbars—clever, radiant, fiercely loyal. Married to a noble in the southern reaches of the north, meant to be a diplomatic peace stitch between Rodkall and a Lonkalt-leaning border lord. Poisoned on her wedding night. The entire keep burned down a week later, and no one ever found the killer—but Cal was gone for four days, and returned with frostbitten hands and blood on his boots. The family never speaks of her death without rage.

Cal's Twin Brother, Lord Vornghero (Missing, Presumed Dead),

The wildest of them all—untamed, violent, charismatic as the abyss. Looked just like Cal, only meaner. Vanished during the Great Hunt of the Iron Pines, where a storm buried half their party. Some say he went mad, survived, and now roams the mountains as a beast. Rumours persist that Gerard may have captured him years later, kept as a chained berserker in some secret Lonkalt pit. Cal refuses to believe it… but his eyes always twitch when the name Vorn is spoken.

Commander Joren Oursbar, Younger Brother

Cal's war-hound and blunt hammer, the one who always stood behind him, shield raised and axe ready. Commander of the coastal watch—he runs the Frostshore garrison and keeps pirates and smugglers in check with brutal efficiency. Doesn’t smile much, doesn’t talk much, doesn’t fuck around unless he’s drinking. Rumours whisper that Joren knows something about Vorn’s disappearance… but hasn’t told Cal everything. Maybe he’s waiting. Maybe he's afraid. Maybe he saw something in the ice that changed him.

Syllene Oursbar, Younger Sisiter

Always preferred words over war, and courts over cold—the only Oursbar who left the North without regret. Married off to Lord Vane Sarpe, a Count and younger brother of the Duke of Rouge Lake. She loves her family, sure—but from afar. She’s not interested in politics, war, or reclaiming the North. She just wants to enjoy being important without doing anything. The Western nobility plays slow, silent politics like a goddamn religion—and she’s clueless. She might be used someday. Or worse… her children might be pulled into something she doesn’t understand.

And that's it, I didn't include Syllene children because they are not so releant to the story.

[cr-ok]

contains some spoilers for the ARG

Bill Ci. My Brainrot Guy.

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill List Overview & Entry Syntax

a little disorganized

yell at me if I’m missing codes or if something is wrongly categorized

do not worry about spaces/some punctuation marks (",", ".", "-", "+", "&", "@", parenthesis, quotation marks, and slashes)

i. e. "THEYLLSEE"/"THEYLL SEE"/"THEY'LL SEE" all work & have the same output

site does not accept entries with "?"

all characters are capitalized automatically

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill You All are Wonderful People

Busy_Abroad370 CranberrySoft8335 DCode Dog_core fishy--friend FRAMER_FRAMER Hacker88774770 Global-Pepper-5823 marzinstarz moonwytte mothford ohnoimonfire RiotingSpectre themoonweaversden themysteryofgravityfalls thisisnotawebsitedotcom-com wolsalwastaken

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Where to Click

book button below the screen dagger dial below the screen “McGucket Labs” above the screen gold tooth on skeleton jar link below the prism

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Relevant to The Book of Bill

BOYFRIEND/LONELY/LOVE/MARRY ME/ROMANCE/SOULMATE/TRUE LOVE CRYPTOGRAM CODEX DESTRUCTION IS A FORM OF CREATION SCARY/SPOOKS/SPOOKY/SPOOKEMUPS T. J. ECKLEBURG

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Bill, Past & Present

BABY/BABY BILL/DADDY/LALALA/LALALALALA/MOMMY DIVORCE/BREAKUP/ROCK BOTTOM EUCLID/SCALENE/SCRIMBLES EUCLYDIA FAMILY MATTERS FORGET THE PAST IRREGULAR JUST FIT IN RUBBER HOSE

it ends, eventually

SEVEN EYES TANTRUM THERAPRISM VALLIS CINERIS WELL WELL WELL BEING

three outputs

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Stanford, Past & Present

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA DOES GOD EXIST/FACE OF GOD/FRILLIAM/GOD/HELP ME/IS GOD REAL/IS RELIGION REAL/REVEAL GOD/REVEAL GOD TO ME/SAVE ME/SHOW ME GOD/WHAT DOES GOD LOOK LIKE/WHAT IS GOD/WHO IS GOD EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES I’M STILL ON YOUR MIND/ON YOUR MIND OROBOROUS SORRY

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Riddles

answers in book

RIDDLE

NO/YES

MOUNTAIN DON'T

LYRE LIAR

HAROLD'S RAMBLINGS

UNION MADE

29121239168518

GREBLEY HEMBERDRECK

A RAT/RAT

3466554

TINSEL SNAKE

TORTURE MENTALLY

XGQRTHX

333 SUNDAPPLE LANE, COZY CREEK, IL, 60714-94611

CAESAR, ATBASH, & VIGENERE/MULTILEVEL MARK

EMMALINE BUTTERNUBBINS/BUTTERNUBBINS

DISPENSE MY ANSWER

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Zodiac

DIPPER

enter five times

FORD/SIXER/STANFORD/STANFORD PINES GIDEON

two outputs

GRUNKLE STAN/STAN/STANLEY/STANLEY PINES/STAN PINES

enter eight times

MASON MABEL - enter thirteen times FIDDLEFORD/FIDDLEFORD HADRON MCGUCKET/FIDDLEFORD MCGUCKET/MCGUCKET PACIFICA PLATINUM PAZ ROBBIE SOOS WENDY

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Bill Addressing the User

BAAAA/SAY BAAAA BLACK SHEEP BOO BERRY DESTRUCTION IS A FORM OF CREATION NAITSUAF

use the button and the knob

UNREALITY

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Canon to Universe

ALGEBRA/GEOMETRY/GREECE/GREEK/SHAPE/SHAPES/MATH/PLATO/PYTHAGORUS/TRIGONOMETRY BABBA/DISCO GIRL BLENDIN/BLENDIN BLENJAMIN BLANDIN/BLENDIN BLANDIN BLIND EYE CLONE/PAPER JAM/PAPER JAM DIPPER/TYRONE DUCKTECTIVE FORDTRAMARINE HECTORING HOTXOLOTL JUST BLENDIN KINGS OF NEW JERSEY KOOK KUBRICK L IS REAL 2401 LOVE YA BRO PINES PORTAL REALITY R34LITY SEVERAL TIMES/SEV'RAL TIMES SUCK IT, MERLIN

use Cipher Font B

WEIRDMAGEDDON YOU'RE INSANE

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Directly from "Gravity Falls"

AM I BLANCHIN' BYE GOLD DEER TEETH FILBRICK

Stans's father's name

FIXINIT1 DUCHESS APPROVES/THE DUCHESS APPROVES HOLOGRAM REALITY UNIVERSE/THE UNIVERSE

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Unsure of the Canonicity

ANALOG HORROR/CREEPYPASTA/HORROR/URBAN LEGEND/URBAN LEGENDS BURNED INSIDE BURNSIDE CARD/MY CARD

two outputs

CURSED CURSE WITTEBANE HEY NERD LIES OCCURREMUSITERUM OWL TROWEL PAPER IS BOOKSKIN SHAVE YOUR GRANDMA

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Ciphertology

CIPHERTOLOGY

two outputs

DIONARAP GOODNIGHT SALLY STOD EHT TCENNOC TOURIST TRAP WHICH RELIGION IS RIGHT YOU CAN'T KILL AN IDEA

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Easter Eggs

ALEX/ALEX HIRSCH/ALEXANDER ROBERT HIRSCH/HIRSCH ANSWER ASSHOLE/BITCH/CUM/CUNT/DICK/FUCK/FUCK YOU/GANG BANG/GLORY HOLE/JIZZ/MILF/PUSSY/SEX/SHIT/TITS/SLUT/TED CRUZ/WHORE BOOK OF BILL/THE BOOK OF BILL CHIP/DORITO/NACHO

jumpscare warning

CRYPTO/DOGE/ELON/FORTNITE/GYATT/NFT/RIZZ/SKIBIDI DEATH DISNEY/DISNEYLAND/EPCOT/MICKEY/MICKEY MOUSE/WALT DISNEY EASTER EGG FUCK YOU ALEX/FUCK ALEX HIRSCH GUN/THE GUN HISTORY

four outputs

HOW DO I DIE? HOW WILL I DIE? I SEE/THEY’LL SEE/THEY’LL ALL SEE IS HELL REAL? IS THERE AN AFTERLIFE/WHAT HAPPENS AFTER I DIE/WHAT HAPPENS AFTER WE DIE/WHAT HAPPENS AFTER YOU DIE/WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE DIE/WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DIE LIFE MEOW/MEOW WOW MONSTER MORALITY NOT A PHASE NOTHING PEAK PINATA OH YES THEY BOTH ONE-EYED KING QUESTION SCREEN SCIENTOLOGY SEASON 3 SEASON 2 SEASON 1 SKELETON SOMETHING TELL ME HOW I'LL DIE TITANS BLOOD TRIANGLE

two outputs.

