#diana is finally getting a degree

[dianaraven]

lol learning any western text or artform is so funny in a non-christian country cuz none of us get any of the allusions

[reiderwriter]

For some reason my comments don't come through on your posts, but I want to first say I absolutely love your writing and I'm so happy your requests are open!! 🥰😭 So I've had this idea of a fluff mixed with spencer angst where reader is maybe interning at Diana's facility (not a dr yet, studying) and becomes close with Diana by reading, chatting, etc and Spencer over hears it from time to time and the dialogue between spencer and reader gets too close for Spencers comfort, but Diana wants her around more. Thank you again for your hard work okay bye!

A/N: I've never written a fic with Diana in it before, so this was a bit of a challenge for me, bit I enjoyed writing it a lot! Hopefully, this is somewhat like what you wanted!! ❤️

Warnings: Spencer is a bit dense (real) and puts his foot in his mouth (metaphorically, of course).

Diana Reid's son was exactly the way she described him, down to the tiny curls at the base of his neck and the glimmer of intelligence in his eye. 

After four weeks interning at the care facility while working on your medical degree, you'd spent a considerable amount of time with your favorite patient, and her stories about her son were legendary. 

At first, you weren't sure whether to believe the woman when she said her son was a genius with an IQ of 187, three PhDs, and a job in the FBI. She wouldn't be the first schizophrenic patient to muddle up her facts, but she certainly was the sweetest. 

So when you recalled your conversation with the head nurse later that day, she laughed and confirmed every story about Doctor Spencer Reid. Your mouth hung open in shock because surely nobody that incredible could just be out walking the streets. 

Another month of conversations about the man, and you were half in love with him. He wrote his mother letters every day - hand wrote them, even - and she's shown you a few. He'd talked about his friends, his team, his jobs, and how he was saving lives. And when one of the latest ones dropped in the news that he'd be free for a visit soon, you found yourself overflowing with anticipation. 

Of course, you felt like you already knew the man. You knew what his first words were, what his favorite toy was growing up, and even about the exploits of his first date, as pitiful as it was. What you didn't know was if Diana was passing along similar information about you. 

The day Spencer Reid finally showed up, he took your breath away. You were mostly in awe of Diana's ability to describe her son perfectly, though you'd grown fond of her perfectly professional English Lecturer tone of speaking over the last few weeks. She was practically lyrical when talking her son into existence. 

“His hair curls beautifully. He's my little adonis. He keeps it too long though, I'm always telling him he needs to cut it because it hides too much of his face,” she'd told you one day before picking her book up and ignoring you for the next half hour. 

“My Spencer is delightfully tall. He's a little bit spindly like a spider. He's not the most grateful, that's for sure, we used to call him crash because he was always bumping into things. Poetic, right?” 

You knew from the second he walked through the door that this man was him. 

Tall, slightly hunched, clutching his satchel strap in his hand, terrifyingly handsome and making your hand jump into your throat. Definitely him, and definitely a problem. You'd have to check the code of conduct about falling hopelessly for a patient's beautiful son. 

If you had any doubts, this was Spencer in front of you though, when he bumped into a chair just as he was about to reach his mother, it was confirmed. 

“Diana, I believe your Crash is here,” you smiled and giggled, watching her turn quickly to greet her son. 

You, too, gave him a warm smile, but he seemed a little hesitant to return it, instead greeting his mother softly and sitting with her while you retreated slightly to give them some privacy. 

You hovered in the space, as Diana had been talking about introducing the two of you all week, and you didn't want to distress her if she couldn't find you close by. 

But though Spencer was closely attentive and soft with his mother, he took brief pauses to stare almost frustratedly at you. You weren't sure what it was, but something about you was setting Spencer on edge, and that in itself was unsettling you as well. 

“Oh, Spencer, you must meet our Y/N. Y/N, come here, this is my son, Spencer.”

Slightly more apprehensive now, you held out your hand to shake his, “I've heard so much about you  it's nice to finally be seeing you in person, Doctor Reid.” 

He didn't shake your hand, though, but awkwardly waved it off quickly, leaving you to awkwardly replace it by your side. 

“Nice to meet you. Are you a new attendant? I asked all updates about my mother's companions to be confirmed and passed on to me, patient and carers included.” 

His tone was business-like and clipped, and you could see a gentle annoyance settling on his features. 

“I'm sorry, Doctor Reid, I thought Diana would have told you in a letter, or the administration would've passed it on. I'm a medical student on an internship.” You felt like you'd been chastised by an irate parent though he'd at no point raised his voice or indicated in his words any sense of anger at all. His eyes burned across your skin, though, and you felt a flame heat your skin under the weight of his stare. 

“You're mother has told me a lot about you though, she reads me your letters sometimes, between our discussions of Marjorie Kempe.” 

“My letters? Mom, we've talked about this. Those are private.” You looked at the quiet disappointment on Diana's face and felt protective over the woman all of a sudden.

“Please, I'm sorry for overstepping, but your mother is just very proud of you. She talks about you a lot actually, and your job-” 

“With all due respect, Y/N, the last time my mother talked to a new friend about me, he traveled to Virginia and shot one of my friends, so this really is a conversation I'd rather not be having.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as he turned back to his mother and started talking to her gently again about personal security, effectively dismissing you from the conversation. 

You'd had stupid hopes for Spencer Reid, and that's all they would ever be. 

Reid talked on, and you left him alone with his mother, though she seemed distracted by your departure. 

“Spencer, that wasn't nice. Look at that poor girl. She's close to tears.”

“What? Mom, are you even listening to me?” 

“No, and I likely won't until you go and apologize to Y/N. She's a pretty girl, Spencer, and she was very excited to meet you.” 

“Pretty…. Mom, please.” 

“What, do you disagree? You think I don't know you well enough to know when a girl would suit you well? Or do you think I'm blind to the fact that you were stealing glances at her before she introduced herself.” 

Spencer went quiet at having been caught, and he hated to accept that maybe his mother was right. 

It was true as well that the care facility had informed him of medical interns coming and going in the next few months, and really, she wasn't to blame for his mother being fond of him. 

He was glad, though, that neither of them had noticed the ten minutes he'd spent just outside the large sitting area watching them talk. He'd been obviously taken aback to see someone new so close to his mom and his mom similarly comfortable. He felt even worse for the fact that for a solid minute and a half, he'd stared at the girl with no other thought in his head than the sound of his heart skipping a questioning beat. 

He'd pulled himself out of it eventually, but only when another nurse had come along to ask him if he'd actually be visiting his mother today or just dropping in to check on her. 

And then he'd bumped into that infernal chair when he was so fixated on getting to them, and she'd opened her mouth and called him crash, and his heart had sank. 

He reminded himself it was neither of their faults and inwardly cursed himself for being so unfriendly with someone who'd taken such good care of his mother recently. 

He promised himself that he'd talk with his mom and then go and find the woman, and apologising for being such a brute. 

“Spencer, are you listening to me, or are you busy daydreaming about my nurse?” 

“Mom!” 

“You're plain as day, kiddo, you'll never get anything past me. Now please, leave me be, I'm reading. Come back later if you must, but for now, take this to Y/N for me, please. She left it with me to read this morning, but I'm not in the mood for Medieval Romance right now.” 

It was a blatant lie, but a dismissal nonetheless, and Spencer quietly took his chance to search for you in the halls. 

The head nurse humorously pointed him in the right direction without him asking, much to his annoyance, but he persisted and lightly tapped on your shoulder to greet you. 

“Oh, Doctor Reid, hello again.” You smiled a little smaller this time, still polite, but he watched the way it didn't reach your eyes and felt like a jackass all over again. 

“My mom told me to come return this book to you.” He held out the book, and you quietly took it, folding it into your arms and hugging it tightly against your chest as you both stood there silently after the exchange. 

“I'm sorry, as well. I wasn't exactly very friendly back there, because-” 

“It's okay, Doctor Reid, you really don't have to explain. I overstepped, it's my fault and it won't happen again.”

“Are you kidding? My mom hasn't looked that relaxed in years. Please keep overstepping.” 

Your smile widened slightly at the compliment, and Spencer's tongue kicked into hyper drive immediately at the sight, even as his brain powered off. 

“You're pretty,” he blurted out, stopping only as his brain caught up with his tongue before firing off again. “My mom said you're pretty. I agree as well, though, you have a nice smile, and it's better when you don't force it. Not that I'm telling you how to smile, though. I don't know why I'm telling you this, but my mom made me come over here and talk to you, even though I'm pretty sure that's her book and not one you loaned her.” 

He took a moment to catch his breath as you blinked at him in confusion, heart beating rapidly even as you heard the blood rushing through your ears. 

“If you're free now, would you want to grab a coffee? Unless you have a boyfriend. Or husband. Or girlfriend or wife, I guess, I don't mean to presume. But if you're free, as in time, and free as in, like, relationship wise, I'd like to buy you a coffee to thank you for listening to my mom.” 

He finally stopped, and you stared wondrously at the reddened skin of his cheeks as he held his breath, waiting for your reply. 

“You want to take me out for coffee to thank me?” 

“Yes.” 

“And on a separate note, I'm pretty, and you want to know if I'm in a relationship?” 

“I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me, I'll just see myself out. It was a stupid idea anyway-” 

“No, wait, Spencer! Let me… let me grab my coat. My lunch break is in half an hour, and I'm sure it'll be okay to take it early.” You held his arm for a second, stepping slightly too close for comfort before realising yourself and taking a tiny step back.

He stood and blinked in your direction, as though wondering seriously for a moment what your lunch break had to do with him. 

“Are you going to stand there staring at me, or are we going to go out?” 

“You're serious?” 

“I guess…. I guess I am.”

“And you're… you're single.” 

Your mouth went dry as his skin finally completed its transformation from vampiric to tomato red. You desperately hoped your own embarrassment wasn't equally as readable on your face. 

“Quite single. Medical students don't have that much time to date.”

“Neither do FBI agents.” 

“Perhaps a subject we could talk more about later?” 

“Definitely.” 

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 2 - farmer

pairing: farmer!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you live a quiet yet exciting and passionate love with your husband on his family's farm.

word count: 1434

warnings: domestic fluff, crop farmer not animal, mentions of a knife in terms of cooking

spence-tober masterlist

There was a creaking noise. There, as you stood at the large farm style sink while you were washing off some vegetables for dinner. You almost missed it with the sound of the water rushing out of the faucet, but you caught it. Just barely.

A stone cold expression washeed over your face and you turned the faucet off.

No other noise permeated throughout the one-floor renovated country farmhouse. No more water. No more creaking. Not even the sound of your breath, as it caught in your throat.

You slowly turned your torso and body around, a full 180 degrees. 

“Spencer Walter Reid. You better not be trekking mud and dirt through this kitchen.” You scold lightly as you look at your husband who froze in his step. 

Like you had guessed by the lack of shuffling or scuffing sounds at the back door of the house, Spencer’s work boots were caked in layers of dirt and mud and soil. The cuffs of his overalls were tucked into the boots to avoid the grime from touching his skin, but that did no good for his arms and hands judging by the look of them. 

His face was a little better off. A perpetual redness decorated his cheeks and tips of his ears, slightly sunburned from being outside all day, nearly every day. His hair was a mess, but it was a sign that he was indeed wearing that large brimmed hat you got him for his birthday. 

His expression read guilty but he still didn’t respond.

You nod at his feet, “Boots off. Wash off in the sink, please.” You say as you move out of the way of the sink, bringing your collander of vegetables with you to the island of the rustic kitchen.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Spencer responds finally, following your instructions and shirking off his boots to the nearby shoe rack and moving towards the sink.

“How’s everything looking?” You inquire as the sound of water echoes through the room once again.

“Good,” Spencer responds, “The rain from this morning helped shorten the work day so I only had to check the hydration in the greenhouse. The humidity was a little high, but everything’s straightened out now.”

His now clean hands turned the water off and he turned to you as he dryed them off with the little hand towel hanging on the rack above the sink.

“Did you know that too much humidity in the air can cause crops and other plants to attract bacteria, fungi, pests, and grow mold? Not only will crops attract more bacteria, but imbalance humidity levels to the type of crop can cause the transpiration rates to slow, prohibiting development and growth.”

His eyes gleam with excitement and wealth of knowledge as he looks at you, explaining with a smile. Hanging up the towel in its rightful place, Spencer shuffled over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, resting his chin on your shoulder, almost nuzzling into you.

You turn your head and kiss his cheek with a gentle smile, “No, I didn’t know that.”

Spencer had met you when he was in university studying agriculture and you for renewable energy engineering. You started dating in your undergrad, moved in together and got engaged while pursuing masters, and got married once you both had graduated. 

Moving back to Spencer’s family’s farm was a joint decision between the two of you when his mom started getting a little tired of the work. Diana retired and started traveling while you and Spencer started making the land your home. 

Spencer kept up with the farm and greenhouse, hiring extra farmhands when harvest came along and you implemented some new energy equipment that would cut down on power costs in the long run.

“What did you get up to today, sweets?” He asked, returning your kiss on the cheek with a tender peck at your temple.

You reach up with your hands, abandoning the dinner prep, and hold onto his arms that drape around your shoulders. You both start swaying to non-existent music, just drifting back and forth together, relishing in the closeness of your bodies. 

“Well,” You start to think, “I finished a few proposal costs and went through some freelance work.”

Renewable energy was really taking off, even in the smaller town that you both now reside in. Other farms as well as other businesses have consulted you for evaluations, plus you did accept freelance work from the city nearby.

“I finished the final coat of paint for the guest room and I’ll need your help moving the new bed in there this weekend before your mom comes to visit. We should also decide what we want to do with the old study.”

You felt Spencer nod at your neck. “That sounds good.” He says.

He pulls away slightly, “We can move in the bed tonight after dinner and we should wait on the study until Mom comes to town. She won’t want to sit and do nothing and I don’t need her out in the field with me.”

You giggle, “You mean you don’t want Diana to scold you when you step on a tomato on the ground?”

