#risks her life to reveal how women are tortured

[is-today-tomorrow-in-nz]

Let's talk about Mal

Malina is a ship that I absolutely loathe. It is one of the worst possible ships to exist and it should not have been in the canon. This does not mean I hate friends to lovers as a trope. But Malina is toxic on so many levels and Mal's traits should not be portrayed as an act of love, in a YA novel no less.

Character Breakdown:

Characteristics/ Background Info:

Gifted First Army Tracker/ Third Amplifier.

Conventionally handsome.

Driven.

Opiniated(Considering the century the story takes place in.)

Beds other women often.

18-19 years old.

Orphan.

Was raised together with Alina.

How Alina sees Mal till she is taken away

Alina has an unhealthy codependency with Mal. She follows him around not just in the orphanage but in the army as well. She pictures them as husband-wife since they were children. She is extremely jealous and is just waiting for Mal to see her and pick her. But she is discovered as the Sun Summoner and taken away to the Little Palace.

How Mal sees Alina till she is taken away

A childhood friend who he thinks he has outgrown. He explores life beyond what the orphanage has offered him. He carries no romantic feelings for Alina(or going by the trope he has not realised his feelings for Alina). But till Alina is revealed and taken away to the Little Palace, she is not someone whom he associated with love or dreamt of sharing his life with. She was just a remanence of his past life.

How their relationship evolves after Alina becomes the Sun Summoner

After Alina was taken away, Mal 'realises' his feelings for her. And with no response to any of his letters, Mal is worried for her 'safety'. In an attempt to reconnect with her, he risks his life to locate the Stag. All noble and admirable so far.

Finally he sees her, he is more angry than relieved. Not to mention, it was her big debut. She had finally embraced her powers, had become healthy.

He claimed to be worried about her safety and was angry that she was safe(?). Once he realises his heroic act to rescue her is not needed he verbally bashes her for becoming who she was supposed to be(?) Practically calls her the Darkling's whore. See, I was a teenager once. I know that teenagers can be incredibly selfish sometimes. But if your bestie, whom you believed was being tortured, is safe and healthy, you don't bring them down, especially when you claim to love them. You will feel relieved. Yeah, it might sting a little to know that she has moved on without you and she is no longer the childhood bestie you grow up with. But, you support them and wish them well. However, Mal acts incredibly jealous and verbally lashes out unable to face his own inadequacy.

From here on it's red flag nation and classic abuser techniques and traits.

He finds runaway Alina. When you find your bestie whom you accused of being a cossetted princess a few days ago on the run, you become worried. But Mal is all 'I told you so'. His ego is soothed . The Darkling is bad just as he said.

He comments about Alina having an appetite. He has seen his friend sickly thin, with breathing issues, cold, hungry and suffering with an unknown illness for 8-10 years. And now he sees her finally healthy and eating and comments on it as if it is an inconvenience for him. This is were Alina should have had an awakening and walked away from him. But LB thinks this is cute and a healthy love. So Alina remains.

We skip to Siege and Storm, they are in incognito. Alina has wasting sickness again. But not a single concern from Mal. He doesn't question why she became healthy or why she becomes sick again. He is just happy that he got the girl he grew up with back.

When Alina is back in Ravka and with a prince no less. We see the absolute worst of Mal. He is jealous, once again of his own inadequacy, and takes it out on Alina. She is being thrust into a world of politics, in a country literally on the verge of civil war and all he can think of are ways to make Alina's new position about himself.

He throws tantrum anytime Alina has thoughts other than him. He doesn't allow her to focus on the war or grow into her new role. He hates that she is no longer the girl he grew up with. He hates that Nikolai is actually making her better, giving her autonomy, coaching her to the life of politics. He picks constant fights with her. Suffocating her more when she was already struggling under the pressure of leading an army.

Alina tries to establish herself as the leader and commander of the Second Army and he thwarts her attempts by telling the guards and soldiers under her direct command embarrassing stories from her childhood to 'humanize her'. She is the Sun Summoner, a living saint, someone who is being courted by a prince. But he cannot have that can he? He cannot let her raise to glory. He has to bring her down to his level to show her that she was no better than him. He does not want Alina to have anything that was not him or given by him. He punishes her for his inefficacy.

When Alina backs away from a kiss, he goes on to kiss Zoya and cheats on Alina and tells Alina she made him do it. This, right here, is how an abuser behaves.