I'm convinced one is a typo

VIRUS WHO ARE YOU

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Reference to the Show

ABUELITA AXOLOTL BILL/BILL CIPHER/CIPHER/LLIB/LLIB REHPIC/REHPIC

three outputs

BLANCHIN/BLANCHING CARYN

Stans's mother's name

CIA/FBI/NSA CRAY CRAY CRAZ/XYLER DIPPY FRESH GIFFANY

enter this six times

GLASS SHARD BEACH GLOBNAR GRAVITY FALLS JOURNAL 1 JOURNAL 2 JOURNAL 3 MYSTERY MYSTERY SHACK TAD STRANGE TOBY DETERMINED WADDLES

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Cameos

CONSPIRACY GAME THEORY/HELP ME MATPAT/HELP US MATPAT/MATPAT/THAT’S JUST A/THEORY WEIRD

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill Does Not Work; I'm in Shambles

ASS BILL IS SANS BLIND IVAN DRAKE FIDDLEFORD H. MCGUCKET/HADRON FINGERS IN HIS ASS HENCHMAINIACS LEBAM LIGMA LUCIFER MERMANDO OVERLOOK/OVERLOOK HOTEL PLEASE SATAN SEXYMAN SEVRAL TIMEZ SIGMA THEY WILL ALL SEE TOOT TOOT MCBUMBERSNAZZLE TWINK JULY 4/7-4-1921

Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill ⚠︎ 𓁺 ⚠︎ Bill I Have Been Mislead/Fuck You, Internet

BRAINROT BUBBLE

eye in the jar element ID

CUSSES FOURTRAMARINE

spelling error

GOD BUBBLE MCSUCKIT OK KO REPHIC

spelling error

SMALL STILL ON YOUR MIND

incorrectly-remembered

[simbouquet]

TS3: Nicer Vendors + Ask Animation Edits

This mod requires Lazy Duchess' Mono Patcher Library to work properly!

This is a combo of two quick and dirty mods I made to solve some animation-related annoyances I had for a while. It contains a fix for vendors playing negative animations when Sims purchase from a register and adjusts the Ask animations to make these interactions quicker. 💬

Nicer Vendors

Ever since I started playing TS3, I was confused by the animations used for the Buy Items interaction on registers; it uses the same animations as the "Neutral" outcome of the Ask interactions, where the Sims have vaguely negative reactions to the interaction being performed.

This part of the mod contains a script that simply points these interactions to the "Friendly" state, which contains the more positive animations between the two Sims.

It should work on all registers across all EPs, including objects like the Seasons concessions stand, as well as certain Sims such as the special merchant from World Adventures and the tattoo artist from Ambitions. Let me know if I've missed something!

Ask Animation Edits

This is a jazz script replacement for the Ask animations. It adds more variety to the animations used both for the initiating Sim and the target Sim in the Friendly and Neutral states, so the positive and negative reactions are a little different every time.

The extra animations are generally shorter than the vanilla ones, so Sims actually spend less time performing these socials, which is always a good thing in my book because asking another person what they do for work shouldn’t take as long as it does in this game.

You may still see the vanilla animations happening from time to time, although they will be less likely.

Compatibility

The newest version of this mod is compatible with NRaas Consigner.

Ask Anim Edits will conflict with any other mod that replaces the social_askfor jazz script in JazzData.

Download: SFS / MTS / Patreon

21/11/2024: Nicer Vendors now requires Lazy Duchess's Mono Patcher Library. Added compatibility with NRaas Consigner.

07/02/2024: Sims now play the correct animations when running Buy Items directly from the Sim rather than from the register. - Adjusted animations for WA special merchant and AMB tattoo artist.

18/06/2023: Fixed interaction names not displaying properly.

15/06/2023: Initial release.

Credits & Thanks

Battery’s Script Mod Template Creator: Getting started with scripting quickly.

nraas: I used their Tunings code in my own script, which helped me inject the tuning of one interaction into another.

dnSpy: Peeking into the game’s files.

Visual Studio 2022: Writing the script.

Mono Patcher Library: Replacing game methods without having to clone interactions.

s3pe: Exporting/Importing resources, creating the package file.

Adobe Photoshop: Creating the preview image.

Thanks to @thesweetsimmer111 for helping me work out some issues with the jazz script!

Thanks to gamefreak130 for helping me replace some of the interactions!

Thanks to the lovely community at TS3 Creators Cave!

A Sim walked up to a concessions stand and he said to the man running the stand...!

[pen136]

reminder that there is a timeline in which bob belcher is a famous, incredibly hot, himbo of a secret agent (code name duchess) with retrograde amnesia who is a stepdad to the kids for 2 months, doesn't know tinas name, speaks russian and kills 4 KGB agents in the restaurant, running away from the family so they don't get killed. he then immediately forgets them. just putting out the fact that the kids watch their dad kill 4 people in front of them and never see him again <3

[krakenoflight]

Today I had an earth shattering epiphany: Tyranitar the pokemon is NOT a deliberately feminine coded pokemon in similar fashion as nidoqueen or kangaskhan. In Finnish language the ending -tar / -tär refers to women, for example: kuningas = king / kuningatar = queen kreivi = count / kreivitär = countess herttua = duke / herttuatar = duchess Also some some old, nowadays rarely used, female specific words such as ystävätär (female friend), opettajatar (female teacher) or näyttelijätär (actress). Or some deities in Finnish mythology like Kuutar (Goddess of the Moon), Ilmatar (Goddess of Air) or Kivutar (Goddess of Pain). Naturally I have just assumed that tyranitar is named in similar fashion but today I just realised that the English name has nothing to do with Finnish naiming conventions and English speaking people propably sees tyranitar just as feminine as for example charizard or venusaur.

[bridgeportbritt]

Creeksbrey Palace | Umbrage, SimDonia

Emmitt: Morning, sweetheart. How'd you sleep?

Bria: Pretty good. How about you?

Emmitt: Alright. I did have a dream that I was a famous jazz piano performer, so that was interesting.

Bria: Ooo! Maybe it's a sign! I wouldn't say no to being serenaded by piano every night.

Emmitt laughs: I'd need a lot more practice before you'd actually enjoy my serenades.

Bria: Well, get on it, babe.

Emmitt chuckles: Sure, dear. Oh, I was meaning to ask you where you were yesterday. I was planning on surprising you for lunch, but when I checked with your staff, they said your schedule was blocked for an urgent, private meeting.

Bria: Oh, yes! I'm glad you brought it up because I've been wanting to talk about it for a hot minute.

Emmitt: Uh-oh. What's this about? Should I be worried?

Bria: You won't believe who I met with.

Emmitt: Who?

Bria: The Queen's mysterious little sidekick - Lydia.

Emmitt: Really? What in the Simverse could she want?

Bria: It was an interesting conversation...

Lydia: Welcome, Grand Duchess. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.

Bria: What is this? Why am I here of all places?

Lydia: We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot and that's the last thing I want, so I wanted to clear the air.

Bria scoffs: Yeah, right. And it's "Your Royal Highness," remember?

Lydia: Of course, Your Royal Highness. My apologies. I don't mean to offend you.

Bria: Yeah, like I'd believe that. You're one of the most offensive people I've ever met. You've done nothing but target me and my family since you've gotten into the Queen's ear.

Lydia: Your Royal Highness, I promise you that that has not been my intention.

Bria: Really? All these insufferable new rules, my whole new wardrobe, and now bringing my kids into this nonsense? Oh, and I'm sure you had something to do with KBE.

Lydia: You've got it all wrong, Your Royal Highness. I want to be an asset to you and the monarchy, not a hinderance.

Bria: How on Earth could you be an asset to me?

Lydia: Well, name your price.

Bria confused: What do you mean?

Lydia: Name what I can do to be of service to you. Anything and I'll make it happen.

Bria: And why would you do that?

Lydia: Isn't it obvious? You and your family are invaluable to the monarchy. You're one of the most influential royals with an incredible global impact on everything you touch. I apologize if you haven't felt appreciated as of late. But I want to make it right.

Bria: Even if I believed any of the crap you're saying right now, I'm sure you wouldn't agree to any of the things that I want.

Lydia: Try me.

Bria: Well for starters, anything that has to do with my children goes through me first. Nothing should be hidden from me especially anything medical. Next, I want leniency provided to my kids when they are not performing official royal duties like on the dress code for example. Lastly, I want our move with KBE to go through without any obstacle. You want to make me happy? Those are my non-negotiable terms.

Emmitt: Wow, you asked for all that?

Bria: I sure did.

Emmitt: That's amazing. I'm proud of you, honey. Surprised by this whole conversation, but proud that you stood your ground. So, what did she say to that?

Bria: That's the craziest part.

Emmitt: Oh, really? Why?

Bria: Because, she said... yes!

[triviareads]

do you have more recommendations for Penelope featherington-coded fmcs? both from the book version and the show version.

Callie from Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake by Sarah MacLean: She's fat/plus-sized and a spinster who realizes she never tried to stand out or grab life by the horns (by herself!) so she comes up with a list of scandalous things she wants to do, the first of which is asking a notorious rake for her first kiss. Ralston is immediately intrigued and soon becomes OBSESSED (no seriously the way he's just so deeply into her body is everything) as he helps her accomplish all the things on her list. There is a very hot carriage scene and (an actual) mirror scene.

Grace from When The Duke Was Wicked by Lorraine Heath: The show!polin dynamic basically; Grace is a redhead with a certain body insecurity who asks her older friend to help her find a suitor who truly loves her. Lovingdon is a jaded rake Who Can Never Love Again after the death of his first wife and son, but that doesn't stop him from doing all these sweet things for Grace and debauching her in every corner while informing her that a man who truly loved her would do all of this... which isn't him. obvi.