He groans from your neck, “It was only that one time!” He shakes his head, but you can hear a smile on his face, “I swear, she watches me like a hawk watches it’s prey.” He grumbles.

“Too many farmers in the field?” You ask jokingly. 

“Yes.” Spencer responds, gruffly. 

“Well,” You start to say, “Diana would agree.” You pull away from Spencer and give him the vegetables and a chopping board. You start to move around the kitchen, working on other aspects of dinner.

“She said you weren’t wading through the corn the right way and that it would hurt you and the corn.” You tell.

Spencer looks up at you from chopping up some carrots with a doubtful look on his face, “She only mentioned it hurting the corn, didn’t she?” He asked.

You bite your lip to keep from laughing and nod. 

Diana and Spencer were two peas in a pod. But one thing they could nearly never agree on is the occupation and hobby that they share. They teased and compared and playfully poked fun at each other in the field, but it was Diana who gave Spencer his love of farming in the first place.

She was the one who made it fun for the lanky child in his youth, at first just picking berry bushes, then helping out in the greenhouse, and then again in his teens during harvest season.

You were worried when first meeting Diana that she wouldn’t like you, but you got along quickly with both of your loves of nature and green energy. Plus your shared love of Spencer would always bring you together.

After a few giggles escape you, you turn back to your husband. “Oh!” You say, getting his attention.

“That reminds me, you need to call Jim Harvey back. He wanted to see if we have the harvest this year to expand his existing order.”

“Again?” Spencer asked in amusement, not looking up from the knife in his hand, being careful to chop the vegetables without taking off a part of his finger. 

You nodded, “Yeah, something about expecting more calves this year or something.” You remember.

Spencer scoffs, adding the finished vegetable pieces in a bowl for you. “But he says that-” 

“Every year.” You both finish together. 

You giggle as Spencer chuckles. You gladly take the bowl from him and set it aside, them grabbing his hands and enveloping them around you. You cage yourself in his arms and look up at your husband. 

You bring your hands up to his face, the slight scruff of his chin making you smile fondly. “Why don’t you call him back and take a shower while I finish up dinner.” You say.

You press a kiss to his lips, which are slightly chapped from staying outside in the sun all day.

Spencer smiles and chases your lips for more, “That,” He gives you another peck, “Sounds.” Another peck. “Good.” And another. 

You regrettably untangle yourself from your husband. “Dinner will be ready by the time you’re out of the shower, my love.”

Spencer pulls you into him once again and presses a longer, more passionate kiss on your lips, stealing your breath away. His lips are pinker and a little swollen, you believe yours aren’t too far off either. 

His eyes gleam with his love for you, his smile just the same.

“And maybe dessert?”

a/n: i promise not all of these will be established relationships... so, how are we liking this so far? i just love alternative universe possibilities and imagining spencer in different professions and or walks of life!

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Meghans deep shame of being lower class by u/EleFacCafele

Meghan’s deep shame of being lower class One of Meghan’s issues that is rarely discussed is her deep shame of being born in a lower class and her desperate attempt to erase any record of her being of a lower class. Her father, Thomas was a financially successful working-class man but he remained all his life a glorified blue collar. Dorito was socially underclass, with her lack of education, lack of work ethic, absence of any moral value, income generation by criminal activities (drug dealings, scams, using sex to get men, etc) and parasitic way of life by using and then discarding people.When the financially stable Thomas put Meghan in an good middle-class Catholic school, Meghan became of the social differences between her, daughter of a single blue collar and the middle-class, normal family girls. She attached herself to Ninaki Priddy, very middle-class. She felt deeply ashamed of the low social status of her parents and family and, to compensate, she became obsessed to become a Queen, a Princess, someone really at the top of the social hierarchy. All her obsession with Diana is the desire to become an upper class, billionaire, aristocratic princes because she was deeply ashamed of her very low status at birth.Having learned from her mother all the ways of the underclass (don’t give milk for free), she decided to apply her methods of acquiring status and wealth by any means (legit or not), while in parallel erasing her lower class status and inventing an upper-middle class upbringing. Getting a degree was the first step. Erasing her biracial origin and pretending she was a highly cultured Caucasian on CVs came next. Then the Tig blog where she made believe she was a high maintenance, upper middle-class actress with sophisticated luxury tastes. As some actress do, she allegedly used high end prostitution to survive (yachting, Soho house hostess, etc.) while hunting for a rich man. Started to behave as a mean Diva, ruthless, demanding, impossible to satisfy person, as that was her was vision about rich powerful people. She covered all with her curated image of a refined higher-class woman, chasing well-off men (Trevor, Cory then Hapless) in her desperate drive to climb socially and erase her past and background. She then discarded everyone who was of no use, or had stories about her past.When she finally arrived, marrying a blood prince from the most prestigious Royal Family, she desperately tried to hid her low-class mixed race background and shady past. She manipulated her father to stop giving her away, uninvited her entire family (bar her underclass mama to play the Rcard) at the wedding, invited famous people she never knew personally. etc. Later she enlisted her husband and others in "slaying dragons", aka erasing all information that does not fit the image she wants to project aka of an upper class woman (Duchess) with impeccable past, doing philanthropy and being successful financially and socially.Then she run away, as she could not adapt to the World she wanted so desperately to belong. The façade started to crumble, real upper class people saw her imposture, and the Royal Family gave her the boot when her malignant Diva behaviours became unbearable. Her descent from royalty into the world of wannabe celebrity was really fast, just of few years.Her entire pathologically narcissistic behaviour originates from the deep shame of being a lower-class mixed-race woman. Just an explanation, not an excuse. post link: https://ift.tt/hH29ayv author: EleFacCafele submitted: December 26, 2023 at 10:07AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[science-slapfight]

SCIENCE-SLAPFIGHT FINALS

24. Dr. Diana Diamond (She/Her) @numberposting

She's a science lady. She's trans. AND she's a lil stupid and lame!!! She's got it all!!! She lives in a universe where “mad scientist” is an Actual job you can get, she literally has a degree in Mad Science! She’s Very adamant that mad science is all about pushing the limits of science without being “constrained” by ethical standards set by society, which is to say that she has a moral compass made of swiss cheese. Hashtag girlboss <3

While some people can be a liiittle off-put by her basement-turned-lab containing fun death lasers, she’s honestly just a dweeb once you get to know her. When she’s not conducting weird experiments for mysterious benefactors (or just for personal enjoyment), she’s hanging out with her epic and cool wife Alice!!

Although Diana can be a lil withdrawn, Alice’s optimistic and excitable personality really brings out the best in her!! They do almost everything together: Baking, stargazing, long walks on the beach, vivisecting people…

Her wife is super normal btw don’t even worry about it <3

In short, you should vote for certified sillygirl Diana becuz:

1. She’s a funnie trans lesbian

2. She loves her wife SO much

3. She didn’t get a PhD in Mad Science for nothin’

4. She listens almost exclusively to They Might be Giants and Oingo Boingo

5. She could use the validation tbh

6. She lost the last poll she was in on round 1 isn't that so sad :(

7. I love her :D

Also she does enjoy cupcakes!! She prefers cookies tho <3 If given a cupcake she'd probs just give it to Alice cuz that's what love is all about!!

Relevant Links: She has a whole Neocities blog site thing!! It hasn't been updated in a long while cuz College Hard BUT it'll be updated again sometime in the future!! https://diamondexperiments.neocities.org/

28. Lady (She/Her) @forkdork

Lady is a cold-hearted scientist who would do anything in the name of science even if she has to commit horrible actions. After all, in the end, this is for the better of the world even if she has the break a few hundred eggs to get the results she wants. Who else would sacrifice the things she has to get to this point? Who would go to such extremes to the point of the only thing you have left is your work and your name? Well. Lady would even from a young age this was the case her whole life pretty much leading her to the point she is now. Her twin sister didn’t even get in the way of her goals. Being one of the first to figure out how to use science to manipulate magic due to this headset of hers

This pretty much led Lady to be ‘respected’ or feared more then anything in her workplace with the actions she has committed. Lady being responsible for hundreds of documents, subjects, and scientific discoveries to be made. While also being responsible for hundreds of families to be torn apart.. Lives to be lost… people being driven insane due to her experiments… Obviously, this has bitten Lady in the ass many MANY times. With subjects escaping and attacking her when they get the chance, but of course, they never go far and just end back in Lady’s grasp.

Relevant Links: here! it has uh alot of violence! and blood! i dont normally write alot but i do draw a bunch https://toyhou.se/12615920.lady-/gallery

(Image credits: @numberposting and @forkdork respectively)

[misscammiedawn]

50 Days of HypnoKink - Day 49: Hypno in Media

My heavens... we made it to the finish line. Tomorrow is the final day.

I wanted to save an obvious one for the end because I do so enjoy MC in fiction so very much. So much, in fact, that I made a Twitter thread with 110 recommendations and never even came close to emptying my resources.

I know so many of these scenes, both that Twitter thread and this page are skimming the surface.

I'll be using some of those recommendations here but let's divide by category:

Film

So let's get the obvious out of the way. You have

Trance

A Danny Boyle thriller with a terrible plot and Rosario Dawson as a hypnotherapist trying to get hidden information from James McAvoy's mind. Silly movie but one that doesn't get brought up a lot. Dawson learned hypnosis to get into the role.

Candyman

Horror movie in which the director literally hypnotized the actress so any time she was being stalked by the titular killer she looked completely entranced. Link above is an interview discussing this.

Hypnotic

HORRIBLE movie on Netflix but Sleepyhead and I have hosted a number of watch parties and let me tell you, this is the PERFECT movie to watch with a bunch of rowdy hypnokinksters. The therapist is unethical to a laughable degree and his office looks like it's inside of the Death Star. He's a living breathing red flag. The movie does have a really hot freeze scene, a good ragdoll and the dollification sequence. It's just enjoyable because it's terrible. Check CWs first though, this movie has a bunch of things that can make it an uncomfortable viewing experience.

The Great Hypnotist

This is a Not For Daja movie. A Chinese movie that doesn't get brought up a lot. Like Trance above it is a thriller with some twists and turns that I don't really want to spoil.

Stir of Echoes

A visualization of a dissociation induction designed to make a person view events on a screen so they are separate from the memory. It's a remarkably well done scene.

Now You See Me 1/2

The hypnosis in these movies is STUPID and I love it. The first movie has a punchline that every time Mark Rufallo's character makes a frustrated comment people who Woody Harrelson has hypnotized will start acting as if they're in an orchestra. Second movie has a twin Woody Harrelson as an evil hypnotist and he uses a pizza box as an evil induction. It's amazing.

Sherlock Holmes Woman in Green

This induction is one of the coolest I've seen in a film and I try my hardest to channel the energy of this when I am doing a relaxation focused scene.

TV

Charlies Angels

This is bar none my favorite hypnosis scene in any fiction. The typewriter induction is amazing, the hypnotist has such a smooth voice, the entranced gazes are lovely. It's just perfect. Heck, the link above is "hypnosis scenes" from the episode and is 26 minutes long. From a single episode of television.

Doctor Who

Sarah Jane gets hypnotized so often that I could make a list purely from her.

Legion

I just wanna link this one as it's one of those scenes that works so much better without context and the aesthetics are incredible. Plus who doesn't like Aubrey Plaza?

Quick Bonus Animation Round

Carmen Sandiego (Neflix) has a ton of mind control including the bad end to the interactive movie.

Totally Spies is a meme for a reason

And this one is a reason many of us are here <3

Comics

DC vs Vampires

I think the page speaks for itself. "Hypnosis isn't lying, Diana. It's speaking to your vulnerability."

Korra

This sequence of Asami, brainwashed to hate the avatar, being deprogrammed is so good that someone on AO3 did an incredible fan-fiction which may well be one of my favorite hypnokink stories of all time.

Super Mario Comic

I bring this one up as it was one of my earliest moments of "...oh... this is kind of making me feel some kind of way."

Video Games

A note that a full directory of video games featuring Mind Control can be found at mindcontrol.fun the MC Games Wiki, run by @soveryverytired

Nyx Gaming (Featured game: Enthralled)

Nyx do incredible games which are designed to hypnotize the viewer and their consent practices are wonderful. They recently teamed up with Secret Subject to release a vampire enthrallment game and let me tell you, there is not a single word in that synopsis that doesn't make me happy.

Mind Melting Massaging Machine

The best tool for VR hypnosis. Upload custom files and program spirals, subliminals and chose between static spiral or headtracking. I have had so much fun with this over the years. There's a desktop version too but VR is optimal for this experience.

Spiral Clicker

It's such a simple concept. Click on the character and watch their will go away. Spiral Clicker is backed with a fun little universe, fun characters both original and community sourced, amazing art and a clever little gameplay loop that is quite addictive. Careful, the game features a constant spiral, you may find yourself falling in to trance. Don't worry. The game will wake you up. You can even ask the game to include suggestions for you :)

The sequel is being worked upon now and I cannot wait <3

Music Videos

Anna Soares - Hypnodoll (NSFW)

Straight up just a song and music video about hypnokink. If you click anything in this thread, click this one.

Little Big - Hypnodancer:

Silly antics but a fun music video.

Pharrell Williams - Hypnotize U

It's just Pharrell hanging out in a mansion with his hypnotized harem.

Grimes - We Appreciate Power

It's dronekink baby.

Andamiro - Hypnotize

Maid hypnotizes their employer.

I could do so many more in all areas. But the point is, media is hypnohorny. I never went over advertisements (UK ones especially), books, musicals (Phantom and Next To Normal for instance), anime (Sailor Moon) or manga.

But I write about a bunch more in my Twitter thread.

---

Day 48: Stealth Inductions

FULL SCHEDULE MASTER POST

FINAL Day 50: Presentation

[tma-reader-inserts]

Elias Bouchard x Hunt Avatar! Reader

Tw: cannibalism

Being one of the file storage and reference section assistants at the Magnus Institute is not a glamorous job. It’s a lot like being a librarian, which is what you got your degree in (along with a minor in folklore), so at least the filing system is familiar to you, and you’re not saddled with unnecessary responsibility like Diana is being the head of the department.