I don't buy his redemption arc in Ruin and Raising. It was a switch up after the negative feedbacks to his characters and nothing more.

It doesn't matter in the end because, Alina's powers which were an integral part of her was ripped out and she ends up with Mal to become his wife. Mal gets his girl he grew up with, who has always been beneath him.

Mal was an anchor who did not allow Alina to move upward and succeeded in his attempts to sink her with him under the disguise of love.

Conclusion

LB portrays the Darkling as the evil guy and retcons the trilogy to show us how bad he was in the duology. But for an author who is so concerned about young girls falling for abusive men, she literally ignores the glaring, mile-long red flag in Mal and packages them as a destined lovers. For an author who is all about morality and opening young girls eyes to the viles of men, she is doing a disservice to her own readers. The chances of me as a woman, coming across an 'evil' shadow man like the Darkling or a literal Prince are zero(not even near zero.) But Mal is a regular guy. A guy whom we see in our everyday lives. You can see him in a friend who grows jealous of your growth and tries to sabotage your career or in a friend who carried torch for you and spreads rumours about you when he sees you with better men than himself or you can see him in a boyfriend who strings you along for a decade while he waits for his dream girl to come. My point is, men like Mal exist in the real world and the author cannot claim a moral high ground with the Darkling and ignore all the abhorrent things Mal did to Alina. I don't care if people reading this are pro Darkling or not but I care if someone calls Malina as a healthy ship.

Note: Please read books like 'Why Does he Do that?' by Lundy Bancroft or please watch the show 'Kevin can f* himself'. You will see the parallels and understand who Mal really is.

#anti mal oretsev #grisha trilogy #grisha critical #shadow and bone #seige and storm #ruin and rising #anti malina #anti leigh bardugo #anti mal #s&b critical

[art-vidi]

Brave Iranian prisoner, 25, risks her life to reveal how women are tortured, humiliated & brutalised at notorious jail

Brave Iranian prisoner, 25, risks her life to reveal how women are tortured, humiliated & brutalised at notorious jail Read Full Text

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#Politics #UK #US #World

[lilithsrecord]

𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖟𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖔𝖑

part 2

♱ 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

outward appearance means nothing if your are unable to carry yourself with grace and confidence. it’s important to radiate an aura that is unique to u and is beautiful and enchanting to others. find your essence. are u an ethereal innocent angel or a bombshell femme fatale? Just by channeling in a sort of character in your demeanour can drastically change how other people view you. you might be wondering “hey this is a bit much just for school,” and ur right but it’s all fun at the end of the day

𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

𝔣𝔢𝔪𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔢:

femme fatale: noun

an attractive and seductive woman, especially one who is likely to cause distress or disaster to a man who becomes involved with her.

"a femme fatale who plays one man off against another in pursuit of money"

a femme fatale is a women who shows power through how well she can toy with a mans brain. in hindsight she might seem like a women catered to the male gaze due to the strong enchantment she has upon men, but do not be fooled. a femme fatale is a strong willed and powerful women who only caters to her own needs. she achieves her goals by seducing her pawns to use them to her own advantage. channeling in the characteristics of a femme fatale can make one feel powerful, sexy, and oh so alluring. to become a femme fatale you must ooze with seduction. femme fatale examples include gilda, from the movie “gilda”, jane smith from “mr. and mrs. smith, and amy dunne from “gone girl”.

feel powerful when you walk from one place to another. let other people stare at you while they feel intrigued by ur allure but never completely give them what they want.

make your appearance look bold and striking. be sexy. dress to show off what other people want for themselves. wear dark and luxurious colours. let your hair be free and voluptuous. a bold lip and sharp eye makeup brings attention to the most seductive parts of your face. a femme fatale is nothing without a striking appearance

have your voice sound like smooth whiskey. speak slow to captivate others. make sure your voice comes out prominent and clear. add a slight rasp into your voice. each word u speak should be carefully chosen. people should be addicted to hearing you speak. be sassy and smart but always with class.

smell expensive. pick a scent that exudes class. examples: black orchid by tom ford. mugler alien. good girl by carolina herrera.

a femme fatale makes sure to always get her way. don’t be afraid to use ur seductive quality’s to get what u want whether that is good grades or social status. [ however do not put urself in dangerous positions. please don’t sleep with a teacher lmao ]

𝔠𝔬𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢

coquette: noun

a woman who flirts.