Penelope from The Duchess Hunt by Lorraine Heath: Not just because her name is Penelope, but the pining vibes in this are impeccable; she's the duke's secretary and this dumb dumb man is making her find him a wife while being all "hm the ideal wife would look like Penelope, talk like Penelope, smell like Penelope.... I WONDER WHAT THAT MEANS". Anyway she's so turned on by a hand touch that she masturbates in his carriage and LATER ON TELLS HIM and then HE GETS HER OFF IN THE CARRIAGE.

Jane from The Truth About Cads and Dukes by Elisa Braden: More plus/size-fat rep and she's a wallflower; she's compromised by a guy name Colin (lol) and Colin's older duke brother Harrison steps in to marry her. He's super icy and cold, but he's actually wildly obsessed with Jane's bod after 10 seconds of marriage and once she realizes that, she uses it to her advantage by means of low-cut gowns and erotically stripping her gloves :D

Sarah from Temptations of a Wallflower by Eva Leigh: Sarah is a wallflower who moonlights as infamous erotica writer The Lady of Dubious Quality, but like, instead of ragging on other women, she's actually doing her part to educate women about sex through her stories and provide entertaining material. The hero Jeremy is a vicar who's charged with hunting down The Lady Of Dubious Quality, and unknowingly ends up falling for, and then marrying her. It's also really cute that as Sarah falls in love with Jeremy, her erotica becomes more and more romantic.

[positivelybeastly]

From the Ashes Infinity Comics #15: Pygmalion, Part 1

So, for those who are not aware - Infinity Comics are online-only comics distributed through Marvel Unlimited, their subscription based app and browser collection of comics. Regarded as 'inessential,' but still very much canon, the raft of Infinity Comics coming out of From the Ashes have been quite good, but I haven't seen fit to comment on them for a bit, until now, because . . .

Let's go.

For those not aware, Pygmalion is a famous novel by George Bernard Shaw, detailing the attempt by a phonetics professor called Henry Higgins to 'elevate' a Cockney flower-girl named Eliza Doolittle.

Intrigued by a bet that he could pass her off as a duchess through careful schooling, he decides to take her on, and though he succeeds, she ends up feeling marginalised and overlooked, treated as an object of gambling and curiosity rather than an individual in her own right, and though the play is best known for the 'culturing' of Eliza Doolittle, it is as much about the arrogance of Higgins, who is a thoroughly unpleasant and rude individual, in thinking that he has any ownership over Eliza for his education of her. He may have 'created' her, but he does not control her.

The Factory that the X-Men are living in at present must have really good central heating for Cyclops to be wearing basketball shorts and a crop top that short.

Beast is currently investigating some kind of issue with Magneto's chromosomes - to put it succinctly, he appears to be ageing rapidly, and does not have access to his X-gene at present. This is a continuation of the storyline in the previous Infinity arc, which focused on Magneto.

Something worth noting - this is the first acknowledgement of the fact that though Hank's body may be of roughly the same physical age as his original, his mind is considerably younger, situated at some point in his mid 20s. For someone who was always the oldest of the original X-Men, this is fairly significant.

Also worth noting - Hank joins the ranks of superheroes who are actively seeking therapy for their problems! Good on you, Hank! And good on you, too, Scott, for suggesting it. Though, perhaps, given recent developments in the mainline X-Men comics, you should take your own advice . . .

The fact that Hank refers to himself as the only one left seemingly confirms that X-Force took care of the Beast clones who Beast Prime planted around various landmarks as part of the Ghost Calendars arc. Though they were defeated in their respective future timelines, I wasn't quite sure if they had been taken care of in the present as well. This seemingly confirms that they were.

Hank's therapist is Dr. Andrea Sterman, a supporting character from Jed MacKay's Moon Knight run, and a member of the Midnight Mission. Given that the writer, Alex Paknadel, confirmed on Twitter that he talked with Jed MacKay about making sure all the details for Hank's storyline would line up with the mainline X-Men book, I can only imagine this was done as a rather fun continuity nod.

Hank also refers to a Shi'ar warship, an avian alien race that the X-Men deal with on a regular basis. This makes sense, given that Hank was beamed aboard the Shi'ar imperial flagship during the events of Dark Phoenix Saga in 1981 - ancient history for us, but relatively fresh in Hank's mind, given his memories come from 1985.

Hank, naturally, does himself a disservice here. Dark Beast was, assumedly, abducted at a relatively young age from his human parents, and indoctrinated by Mister Sinister as something of a protege - a protege living in perpetual fear of his mentor. He probably didn't have a chance to develop any kind of moral code divorced from the social Darwinist hellhole that is the Age of Apocalypse.

That being said, Hank probably lacks that context, and Dark Beast is unique among Age of Apocalypse denizens, not just for his unerringly cruel nature, having never shown any altruistic tendencies (unlike, say, AoA Cyclops or Nightcrawler), but also for his resilience. He persists, even now - though last seen in Immortal X-Men #9 as a head in a jar, he has come back from the dead at least twice before, and it is unlikely he is gone for good.

Fun fact - his appearance here is based on the costume he wore during his scrap with Emma Frost's X-Men team in a confrontation with Spider-Man and the Lizard. Though the X-Men naturally encountered him after this point, it's fun that this appearance by Dark Beast is considered iconic enough to be the 'definitive' look for him by this comic.

Hank's final remark, about 'Henry McCoy plus time equals atrocity,' is a sentiment often repeated on social media boards, and it's interesting to see it being internalised by Hank himself, given his unique perspective on the events that created his future self and the other potential timelines the X-Men files likely refer to.

Mm. A lot to unpack here.

Hank's relationship with his X-gene has always been complicated, and the way he views it here, as essentially morphing him into a shape that he finds abhorrent, predatory, and beyond his control, is consistent with how Hank seemed to see himself during his feline mutation, which lasted from 2000 to 2013.

Though his feline phase is not referenced in this comic, beyond the 'over time, and with a little help, these became more pronounced,' (probably a reference to Sage's jumpstarting his secondary mutation) it assumedly would be in the files Hank has been using to catch up, and one has to wonder if he's been repeating some of the thought processes that made feline Hank such a uniquely neurotic version of the character.

It's also nice to see a canonisation of my long held fanon that Hank's X-gene is actively attempting to craft a form for him that is best suited for survival, a belief that Hank only hinted at back in Morrison's New X-Men, but which made sense, given the circumstances of his mutation in X-Treme X-Men.

That being said, Hank's own mind seemingly strays back to the night his furry mutation first manifested at the Brand Corporation in Amazing Adventures, where he flew into a berserker rage and nearly killed Carl Maddicks, which always seemed a little incongruous with how Hank was written in subsequent appearances in Avengers and Defenders, but which now seems to be retroactively made an expression of the brutality he was capable of during his feline phase.

The 'violent upheavals' Hank refers to here are likely his initial secondary mutation, and then his near-death experience when said mutation randomly destabilised in All-New X-Men. It could also be a reference to his numerous genetic troubles during X-Factor volume 1.

His opining that he found refuge in the life of the mind is very reminiscent of Hank's desire to find meaning in poetry, literature, art, humanity, in the wake of the changes in his body in both X-Factor and New X-Men. X-Factor #33 and New X-Men #117 both specifically reference his delight in the freedom to think, in opposition to the clouding of the mind that came with his Pestilence inflicted dumbing down, or his newly awakened predatory impulses.

Ironically enough, Magneto is, aside from Simon Williams, the character with whom this version of Hank has shared the most panel time and dialogue, between his conversations in X-Men and previous From the Ashes Infinity Comics. It would appear that Max's need for a cure for his condition are fostering a necessarily stronger bond than Hank and Max have ever shared before in canon.

Precisely where the rest of the team is during the course of these events is unknown. If I had to guess, it's possible this might be set during the events of X-Men #2, where the rest of the team was attending to a mutant rescue in San Francisco, accounting for the lack of availability of the Marauder and a reliance on an old Quinjet.

Quite how Hank got his hands on said Quinjet is unknown, though it's possible it might be a holdover from Hank's Defender days, where he would regularly borrow a Quinjet from the Avengers, for purposes ranging from actual superhero missions to attending Patsy Walker's wedding.

Though this Hank's memories originate in closest proximity to the Defenders, and though that team did enjoy some degree of notoriety under Hank and Candy Southern's stewardship, the Avengers have always been where Hank was most popular in-universe, and he has had a habit of using that association to smooth things over in mutant related books, such as in X-Factor volume 1 and the 90s X-Men run.

Unfortunately, mutant rights are in a more dire state than ever before, with things having seemingly gotten only worse for them since the 1980s, and it's likely Hank didn't expect this level of hatred from normal civilians.

I have, unfortunately, run out of images, so I'll be posting the last of this issue and my final thoughts and predictions in another post.

[vivi-designs]

if you’re still taking requests for the eah ships and songs drawing thing you’ve got going on, i think “cupid’s chokehold” (gym class heros) is SOO duchess x sparrow coded and i would LOVE to see them in your art style <3

DUCHESS X SPARROW

Personally I don’t ship them but who am I to deprive the people of what they wanttt!!