Fortunately, your boss, Mr. Bouchard, is very understanding. You couldn’t control others actions, and as long as something gets returned he’s not too upset over the matter.

He often came to check up on you, to take your inventory report personally and give a stern talking to to those who fail to return their borrowed material. It was nice, to know your boss was looking out for you, to have some backing. People don’t really take you seriously, with your meek nature, at least Mr. Bouchard did.

Jon was concerning you, though. He’s been visiting more and more often, ever since the Prentiss incident. He’s been asking slightly invasive questions since he’s learned you worked closely with his predecessor right before her death. You even think he’s been following you after work; which is highly worrying because of your… odd habits.

You pray he hasn’t noticed your trips to the butcher.

—

You were entering fight or flight when Jon locked the door to the storage room, and were in full on panic mode when he stomped over to you and demanded you answer for your strange eating habits. How you never ate lunch at the Institute but visit a certain unreputable butcher every other day.

He crowded up to you so closely you could count the worm scars the littered his tan skin.

“Do you have any idea how often that shop appears in statements? How- how many people disappear there? You must know, you work here!” He yells, eyes alight with fury.

You curl into yourself, fear stilling your to tongue. You were never good with men yelling at you.

“Gertrude was investigating the place before she died, did you do something to her to keep going there?” He accuses.

The blood drains from your face. You for sure never harmed a hair on Gertrude Robinson’s head. You’re not sure if you even could back when she was alive. But yes she was investigating your butcher. Yes. Even she confronted you about it, and just like when she accused you of your… strange diet, you flinch at Jon’s words.

You felt hot tears well up in your eyes. You were now fully afraid of your coworker. Gone was the hard core skeptic, the ineffable Jonathan Sims and in his place was a maniac.

“It’s not like that-“ you stutter out. “I never laid a hand on Gertrude-“

“She was shot! You wouldn’t need to touch her!” He continues. You felt sick to your stomach as he continues to rave.

You couldn’t tell him that there was no way you killed Gertrude, that as soon as you even smelled blood you lose control of yourself. If you killed Gertrude, she wouldn’t have just bullet wounds.

You were seconds away from sobbing, so terrified of Jon and how close his accusations were, ready to spill your guts and let him call the police or the press or maybe he’d just try and kill you the same way Gertrude did-

The door broke open, and in hastily strolled a very angry looking Elias Bouchard. You shook with relief and a shaky breath rattled through your body. A firm, ring adorned hand was placed on Jon’s shoulder and the Archivist was pulled away from your personal space.

You weren’t even registering what Elias was scolding Jon for, but after some rebuttal from the archivist and back and forth from both men, Jon eventually left in a huff. After he slammed the door closed, the tears in your eyes finally spilled.

Elias was quickly by your side, his voice was sturdy, and his hand rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

“It’s alright, my dear, let it out.” He hums. “Let us retreat to my office, give you some privacy to calm down, hmm?”

—

One cup of tea and a box of tissues later, you’re now sniffling helplessly in Elias’s office. He waits for you patiently to calm down, as you alternate between wiping your cheeks and sipping your earl grey.

When it’s seems you’ve finally settled enough, your employer speaks.

“I am truly sorry for Jonathan’s actions. It seems that he’s not quite himself since the Prentiss incident, although that is no excuse for his behavior.”

One thing you’ve always like about your boss was how he was concise with his words and how put together he was. Nothing seemed to get to him. Always prim and eloquent.

You sigh heavily, the fear and sadness in your system expelling itself through the breath. “It… I’m fine now, I guess. I’ve never seen Jon act so… erratically.”

Elias nods, a warm hand placed itself on your knee. “Erratic is one way of putting it, I suppose.” There was a beat of silence before Elias removed his hand and settled his gaze on you. “Jon does raise a fair question, in regards to your relation to the butcher shop you visit.”

Your heart stops, and you felt very sick.

“The shop in question is central to several statements over the years, not to mention has been investigated by the police many times for related and unrelated reasons.” He says easily. “Is there a particular reason you frequent this specific shop?”

You couldn’t exactly tell your boss that it’s one of the only butchers near your house that can supply your high demand for copious different kinds of meat and blood; that it’s certainly the only place that doesn’t question why you need so much. That it feels safe to you because the owner can smell the strange on you and doesn’t curl away in fear the way most do.

“… I… have a crush on the butcher.” You lie. It’s an awful lie, you sound horrifically unsure of yourself and you could feel the bead of sweat roll down your temple traitorously. Not to mention it felt gross to even say it.

Elias raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “The man is well above you in age.” He points out. How he knows that off handedly is beyond you but you don’t dare question his knowledge right now.

“… I’m into older men.” Not a lie, exactly. You felt some peace with yourself with this truth exposed.

He tilts his head in consideration before sighing. “Be that as it may; you’re still not telling me the whole truth.” He says sharply.

You flinch, and cast your eyes downward.

“It’s-“ you choke on your words. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.” You confess lowly, under your breath. “I can’t tell you, I-I just can’t.” You sigh roughly, pointedly looking away from the man across from you. “You wouldn’t believe me, anyhow.”

Your wording intrigued Elias, as he leaned in closer to you, the perfect expression of sympathy on his face. “We work here, my dear, I’m sure I’ve heard for more unfathomable tales.”

A frown yanks the corners of your mouth downwards as you try not to start crying again. You’ve kept your secret so close to you all these years, so afraid of how people would react. How it would change others perception of you. You’re more afraid of speaking the incident aloud than of the incident itself, and the idea of confession finally chokes you up.

The hand returns to you knee as Elias says you name, so tenderly it makes you ache. “You’re safe here.” He urges. “Think of it like a statement; we’ll lock it away and keep it hidden from public.”

That… does assure you a bit. You’ve had people confess to murders here. It is the Magnus Institute after all.

“I… I don’t want it investigated.” You murmur, one hand of yours coming to your mouth in anxiousness. “There isn’t anything left to investigate, there’s no point.”

The older man nods in understanding all too readily. “I understand.”

You felt like you were going to throw up. You’ve never even toyed with the notion of confessing of what happened to you, now here you were, locked in your boss’s office, tea lukewarm and you ready to let your heart bleed.

“I was… six or seven, I can’t be sure.” You start. “My family has relatives in Canada, on my fathers side. We always visited them around the end of summer, and we’ve been going there so often that even as a child I was familiar with their land. We usually rented a small cabin in the woods not far from my uncle’s house and we’d stay there for a few weeks; me and my parents.

“We didn’t usually sleep in the cabin truthfully, we tented out in the wood by the place. It’d be right before hunting season and the forest would be littered with all kinds of animals that my dad would hunt idly with the assortment of guns his brother owned. We ate off of deer and rabbit and-“ you laugh at the memory, “squirrels if you can believe it. Anything dad could catch. We’d eat the wild berries and vegetables and fish from the creek. It was… nice.” You sigh, thinking of your father’s methodical hands as he skinned rabbits and your mother’s careful explanations of identifying plants that were safe to eat.

You swallowed thickly, preparing to speak of the unfortunate bit. “One night, we heard a noise. Nothing that would indicate… the danger that followed… but somewhere nearby there was something snapping twigs as it walked. It sounded so close.” You shudder.

“My father grabbed one of the guns near him and went to investigate. That was the last I ever saw of him. His last word were ‘wait here.’” Your eyes glass over as you relived your memories, and Elias moves his chair closer to you, nodding for you to continue. “He never even had the chance to shoot the gun. So deep in the shadows I didn’t see him- see him get killed.” You choked up again.

“My mother grabbed me and ran. She apparently saw something I didn’t and lugged me up into her arms and started to sprint to the tree line, to the cabin. But she tripped. I fell from her embrace and she was dragged back into the darkness.” The recollection was making you numb, and perhaps now it was easier to speak of your trauma. “I don’t think she had time to scream. To plead or beg, because I felt warm liquid splash on my face mere moments after I managed to stand up.

“I didn’t want to run, I was too scared too. Evidently that’s was the best choice. The thing that had killed my parents finally emerged from the darkness. I couldn’t see it clearly, but it loomed over me so greatly in height I thought it was a moving tree. Its limbs were long and thin, like bones or branches, and it was almost red with how richly brown it was. I couldn’t see its face, but I saw red droplets fall from somewhere above me.

“I-I’m not sure why exactly it didn’t kill me. Maybe because I wasn’t moving. Maybe it could only see me if I moved and I was so still I was sure my heart had stopped all together. It just… walked away from me; slowly, snapping branches and twigs underfoot as it retreated back into the woods… I wish that was the end of it.” You sigh.

“I spent hours in the woods, days. I was so lost I couldn’t find the tree line at all. I couldn’t even find our camp site.

Whatever direction my mother started to run in was wrong, and I was sure it spelt my doom. I’m not sure how long I wandered in the daylight but I eventually found a cave, a large tree sticking out from the mouth.

“Well, I thought it was a tree at first. Until I saw it move. I heard no noises in the area. No birds, or bugs, or animals. Like they were all afraid of being in the vicinity of this great beast; and my parents and I were just too stupid to sense the danger.

“I was… so mad, seeing it. I was furious. This… thing destroyed my life and it was sleeping! It was resting as if my parent’s bodies weren’t in its stomach. I’m not sure what possessed me; a very child like rage, I’m sure, and the determination to get back at it, somehow. To make us even. It ate my parents.” You clipped coldly. “I was wanted to eat it.”

Elias watched you patiently. And you continued.

“It must’ve been used to not being disturbed while it slept. So used to being left alone that it didn’t notice me at all as I crawled into the cave. When I crawled in as far as I could until its mass was so large it plugged the cave. I had no weapon, I had nothing sharp, not even a stone or a stick, but I was so angry and so hungry…” you hiss.

“I… I didn’t know what to expect of it. It looked leathery, but when I dug my fingers in between what I thought was it’s rib, the flesh gave away easily, with hardly any resistance at all, like pulling slow cooked meat off the bone.” You swallow here. And Elias looks at you with rapt attention.

“How did it taste?” He inquires, voice not above a whisper, and you answer.

“… it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

You confess, eyes closing tightly, trying to conjure the experience to your mind. “It was so rich, and soft and warm. I kept pulling bits and bits off of it until there was a hole in its side, and I could see into its hollow chest cavity. It… ignited something in me. A fierce kind of hunger. It felt like I’ve never eaten since before that moment and I was starved. I just… kept eating. Pulling meat from its arm, its legs, the fingers. I must’ve spent hours slowly feasting away on this creature, piece by piece consuming it. It never woke up, never even stirred. I wondered if it died in its sleep as I licked my fingers between bites. I ate more than I thought possible, more than I should have been able to feasibly consume. I ate everting I could reach until all that remained was a skeleton, a black, brittle skeleton that cracked easily when I knocked into them too hard.

“When there was nothing left to eat, I was still so, so hungry. It was like I didn’t even pick away at the monster for hours on end. I crawled out of the cave on my hands and knees. There was still no sound of life in the woods.

“… I don’t remember being found. They say I was missing for weeks. They say a mountain lion killed my parents because their corpses were found mangled in the trees.” You scoff, bitterly, eyes welling with tears. “It never actually ate them. It killed them. For fun. And now I’m… this.” You gesture ruefully to yourself.

“What are you now?” Elias asks gently, hand never once leaving your knee.

You sniffle. “I don’t know. When I managed to come back to England, to be placed in the care of my grandparents, it was obvious I wasn’t… normal, anymore. I couldn’t manage to eat anything for the first few weeks, I kept throwing it all up. And whatever I managed to keep down, it never satisfied me. I always felt so hungry, so… hollow. I was almost dying of malnutrition, when in a fit of starvation I tore into a package of raw ground beef. For the first time since being in Canada, I could feel my stomach being to fill and take to the food, even if it was bloody, raw meat.”

You laugh ruefully next, the sound not even startling your boss. “When my grandmother found out, she told me I was better to starve to death than be that… some kind of freak, monster.” You look away to let the tears fall freely. “My grandfather thought a monster of a grandchild was better than no grandchild at all, so he moved me and himself to the country side, where he could feed me in peace. Live cattle and lots of butcher shops. A place where no one really noticed when a pig or sheep go missing.” You wiped at your face as you calmed down. “I grew up relatively normal besides that. Got good grades in school. Had friends. My grandfather was willing to experiment with my diet to see what I could eat and how to disguise my meals.”

Elias nods along. “What else can you eat?”

Shrugging, you answer. “Raw foods. Non processed vegetables, fruit, and grains, although they only curb the hunger pangs, I could eat pounds of them and never be full. Eating… live animals is what fills me up best.” You confess carefully, trying to gauge Elias’s reaction without fully looking at him. “Raw meat is more convenient, easier to buy and to consume in peace.”

There was a moment of silence as Elias considers your words before speaking. “What do you mean by, ‘best’?”

You look to him, confused.

“You said live animals is what satisfies you best, but does it satisfy you enough? Does it actually fill you up?”

A tremor of fear wiggles down your spine. In for a penny you assume

“No.” You answer honestly. “I’ve… never actually been ‘full’ since before the accident. Meat helps greatly but…” you trail off, afraid to finish your thought.

Elias speaks for you. “Is it because it’s animal meat? Do you think of you ate other meat, it would fill you?”

‘Other meat.’ What a funny way of saying humans.

Your face twitches in to a scowl before you answer. “I know it would.” You sigh again, fresh tears forming along your wet line. “I know if I ate human meat I would finally be full, but…”

Elias nods. “But you’re not sure if you’d be able to stop yourself.” He concludes. And you shake your head negatively.

“Not that.” You whisper, dread filling your voice. You finally look into Elias’s eye and almost burst into tears when you confess your greatest sin. “I know I can stop because I have before.”

This stills Elias, but you barrel through, afraid if you stop you’d never be able to say it again.