in my own definition a coquette to me is a girl who is delicate and radiates innocence. she is more commonly known as the girl next door or the pretty girl. people become attracted to this essence due to the childish ways of a coquette. though that sounds concerning, a coquette isn’t a women who tries to act like a child on purpose. she is just a women who is naturally sweet and innocent. they hold onto a childlike quality that the rest of us have lost and so desperately crave. the allure of the coquette is ultimately her adorableness. her demeanour is light hearted and youthful. no one feels the need to do her wrong because she is just too cute for any harm. she is an ingenue. examples of coquettes are lizzy grant, cat valentine from “victorious”, alice cullen from “twilight”, and marilyn monroe.

wear clothes that make u look cute. the coquette aesthetic has been around for quite a while. the main aspect of a coquette outfit is its innocently teasing nature. wear bright colours that compliment ur skin like a blush pink, bright reds, and pretty lilacs. make people around u appreciate ur innocent look but know that there imagination is running wild. the makeup for these looks are more natural and rely on the condition of ur actual skin. take good care of ur skin. have a set routine but remember that it’s completely okay if u have pimples! you can still be a pretty little coquette even with acne.

vanilla or any kind of sweet scents are a staple for the coquette essence. ariana grandes perfumes are perfect for making people mouths water for a sweet snack when u walk by. olympea by paco rabanne is my personal favourite.

be kind and sweet to people who deserve it. people need to see u as a sweet and innocent doll who can do no wrong. but don’t be afraid to be risky and be the complete opposite of that once in a while. the rare moments where u show ur femme fatale side will have people incredibly intrigued by you.

perfect your voice. your voice should sound pleasant like some sort of princess. make your voice sound higher but not ear screeching high. add a beautiful mix of air and softness to ur voice. a breathy voice is incredibly intoxicating and suits the coquette.

𝔭ê𝔩𝔢-𝔪ê𝔩𝔢

pêle-mêle: adverb

in a confused, rushed, or disorderly manner.

also known as the manic pixie dream girl, a pêle-mêle is the essence of a girl who is described as whimsical, eccentric and is quite literal the life of the party. though at first glance she’s all rainbows and sun shine, the shadow side of the pêle-mêle can be described as a tortured artist. her optimism is delightful. she is not afraid to take risks. she’s a mess but people can not help to be intrigued by her free spirited ways for she is a drug to people who crave adventure. examples of a pêle-mêle include ramona flowers from scott pilgrim vs the world, mia wallace from pulp fiction, harley quinn from the DC comics, and holly golighty from breakfast at tiffany’s.

don’t be afraid to take risks. risks and adventure is what the pêle-mêle lives off of. be brave. do things you are afraid to do. start small and work your way up like from riding that roller coaster your so afraid of to having a motorcycle race with your friends (trust me those are so fun!). show people just how daring you can be and immediately people will be magnetized to you.

wear clothes that are unique and you feel comfortable with. the pêle-mêle rejects conformity and the way you appear should reflect that. wear clothes that harmonize with your crazy personality. be daring and bold with your makeup. make sure you stand out from the crowd and that you do not care what people think. the alternative style perfectly suits someone who embodies this essence.

be confident. obviously this rule applies to all the essences but confidence and self love is at the core of the pêle-mêle. you need to show people that you do not care what they think of you and that at the end of the day, you are just here for a good time. the more you practice self love, the easier it will be for you to express yourself without the fear of judgement from others.

be a socialite. don’t be afraid to speak your mind to people. pêle-mêle’s are usually people persons. they love good company that they can go on adventures with. make friends by being your true self and don’t hold yourself back. even a few mishaps by saying the wrong thing from time to time can make people fall in love with your clumsy nature.

obviously there are plenty of other essences you can achieve for yourself but these are my top three favourites. to find out who exactly who you want to become try the few tips listed below!

how to find your personal essence

what kind of people captivate you? what type of personalities do you see that you wish you could be? do you find yourself being envious of the pretty girl next door, the man eater, or the mysterious persona? figure out what kind of a person do u wish to truly become and inherit their manner. find out the characteristic of ur desired essence to the littlest of detail. this can include from the way you walk, talk, eat, sleep, look, smell ext. think of this as becoming your ideal best self. take the female archetype quiz to get a better understanding of your self.

what kind of aesthetic catches your eye? do you enjoy the glamorous high fashion life or do you like the softer cherry coke and heart shaped sunglasses niche? maybe you enjoy completely different things or a blend of a few. live up to this aesthetic. do this by expressing this aesthetic in the way you dress to how u decorate your room.