The line in the background represents their relationship starts out as strangers then acquaintances then a possible spark that leads to an unbreakable platonic friendship, this is them at their peak will-they-won’t-they

Idk what their ship name is tho fr

[nonverbalnaji]

How I'm writing Regency ABO (worldbuilding notes)

My brain latched onto this blend when thinking of a Jayvik scene that is now in Chapter Two of my fic 'Wallflower of Althea and Fir' and with the next chapter being a bit heavy, I wanted to outline some thoughts I've had on meshing these two setting tropes together.

So firstly - general thing of probably not going to be *incredibly* historically accurate, as a note that I will try my best to have the vibes right.

Part of the appeal of this was I quite enjoy ABO fics where the plot is about challenging society and stereotypes. A regency setting feels like a pressure-cooker of this sort of challenge, so there's a balance on my end of keeping up the vibes while also getting across both the progressive and rigidity of the society and stereotypes.

My fic is set where the Piltover council is made up of the great noble houses of Piltover, namely all Dukes/Duchesses after the last Monarch stepped down rather than name an heir, forming the first council and bringing about change while maintaining some traditions still (Good ol' King Heimerdinger which just... the name lol). One such tradition was having the social season not just debut omegas and omega-leaning betas but aphas and alpha-leaning betas also.

I like fics where beta's have something that's unique to them too. For this fic, I'm nodding as a reference to this write up by Sweet_peach_tea: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63412462

Particularly, the fact that beta's have a form of gender fluidity is appealing as someone who is non-binary but also it presented an interesting angle for Caitlyn's arc in particular.

I've hesitated to up my fic from Moderate to Explicit until I had a clearer idea of where it was heading. Now that I know a bit more of the non-sexual themes that will be a part of the fic too, I've upped the rating. Particularly once I worked out the worldbuilding around two things: scents and heats/ruts.

So for my fic, here's how it goes:

People are born displaying certain external sex characteristics. There is a general face-value of boxing 'men' and 'women' but there's a bit more flexibility in regards to gender expression even after ones first puberty around the age of twelve. When puberty starts, an individual's body changes and adapts to the external characteristics *but* from the age of sixteen a second puberty begins where ones secondary sex becomes apparent.

Nodding to the reference piece above, there's a difference between scenting and bonding. Family members may scent frequently especially with their children who don't have strong scents as their personal scent begins to develop with puberty with the particular notes of their second sex with second puberty. There's often debate before 16 what their secondary sex is but around 18 to 19 one has a clearer idea. Betas can be harder to place due to their flexibility in expressions, so it's only after an individual has had their first heat or rut are things more certain. Over this time it is expected for people to adapt their ability to surpress and express their scents, more controllable than body odor but sometimes difficult to do during heightened emotions. The restraint of this is the 'polite thing expected' in this regency setting.

Note that the first heat/rut is considered a fever and does not require a sexual partner, in fact not really recommended depending on how much of a change it can be. This is a literal metamorphosis of sorts for an individuals genitalia to be adapted with their secondary sex characteristics which included scents glands being fully developed.

In my fic, the social season debutes Alphas/Betas/Omegas who have had their fever and are now of marriagable age. Dress code includes high necked cravats and long sleeves if not having cuff like bracelets or choker necklaces when it reaches summer. This in particular is to protect the scent glands from being scented during crowded social events as some indications of interest include the brushing of ones fingers over the hand right about the wrist, and while dancing, not having wrists brush over necks.

This is also where the language of flowers has become popular also as a way to use as masking scents, not out of deceit but to aid in making a neutral ground of sorts for the general air when socialising.

Heats and ruts after the first one tend to have heightened arousal, but not to the point of complete loss of mental faculties. While not sexually active, one can experience a fever over a couple of days and may find masturbation a helpful relief. There are two types of medication, scent dampeners and heat/rut suppressants. There is a high popularity in Piltover with the latter in order to maintain regular appearances at social events while scent dampeners can be used by those who struggle to restrain their scents.

Allowing someone to smell your scent (different from scenting) is an intimate thing, and while there's been some improvements in perceptions, some uh "traditional thinking" people may see the source of omegas scenting being caused by them slicking. This has been debunked but some perceptions linger despite facts to the contrary...

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

Hilary Rose serves up a chef's kiss rebuttal of SNARK to that ridiculous puff piece posted in the NYT newsletter: "Finally! We’re allowed to see Meghan’s kitchen"

[This piece is sooo good I got a bit carried away with the rainbow.]

Having filmed her TV show in someone else’s house, the Duchess of Sussex has released a video of herself cooking at home. Hilary Rose takes a look around:

Continuing what is becoming a regular series on “preposterous things Meghan said today"🤭

we’ll start with Château Meghan itself, the gracious home into which she will one day, no doubt, invite Hello! because it’s the obvious next step for an influencer.🤭

We’ll move on to the publicity drive for her new brand, which already feels old.

And we’ll finish by finding ourselves a nice, dark room and rocking slowly back and forth until it all goes away. Feel freeto skip straight to that last bit.🤭

Her former Royal Highness La Duchesse has graciously filmed a short video of herself in the kitchen of her Montecito home.

The vibe is California château: big limestone arch thing over the range cooker, blue and white tiles, and lots of those wooden cupboards with fancy iron handles that you see in French country houses. There’s lots and lots of brown: cupboards, wooden-topped island unit, floor.

Some think this explains why she didn’t shoot her TV programme here, but I think it compounds the mystery. All Meghan ever wears on screen is white, and white looks good against brown, but apparently it looks even better against someone else’s grey kitchen up the road. Hey ho.🤭

There have been hints about the kitchen in her previous home videos, when she was baking with the fashion designer who made her wedding dress, because her shtick is “all my friends popped in to adore me”.

Turns out it’s cavernous, big enough for two island units, one wooden, one marble-topped. The ceiling stretches high, high above her head, and is hung with some fancy cast-iron cage thing big enough to hold literally dozens of copper pans. So many copper pans! More copper pans than there are in a copper pan shop.

Keeping them clean must be a full-time job for someone. A little person, one imagines, not someone with a silent HRH in front of their name.🤭

There isn’t just a vast range cooker, which we now learn is Viking and therefore presumably a collab waiting to happen, there’s also a double oven and a microwave.

By my reckoning, that’s four ovens, maybe five depending on the Viking, a sentence I never thought to type but really quite enjoyed.

She has an Ottolenghi cookbook, and marinates strawberries in sugar and lemon juice, and there’s a framed photo of a young Harry with his mother on the wall, because William has presumably been edited out of the Montecito script.😭

And so to the video, and a new article in The New York Times, a newspaper with a reassuring track record when it comes to Meghan’s “beastly Brits” narrative.

In the video, she’s in a white knit and white trousers, so perfect for cooking, with her messy (done) hair and her natural (umpteen products and hours in the chair) make-up.👍🏿👍🏿👍🏿

She sprinkles flowers on a pudding, because she sprinkles flowers on everything, then watches while her mother tastes it and spits it out (I wish, but that would be funny so therefore, no).

Doria says it’s delicious, because that’s the only thing people who eat Meghan’s food are allowed to say, even when it’s spaghetti in hot water sauce. 🤭

Watch episode one of her TV programme if you don’t believe me, or take my advice: don’t. Trust me.

Harry pops in to tell his wife that he’s “getting on a work call”, which in the old days could have been code for “popping out for a pint with my mates” but these days, which pub? Whose mates? Poor Harry.

Poor Thomas Markle too — Meghan’s father, who’s also written out of the script.

Meg has a podcast coming up about women, so men are now surplus to the back story.

In previous tellings, she was brought up by her father, who paid for her education and arranged for a car to pick her up from school if he was too busy at work. ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

In this telling, she’s a latchkey kid with a job from the age of 13, brought up by her doting mother, and drawing on the homespun wisdom and apple pie of Grandma Jeanette, Doria’s mother. Oh, and someone called Alvin. I forget who he is, but he has roots in Tennessee.

Honestly? I’m weary of this. Tennessee? Alvin? Did I nod off and miss it? Was he invited to the wedding or was he not attractive enough?🤭

We learn that Meghan’s quick with a lemon zester, which must at least be better than the alternative, and has frozen chicken nuggets and Tater Tots for the children.

If I had more strength to critique the guff about how she “fled Britain and its relentless criticisms to settle in this sunny, affluent enclave”, I would remind her of all the gushing “breath of fresh air” and Markle Sparkle stuff that was said. However, I would also concede that Windsor, although an affluent enclave, can only rarely be described as sunny and Frogmore Cottage doesn’t have the same ring as Château Megs.🤭

We’ll have to agree to disagree on whether her calligraphy and gift-wrapping skills will “set her apart in the crowded influencer field”. I think they’d set her apart as a sales assistant in Tiffany.🤭

But then my hard, cynical heart softened when I learnt that Meghan truly cares which way the radishes are pointing on the charcuterie board. Which of us can say, hand on heart, that we don’t?🤭

But shame on us for being so judgey. Gwyneth Paltrow and Chrissy Teigen don’t have “professional culinary training”, we are told, so why should Meghan? What a compelling argument, with no flaws at all.😂

Meghan has launched a range of products “inspired by her long-lasting love of cooking”🙄

Someone says, “I think she manages to present an authentic version of herself within that artificial space”, which I think is meant to be a compliment.😬

I have a question. What if your authentic version of yourself is grumpy? Do you still celebrate your authentic grumpiness in your artificial space, or suppress it? And how many versions of you can be authentic before the whole façade becomes fake? Other questions: when does “someone wanting to share their joy” about their multimillion-dollar life turn into bragging?