“A man followed me home after my grandfathers funeral. All the way from the burial to town. I thought he had left but, when I went into an alley for a shortcut to the house, he-he attacked me.” Your breath hastened as you recall the details. “He said awful, awful things to me. Called me all sorts of names and said what he was going to do to me. I haven’t been that scared since my parents died, and-“ you gasp, “and I just- I chased him.”

Elias’s eye brows scrunched together in confusion. “You didn’t run away?”

You shook your head. “I bolted at him. I was so scared but also so furious, I couldn’t believe someone was trying to accost me on the worst day of my life, and I just,” you shrugged, “I took after him. He wasn’t expecting that and ran away, but the more he ran, the more it felt like I needed to chase him. It was like it was the only thing I could do, the only logical decision. I’m my head was just a mantra of ‘catch, catch, catch,’ so I kept running in the town’s back alleys. He didn’t hit a dead end, didn’t trip; I pounced at him and-“

You swallow again, mouth thick with saliva. “I caught him by the throat. I tore it out like it was nothing. He didn’t even have time to scream.” You whisper, horrified. “As I chewed on his flesh, felt it slid down my throat into my stomach, I could feel it. That this is what I needed to finally be full. This is what the creature tasted like all those years ago.” you shudder. Ashamed, you turned from Elias, hiding your tearful face into your hands, but you couldn’t stop taking now. “I-I didn’t know what to do. It re-sparked a hunger in me and I was digging into his stomach when I finally gathered my wits and ran away. No one could see the blood on my black dress and gloves and my face was covered by a veil.

“When I got home I scrubbed every inch of my body to rid it of blood and burned my clothes, I ended up eating a sow I was so famished. It felt so… good. To chase, to hunt. It felt like I should’ve been doing it my whole life. Like I was born to take down prey. Like I was a spoiled house cat, finally in the woods hunting mice.” The analogy makes you pause. You weren’t a cat, and other people weren’t rodents, but it was the closest and less gory way of verbalising your emotions.

When you were done, you eyes Elias carefully. This was it. He could have you put into prison, the looney bin. You confessed to monstrosities and crimes that have been weighing you down for years, and now Elias Bouchard was going to judge you.

The man nods, and considers his words.

“And the butcher?” He questions.

“He knew my grandfather.” You say, “He’s been helping to feed me since I was a child. He knows all about me and my… condition. Goes out of his way to get, uh, exotic meats to keep me fed.”

Elias nods again. Snatching a tissue from the box, the man dabs away your tears and looks at you in what seems to be acceptance and sympathy.

“Well, no wonder why you were so anxious about Jon confronting you.” He mumbled to himself, pushing your mused hair out of your face.

“Will you tell anyone?” You whisper, terrified of the answer.

He shakes his head. “Not a soul, my dear. This isn’t the worse confession this Institute has seen. But it does explain some things…”

You don’t ask what they explain. You’re too scared. Elias managed to fix your face, and calmly refills your tea. You sip at it half heartedly as your boss easily promises that your secret was safe within his office walls.

It… doesn’t exactly feel like a weights been taken off your shoulders. You haven’t been that vulnerable in a long time, and you hoped that Elias would never betray you.

—

Weeks later

—

You felt cold, staring down at the body. Incredibly hot blooded and cold simultaneously. Bile threatens to rise from your actions but you swallow it down. Gore sticks under your finger nails and teeth, and it tastes divine; like manna from heaven. You wanted to cry from how hungry you were, how there was sustenance right in front of you and you cannot bring yourself to eat.

The other woman ran ages ago, darting down the alley as soon as you threw her attacker against the wall and punched a hole into his stomach. She certainly didn’t stay long enough to see you pull out his intestine and bring it to your mouth.

You fucked up. Badly. There was no possible way to get out of this situation by yourself. Your mind was drawing a blank and you were beginning to panic. You just killed someone, again. And this time you don’t have the giant lake to hide the body in.

You needed help; you needed guidance. Someone who always had a clear head and means to help you.

You knew exactly who to go to.

—

When Elias opened his office door, he certainly was not expecting to see you standing there, covered in blood, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Mr. Bouchard?” You said lowly, almost in a trance. “I did something bad…”

Elias could see the body in your minds eye. The corpse with his insides spilled out and chewed on. Some brute of a man with a bruised sternum and his skull shattered from the back, brain matter smearing the wall behind him.

He nods, slowly, taking into account your clothing, your guilty face, and your extremely vulnerable mind.

“Come, in my dear…” he couldn’t fight the smile which inched across his face. “Tell me what happened…”

—

Disposing of the body was easy enough. A few calls and the whole problem was swept under the rug. You didn’t exactly know the details, but whatever they were Elias just smoothed your hair and told you not to worry.

I’m a matter of an hour, the man never existed, and you were still in Elias’s office, gripping your now cold tea cup. He just stared as you, bemused.

After several long minutes of silence, he moves, straightening up and weaving his fingers together, gazing upon you steadily.

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Friday?”

You stared at him, shocked and confused.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t think you’ve been taking care of yourself properly.” He states. “I’d like to make sure you’ve eaten well, for once.”

He looks like he might eat you instead.

Your breath hitched. “Wh-why?”

He winks at you. “Don’t worry about that, darling.”

[matan4il]

Jewish Representation

I’ve been having a lot of thoughts about Jewish representation in film and on TV for a long while, and I guess I’m finally at the point where I want to write down some of them.

It wasn’t immediately obvious to me, but something that I’ve come to notice over the years is that Jewish representation in the US (and to whatever degree I got to see Jewish rep in film and TV from other countries, such as the UK) falls into one of two categories (when it even exists):

The “positive” Jewish rep: This is when a Jewish character is the one we’re rooting for, usually a protagonist or a part of the main cast. They’re generally likable. The most notable thing about this is that they are never too Jewish. They don’t use Jewish terms too often, Jewish tradition isn’t too present in their lives, they are not guided nor shaped by Jewish thought and values. The degree to which the audience is even aware the character is Jewish may vary: it can be more present or it can be something people aren’t aware of almost at all in canon. IMO Jake Peralta from Brooklyn 99 is on the “more present” end of this spectrum, while Rachel Green from Friends is someone that I learned just a couple of years ago was meant to be Jewish. From an interview with one of the Jewish show creators. You can argue that it’s implied on screen that she’s Jewish, but why is it never said? Why isn’t it present in any way? We meet her parents, we meet both of her sisters. We see her almost getting married in s1, getting drunk married in the s5 finale. We see her talking about her dream wedding to Ross (who’s also Jewish) and nothing in her description in any way relates to any Jewish traditions she’d like the ceremony to include. We also see her make the decision to have a child with Ross, and again there’s not a single word expressed related to possibly wanting to educate the kid as a Jew, wanting to pass on to Emma Jewish traditions, etc.

The “negative” Jewish rep: This is when either the character itself is Jewish and in some way repulsive or reprehensible, or the situation the character is in is repulsive or reprehensible. Unlike with the “positive” Jewish rep, you can’t miss the Jewish identity/context in the “negative” version. If we’re talking about the character itself being repulsive or reprehensible, the spectrum runs between being utterly annoying and nerdy (many times the annoyance and repulsion other characters feel towards this Jewish character is treated as a comic relief), to downright creepy or even worse. In these cases, the character will be very explicitly Jewish, for example they will use Jewish terms a lot, they will reference Jewish traditions quite often, and they will sometimes even have very explicitly Jewish names. More often than not, they will also be played by a Jewish actor (usually with a more stereotypical “Jewish look.” For example, on Glee, Diana Agron and Lea Michele are both Jewish, but it’s Lea who’s cast as Rachel, the explicitly Jewish character who starts out being incredibly annoying and overbearing, even immoral at times during s1, while Diana is cast as the WASP cheerleader Quinn. On the same theme, actors are more “known” to be Jewish when they play comedic characters than when they are romantic leads. Comedic actors like Andy Samberg, Larry David and David Schwimmer are more often known as being Jewish than people like Harrison Ford. And I can’t think of a single explicitly canonically Jewish character that Ford has played).

If it’s the situation that’s repulsive or reprehensible, we’re usually talking about one of two scenarios: either we’re following a character in the ultra-orthodox community where being Jewish is depicted as being oppressed by one’s own people, or we’re watching a story from the Holocaust, when being Jewish proved to be exceptionally dangerous.

I wanna make it clear, none of these is problematic in itself. Jews are just like everyone else, no better and no worse, so some Jews will be less connected to their Jewish identity. Some Jews will be annoying, or even creepy. Some Jews will very much suffer within their ultra-orthodox communities and will feel oppressed by them. And representing the Holocaust is absolutely vital. It’s the fact that there’s nothing else, nothing between being hardly-Jewish and being very-Jewish-but-it’s-bad-news, that’s the problem. Where are the characters who are proudly Jewish and who find it important to be, who actively engage in being Jewish, who are enriched by being Jewish, and we still cheer for them? The ones whose weddings are held under a Hupa? The ones for whom their Jewish values matter and shape their decisions? The ones who enjoy Jewish food and Jewish culture? Who love celebrating Jewish holidays and find pleasure in getting to know Jewish history? The ones for whom being Jewish isn’t just a throwaway joke about embarrassing stuff that happened at their bar/bat mitzvah? Where are the Jews who talk about it being important to them (not to their “outdated / narrow-minded” parents) to pass on their Jewish heritage to their kids? Without becoming a caricature or the target for mockery? (and not just in one episode out of 235 over the course of ten seasons...) There’s so many Jews like that in real life. People who occupy this huge spectrum of Jewish existence and experience. Why do they hardly exist on our screens?

And maybe this will sound a bit self-contradicting, but... why do we almost never hear about antisemitism outside of the Holocaust and Nazis? I know, I know, this would seem to easily fit into the “negative” Jewish representation, and yet I’m bringing it out because it seems like such a glaring omission to me that I have to wonder about it. If we don’t represent this, it makes it seem as if antisemitism had died at the end of WWII. It didn’t. By erasing current antisemitism in its many different forms, there’s an implication that unlike other minorities, Jews aren’t that impacted by bias against them. But antisemitism is on the rise globally. This trend isn’t even new. That does impact Jews. But you wouldn’t know it from watching Jews on screen. Which also deprives us from seeing Jews being empowered by fighting back against current antisemitism, who look this hatred straight in the eyes and choose their Jewish identity. Narratives about the Holocaust are often stripped of that because the magnitude of destruction was so great, that simply staying alive is the triumph. We hardly see the triumph over anti-Jewish hate that comes from lovingly embracing one’s own identity, history, community and values. Think about the sense of triumph delivered by telling the story of a girl overcoming sexist obstacles and learning to be proud of who she is. We miss out on that with Jewish characters, in addition to missing out on telling the real stories of current Jewish lives and the hardships they face for being Jewish. When I guide Jewish families in our Holocaust museum, you have no idea how many stories about contemporary antisemitism I hear. For better and for worse, this is a significant part of the Jewish experience of many, it should be represented, and it isn’t.

Whether people (audiences and creators alike) realize it or not, I think the sum of all the parts that have been making up this Jewish representation for decades is, “It’s okay that you’re a Jew. Just don’t be too Jewish.” That’s not real acceptance. It’s equivalent to telling gay people it’s fine to be gay, as long as they’re not being gay in public. It’s the same as having people of Latin American descent in a movie or a show, without giving any real presence or meaning to their culture (other than making quinceañera jokes). And when it comes to this issue with Jewish rep, it goes unnoticed. I think that’s unintentionally harmful. And because it’s so unnoticed, it also goes unchecked. Which is a part of the problem, we can’t make something better when we’re not even aware it is currently wrong.

[celestialnxva]

The Only Exceptions

Bruce Wayne/Batfamily x Reader

Summary: The famous Batman was known for being an intimidating, cold, and calculating vigilante with questionable morals. One day, the Justice League finds out that there were exceptions to that fact. Those exceptions were his spouse and his family.

Tags: fluff, comfort fic tbh, Bruce being kinda submissive but not in an 18+ way.

WC: 2k+ words.

batman masterlist. | main masterlist.

If the Justice League was absolutely sure about anything, it was that Batman was not a nice guy. He was a team player, sure, but he was either quiet or absolutely cold towards any attempt of conversation with him. He was paranoid, unable to connect with others, and too afraid to get attached to anyone (according to Diana’s attempt at flirting with him). They just learned to accept that their friend was an acquaintance, at best.

Still, Clark and the others liked him. He was a valuable member and considered him as a friend, even if he had his reservations. They were sympathetic towards his attempts to stay at a distance from them, and understood that he was someone that was always used to working alone. They couldn’t fault him on that, at the end of the day.

Despite this fact, though, they couldn’t help but wonder what his interactions with his sidekicks were like. Was he kind to them? They didn’t believe that Batman would actively do anything to hurt his sidekicks, but did he treat them the same way as he did with the members of the Justice League? They couldn’t figure it out for themselves. However, these questions will finally be answered for them when they come to Batman’s manor for a celebration of their one year anniversary as a group.

Batman was reluctant to agree on their plan in coming over to his place, but he understood that his batcave could protect them from any enemies or destruction they could bring if they ever lost control of themselves at the celebration. They had superpowers, after all. Being in his home meant that the Justice League could not only see how Batman interacts with his sidekicks, but also see how he lives his life, on a personal level. It was a show of trust from Batman, and they all were grateful that he did care about them, to a certain degree. This was typical of Batman: a man who did not express his emotions verbally, but through his silent actions and loyalty.

When they all arrived at the batcave, they all turned to Bruce for his next instructions.

“Thanks for having us, Bruce,” Clark said with his signature, charming smile. Batman stared back at him with a stoic expression before he swiftly turned around and made his way through the entrance of the batcave. “Come with me,” he said. “Alfred has prepared some snacks for everyone.”

Typical of Wally, he enthusiastically sprinted past Bruce and into the batcave, so he could get ‘first dibs’ on Alfred’s food. From what he had tasted of Alfred’s cooking, Wally felt the need to talk to the chef himself and get his secrets on how he makes his food so delicious.