what kind of environment do you feel the most comfortable in? are you someone who loves education and school? or do you love the idea of being free and living in an RV for the rest of your life? maybe you just want to live in a cozy high rise new york apartment or a huge mansion up in beverly hills. envision where you see your ideal self in 10-20 years. your ideal environment can reveal a lot about what kind of lifestyle choices you want to make.

you might be thinking to yourself hey these aren’t the best tips for school. and at an educational standpoint you’re right. but it’s important to embody your best ideal self to truly enjoy this lifetime. these are little things that can be used to motivate you. i believe that inner self work should be prioritized over your school work though both are important. make sure you are taking some time out of your week to find out more about yourself and who you want to become. be the best you.

#dollette #nymphcore #coquette #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #highschool #backtoschool #lolita #lana del rey #lizzy grant #grunge #soft grunge #lawofattraction #spurituality #advice #pretty

[crowdedimagines]

Worse Days - Aaron Hotchner

The faint dripping of water pulls me back to reality. The same sploosh happening over and over. Minute after minute. I pull my eyes open blinking, forcing them to focus. The swaying back and forth, left to right, doesn’t help ease the dizziness I feel.

“Looks like your girl is finally up.”

I look around, searching for the source of the voice.

“Wake up, sunshine!” He finally sits in front of me, taking my head in his hand. His fingers are coarse and strong. He forces me to look him in the eyes, his grip tight on my cheeks. He tilts my head to the tripod over his shoulder. The red light on the camera blinks back at me.

“Smile for the camera.”

This is not at all how today was supposed to go…

Twenty-Two Hours Ago.

“Alright, we’re looking at four women, murdered and found on the beach in Miami. All from different classes and backgrounds, but similar age groups” JJ hands us each our files.

“He takes them for three days, before brutally dismembering them. The morning of the fourth day, the woman is always found.”

“He takes risks. Each of these women were taken from high traffic areas.” I comment.

“There’s more.” Garcia suddenly takes over.

“He also sends a live feed to the family of the victim.” She reluctantly pulls it up on the TV, a live feed of the women pleading for their lives. Saying their goodbyes.

“He’s definitely a sexual sadist. He finds pleasure in knowing that families are watching their loved ones last moments.” I clear my throat, pulling my eyes away from the screen.

“That’s what he gets off on.” Derek agrees. “He likes knowing that there’s people in distress on the other end of the camera.”

“Wheels up in thirty.” Hotchner simply says before excusing us all.

As soon as we land we start the process to find the unsub. It begins with all of us splitting up and going to the scenes where the bodies were found. All of them were ditched on the beach, early morning before anyone was out.

We get nothing from the populated beaches other than sand in our shoes.

We sit down and look at the profile and determine the man is bold and try to analyze the footage we have from the previous victims. Penelope is trying to find any identifying marks from the videos to see where they come from. Based on the way he treats the bodies, we’ve determined he’s likely a white male in his early thirties. 

“It looks like they’re on a boat.” I say, we’ve been watching the videos on an endless loop. Trying to catch any new details. 

“The camera is steady.” Morgan argues, looking at the TV now too.

“But look at her hair, it’s moving when she’s not. It’s like the rocking of a boat.”

“It’s possible considering he’s ditching them on the beach.” Reid comments. 

“That’s why no one sees him dragging a body all across the beach. He already had them on a boat.” Ross puzzles together. 

“The most recent body was found this morning, that means he’s going to take his next victim tonight.” Morgan says.

“We should visit where each of the women were taken. Try and get an understanding of how he was able to do so in such populated areas.” Hoctchner announces, “Prentiss and Morgan, go to the grocery store where Hannah Lane was taken, Y/n and Spencer, go to the parking garage where Amy Bryant was abducted and Rossi and I will go to the last two locations.”

We all nod and go off in our separate directions. Spencer and I get in the car and drive to the parking garage where Amy was taken. We drive around until we reach the second level and get out.

“Even for a parking garage, it’s bold. It’s packed with cars on this level. Anyone could show up at any time.” I look around.

“You’re right, they could.” A voice calls out behind me before everything goes dark.

Present time.

“Morgan, you owe me twenty bucks. I told you it was a boat.” I stretch out my neck that has a kink from hanging loosely while sitting up in the chair for so long. It feels heavy, like I’ve been in this position a long time.