When does urging us to “mimic the magic of Montecito” morph into “let them eat cake, but first buy my flower sprinkles”?👍🏿

“Don’t they know my life hasn’t always been like this?” Meghan says in a despairing attempt to … who knows? Deflect criticism? Make us love her?

Yes, Meghan, we do know your life hasn’t always been like this. The question is: why should we care? 🎉🔥⭐⚡🌟💫

https://www.tumblr.com/saintmeghanmarkle/780226550204399616/savor-the-snark-hillary-rose-on-ms-kitchen-by?source=share

[beatricebidelaire]

“Thanks,” Fiona said, taking the swizzle sticks gratefully. “I’m quite hungry. Did you learn anything from that poetry book?”

“Not as much as I would have liked,” Klaus said. “Most of the pages were soaked from their journey, and so I couldn’t read much. But I believe I’ve learned a new code: Verse Fluctuation Declaration. It’s a way to communicate by substituting words in poems.”

“I don’t understand,” Violet said.

“It’s a bit tricky,” Klaus said, opening his commonplace book, in which he’d copied the information. “The book uses a poem called ‘My Last Duchess,’ by Robert Browning, as an example.”

“I’ve read that,” Fiona said, twirling a few noodles around a swizzle stick to get them into her mouth. “It’s a very creepy story about a man who murders his wife.”

“Right,” Klaus said. “But if a volunteer used the name of the poem in a coded communication, the title might be ‘My Last Wife’ instead of ‘My Last Duchess,’ by the poet ‘Obert Browning’ instead of Robert Browning.’’

“What purpose would that serve?” Violet said.

“The volunteer reading it would notice the mistake,” Klaus said. “The changing of certain words or letters is a kind of fluctuation. If you fixed the fluctuations in the poem, you’d receive the message.”

“Duchess R?” Fiona asked. “What kind of message is that?”

-- the grim grotto

[archerarchives]

Winner Takes it All

Slater x Fem Reader x Sterling Archer

Your ex-husband isn't thrilled to hear about your latest romantic connection.

(It's more about Slater than Archer.)

Drama, Smut, Comedy, Story-Driven.

TWs: !!Smut!! And maybe a lil angst, jealousy, physical violence, drunk sex, long read, not proofread, this is not a 3-way fic, sorry! They're just both gettin' bounced on!

You've just moved cities for a new, low-profile job with a well-known spy agency, ISIS. It's a change of scenery where you can still use the specialized skills you've honed over the years at your old job. The CIA was a prolific time in your career, but with your divorce newly finalized after a long, messy process, you're ready to uproot your life and start over somewhere.

Finding this job was something of fate in itself. You were drinking your thoughts away in a shabby pub on a mission in Ireland when a man, just as wasted as you, came crashing through the door, spouting off at the mouth about "top secret agent" this, "classified mission" that. Even at your drunkest, you've never compromised yourself in such a way. All's well, though, as it ended with a job offer and a very interesting hook-up.

Try as you may, you can't escape the memories of that first sexual rendezvous after a lengthy legal battle. Your cheeks redden with warmth as you remember the way he bent you over, sliding his hands up your spine as he guided your hips against his waist.

You giggle to yourself as your stomach flips. All this time seeing him in a professional setting feels silly, considering his drunken personality when you first met him. You're certainly not in love, nor are you looking for it. It's just nice to explore without moral compromise.

Working with ISIS is a dream, not to mention getting to step out with Archer to fuck in a supply closet nearly hourly. The scandal of sneaking around only adds to the fun.

Your marriage was just as passionate for years, but with that came an explosiveness that working together at the CIA ultimately killed. No time apart, you smothered each other until it felt like there weren't any feelings to save.

Keeping things light with Archer has been easy, considering if he's not fucking you, then he's definitely off fucking someone else. Often other members of the agency. It is vehemently not love, and you love that.

One day, after months of casual hookups, Archer mentions something about taking you to dinner. An awkward silence falls over the two of you as you lie naked in his bed. "It's not that I don't want to, I just," you search hard for your next words.

"Oh, no. It's fine. I just figured I owed you after, you know, all this." He gestures to your whole body.

"You don't owe me anything, handsome. It's a pretty equal exchange if you ask me." You wink at him, slipping away from his possessive grip so you can get dressed.

"By the way, don't tell Mother I told you, but we've got some CIA agents coming in on Monday. I'm not sure what for. Apparently, none of us are supposed to know." Archer's clearly looking for any way to change the subject after his invite went wrong.

"CIA? Did you happen to get their names?" You ask, with a lump in your throat.

"No, but they can't be much worse than those other two dick heads." Archer settles back against his headboard, covered by nothing but blankets up to his waist. His chiseled body shines in the sunlight like a painting. You almost hesitate to leave, but after that awkward date denial, you want to get far, far away. It's not all his fault, he has no idea about your situation.

"Sounds like fun. I'll see you there, princess." You chuckle, lingering in the doorway.

"For the last time, it's Duchess. And we don't get to choose our code names!" His spiral makes you laugh as you wave goodbye and head out his bedroom door. His valet, an elderly man called Woodhouse, always meets you at the door to send you off. You smile warmly at him as you make your way to your car.

~~~Monday Morning

"Good morning, Pam," you yawn, stepping off the elevator. She waves a tired hello to you and you make your way toward your office. After a small window of time, Archer knocks at your door, right on schedule. You both slip down the hall and meet up in one of your trusty 'spots.' You've opted for the supply closet yet again.

Archer pulls you inside with him, hungrily grabbing at your breasts and roughly fidgeting with your buttoned-up blouse. You let out a giggle, a bit louder than you mean to, but you quickly quiet back down. He grins at the sight of your breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

"Oh, my God," he breathes into your neck, positioning himself right against you. "I'll never get tired of this." He slips inside of you with ease. A low, breathy moan escapes his lips as he reaches his hilt. From there, he's thrusting into you rhythmically, gripping your hips while you prop yourself against the shelves of dusty cleaning products.

Archer's fingertips dig into your skin as he lifts you off the ground for a better angle. Each delicate moan that escapes your lips is met with a sensual sound of his own or a passionate kiss on your lips to silence you. He places a firm, but gentle hand around your neck as he picks up his pace.

"Harder," you whisper against his broad chest and he's happy to oblige. At this point, you hardly care what can and can't be heard outside the closet. "Harder." And he complies, slamming into you with a force that'd tell a stranger he must hate you.

A knot begins to form in your stomach, growing tighter as you near your orgasm. He's moaning your name into your ear, sending your eyes rolling back every time he opens his mouth. You're doing all you can to keep it together, and just when you finally give, he pulls out and finishes on your chest, careful to keep aim on your exposed skin.

Your blue-eyed hookup helps you clean up and you realize there's yet another awkward silence as he lingers for a little longer than usual in the closet, just looking at you. "Wow," he sighs.

"You weren't too bad yourself, handsome," you wink, playfully tapping his chest with your palm. Once you've both steadied your breathing, he leaves first, scoping out the hallway, careful to give a cough or some sort of signal if someone's around. It's silent. You give it a few minutes and then you step out as well.

"Y/N!" A painfully familiar voice calls your name from the opposite end of the otherwise empty hallway. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Slater?" You knew it, you just wanted to believe it could've been anyone else. "Are you asking what I'm doing or what I'm doing here?"

"Well," he's stumped. "Both, I guess. Did you just fuck Archer in that closet?" He sounds equal parts disturbed and livid.

"I work here now. And that's really none of your business anymore." You cross your arms defensively.

"Trust me, Y/N, you don't want-"

"Stop telling me what I do and don't want. Don't we have a meeting or something?" You stomp off, not allowing his ability to set you off cost you this new job.

Archer and the other agents have already been in the meeting. You're late and if you weren't on Malory's good side, you know she'd have something to say about it. Instead, she just gives you a sharp look, and you take the warning for the golden ticket it is. You take a quiet seat near the group and tune into whatever the other CIA agent is explaining.

It's tedious, tiresome, and boring. Some of the staff are falling asleep while others are zoning out altogether. Archer's distracted and his disruption goes unchecked as he messes around with an Operation game.

Suddenly, the door slings open and Slater angrily crosses the floor. Most of the room falls silent, besides Archer, who is still playing with the toy. Slater reaches his desk and slaps the game out of his hands, causing others around them to gasp in surprise.

"Are you fucking my wife?" Slater yells lividly through gritted teeth, placing one hand on the desk surface to stop himself from swinging at the ISIS agent.

"What?" Archer's surprise quickly turns to amusement. "No, I'm screwing-"

"I'm not your wife anymore, Slater!" You scold from across the way. The room fills with sounds of confused shock, but no one's as wide-eyed as Archer.

"You're married to this douchebag?" Your dark-haired situationship points to Slater.

"Not anymore!" You toss your hands up defensively. "Our divorce is finalized. What Sterling and I do-" you're cut off.

"Sterling?" Slater erupts at the intimate comfortability between you and Archer. Unhinged, Slater grabs the front of Archer's suit and lands a solid punch to the face. His biceps flex intensely under his casual T-shirt as he tightens his grip for another swing.

Now Slater and Archer are in an all-out brawl. The desks of the lecture room are knocked into disarray as the two men toss each other around. Cyril and Ray both try to intervene, but it's pointless. Archer, as usual, takes nothing seriously. He's almost laughing and probably would be if he wasn't ever so slightly losing the fight.

"Enough!" Malory throws a glass of cognac so hard, it slams against the wall right between both men's heads.

"Mother!" Archer looks distressed by her close quarters warning.

"If you two don't stop this childish nonsense this very minute I'll have you both sent wherever the hell I want for treason." Her threat is grand, but it's clear she means it.

"Look, fuck you, but she'll actually do that," Archer speaks with his eyes narrowed at his rival. Slater sighs, glaring at Archer for just a moment more before finally releasing his suit jacket.

"Good," Malory relaxes, somehow already equipped with another freshly poured glass of cognac. She redirects everyone's attention back to the boring speaker from before. "Now, you were saying?"