As he did so, the other members followed obediently behind the Bat and took their time to look around the batcave in awe. They knew that Bruce was rich, but the vastness of the batcave that was filled with all sorts of knick-knacks and equipment only further proved this fact. How Bruce could afford it all, they would never know. Despite everyone looking at the impressive cave, Clark did not care too much about his surroundings and nudged his best friend’s (he had self-proclaimed Batman to be) arm instead. Typical of Bruce, he did not respond, and Clark chuckled in return.

“Will we get to meet your kids? Your kids must be around,” he teased playfully, as he secretly loved the fact that his best friend’s sidekicks were his children. To his surprise, though, Bruce did not correct him as he usually did when he teased him about it. Instead, he shrugged. “They’re home. They wanted to meet you guys.” His eye twitched. “They’re big fans.”

Clark was elated to hear that Bruce’s kids liked him. He has always wanted kids, and he only hoped that one day, Bruce would trust him enough to ask him to be like their uncle. All of these ideas were only dreams, for now, but Clark innocently believed that he was well on his way to making those dreams come true.

Bruce, on the other hand, was still as stoic and emotionless as he always was in their presence while his friends talked around him. Diana was hoping that she would finally see him relax in his own home, but she could tell that he was on guard, especially with her. She felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment from the reason why, and she only hoped that Bruce would one day get over her previous attempts at flirting with him. She had to repair that trust somehow, so she decided to try at casual conversation with him again.

“Bruce, we would love to meet them. Where are they now?” she asked innocently, hoping that Bruce wouldn’t catch onto her embarrassment. He, of course, did notice, but he made no note that he had done so when he finally guided them towards where Alfred stood with Wally smothering his face in a slice of Alfred’s signature pie. J’onn was not interested in eating anything, since he did not see any food that he liked, but John was starving. He decided against his better judgment and made his way to the table to join Wally in his feasting. Diana and Clark stayed behind and stood by Bruce to observe Wally’s amusing behavior from afar. They were all entertained by Alfred’s scolding and Wally’s apologetic nature to notice some of Batman’s sidekicks making their way down into the batcave.

“I see that The Flash has good taste in food,” Dick joked as he too observed Wally getting another slice of Alfred’s pie. Jason had grumbled, murmuring something about Wally finishing the entire pie before he could have a taste. All the while, Bruce turned around to see Tim walking side-by-side with Duke and Stephanie, deep in conversation. Clark had busied himself in excitedly introducing himself to the others while Bruce had tried to figure out where the rest of his family was. Feeling a bit too paranoid that they were in danger, he turned to the others present with a worried look on his face that was so unfamiliar to see in the Justice League’s eyes.

“Where is Damian and Cassandra?” he asked cautiously. Jason rolled his eyes at Bruce's clear worry and readied himself to explain where they were before he heard the elevator door open at the top of the batcave’s stairs. With a quiet sigh of relief, Bruce watched Cassandra and Damian bring down more pies and food to the chaotic party. “Don’t run,” he chastised them when they started to run towards him, and like usual, they ignored his doting.

Damian tried not to show his excitement, but he did turn to Bruce and Diana with a faint smile on his face. “Hi father,” he greeted before he nodded his head towards Diana’s direction in his own reserved greeting. He held out the plate of food towards her.

“Here, have this. Hope you have a good time tonight,” he mumbled grumpily. Bruce did his best not to scold his child in front of Diana and opted instead to let out a deep sigh of resignation. Before he could ask where their parent was, Cassandra decided to join the group conversation by running into Bruce’s arms to give him a loving embrace.

'I missed you, dad!' she seemed to express silently, causing the masked crusader to blush faintly from her loving actions in front of Diana. Diana, meanwhile, was quite amused at his softer interactions with his children. She supposed that was another reason as to why she really liked him. She was amused and felt happy in her company, until Damien's words stunned her into silence.

“Father, Nini said that they’ll be coming down soon,” he told his father before he left with Cass to greet her favorite hero, Hawkgirl. Bruce tensed up when he felt Diana freeze in her place. He, of course, did not disclose to anyone of his spouse’s existence, but she now felt incredibly embarrassed that she decided to flirt with him in the past. She smiled at him nervously with clear confusion in her eyes, wanting to know what was going on and why he did not tell her about his spouse. But before he could explain himself, he heard a ding of the elevator, announcing his spouse's presence.

Finally, he was home.

Diana took in the sight of you and the radiance of your appearance. When she took a good look at you, she decided that your bright smile was her favorite part about you. You seemed to brighten up even the darkest pits of the Batcave. She smiled fondly at you because she now understood why Bruce married you. He deserved happiness, and she was glad that he could share that with you.

You wheeled your way over to the now stunned Justice League (most likely stunned due the fact that they found out just now that Bruce has a spouse), and held out your own homemade cooking.

“Hello, everyone! Welcome to Wayne— er. I mean, Batman’s Batcave!” you announced awkwardly, with your smile morphing to a more sheepish one. You rubbed the back of your neck nervously as you continued to make your way towards your excited children and a silent Bruce. “My name is (y/n) Wayne, but you can just call me ‘Mx. Wayne.’ It’s a pleasure to m–!”

But before you could finish your sentence, your secretly loving husband had managed to make his way towards you as quick as he could, and completely took you off guard by kneeling down and clinging onto you as tight as he could, immediately wrapping his arms protectively around you. Your eyes widened in surprise at his sudden change of mood while your children groaned at the disgusting sight of their father being clingy again. The Justice League, on the other hand, watched in pure confusion as their usually stoic and emotionless friend had become so emotional, so… affectionate and clingy in front of their eyes.

“Bruce,” you whispered under your breath nervously while focusing your eyesight towards the top of his cowl. You would have to settle for looking at the top of his cowl, since he hid his face into the crook of your neck. Though he was always this way towards you, he had never been like this in front of other people. You rubbed his back with your free hand to gently coax him off you. “Honey, people are watching.”

“Don’t care, “ he mumbled into your warm skin as he pushed his body carefully against your seated body. He was quite literally smothering you with affection, and you had to admit that you absolutely lived for it. Clark tried to ease the tension in the room by clearing his throat, which caused you to focus your attention on your guests.

“Dick, love, can you take this and put it on the table? I think your father has a bad case of neediness tonight,” you said apologetically. Your eldest chuckled at your words and walked over to take the plate in your hand with a wide grin. “Sure, Nini; just make sure to explain to these people why dad is always so affectionate with us.”

“I’m not affectionate,” Bruce grumbled under his breath as he snuggled his face further into your warm skin and relaxed under your gentle touch.

You rolled your eyes at your child’s words and the giggles from your other children; and you tried to wheel yourself over to where the rest of Bruce’s friends were standing in shock. You were, however, finding it difficult to do so when a giant bat is clinging onto you and your moving wheelchair for dear life. At some point, you gave up and just continued to dote on your husband shyly.

“You’ll have to forgive my husband,” you said quietly while running your fingers up and down the top of his cowl. “He gets quite clingy when he’s away for so long on his missions with you guys.”

Bruce continued to hold you close, but his lips started to kiss up and down your neck and collarbone. His eyes slipped shut as he relaxed in your loving arms. “I want kisses, honey,” he whispered to you with an unmistakable (though barely noticeable) whine. You swear that your husband can be such a big baby sometimes.

With a soft chuckle from your lips, you turned your face to the side and kissed the top of his cowl lovingly. Deciding to dote on him like you usually do, you kissed the little ears that stuck up on his cowl that made him resemble the figure of a bat. You always found it cute that Bruce was this strong man, yet he took the time to add these ears to his costume. The dedication to his craft was what you always loved about him.

Plus, it was adorable.

As you placed tiny kisses on his ear flaps over and over again, you felt him make a soft noise in his chest, chuckling breathlessly at the wonderful feeling. He lived for your doting and he loved coming home to it when he had late nights on patrol. Because of this mission, he had been away for far too long from all of this happiness. He couldn't wait much longer to be in your arms again, even if it had to be done in front of his colleagues.

If this situation could not get any more embarrassing for you, John walked over to where the other members of the Justice League were huddled at and joined them in watching this sweet interaction. Deciding to tease the Dark Knight, John spoke up so he could hear him.

“How cute, Batman. Who knew you had it in you? And you got yourself married to a cute person like Mx. Wayne too? You sure are a lucky guy, aren’t you,” he said with a smirk.

Seeming to trigger something in the vigilante, your husband removed himself from your arms and stood back up to stalk his way angrily towards John with irritation clear in his eyes. But before he could do so, you reached out to grab onto his wrist. John watched as his stern eyes softened into more affectionate ones when he turned to look at you apologetically. You smiled up at him with the same radiant smile that he fell in love with, and he just couldn’t help but go back into your arms, wanting to seek refuge in your love once more. Maybe for tonight, he will ignore John’s inquisitive quips, if that's what it took to spend time with you again.

Speaking of which...

“Sorry, everyone,” he called out to them while his eyes were lovingly staring into yours. “You’ll have to continue having this party without me. Feel free to make yourselves at home and meet my kids, but,” he paused and caressed your cheek with a gentleness that they were all very unfamiliar with. “Right now, I need to catch up with my partner for a while,” he declared in finality before he pulled you into a loving kiss. The last thing they saw was their masked friend playfully pushing you back upstairs.

Knowing that their friend deserved some quality time with his spouse, they all made their way to his children with their own soft smiles on their faces. Even though Batman was typically cold towards them, they now knew that you and your children were the only exceptions.

——

general taglist: @venomsvl @v0idl1nq

[kimberly-spirits13]

Just a Checkup

Batman x reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1645

It was dark when you woke up freezing. Sweat was suspiciously puddling around your forehead as you groaned, looking over to see what time it was. Bright red light on your clock showed that it was 5:31am. You and Bruce would be needing to get up in the next thirty minutes or so to get to the watchtower for a monthly meeting. You huff before the form next to you rolls over facing your back.

“What’s wrong darling?” You hear a gruff voice ask from the dark.

You turn around to reply, “I think I have a fever.” “Or it’s -40 degrees in this room.”

“I doubt that it’s -40 degrees in here.” Bruce puts a hand over your forehead and makes a face, “Definitely a fever bubs.” “I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

“It’s alright,” You say starting to get up, “Just go back to sleep, I’ll deal with it.”

“No no, you’re sick, I’ll get it, just stay there.” Bruce pushes you back some and pulls the covers over you before heading into the bathroom.

You hear him rummaging around one of the drawers. He pulls out what sounds to be a bottle of pills and one of those plastic cups from a set that you keep in a little cup tower in the middle of the counter. The patter of his footsteps on the cold marble floor begin again and you sit up to take the medicine. Bruce walks back in and sticks a thermometer under your tongue. While you’re waiting for the beep to indicate how feverish you are, he starts for the closet to throw on some clean clothes. Now you can hear the soft crash on fabric on the floor and the moving of hangers on their rack. Finally, the little beep of the thermometer echos through the room and you take it out of your mouth to read it.

“What’s it say?” Bruce asks suddenly appearing by your bedside.

He sits down and rests a hand on your leg.

“102.” You reply setting the device down on your nightstand and taking the Tylenol and now the Benadryl that he’s gotten, noticing that you’re sniffling now.

“Okay- just stay in bed, I’ll tell Alfred that you’re sick. Don’t worry about the meeting.” He says softly.

“Only if you fill me in after you get back.” You say with a slight smirk.

“And I’ll only do that if you’re not still cold sweating.”

He kisses your temple before getting up from your side, “Need anything before I go?”

You shake your head no and say your goodbyes before passing back out asleep for the next few hours.

When you woke up, it was around 10:15am. A crack in the curtains lit the room enough that you could see the hot tea and crackers that Alfred must have just left on the nightstand by your lamp. You could tell that it was your favorite tea the moment you took a sip out of it. The floor was cold to the touch and you could tell that you were still a little feverish but not as bad as you were. Deciding that you were too sticky from sweat for comfort, you made your way to your closet to take out a clean pair of pajamas and then to the shower. Steam of the shower alleviated your sinuses and helped the chill that had been forming down your back to subside. The meeting with the League was just starting when you were getting into the shower. You wondered what it was over today. The last time that there was a league meeting, there were demons possessing people and some random dead acrobat wrote all over your bedroom in blood. The memories of the last meeting made you anxious to know what was being discussed now but after a few moments, you put those thoughts in the back of your mind to enjoy the hot water running through your hair.

Bruce walked into the meeting room, taking his seat as the rest of the top leaguers were gathering round and sitting down in their respective spots.

“Where’s Y/N?” Diana asked.

You and Diana had become the best of friends since the start of the league a few years ago. The two of you seemed to be inseparable during training and always chatted during the few minutes you had together before meetings. Her look of worry was evident considering that you, like Bruce, were never missing from anything.

“She woke up with a fever this morning so she won’t be joining us.” Bruce replied, “I’m going to head back to the manor to check on her after this is over.”

“Apollo bless her.” Diana replies, “She’s never sick. Any idea ailment she has?”

“Seems like a bad cold.” He answered, “She’ll knock it out fast.”

Diana nodded in agreement as she took her seat before the meeting started.

After the meeting, Bruce headed for the zeta tubes to get back to Gotham. It would only be a short visit since there would be group training and some work to be done but since everyone was taking a break before, Bruce figured this would be an agreeable time to leave.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Bruce said to Diana as they were walking.

“Tell me how she’s doing when you get back.” Diana replied.

You were heading back to the bedroom after your shower and subsequent skincare routine that had to be completed before you’d let yourself go back to bed. When you walked in, Bruce was sitting in the reading chair by the window.

“Don’t tell me that you came into your own home from the window?” You said challengingly.

“Of course not.” Bruce said with a chuckle, “How are you feeling?“

“Like I can feel like every single bone in my body.” “Still a low fever but it’s fine.”