The man in front of me rolls his eyes, huffing loudly.

“You picked the wrong girl if you were counting on me melting like puddy in your hands. You forget that I know exactly what you want. You want the tears and the begging.”

“Trust me. You’ll get to that point.” He smirks. “They all do.”

He leaves the room, loudly pulling the door shut behind him as he goes.

“I promise, it’s not as bad as it looks.” I plead with the camera, knowing that my team is on the other side of it. I can only imagine what they’re all feeling. We’ve had close calls with team members, it’s not any easier to be in their position right now. You feel helpless. 

“Definitely on a boat, but I think we’re just at a marina or a pier. I can hear seagulls, we aren’t rocking that much.”

I lean forward as best as I can while still being tied to a chair. There’s a small window along the ceiling allowing me to see blue skies.

“It might be a ship. I’m above sea level, I can see the sky.” I try to give the team as much information as I can possibly gather. Anything could help.

“Sorry that’s about all I have right now to help.” I look around the bare room for any other details that could help, “I think I have a concussion, and maybe a cracked rib. I can’t take a deep breath.”

Suddenly the man comes back in, just as quickly as he left, he takes the camera in his hands.

“That’s all of your Y/n time today. You should get to trying to find me, because I am going to have a lot of fun in the meantime.”

Back with the team at the Miami police department...

The feed cuts out leaving the team in silence and shock.

“There’s nothing we could’ve done. We couldn’t have known-”

“We could have waited.

Spencer looks down at the ice pack in his lap. As if the guilt wasn’t eating away at him enough before. He also received a concussion. Only he woke up on the ground, relatively nothing compared to the person he was sent out with.

“There was no way for us to know that the unsub was going to come back to visit the last scene of the crime.” Emily defends. She can see the pure anger in Aaron’s eyes. Completely unwavering, and only focused on getting Y/n back to the team.

“But that’s the thing. He wouldn’t, that’s not in his MO. He moves on to his next target. Once he kills these women he feels nothing, it’s all in the buildup, he feels nothing at the scene of the crime.” Rossi says, thinking out loud.

“Y/n helped JJ talk to the press. The unsub could have seen her then. It’s likely that he would follow the case, especially once it was announced that the FBI had joined the case.” Spencer rapidly explains.

“She’s the right age, she fits his type.” Rossi nods.

“So, he sees her as more of a challenge. He’s escalated. He knows that she is a higher risk person to take.” Emily comments. 

“Y/n, said she’s on a boat.” Morgan says, bringing up the clue that Y/n gave them before the feed cut out. 

“We’re in southern Florida, there’s thousands of boats within just a hundred miles of us.” JJ sighs, looking around to the group around her.

“Four thousand, seven hundred and fifty-two within 75 miles of here.” Spencer pipes up.

Hotchner cuts him a look. Still trying to find anyone to blame, but himself. He’s the one who sent her in to that parking garage. 

“Garcia, can you locate her based on the feed the unsub has sent us?” Aaron asks, looking at the plain black screen, hoping to see it come back on so he can see the girl behind the camera. 

“No sir, he’s using a different routing server, just like he did with all of his previous victims.”

“Y/n is not a victim.”

---

It takes some time while the team continues to try and work out locations and who the unsub could even be. He wasn’t afraid to show his face on camera, which makes things a little more difficult. He has no record, making Garcia’s life a little harder. 

The TV in the conference room lets out a crackle before the familiar room comes into their view. Everyone sets down what they had been working on and halts all conversation. It’s been several hours since we’ve seen anything from him. Y/n has been gone for eleven hours at this point.

“Welcome back to the show!” The unsub grins. 

He moves out of the way to finally put Y/n in the frame. She’s hunched over, she doesn’t look as good as she did before. It’s evident that things have changed off camera. 

“His name is Nick.” Y/n mutters, picking up her head as best as she can. “He’s five ten and approximately a hundred ninety pounds.” 

“Don’t you learn to shut up?” Nick pulls back on the hair at the back of her head. In doing so it reveals new bruises that have taken home on her. 

“Baby, we talked about this. No more sharing with them, or else you know what happens.” Nick brushes her hair out of her face now. 

“This is his dads boat.” Y/n looks at the man who has taken her with spite in her eyes. It seems in his hours spent with her, he hasn’t learned that Y/n doesn’t like to be told what to do. And that she’s tougher than she looks. 