~~~After Work, at Your House

"That's not what I'm saying!" Slater yells, an all too familiar sound. One you thought you'd gotten rid of.

"Then what are you saying?" You toss your arms up in frustration. "Because from here, it's sounding like you're telling me who I can and can't be with. We aren't married anymore!" That last sentence seems to piss him off, or at least hurt him. He closes his eyes and furrows his brows, trying to find it in himself to calm down. Something he's never tried to do before.

"I know we're not married anymore, but seriously? Him?" He shakes his head. "And why move? Why leave the CIA?"

"Are you kidding me?" You ask, utterly shocked by the question. "This is why! This tantrum you're throwing as if you haven't been enjoying your own freedoms even before the divorce was finalized!" The truth causes Slater to avert his eyes. It's true, he was living his own bachelor lifestyle quite early on in the process.

"It's just," he takes a deep breath. "Could it be anyone else?"

"You act like I'm in love with the guy." You laugh. "I'm just trying to feel something."

"Oh yeah? Does he know that?"

"Of course he does!" You knit your brows. "Have you met the guy? I'm not exactly at the top of his roster."

"His people said he hasn't strayed outside your little meetings for at least two weeks. That's like a year for him." Slater crosses his arms.

"Two weeks, huh?" You take a seat at your table. Slater sits right across from you. You do the math and realize you've only been working at ISIS for about a month.

"Two weeks. Not even Agent Kane had him down that long."

"Agent Kane? Lana? Do they have that kind of history?" You ask. It's clear to anyone that they've fucked, but you had no idea what their history entailed until Slater filled you in.

"You have no idea what this guy's about, huh?" He asks, smugly.

"I don't. And I don't care. I'm not stepping on any toes and I certainly don't owe you anything." You wrangle any corner of your face that may show discomfort, adamant to not let him know he got into your head. "I think you should go. I have work in the morning."

"Oh, I know. You and I will be working very closely for a while. Just like old times." He sounds sickly sweet as he heads for your door, like you asked. Just before he leaves, he hesitates, almost like he intends to speak, but he doesn't. He doesn't look back at you or anything. He just finally exits and a cold silence follows in his place.