You tucked yourself under the covers and turned on some mind numbing video to lull you back to sleep. Knowing that Bruce needed to get back to the Watchtower, you weren’t trying to convince him to crawl into bed with you, no matter how tempting it was. A chill ran up your spine as you pulled the covers over your shoulders.

“What was the meeting about?” You asked innocently.

“Ah ah, I won’t tell you a thing until you’re not “feeling every single bone in your body. Remember?” he smirked as you rolled your eyes.

“Not sure that I remember much from the morning considering that I might have been on my death bed had I not woken up and realized such.”

“Well in that case I’m definitely not saying anything on the account that you probably won’t remember.”

“Oh shut up.” You tossed one of the pillows at him making him laugh before breaking out into a cough.

“Come ere’.” He says as he scoots into the bed and pulled the covers back over you, “you’re freezing.”

“I didn’t notice.”

He comes closer to you and wraps his arms around you. You buried your head into his side and closed your eyes.

“Don’t you have to be back at the watchtower?” You questioned.

“It feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.” Bruce said in a kidding tone, running his fingers through your hair.

“Not likely.” You say.

“I‘ll go back in a little. There’s time to kill here.”

You didn’t need any further explanation before drifting off to sleep. It wasn’t a hard thing to do since Bruce was right next to you. The heat coming radiating off of him kept you from freezing to death for the first time in a few hours.

About an hour passed and Bruce had still not returned to the Watchtower. Diana wasn’t sure what was wrong but she was sure that she was going to find some answers.

“I’ll be back shortly.” She said to Clark, “I’m going to make sure that everything is alright.”

“You don’t have to worry about them Diana.” Clark said taking a swig from his coffee, “they probably just fell asleep. It happens more often than you’d think.”

“Still, it will smooth my conscience knowing that nothing’s wrong.”

When Diana arrived at the manor, she peered into the window of your bedroom. She knew that it was a bit weird to be doing but at the same time, she didn’t want to disturb anyone. What she saw made her smile. There, in the California kingsize bed, was you and Bruce taking up only a tiny part of the bed. You were wrapped tightly together fast asleep. Diana saw no point waking you up but instead returned to the watchtower to report that everything was alright. Both you and Bruce would not be joining for the remainder of the day.

[cecilysass]

What @jewish-mulder wrote today about Mulder’s desire for family made me want to write a little more about it, too, as it’s one of my fave topics.

In my eyes Mulder’s most compelling and consistent motivation and arc throughout the series is his desire to repair the family that was broken when he was a kid. I think the show is best when Mulder is focused on this, and worst when writers lose sight of this as a drive for him.

In the beginning of the show this is still very literal; he is looking for Samantha. It’s his defining quest. It’s who he is.

In the middle of the show, when his search for Samantha becomes increasingly muddied and his relationship with Scully starts to evolve, he begins to explore other ways his family might look — other ways an adult man might have a family. He has that conversation in Home, we see him with Emily, there are several experiments in domesticity and family life in the sixth season with varying degrees of success.

This culminates in his Amor Fati dream sequence — a domestic suburban life with Diana and kids AND Samantha. This ep foregrounds just how much Mulder has possibly thought about or desired satisfying family relationships. Although at the end of Amor Fati he seems to have to choose to forsake that comfortable life to live the life he’s supposed to, he reconnects with Scully in the final scene in an affirming, quasi-marital way. Moreover, his commitment to his quest is symbolized by a small boy on a beach he’s depicted as playing a kind of paternal role to. I see Amor Fati as an important link between Mulder’s original quest (to repair his family by finding his sister) with his later life quest (to repair his family by finding his son).

In the later seasons, especially after the death of his mother and the resolution of the Samantha arc, Mulder’s need to repair his family finds a new focus in his need to protect Scully and William, and eventually on his need to find / protect William. Even in IWTB, when he is also motivated by wanting to solve a crime and do his work again, he’s experiencing conflict because he knows Scully represents his family life and the rift with her is painful. (But I also think IWTB suffers from not having this Mulder family healing motive more integral to the story.)

In the revival, I love his line “what am I if I am not a father?” because it plays perfectly into this arc. But it also definitely felt abrupt because the groundwork hadn’t really been laid in regards to his feelings about William. I wish this desire of Mulder’s had been put more in the foreground. The show was playing too many coy “who’s the daddy” games in season 8 to get into Mulder’s feelings about fatherhood, and then they didn’t completely explore them in the revival either, always turning first to Scully’s feelings about motherhood. But I would argue it makes perfect sense for his character to be fixated on it. If I were writing a final movie to tie up the show (something I wouldn’t actually do to GA lol), I would focus it on resolving that arc for him.

[dianaraven]

Whoever said programmers are antisocial CLEARLY never benefited from a community so strong and willing to spare some time to help that they spend hours of their time answering your questions and passing around bits of code like hot soup on a cold day LITERALLY!!!! i have never met anyone MORE willing to help others than other coders

[justforbooks]

Michael Caine wears two watches: an analogue for the time and an Apple for everything else. It even knows his pulse, he says, impressed. Right now, it’s telling him his flat is 26C: warm enough for his wife, Shakira, to pour iced coffee into his flask, but not hot enough for those balcony doors to be open: “It’s blowing a bloody gale in here!”

I slide them shut slightly. Is that OK? A bit more. Enough? Bit more. I close them completely. He’s happy now.

Caine lives in Chelsea Harbour: posh 80s condos and Princess Diana’s gym. He likes the security and tolerates the helicopters. His London penthouse has caramel carpets, 360-degree views, two Oscars and 5,000 photos of his grandchildren.

Below us lies Battersea Bridge, tide low, shore glittering. No, he shudders, he’s never mudlarked. Why not? After all, his first novel, out in November, is about binmen who find uranium down at the dump. “Well,” he says darkly, “other people do things and it goes all right. I do them and bad things happen.”

He looks at me. We’re waiting for his co-star, John Standing, who is stuck in traffic. Caine is a big man with whom to make small talk. It’s not just that your brain short-circuits each time he speaks (Michael Caine?!?!), it’s that at 90, he’s still 6ft 2in, undiminished and simply intimidating.

In 1987, he gave an acting masterclass in which he revealed the secret to being forceful on screen was a) don’t blink and b) mascara. It works face-to-face, too. The first one, anyway.

During the Blitz, says Caine, he watched the city get flattened from his dormer in Camberwell; from here, he’s seen it rise up again. He loves new-build and soft furnishings with the passion of a man raised in an attic with no hot water, one outdoor loo and rickets. Every time a bomb fell, the mattresses doiiinged. “Me and my brother would laugh all through the bleedin’ air raids!”

An update: Standing will be here shortly. I praise the pot-plants and Caine mourns his garden. He was evacuated to Berkshire, where he was fed a tin of pilchards a day and locked in a cupboard for the weekends, and then to rural Norfolk, where he discovered a love of horticulture – later energetically indulged at his own places in Oxfordshire and Surrey.

Less so in Hollywood. He sold up there after someone told him that if he wanted to grow daffodils he’d need to put the bulbs in the fridge for a fortnight. “That was it! Final straw!” But did he do it? “Oh yeah. It worked.”

In comes Standing, 89 but nimble as a debutante, all polish and apologies. They settle down, discuss the weather and a window is discreetly opened. Caine goggles at my iPad, which he mistakes for a phone: “Blimey, that’s a big one!”

The Great Escaper is brilliant, I say. Caine is surprised I’ve seen it, let alone enjoyed it. Didn’t he? “Yeah. But I’ve had films where I liked it but other people didn’t agree with me.”

No wonder it tempted them from retirement: meaty roles dry up as you approach 100. Caine plays Bernard Jordan, a real-life Royal Navy veteran who made headlines in 2014 when he travelled alone from his care home in Hove, East Sussex, to Normandy for the 70th D-day anniversary. The film – flintier than you might think, and very moving – fictionalises a friendship with Arthur, a former RAF pilot (Standing) he meets on the ferry.

Both actors did national service in Berlin after the war; Caine was then drafted to Korea – “a bugger”, he says (his memoir suggests this is understatement). “When we got there they said: the Chinese have just sent a million troops. What? But they were just young kids and old men to take all our ammunition. You shoot at them and then the real fighters come. And that was the Chinese in a nutshell.”

In the film, the pair make a pilgrimage to the war cemetery at Bayeux in Normandy. “What a waste,” cries Bernard as the camera zooms out to show the rows and rows of headstones. Caine doesn’t agree. “You had to have full cemeteries because you’d had to fight the German army, which was not a load of idiots. And the Germans had to be stopped.”

And Korea? Well, communism is “perfectly frightful”, says Standing. Caine nods. “It doesn’t take care of the working class quite the way they say. My father was a fishmonger in Billingsgate, so I knew when I saw the communists, they had no idea what it was all about. Do any working-class people want to live in North Korea?”

They both think national service should be reintroduced. “It gives you a whole new realisation of life,” says Caine. “I notice how different young people are today. They’re so free with everything. Military training makes you think about helping other people. My grandsons – all they do is play football.” (Still, he adds later, they’re also “incredible, unbelievable, and they worry about other people – which is handy”.)

Standing chips in: one of his daughters is “a bit woke” and cautions him about getting cancelled. “It’s horrible! We’re not allowed to say anything. I loathe it. My God, you’re not allowed to have mother-in-law jokes! It’s sort of barking.”

Then again, “things were far less complicated” 70 years ago. He smiles benignly. “Your telephone alone is the most complex thing anybody’s ever dreamed of. You’ve got all the information you ever want. You can chat to Henry VIII. Have you seen the man made of wood and iron playing the most immaculate game of ping-pong and thrashing the ordinary Briton at the other end?”

I haven’t. Caine confesses some concern over robots – that’s partly what his novel, a thriller, is about. “But I’m 90. I don’t worry about the future. I worry if I’m gonna make it to lunch.”

Caine and Standing first met on another hot day, in the summer of 1976, shooting another war movie, The Eagle Has Landed. Caine played a Nazi eager to assassinate Churchill; Standing a rather flaky vicar. Memories of the shoot seem thin on the ground, but they agree moviemaking hasn’t changed much.

“I make my own world,” says Caine. “And if they employ me, they gotta leave me to do it my way. Otherwise I screw it up. And even if I do it my way, I screw it up as well.”

They both chuckle. “Michael, darling!” says Standing.

Have they changed?

Standing sighs. “We’re just so bloody old.”

“And we’re still here,” says Caine.

“Which is incredible! All my mates are brown bread.”

“Oh, mine and all. Sean Connery, Roger Moore. Everybody’s dead. It’s amazing.”

How does that feel?

“Lonely,” says Caine. “I had dinner last night here with eight women. Shakira gets ’em. I don’t get ’em. They’re the wives of my friends. I’m often sitting with a table full of widows.”

Standing empathises. “Hundreds of women round one all the time. And you sit there thinking: give us a break! Ask me something, anything you like!”

Caine nods. “Ask me a question about football! But I’m perfectly happy with all the girls. I love them.”

Again: consult his memoir for more details, but this is putting it mildly. Caine spent the 50s, 60s and early 70s hoovering up hotties across the continents, pausing only for relationships with Natalie Wood and Nancy Sinatra and to refuel on vodka with Terence Stamp and Peter O’Toole.

So when he says he was tired of bachelor life by 1972, you can believe it – he must have been exhausted. He had a night in, saw a Maxwell House ad on telly and resolved to fly to Brazil the next morning to marry the woman with the maracas. No need, said a pal: she was Indian, not Brazilian, and lived on the Fulham Road in west London.

This is one of Caine’s regular chatshow yarns and he duly does it for us today: “I tracked her down! Incredible!” Caine is a bit of an anecdote jukebox – tales triggered by the briefest mention of Cary or Larry or Frank – but with material like his, it’s hard to object. Though charming, he also dominates conversation in general – about which Standing is a gent. Does he miss the 60s? “I don’t miss it, but I love having done it. I used to get into trouble all over the place.”

He and Shakira have been married more than 50 years. Ageing is less awful, he advises, “if you’re married to someone really beautiful who doesn’t grow old. I wake up every morning and there she is!” It’s true: Shakira, 76, does seem preternaturally patient and gorgeous. “What is great about her is that she’s very bright. She was the secretary in the … I forget which country she comes from [Shakira was born in British Guiana, now Guyana], but she was the secretary of the American embassy, so she’s a great secretary for me. She runs everything. It’s unbelievable.”

At the heart of The Great Escaper is another enduring marriage, between Bernie and Irene, played by Glenda Jackson in her final film. She and Caine first worked together 48 years ago. “She was very young and pretty,” he says. “Very attractive. Bloody good actress. But a left-wing socialist and I’m all for making money because I come from a very poor background.” They never talked politics – bit busy making the movies. He saw her five days before she died in June: “She seemed fine.” He’s relieved it was quick.

Bernie and Irene are a devoted couple who, though the film doesn’t discuss it, didn’t have children. Might that have changed their dynamic? “Oh, tremendously,” says Caine. “You don’t have any other separate thing to talk about. You talk about each other. And you don’t have to judge how people feel about someone else. Only you.”

It’s a sharp insight, particularly given that he’s personally “always had children around me like wildfire”. His eldest daughter, Dominique, was born when he was 23, during a brief marriage to the actor Patricia Haines; he and Shakira have another daughter, Natasha. Picking up his eldest grandson from the school is, Shakira tells me later, the highlight of his week. “I love kids,” he says, a bit wistfully.

Standing murmurs agreement. He’s also been married for yonks. The secret, he says, is “laughing with each other”.

Caine is less on-message: “Don’t argue. Don’t try to prove it with arguments or a row. Let ’em do it.”

“Women are No 1 anyway,” says Standing.

“It’s the only place you can get babies,” nods Caine.

“But I gotta say this, Michael: have you seen what women do now?” says Standing. A dramatic pause. He’s a West End veteran, light comedies a specialty. “Cage fighting!” He turns to me. “What possessed your sex to do something like that? For men to cage fight is unthinkable. For women – boom, boom, boom, on each other’s faces! Deranged! But that’s modern life.”