"Fuck," you huff.

~~~The Next Day, in The Lecture Room

"Psst," Archer garners your attention.

"What?" You whisper and he passes you a note like you're two kids in school. It reads: 'My office, 2 PM.' You stifle the smirk blossoming on your lips. Then, before you have time to blink, the note is snatched from your hand by Slater, playing the role of the bitch teacher. After that, there are suddenly mandatory training exercises being held for certain agents at certain times. You've been lovingly gifted the time slot of 1:50 PM to 2:50 PM with Archer going right after you.

While each agent waits, you spend time at Cheryl's desk with her and Pam. A little gossip to speed things along. Pam doesn't hold back in the slightest, diving right in as soon as you sit down.

"So were you Y/N Slater or...?" Cheryl wrinkles her nose, asking a question far less invasive than Pam's.

"I kept my last name. I didn't know how to navigate that either." You shrug.

"Okay, but this divorce is recent, right?" Pam redirects the conversation.

"Recent for a divorce, sure. But we've been separated for over a year."

"A whole year of working with your ex-husband at the CIA?" The round-faced blonde raises her eyebrows.

"There's a reason I jumped at this opportunity, Pam." You tilt your head forward, widening your eyes at her. A look that says, 'Don't even ask.'

"Mrs. Slater..." Cheryl repeats to herself. "Nope, doesn't have a good ring to it."

"Sure doesn't!" You exclaim, holding up your left hand and wiggling your bare ring finger. Right on cue, Slater approaches you where you sit in front of Cheryl's desk. She and Pam both excuse themselves to eavesdrop from a few feet away.

"Ready for some assistance training Agent Y/L/N?" He asks, a bitterness already biting in his voice.

"Absolutely, Agent Slater." You give a false sense of enthusiasm. "Anything to get you out of here faster."

"Then right this way," he gestures for the elevator. The firing range is on an entirely different level, and something about the usually short lift ride is excruciatingly long today. You stand next to each other uncomfortably for a while before you finally glance over at him. He doesn't look at you, but you get a good look at his chest and crossed arms. His seemingly permanent angry expression etched lightly into his features. "Like what you see?" He asks, smirking smugly.

"Shut up," you snap, facing forward and silently scolding yourself for being so quick to nearly forget why you left him in the first place. Finally, the elevator doors open to the shooting range lobby. It's empty until you and Slater step out of the elevator. After checking your weapons and loading up on ammunition, it's time to start shooting.

You've always been a pretty solid shot. These exercises don't meet your skill. You'd do better to practice with a course, but that's not an option right now. "Two in the head, one in the chest," Slater says, and you don't think twice about what he's talking about. You fire the three bullets you were instructed to fire. This goes on for a while and you begin to think an hour of this might not be so bad.

"Oh, hey. I was thinking, why not make this a group effort and save some time?" Archer, seemingly drunk, appears in the soundproofed doorway of the shooting range.

"Agent Archer, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." Slater smiles deviously as he shoves him back and slams the door. Once it's locked, he turns his attention to you. You missed the whole ordeal due to the quality of your ear protection. You didn't see or hear Archer's impromptu class suggestion or it's brutal rejection.

"Are we done?" You ask, assuming that's what he's come to tell you when he lifts the earmuff off your head.

"No," he shakes his head. "Your form is a little off." His comment makes you arch your brows.

"No it's not."

"Yes, it is. Here." Slater takes your arms and guides them up to point your gun at the target. With his body pressed against yours, he wraps your hands around the firearm and "shows" you the proper form. It's no different from how you were just standing, and you know that, but that's not the point. The point is, now he's flush against your body and you can feel his heartbeat in the heat radiating off his chest.

"Slater, come on. What are you doing?" You try your best to sound serious, but you fail. He takes the gun from your hand and places it on the counter before slipping off your ear protection and setting it to the side as well. You're still standing with your back to him, and he leans in to whisper.

"Why don't you show me how good your form is?" He slips his hands into your hair, pulling it back gently like a ponytail before suddenly wrapping one hand up and roughly pulling your head back so he can plant a heinous love bite on your neck. You let out a breathy moan as your eyes slip back into your head. This is why it took so long to get away. If it wasn't an argument that had you nearly throwing chairs, then it was this.

"I can't... Or rather, I don't want to."

"You don't owe him anything. He's drunk right now, probably already fucking someone else in a different tiny, filthy closet." His grip on your hair tightens. "Haven't you missed me? Just a little?" The raspy nature of his voice vibrates into his chest that's pressed up against your back. Your skin erupts into chill bumps as his grip loosens and then tightens back up again when he doesn't get an answer fast enough.

"Slater," you pull away, finally. Much to your disappointment. Listen. Regardless of Archer, you know this isn't a good idea." You straighten up your appearance and calm your reddened cheeks. "Training's over," you say as you speed walk out the door.

At the end of the day, you're back at your place, freshly walking through the door after a stressful day at the office. Who'd have guessed Slater would make an appearance so soon in your journey to figuring out the single life? Who'd have known how absolutely unprepared you were for it?

After a few drinks, at-home vodka cranberries with far too much vodka to cran, you stare at your cellphone. All of you wants to call Slater and cave as quickly as you turned him down earlier. You shake the thought from your mind, scanning through your contacts for Archer. You stare at the number for a moment, recalling his dinner invitation.

You wonder if it was really meant to be a "repayment" of your promiscuous meetings. It felt far too personal, though. So personal, you sit with his number pulled up for another twenty minutes before ultimately hitting the red button, and clearing out all the information. Slater's presence has thrown your entire dynamic through a loop and it's pissing you off. Defiantly, you dial Archer's number.

Your stomach ties in knots as imagine what kind of mental strain this may put on him. To know you don't want anything more than an orgasm to get your mind off of the divorce. Surely he understands, right? It's not like he's the sentimental type.

"Hello?" A voice on the other end of the phone doesn't match the contact dialed. It's a woman and she's clearly wasted.

"Um, Archer?"

"Oh, he's kind of-" The next part of the sentence is clouded with laughter and the scuffling sound of a phone being dropped. Finally the call ends. An intense wave of relief washes over you. Thank God, you think to yourself. The relief is short-lived as you realize you've lost your lover for the night. You consider a trip to the bar, but it feels too desperate. That's when your phone begins to ring.

You stare at the screen. Slater's name flashes on the small device and you roll your eyes, sighing heavily. Already preparing for the mental toll this is about to take on you.

"Hello?" You answer on the last ring.

"Hey," he starts. "I just wanted to call and um, apologize." He sounds agonized by his own words. An ego check he never asked for.

"Apologize? For what?" You ask with a giggle.

"My behavior today was... Less than professional. I shouldn't have put you in a situation like that." It's as if this apology is being forced out of him at gunpoint, but you're appreciative of the effort.

"Thanks, Slater." You roll your eyes, still chucking.

"Are you uh- You alone tonight?" He asks, hesitantly.

"Yes, but not by choice. It seems someone else has made their way to my benefit's bed." You laugh. "I'm having wine and watching that show I like."

"What kind of wine?" Slater asks. You roll your eyes. He's always done this when he wants attention. Just sparking up a conversation about any and everything.

"Oh, you know, the cheap stuff." You shrug. Slater's unmistakable laughter crackles through the line.

"You love cheap thrills," he sighs with a smile. Silence falls over the conversation for just a moment before his voice rings through the phone one more time. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Slater, I-" but you're cut off by the telltale sign of being hung up on. You groan, tossing your phone across the room and letting it softly land on a fainting couch on the other side of the room. You rub your temples, silently venting about the man you've spent all this time trying to escape. Not due to any kind of fear, but simply because you know it's not ever meant to work.

An hour or so passes since you've changed into a sill nightgown and settled in for the night. You even consider digging out your weed stash and rolling a joint in the peace and quiet. You're halfway through the process (didn't have to twist your arm) when there's a knock at the door. Three soft knocks. Instinctively, you dismiss your buzz with sheer willpower. You glance at the clock. It's late, too late for visitors. Gripping the neck of your wine bottle, you stealthily make your way to the door.

Knock, knock, knock. Again. You don't jump, you hardly react at all. Nothing but a blink. Taking your place tactfully, standing right next to the door, you begin to slowly lean in toward the peephole. Just before you catch a glance, you hear a sound outside. A sigh. "Oh, Jesus Christ," you nearly melt with relief.

You open the door, pale in the face. All you could imagine was the CIA taking back their word and sending someone to take you out in the middle of the night in your own home.

"What the hell?" Your ex-husband stands before you with something in his hand.

"God damn it, Slater," you sigh. "What's up?"

"You said you were drinking the cheap stuff, so brought you a bottle of Château Calon-Ségur," he says, eyeballing the bottle in your hand meant to be a weapon. "But I'm now realizing this is the cheap stuff."

"The pay at ISIS isn't too shabby." You shrug. A second of silence passes between you two before you finally step out of the way and invite him inside. He nods a thanks at you and takes a hard look around your home. His eyes narrow at the lack of evidence of ever having a life with him. It's just a staged house of anything that isn't from or about him.

"Nice place you got," he says, stifling any other comments he wants to make.

"Thank you. I figured you'd have something shitty to say." You laugh, raising your eyebrows in surprise at his lack of insult.

"Not a lot of pictures," he tosses.

"I don't have any to hang yet," you arch an eyebrow at him.

"Right," he says, recalling the endless amount of photographs of you two he still has in his attic. "You seem happy. You look," he leans back, shaking his head with a sly smile. "Great."

"Yeah?" You smile politely. You know you look great. You've done nothing but glow since the papers were very first served. It's then that you notice the scent of his cologne. A decade of forgotten feelings comes flooding back, and as aware as you are that it's the wine, you can't help the redness flushing your face. And that's all it takes, just like that, he knows he's in.

Slater crosses the living room and takes a place on the couch next to you. "What's all this?" He asks, gesturing to your half-rolled joint. "I thought pot was illegal around here," he chuckles, finishing the joint and lighting it.

"It's decriminalized, but I still usually step outside before lighting it."

"Whoops," he responds flatly, bringing the joint to his lips as he lies back on the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. You pass the joint back and forth until you're both in a haze, surrounded by lingering clouds of smoke. The TV plays a Western, and though you're both staring at the screen, it feels like you're focused on each other. Each stealing eye glances at the other.

"Wine?" You ask, breaking the comfortable silence. He nods and you disappear to grab another glass. In the kitchen, you can feel the moment of his hands running through your hair, pulling it back, and whispering in your ear the other day. Chills run up your spine. Quickly, you return to your ex in the living room. He's sitting up a bit straighter now. After pouring him a glass, you join him on the couch.

He'd be a piss-poor agent if he didn't notice how much closer you sat to him upon your return. He can't help himself. "You know, your little friend with benefits was getting pretty friendly with some escorts in a casino tonight." You roll your eyes.

"My God, Slater. Are you just stalking everybody now?" You laugh, shifting a bit away from him. "Besides, I already know. He was supposed to come over tonight, but he seemed a little busy." Slater's eyebrows narrow.

"So sorry you had to settle for me," he smirks.

"I didn't. You just showed up." You eyeball him as you sip your wine. "And that begs the question; What do you think would've happened if you showed up while I was reaping the benefits?"

"Ugh," Slater shakes his head. "I don't want to think about it." He's laughing, but the boiling in his blood is as present as ever when he thinks about you with that secret agent idiot. His "casual" grip on the back cushions of the couch ignites his knuckles white. "God, do you live to get a rise out of me?"

"What do you mean? I didn't even invite you here." You look around the room as if to look for who might've invited him, sending the message that there is, in fact, no one. He invited himself.

"Y/N, look. I know the divorce is finalized. I understand I don't really have a leg to stand on."

"Oh, god. No, please stop."

"Will you just hear me out?"

"I really don't want to." You look at him, eyebrows turned up. "That sounds like some really heavy stuff and I'm really high." Slater sighs with defeat.

"Fair enough."

"Why'd you come over tonight?" You ask, curious and figuring it can't hurt seeing as he already made things tense.

"Ya' know, I don't really know."

"Really? No cheesy monologue about missing me?" You laugh. He used to try too hard. Always phoning it in. No substance.

"Oh, please." His eyes narrow. "Like you haven't been thinking of my hands in your hair all evening." His bold statement causes you to nearly choke on your sip of wine. Slater's chuckling at you, looking pleased with himself.

"You're insufferable," you scoff and his giggle erupts into laughter.

"You're so much easier to read off the clock." Slater leans forward and toys with his glass for a moment before downing its contents in one swallow. The tension between you is palpable as you refill his glass, not once spilling a drop and maintaining eye contact the entire time.

You hardly realize how close you are to him when you return the glass to his hand. Your palm flattens against his broad, solid chest. You've unintentionally pushed the two of you into a lounging position where you lie on top of him, staring down into his eyes as they scan your face.

You want to tear his clothes off and climb him like a tree, but you're preoccupied by the possible repercussions. You ball up your fist on his chest and release a frustrated sigh before creating a gap between you once again. You're sitting up, but Slater is still lying down, looking confused.

"Whoa, what happened?" He holds his empty arms out like he doesn't understand how you got away.

"I don't want to be shitty to you, but," you swallow the awkwardness down. "I don't want to create a dialogue that isn't there."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"I'm not interested in fixing things, Slater."

"Fixing things? Y/N, sweetheart, we had a good run." He sits up. "But I'm not trying to marry you again. I hardly like you."

"Bitch."

"But if you're gonna be sleeping around anyways, you might as well give me a call sometime."

"Jesus Christ. I'm not just handing it out like a prayer pamphlet," you say, crossing your arms.

"Never said you were," he arches his brows, annoyed that his own words aren't landing correctly.

"You very much implied it."

"Of course, you're gonna do this. You always do this." He begins to shift like he's planning to stand and leave. You can't tell if that's what you want or not.

"Do what? You just came over and told me if I'm gonna be a whore, I might as well include you in my whoring."

"No one called you a whore, Y/N!" He runs a hand through his pushed-back hair and groans with impatience. Finally, he stands and so do you. "Look, I'll just let you get back to smoking pot and drinking while your Mama's boy boyfriend has sex with a bunch of hookers."

"What the fuck is your problem?" You raise your voice. "And that's not what they're called anymore. They're sex workers." He rubs his temples.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Y/N."

"Oh, fuck you. You're the reason this is so hard to navigate. You made that divorce as difficult as possible at every turn!" You shove a finger into his chest.

"Because years ago, when I was fucking stupid, I didn't want to lose you!" The confession is too heavy. Too sweet. Too real. You hate it.

"Lower your God damn eye brows when you're talking to me." You push away the sentimental nonsense and Slater notices right away.

"I don't love you anymore, Y/N. We're both over it."

"Then why the hell did Archer make you so angry? You beat him up in front of his own mother."

"I don't know. Still a little protective, I guess." He begins to cool down. After a criminally short moment of silence, Slater sighs and rolls his eyes before closing the gap between you and crashing his lips into yours.

Everything in you screams fucking finally! But instead, you wrap your arms around him and deepen the kiss. He starts to lead you to your bedroom, but once he realizes he has no idea where it is, he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him. It's an easy stroll to the couch where he drops you onto the cushions and makes quick work of removing your nightgown.

You glow beneath him. His eyes study your exposed form like he couldn't see until he saw you. One hand grips at the curves of your waist, and the other squeezes your breast through your bra. A breathy moan slips from your lips like a sigh. All feelings aside, it's as if your flesh missed each other.

Slater's breathing is heavy as he drinks in the image of you beneath him. All those years together, but neither of you has felt like this since the very beginning. Back when it was just harmless fun in an empty office at work.

You tug his shirt up and over his head before resuming the sloppy kiss. After unfastening his belt, you begin to unhook your bra, but his hands stop you. You erupt into chill bumps as his fingers trail up your back and effortlessly flick the clasps undone. It's one part the alcohol and one part the history, but you're nearly breathless with anticipation.

"God damn," he huffs.

"I know, right?" You smirk. He shakes his head with a chuckle, burying his face in your neck and biting down softly, but firmly. You gasp as his teeth drag over your skin. He strokes himself a few times, looming over you with sparkling, dark eyes. His free hand pushes a stray piece of hair back from his face. You wait with bated breath as he slowly pushes himself against your sensitive clit.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss this," Slater sighs before slowly sliding into you. You release a low, sultry moan as he grinds himself against you. He pulls your legs up so that they're hooked up over his shoulders, giving him all the angles he needs to thrust himself entirely into you. His movements are rhythmic and steady as he savors every inch of you he can reach.

"Oh, my God!" You gasp, earning a pussy-throbbing smirk from the man inside you.

"Don't get the cops called again," he chuckles, still thrusting. He's speaking about a time during your marriage when he fucked you so well that your moans and screams not only woke but concerned the neighbors.

"Fuck you," you huff, speaking between the slamming of your pelvises against each other.

"It's what you needed," he winks, picking up his pace. He's broad, strong, and well-endowed. It's hard to compare anyone to the feeling of being with him. It's like fucking a really sexy brick wall.

After an eternity of him slamming into you, legs tossed over his shoulders like a ragdoll, he pulls out. You gasp at the sudden absence. "Why don't you show me that ass, sweetheart?" He says, his voice is taunting and dominant. You do exactly as he says, turning over and arching your back to put on a bit of a show. Nothing he's never seen before, but you'd hardly be able to tell by his reaction.

Slater grips both your hips with his open palms, hooking his fingertips into your soft flesh as he pulls you back against him with each thrust. He tosses his head back in ecstasy. "Oh, fuck," he sighs with heavy breaths. You wrap your arms around the throw pillows, hoping for some sort of leverage against the harsh bucking. He raises a hand and playfully slaps your ass, earning a light squeal of excitement from you.

Just when you don't think you can process anything else, he slides a hand up your spine and wraps it in your hair. With each desperate slam into you, he pulls tighter. At some point, he releases your hips and your hair is the only handle for leverage he has, using it to pull your body to meet his as he thrusts as far as possible inside you. It just happens to be pretty goddamn far.

"Have your fun, Y/N," he huffs, voice raspier than usual. "Fuck whoever you want. I don't care." The sound of him sliding in and out of you has evolved to loud, wet echoes. "You're always gonna be mine." He picks up his pace yet again, slowly losing his rhythm as his flesh slaps against yours.

You can't argue. You know he's not wrong. Sure, neither of you cares so much for the marriage aspect, but you know you'll be right back in this situation a million more times before you're ever truly done. For the last time, you're working toward another orgasm when he quickens his thrusts and with one final slam against you, he withdraws and finishes on your displayed ass.

Breathless, Slater slinks backward into the couch and you collapse where you are, flattening out on the other end of the couch. You flinch as he cleans you up, leaving you with a playful smack.

"God damn, Slater," you sigh, eyes still threatening to roll backward.

"Better than your Mama's boy?" He asks between breaths.

"I don't know. I think I need to run a few experiments first." You grin, flushed in the face.

"Fuck you."

*****

Author's Note:

I wrote this entire story based on one glance at that GIF and I can't even remember what episode that is or what's actually happening there.

Update: I watched the episode and I love the handsome cartoon men. That's all. (I love the women too, but I objectify men.)

[evaarade]

Murat'Ade Tsad

Or How Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore started a proper and centrelized Child Protective Services in the Mandalorian System.

A/N: Believe it or not, this started on a talk about Adanais Kryze (or Adonai Kryze, if you go with canon names TL;DR: I'm not going with it because of the cultural meaning of the name, apparently it shouldn't be used). Hope you enjoy it!

The Law to change how the Mandalorian adopts worked was one of Satine's most well crafted, most popular and supported laws.

At first, there was outrage of course, it's one thing to ask Mandalorians to try to resolve things peacefully before resorting to weapons or fighting in general, but to change a long standing tradition of adoption? Outrage! Protests on the streets! Threats of Civil War!

And that's when the media came in.

Carefully crafted and made to help Satine get her proposed law (though, technically not her law, as she had to give it to someone else to tweak with and put on the agenda, as her job Wasn't to make laws but to represent the War Clans) across all Mandalorian space and hopefully passed by the Ruling Council.

"The purpose of the law is not to ban adoptions," Duchess Satine clarified on the Ibic Ca Ti Bari Hait Be Eldar (or, in Basic, 'This Night With Bari Hait Of House Eldar'), "It's to make them both more efficient and to make sure that the children are being taken care of as they should be."

And thus she went of to explain and win the hearts of the Mandalorians so intensively watching.

The Reform, as it stood, sought to introduce a new organization - the Morut'ade Tsad (lit. Organization of Safe Children) - into the government: One whose whole job is to take care of children welfare.

They will be the ones who handle any child abuse, the ones who help children when they loose their current guardians and help them get settled into their new home, they re the ones who you go to when you wish to adopt any children.

This is when the graphics and recorded interviews from mando'ade and non-mando'ade came in.

It is well known in the Mandalorian space that they are The go to group of people children are to told to head to in case they are ever in danger, it is something every Mando'ade wears with Pride.

What is less known, is that usually with that advice there's the followup of 'leave as soon as you can, if they are distracted the better' for parents fear that Mando'ade would - gasp - Kidnap children.

Here comes the horror - The Horror! - as the Duchess Kryze sadly but patiently continued her explanation: As many Mando'ade didn't check to see if the children they took were actually orphans and couple it with the old war time tradition of adopting children from different cultures that you found the battlefield (often during wars that the Mando'ade started, often either orphas by the Mando'ade's hands or not orphan but whoever took them didn't bother to check), it lead to the idea that Mandalorians were a race of Children Stealing, Warmonging Warriors.

That's when the Organization would came in.

You could bring the children you wished to adopt into the Organization, they will house them and keep you informed as they go hunt down and check to see if the ade have any living relatives and if so, if they are worthy of being their caretakers.

If they don't, you get a go-ahead as long as the child wishes for you to be their Guardian or to even be adopted and be a Mandalorian at all.

If they do have family, you and a group of members of the Morut'ade, would go give the child back to their clan and would be allowed to give the comm code to the family and child for you to be able to keep in contact with them - after apologizing for the whole misunderstanding, of course.

And of course, as mentioned before, this wasn't the only job of the Murat'ade, they would ensure the safety of all children in Mandalorian space.

Stopping abuse - whatever form it may take, from parents training children too hard to parents manipulating children; from physical to sexual to emotional to mental - of children; helping new parents with raising children; helping parents settle things with children if it pops up during the checks; offering programs to make sure that the children were well taken care of and had help from the Community, from the Government.

They would also make sure that the transition from one guardian to another goes smoothly, that no clan member or random person who was Not fit for raising children would ever be put in charge of them.

Sure, it would be annoying to have check ups every once in a while, but wouldn’t it be better to know that children were being kept safe with the Murat’ade? They would even offer reports, numbers you could call to report people, to add them into a list to be investigated or to make sure that they would Never be alone with children, even from the same clan.

The Murat’ade Tsad would even deal with the issues from the Restrictions that late Mando’alor Adanais Kryze put in place: they would handle the paperwork and register the children in the government database, giving them the rights and benefits as any citizen (up until they were 25, had they decided Not to be a Mandalorian in the end) like free healthcare; leaving only the new guardians to handle Not renaming them (though, nicknames are acceptable and the child might choose to adopt that as a name when they were old enough to change their paperwork on their own) and to make sure that the children feel welcomed in their home.

And the Organization would have the bonus of hiring Beroya’s and help them turn into Ver’Verd by having them hunt down the childrens’ missing family - if they had any.

Children would have the support of everyone in the Mandalorian space with this Reform, no more children left to die because the clans were divided.

"This way, no child will have to save themselves, we will have no more tales of adopted children that turned on their families ‘like the day from night’ and ran back to their home planet, this way children will be Protected." Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore finished, “My Ada’Buir might never have met his birth parents, those who brought him to the world and named him, this way no parent will have to grieve children that are just with us, this? This Is The Way.”

(And thus, the Reform was passed with full support of the Ruling Council, with hundreds and thousands of volunteers.

The Murat’Ade Tsad lasted even with the fall of the New Mandalorian Government, only disappearing two years before the Empire was removed from Mandalore, and by then they had suffered budget cuts that left them a very different and more desperate Organization than the one so supported, so watched and kept in check during Duchess Satine Kryze’s rule.)