Has Caine seen that? “Oh yeah,” he says blithely. “On television.” And? “I was stunned.” Why? “I wouldn’t do that to anyone. Even if I didn’t like them. I’d just knock ’em out and walk away.”

The real theme of The Great Escaper is – perhaps not one for the poster – that the only escape from old age is death. Yet Caine and Standing continue to produce work that will live on after they’re gone. Caine wrote his first novel bedridden during lockdown, and is now writing a second. Standing is a professional painter. They have six children between them. Are any of these enterprises better or worse as stabs at immortality? There’s only really one, says Caine: “Kindness.” And maybe Alfie. And The Muppet Christmas Carol.

“Michael, darling,” says Standing, “I said to someone the other day: ‘Have you heard of Peter O’Toole?’ She said: ‘Well, I know the name.’ Once you are dead, you are dead. You think of Bogart! But young people only know Goose. What’s he called? Gosling. Big names in the theatre – Gielgud – mean nothing.”

That craft and that class is history, they reckon. When I ask Caine who today’s version of him is, he agrees there isn’t one.

“Because you don’t get young people now who are that far back in society. That had to come forward in great leaps. I think my type of person is extinct. I can’t think of anybody who had a life like mine.”

It wasn’t just the poverty, he says, it was Korea and then, six months later, malaria (he nearly died). “And so it never stopped, you know? Until it did.”

And yet it sort of hasn’t. Caine remains an icon of a time and an energy that feel increasingly exotic. He still calls himself working class and frets over any potential betrayal of his roots. The fate of his brother, Stanley, troubles him. “He just stood there and watched me become a millionaire when he didn’t even have a job. I turned him into someone who couldn’t move. I should have gone and moved him.”

Once, Caine was shopping for a sofa and Stanley – who’d been awol for a while – appeared as part of the team lugging it in from the back. “I grabbed him. I said, ‘You are outta here.’ Oh, it was terrible. I didn’t know where he was.

“He became an alcoholic. So I bought him two houses: one to live in and one to rent so he could have some money to buy some booze.” Caine’s eyes are rheumy. “He’s three years younger than me. And he’s been dead for five years.”

There was an older brother, too, David, born with severe epilepsy and confined to an institution. Caine only found out about him after their mother’s death – though she had visited David secretly each week. Caine then made him as comfortable as possible. His mother spent her final years living in one of the houses he’d bought her with a carer and her two young sons, “who loved my mum like a grandma. I was very happy with that. I did everything for everybody. So that’s it. I’m sitting here, I’ve done it. I can’t do any more.”

The Great Escaper has been widely described as Caine’s final film, just as Harry Brown was in 2009, and then – 24 films later – Best Sellers in 2021. It’s not. He’s shooting another in January: “It’s about someone who is so famous I’d never heard of him. Charles, Charles …”

“ … Darwin,” says Standing.

“Yeah. I play Charles Darwin. And that’ll be it. I won’t do another one after.”

He’s sure?

“No! But the point is, can you do it? Can you remember all the lines? I’ve got used to not working and staying in bed till 11am and staying out late at night. I love it.”

In The Great Escaper, Jackson has a line about life being fun when you’re young, but once you hit her age, “you’re basically buggered”. Present company queers that pitch. “Oh blimey,” says Caine. “I have a great time.” Standing nods. His one concession to old age has been to give up tap-dancing – though you suspect he might oblige in an emergency.

Neither man can think of a single instance in which they’ve been ill-treated because of their age.

“Nobody patronises me,” says Caine.

“We don’t look like we need help,” says Standing.

In Caine’s case, that’s not entirely true. His skin is smooth, his cheeks full – “I’m very lucky the whole face has not collapsed” – and The Great Escaper showcases them with loads of fantastic closeups. Yet he does use a walker and wheelchair. Never had qualms about being seen with them, he says. “Nope. It’s my life and I do what I want.”

“I think you are bloody brave,” says Standing. “Michael, man-to-man, it was an admirable thing to say: ‘Bollocks, I will do the film’, in spite of all those things.’”

I think he’s right. For someone with an image as familiar – and cultivated – as Caine’s, to visibly concede frailty feels courageous. It’s a shame, I say, that “mobility issues” were given as the reason the Queen didn’t attend various events near the end – as if being seen in a wheelchair was inconceivable.

Caine opts not to criticise the Queen. Instead he cues up the story of the first time they met, at a dinner, when she asked him to tell her a joke. He couldn’t think of a clean one. “She pointed to the man on her other side and said: ‘I’m gonna talk to him now. In five minutes I’ll be back and I want a joke.’”

I don’t know what I’d imagined Michael Caine’s Queen impression to sound like, but it’s definitely a lot more mobster. That was quite frightening, I tell him, once he’s finished the joke (long, about a chicken). Does he see any similarities between them?

“I think everyone sees a similarity between themselves and the Queen.”

Even Standing, an actual baronet, demurs at that one. But the fact Caine believes it adds weight to the idea they do share something – the ability, perhaps, to unsettle others through their presence alone. The Great Escaper taps that, too. Bernie prompts in people – Arthur included – profound reckonings, without really trying. Can Caine relate?

“I don’t know,” he says. “A bit, probably, yes. But it could be quite unpleasant. I don’t do things that are unpleasant.”

But you feel you have that power?

“Yeah, oh yeah.”

And what’s that like?

He grins. “Great.”

Our time is up. Caine checks his watch. “28C,” he says, “and that’s with the bloody windows open.”

© 2024 Guardian News, Catherine Shoard

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[dc-marvel-life]

Love/Hate the Heat

Request: Hmm, heard your requests are open so how about Kara and Diana with a fem! cryokinetic reader? Maybe where its summer and an extreme heat wave is going on and since Kara and Diana are basically human heaters they are suffering with the extra heat because the ac in their home is broken meanwhile reader is just walking around totally unaffected because of her powers so reader puts on as few clothes as possible and lets her girlfriends cuddle into her to cool off.  - By anon 

Pairing: Supergirl x Wonder Woman x reader

Word Count: 569

“Come on, Kara, please fix the damn thing,” Diana says impatiently in front of the thermostat. It is a record-breaking 110 degrees Fahrenheit outside, and the AC broke in the house, so Kara is trying to fix it. Diana hears a loud bang following Kara screaming curse words. Kara comes back from the garage to Diana.

“I am sorry, babe, I can’t fix the AC. I called the repair man, and he said the earliest he can come is tomorrow afternoon,” Kara says, fanning herself with her hands.

“Alright, I can’t take it anymore. We just have to strip right now then,” Diana says, then starts to take off her shirt and pants, followed by Kara doing the same thing. Now Diana and Kara are in the hallway in their bra and underwear.

“Wow, are you two about it get it on without me. Shame on you two” Y/N comes to see what her girlfriends are doing. 

“That is not what is happening right now, Y/N. Why are you in pants and a long sleeve shirt right now?!” Kara says to Y/N.

“You know that my powers always make me cold, and now I am finally not freezing cold. I am finally not wearing a hoodie inside, I thought you guys would be happy,” Y/N says, pouting thinking that she did something wrong.

“No, baby, that is not it. You probably don’t understand because of your powers, but it is extremely hot right now, and we are dying here,” Diana says, then gives Y/N a hug. 

“You are so cold and feel so good right now,” Diana says while hugging you and not letting go. 

“Hey, I want to feel how cold she is” Kara comes over and lets out a reveling sigh. You stare at your two girlfriends, enjoying how cold you are for once. They don’t say that they hate that you are cold all the time, but you know that they do. They always put on socks or extra pairs of clothes to cuddle/hug you, so it felt nice that they wanted you just as you were.

“How about I remove my clothes, and you guys can cuddle with me instead?” you tell Kara and Diana. 

“That’s a great idea!” Diana says they grab your hand, lead you into the bedroom, and strap you off your clothes only in a bra and underwear like them. 

After a couple hours of cuddling and watching tv, you start to feel off a little bit. You look at your skin, and water is coming off of it. Your body is losing the cold and turning into something else.

“Aaaaaa,” you jump up from Kara and Diana. You look over at your girlfriends, who are holding back from laughing. They look at you in concern, “What is happening to me? My body is turning into the water!” you say, wiping off the water on your body.

“Why are you guys laughing at me?! Look at me! I am turning into water!” you say, freaking out.

“Baby, what is happening to your body is called sweating. " You are just hot right now,” Kara says, leading you back into bed.

“So this is what being hot feels like?” you say, and they nod at you.

“Well, I am willing to deal with it for you guys,” you say, smiling at them and continuing to cuddle them. 

[five-bi-five-mind]

Maybe This Time (Pt. 3)

Fandom: Wonder Woman/DCEU

Pairings: Diana Prince (Wonder Woman) x fem!Reader

Words: 3.8k+

Summary: What comes next after your capture has you surprised. Is there hope? Will things truly be okay? Will you ever be safe again?

Genre: Angst, Hurt & Comfort, some light fluff

Warnings: Okay, there’s a bit more talks of violence in this. A lot of talks about burns and even death. I went into a little more detail on injures, but still it’s not like there’s gore.

Series Masterlist || Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 4 ||

(gif not mine)

Part 3: Walls

“Up…” you heard a voice call in the distance. It was so faint, you could barely make out the words over the shrill ringing in your ears. “Come on… Have to…” The voice kept calling out. You tried, oh how you tried, to focus in, but your head felt like it was underwater. You weren’t entirely sure where you were, your body simultaneously felt like it was floating and like it was barely connected to your consciousness. Try as you might, you couldn’t even manage to crack your eyes open.

“Stand up!” The voice called louder, the agony in its tone finally shaking something within you.

All at once, the floating feeling disappeared and you were entirely too aware of your every nerve ending. Your body was shaking violently. You still couldn’t bear to open your eyes, but you knew now that you were laying on the ground, stretched on your stomach. Every intake of air felt like you were breathing in pure fire, your lungs felt like they were burning inside of you. Then you realized, from the smell in the air, you were breathing in thick, pungent smoke. The strength of its oder almost made you gag. And what really made your stomach churn was that, deep down, you knew it wasn’t just the smell of burning wood or burning metal even....

You managed to roll to your back, pain shooting through every part of your torso as you did. A coughing fit erupted from your lungs and with each excruciating squeeze of your chest, you wondered just how many of your ribs were broken. Your mind might’ve still been in a fog, but it didn’t take much awareness from you to know that you were seriously injured. Superhuman or not, it was going to take a minute to completely bounce back from this, even with your healing ability.

Finally, after what felt like ages, you were able to push through some of the haze that filled your mind to crack your eyes open. The sun was bright, blinding. In the back of your mind, the last memory you had was of nighttime. So how long had you been laying there? It felt like there was a wall, and your mind refused to surpass it to access the memories. You turned your head to shield your eyes from the sun and that’s when your heart stopped.

Surrounding you was pure destruction, bathed in flames. Your eyes scanned your surroundings and you realized you were laying in the dirt on the side of the road, in what seemed like the absolute middle of nowhere. Military vans were strewn across the road, on the side of the road, in the distance, most of which were on fire or not in one piece or both. What was worse was the bodies. Your stomach lurched and you finally realized what that smell was. Charred forms of men were scattered throughout the wreckage and from what was left of them you could tell they were uniformed.

Tearing your eyes from the horrors around you, you decided you had to get up. But when you moved your arms, you bit back a scream as pain shot through your system. You knew you had a couple of broken ribs, you could handle that. You also knew you had some bad cuts and bruises, that wasn’t anything new to you. Neither was this searing pain currently shooting through your limbs, but it had been a long time since it was this bad.

It took all of your will power to even want to see the state of your arms, but when you finally began to survey them, you began to connect the dots. Your arms were in bad shape. Third degree burns ran up from your fingertips all the way to your shoulders. The adrenaline that was preventing you from fully feeling the extent of your injuries was no longer present and, while your body might not be on fire anymore, it felt like every cell inside of you was. You also knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you caused this destruction. This was on you. Your pain was caused by your powers, and as much as you tried you still couldn’t piece together what had happened yet.

“We have to go.” You almost forgot about the voice from earlier, the one that woke you from your floating feeling and brought you back to this hellish reality. Red and gold boots stopped right in front of you and you tried to focus on them, focus on the voice that barely hid its concern, but being so aware of your injuries had the fog threatening to yet again invade your mind.

You looked up and away from the wreckage and tried to focus again, but between the blazing sun and the fading of your vision, all you could make out was blurred colors of crimson and gold towering over your broken form. And then you were being hoisted up and you couldn’t help the pitiful cry of pain that broke from your lips when something brushed against your raw, barely healing skin. You heard what sounded like a curse from the voice of the one currently holding you, and you were then repositioned in a way where you were being cradled, yet purposefully held to avoid any more contact with your burnt flesh. And you both started moving. Moving fast. You were pretty sure your rescuer wasn’t even going on foot anymore, but you could no longer keep your eyes open, let alone hold your head up. The pain wasn’t subsiding. Your body was trying to heal itself, but it wasn’t going to just be that easy, even with your abilities.

Your head lulled back and as your eyes struggled to stay in focus, you saw through blurry vision, the flames that still raged on around you. In a small broken voice you managed to whisper “what have I done?” before surrendering to the fog clouding your mind. Your body went limp.

You woke up somewhere you didn’t recognize. To be in an unfamiliar setting was never a good sign for you. You started to jolt up, but a hand pressed flat to your shoulder stopped you from rising from the bed. Your head snapped to the side, alarmed that you didn’t even notice you weren’t alone, before completely relaxing when you saw who it was. Diana was sitting in a chair pulled up to the side of the bed. She looked exhausted. As if she hadn’t slept in days. She was scraped up too, but just barely. Different parts of her were littered with healing cuts and fading bruises.

“Stay resting,” her voice was hoarse, filled with emotion that you couldn’t place.

“How long have I been asleep?” Your mind flashed to the last memory you had. Your scorched arms, your back pressed against rough pavement in the middle of nowhere with the smell of burnt flesh filling your lungs. Your arms didn’t feel injured though, in fact you weren’t really in much pain at all. That must mean you’ve been out for quite a few days.

“A while.” You caught the way her jaw clenched as she said those two words. It didn’t take much deduction to realize she must have been worried sick about you.

You both stayed silent for a moment. She gently guided you to fully lay back on the bed and you allowed her to, but kept your eyes on her the whole time. There was something going on with her, but you couldn’t tell what. Diana put up a lot of walls, but she was starting to take them down with you. However, right now, you could tell she was trying to put on that strong, stoic expression she wore when she tried to play the part of Diana Prince hero to the world, but she was failing miserably. There was sadness behind those eyes and fear. You may have been the one barely clinging to life not too long ago, but she seemed to be the more fragile one in the room. She looked so… small. You wondered how long it had actually been since she left your side. She had to have slept a little right? Considering you were pretty healed from your wounds you would’ve been out for days, maybe weeks. You seemed well cared for, you peaked the IV in your arm, she must’ve known how to take care of you properly and did just that. But even so, looking at her, you had a sneaking suspicion she barely left that chair. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if she even slept in it next to you rather than opting to leave your side.

Slowly and with great hesitation, you reached for the hand that rested in her lap, placing your palm over hers. Eyes locked to where your hand was now laying upon hers, she didn’t look back to meet your eyes as you finally whispered the question you were dreading since you woke up. “What happened?”

“You tell me,” was all she said. It wasn’t hostile, her tone wasn’t accusatory. It was a genuine request and that caused you to tilt your head in confusion. Wasn’t she there? Wasn’t she the one that scooped you off the side of the road from all of the wreckage? How does she not know what happened?

“I don’t remember,” you admitted. “I remember being attacked and then I remember waking up on the side of the road and you rescuing me.”

“I didn’t rescue you,” her jaw clenched as she spoke. She looked at anything but you as she said that. It was obvious she felt immense guilt, you just didn’t understand why.

“I know it was you who picked me up,” you insisted. You remember her strong arms, you remember her holding you to her chest before you blacked out again. If there was anything you’d recognize in this world, it would be Diana. The woman you’re most familiar with than anyone in your many years of fleeing. Even if you were in a haze, even if all you could make out were blurred shapes and colors as she pulled you into her strong embrace. You felt her presence the moment she’d walk into a room, even with your back to her. So, how could you be mistaken?

“I found you like that.” She shook her head and took a breath, grounding herself before continuing. “I found you half alive in the middle of nowhere, (Y/N).” Her voice was filled with such anger. You knew it wasn’t directed towards you, but herself and you hated that fact. “I did not rescue you, I was almost too late.”

Pushing her chair back with a bit too much force, Diana stood up to turn her whole body away from you. With her back to you, you watched the rise and fall of her shoulders as she tried to collect herself. Her head hung low as she took deep, ragged breaths.

“I don’t understand,” you pleaded.

After a beat, Diana turned back to you, this time sitting on the side of the bed, next to where you still lay. “Is there any detail you can recall? About the people who took you? Faces? Names? Anything they said?” Her voice was level, but you could hear a hint of desperation in it.

So you were captured. A flash of that night hit you like a ton of bricks. You saw her bloody and beaten on the asphalt, you felt the heavy hand dragging you away. If you could focus more maybe you could make out more details, but it was like the time between your capture and your liberation was blocked by a mental wall. The more you pushed through it the worse your head felt.

“No,” you sighed in frustration. “Nothing.”

Diana simply nodded, her jaw clenching as she yet again refused to make eye contact. Hesitantly, you reached for her hand yet again and she let you take it, but she still refused to look into your eyes, choosing instead to focus on where your fingers intertwined with her own. You still watched her face though, studying every single movement to pick up on her emotions. To give you any sort of hint at what was going on in her head.

“Why do I feel like there’s something else going on?” you whispered as you looked up at her.

There was a pause and an uncomfortable stillness filled the room as you watched Diana struggle with her inner turmoil right in front of you. The pain she was feeling was clear in the way her lips turned into a frown at your question and her eyes continued to shift to everything in the room but your face. You squirmed where you lay next to her, your anxiety growing as you waited for her response and after a minute she took a deep breath and spoke.

“I can’t go through this again,” she sounded so defeated as she spoke. “I won’t.”

“Go through what?” She mentioned loss before, you knew it broke her, you knew she was still healing. The patterns she always displayed with you, where she would look at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world, where she would get ever so close to you, only to pull you away and treat you like this breakable thing she needed to keep at arm's length. You were used to this pattern, part of you thought maybe it was about you, about how you’re a flight risk or about how you’re still not quite the same as her. For one you’re not a goddess like her, you’re just some sort of fucked up lab experment. So when she pulled away each time, when you thought maybe each time was the time and then it never came, it hurt. You’d remind yourself she was processing something, something you were still trying to piece together, something she mentioned in passing. You had a feeling, though, that this time you’ll get more of the story.

“I lost someone,” Diana started, “twice actually. The second time–” she stopped herself for a second and squeezed her eyes shut, “The last time was right before I met you. I thought that I had him back, for good. I knew it was too good to be true, but I had just thought that it was a miracle.”

Her voice was bitter as she spat out the last word. It was clear that there was a lot more for her to say, whether she was going to give you the full story now or not, you didn’t pry, you just continued to sit and listen.

“I had to make a choice and once I did… just like that, he was gone. I didn’t love again when I lost him the first time and I spent years alone. Then he came back and I wasn’t alone anymore, but it was only for a moment. Then it was back to just me… until you showed up.” She finally turned to look at you, a pained smile on her face. You saw the tears that rimmed her eyes and you could tell, even from what little she had said, it was causing her pure anguish to relive all of this. But, still, you couldn’t help the spark of selfish hope when you heard her say the last part.

You just continued to look back at her, trying your best to give her a look that told her you understood her pain, you took all her words in and your heart broke for her, but that you desperately wanted her to keep going. To expand on what she was saying. What about you coming into her life gave her pause? In the months you’ve known her she’s become the most important person in your world. Granted, she’s the only person in your world with the way you’ve been living, but that didn’t mean your feelings for her were any less real. In your time with her, she captured your heart and, while you don’t remember much from your second capture, you realized from that experience, that you’d rather face the thing you’ve spent years running from than lose the woman you were falling in love with. In that one moment, when you saw her bloody and broken that night, you had realized your greatest fear wasn’t capture or torture, it was losing Diana.

As Diana sat next to you in silence for a moment, you remained patient letting her collect her thoughts. Her hand left your own after a moment and fingers moved to brush ever so lightly across your cheek.

“I have always been strong,” her voice was a whisper as she spoke again. “I have survived so much, I have lost the man I loved not once, but twice, and I carried on each time. But the moment…” her hand cupped the side of your face as you looked up into her shimmer eyes. “The moment I thought that I had lost you everything in me felt like it was breaking. I truly felt powerless for the first time.”

A single tear slid down her cheek as she spoke and you moved incredibly slowly to sit up. This time she let you and, after a little effort and a small wince of pain you were finally face to face with her. Your hand shot out to wipe the tear away and Diana left her hand pressed to your cheek, her thumb running across your skin softly as you both waited for someone else to speak.

“But I’m here now,” you offered, your voice cracking as you spoke, not realizing how overcome you were with a whirlwind of emotions. “I survived.”

“Barely,” she said through gritted teeth and you could see immediately that she was about to pull away again. This time, you just couldn’t let her.

“But I did, like I always do, okay?” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to hers.

She squeezed her eyes shut again, her other hand reaching up to the opposite side of your face. She held you there with her for a moment and you could feel as her grip on you tensed and relaxed. The emotions were running high in both of you, but you had never been this close to her before. This close to finally getting your feelings out there, to hearing about hers. Maybe this time things would work out. Maybe this time, if you had to run you’d run with her, maybe this time you could keep something that made you happy for once. Flashes of a future you so desperately wanted ran through your mind. There were dreams of a future you could build with her. It may not be a normal human life, but it would be your own with the woman of your dreams, with Diana Prince, with your hero and goddess. You saw years and years of endless love and support, you saw yourself learning from her and growing with her, you saw so many things.

“No matter what happens, Diana” you began again, “I will fight to stay by your side. I survived, I don’t know how but I escaped, and if I get captured again and again and again I will keep fighting to come back to you, okay?” Diana took a sharp breath as you spoke. This sudden burst of bravery filled your being as you kept going. “I will stay by your side and if we get separated again I will do everything in my power to find my way back to you. I can’t offer you much, I have spent so many years running and hiding and putting down roots has never been something I’ve done, but I will for you, I will fight for you even when I don’t know how to fight for myself.”

“So please, Diana, please…” your voice was breaking as you spoke and you felt tears brim your eyes as well as you spoke. You didn’t even know what you were pleading for. For her to take you as you were? For her to take a chance on you? For her to tell you, by some miracle, that she felt the same way you did? All of it, you pleaded for all of it. “Just don’t pull away this time. Don’t–”

And before you could continue to beg, the hands that rested on either side of your face were pulling you in. Her lips pressed to yours and it felt like the air was knocked out of your lungs. This was the moment, this was the breaking point. Diana had finally crossed that line and you knew everything between you two was finally about to change.

You melted into the kiss, letting her guide you as her lips moved against yours gently, yet still filled with an incredible need that left you reeling. Her hands slid from your face into your hair and you let yourself be pressed closer to her. Kissing Diana Prince was better than you had ever imagined, and in the months you had known her you imagined it far too often.

“Shh, little dove, shh” she murmured against your lips and it took you a moment to realize tears were beginning to freely slip down your cheeks. Her lips moved from your own, only to brush against your cheek and a hand that was once in your hair untangled itself to wipe your tears away.

“I will not fail you again,” she pulled back as she spoke, her hands moving to slip into yours. You both sat there on the bed, your eyes locked. Hers were so full of conviction and you could tell in that moment that every single wall she had put up was finally, completely gone. It was a huge relief, it was everything you’ve been waiting for, it was terrifying, but in the best possible way. “You will be safe with me for as long as you remain by my side.”

Her hand came up to cup your jaw and yet again she drew you in. Her lips ghosted over yours and you shivered as you felt them brush against your own. And then, before she pressed them fully to yours, you heard the words you didn’t know you’ve been waiting to hear, you didn’t know you were even ready to hear. In a hushed tone, against your lips, she whispered, “I love you, little dove” before bringing you into yet another heart stopping kiss.

In that moment, regardless of all the questions that swirled in your mind, regardless of the circumstances, everything melted away. For the rest of that night it was just you and Diana and nothing else mattered. She held you that night, poured all her love onto you in the most gentle of ways, took care of your remaining wounds and stayed next to you as you rested and let your body continue to heal. Things felt perfect, despite the uncertainty.

But little did you know what was to come.

Tag list: @liladoesfanfics @screechcat @yamum-com @groovychopshopstranger @desperate-gay @gaylorvader @gayyasssimp @tintedrose12 @queenidis56​ @marvel3000anddc 

Want added to the taglist? Go to the master list for this series and make a comment!

[science-slapfight]

SEMI-FINALS POLL 1

26. Angel Anide (She/Her) @x0majestea0x

Miss Anide is a 37yr old chemist who is very much not doing normal chemistry. In her early 20s, she lost a lover dear to her, and began spiralling after she failed to clone her. Now she's been trying to make a chemical that can bring people back from the dead and has taken many lives while doing so. And kill her boss while she's at it.

Her favourite experiment was on someone named Malley, who she successfully managed to get her boss's conscious into and get them out of her way. It was also the most interesting to watch.

You should vote for her because she's also a mother. The clone she failed to make ended up as her daughter and she loves Allay so much. She may be a little evil but she would never hurt a child. She has love in her heart even if it's violent.

Angel also loves cupcakes and would eat them in one go.

Ps. She has cybernetic tentacle limbs that come from her back! Cool!

Relevant Links: I'm sharing her human version because she has the most up to date art. Her toyhouse is not the most organized/up-to-date but theres a lot of images. WARNING FOR SOME NUDITY/SUGGESTIVE ART. Visibility depends on toyhouse settings !! https://toyhou.se/2035561.angelica-angel-anide/15610289.lancer

24. Dr. Diana Diamond (She/Her) @numberposting

She's a science lady. She's trans. AND she's a lil stupid and lame!!! She's got it all!!! She lives in a universe where “mad scientist” is an Actual job you can get, she literally has a degree in Mad Science! She’s Very adamant that mad science is all about pushing the limits of science without being “constrained” by ethical standards set by society, which is to say that she has a moral compass made of swiss cheese. Hashtag girlboss <3

While some people can be a liiittle off-put by her basement-turned-lab containing fun death lasers, she’s honestly just a dweeb once you get to know her. When she’s not conducting weird experiments for mysterious benefactors (or just for personal enjoyment), she’s hanging out with her epic and cool wife Alice!!

Although Diana can be a lil withdrawn, Alice’s optimistic and excitable personality really brings out the best in her!! They do almost everything together: Baking, stargazing, long walks on the beach, vivisecting people…

Her wife is super normal btw don’t even worry about it <3

In short, you should vote for certified sillygirl Diana becuz:

1. She’s a funnie trans lesbian

2. She loves her wife SO much

3. She didn’t get a PhD in Mad Science for nothin’

4. She listens almost exclusively to They Might be Giants and Oingo Boingo

5. She could use the validation tbh

6. She lost the last poll she was in on round 1 isn't that so sad :(

7. I love her :D

Also she does enjoy cupcakes!! She prefers cookies tho <3 If given a cupcake she'd probs just give it to Alice cuz that's what love is all about!!

Relevant Links: She has a whole Neocities blog site thing!! It hasn't been updated in a long while cuz College Hard BUT it'll be updated again sometime in the future!! https://diamondexperiments.neocities.org/

(Image credits: @x0majestea0x and @numberposting, respectively)