He lands a sharp fist into the side of her head and takes a step back. He lets himself take a deep breath, trying to gain control. He doesn’t want to kill her yet, that would be over too soon. Now he can step closer again, he lets one hand wrap around her throat, halting any oxygen of reaching her lungs.

He waits for Y/n to start to struggle in her chair before he lets up. 

“You just don’t like to learn, that’s okay. I’ll fix you.” Nick takes her hand, which is still tied to the arms of the chair she’s sat in. He pulls her pointer finger with care, before sharply pushing it straight up, breaking it. 

“Garcia-” Y/n picks up her head struggling to fight against his hands, she’s coughing now still trying to gain her breath back, “You don’t need to see this. Please. Turn it off.”

“Of course, Y/n is the one being tortured and she’s worried about other people.” Morgan turns away, himself unable to watch this continue. Listening to Y/n’s screams and shouts are going to be enough to stick with him. Rossi forces himself to watch the girl he’s grown so close to since joining the team, brutally tortured in front of him. 

Everyone on this team has love for this girl. She’s managed to worm her way into everyone’s life in some way or another. Y/n always knows exactly what each person needs, and she meets it. She holds the team together when they’re all falling apart. If anything were to happen to her, it would destroy them all. 

Especially Aaron. As reluctant as he would be to admit it, this girl has wormed her way into his heart. Different to everyone else on the team, though. He saw her beauty and kindness. It was hard to him to imagine a woman ever entering his life like Haley did, but Y/n did it with such grace, and without even trying. Y/n helped him out with Jack when he needed it, and made them meals when Aaron just needed to catch a break. She didn’t even need a thank you, it was just part of her.

Without even trying, Y/n became his person and all he can think now is that he never got the chance to tell her, never even got the chance to thank her, and that he won’t let happen.  He wants to see Y/n’s face in person, not bruised and bloody through the screen on the wall. He needs to get out to save her.

“Garcia, does that help you narrow your search.” Hotchner asks their tech who is still on speaker. 

“We’ve got twenty-two Nicks with boats in the Miami area.” She explains. 

“What about Nicks who have wealthy fathers? Or boats that weren’t originally in their name.” Spencer asks. 

“That leaves me with one. Nick Hoffman.” Garcia cheers, “Sunset Harbour on 1928 Sunset Harbour Drive” 

The team takes off without a second thought, quickly trying to save their girl. They manage to get there in record time and find the boat with success. Y/n was right, it’s more like a ship with its size. 

“Morgan, Rossi, work your way around the main levels and then below. Emily and I will lead the upper level.” 

The team takes off to clear the boat. It took a few empty rooms until Emily finally opens the door to where they are. Nick holds a knife to Y/n’s throat. He’s essentially using her as a shield, ducking behind her. 

“If you take one more step in here, I will slit her throat.” Nick shouts. 

“We don’t want that to happen.” Emily negotiates, Hotch finally stepping into the room. 

“Hey! I told you guys not to move!” He presses the blade down tight against Y/n’s neck while she lets out a shudder. 

“Let her go.” Hotch declares. 

“I want a deal.” Nick grovels. 

“Men like you don’t get deals.” Emily says, her eyes trained on him and all of his movements. 

“Not even for your precious Y/n’s life?” He grins, looking down at the girl below him now. 

“Go to hell.” She mutters as best she can., 

“Maybe killing you would be worth it.” He smirks, “Then we could go out together.” 

“I’ve got better plans.” Y/n throws her head back into Nick’s disorienting him enough that Hotch has a clear shot, and he takes it. Nick’s body falls and Emily kicks his knife out of reach.

“Get me out of this chair.” Y/n shakes, squirming to get out of the spot she’s been constrained to. “Get me out of here, please.” 

Hotch and Emily both holster their weapons and rush to help her. They quickly untie her and when her legs fail her, Hotch scoops her up. He quickly walks her down the stairs and doesn’t stop once he reaches the dock, he takes her all the way up to the ambulance. 

Without hesitation, Hotch gets in with her. There isn’t anything that could keep him from leaving her now. 

“Wow, that was a dramatic ending, huh?” Y/n grins. 

“You can’t seriously be cracking jokes about this now.” He sighs. 

“I mean come on, aren’t you going to even ask how I figured out his name was Nick? I figured it out when he ow-” 

Y/n cuts herself off when the paramedic starts feeling her ribs to see which are cracked and if any are broken.

“Y/n, we can talk about this later.” Aaron smiles. 

“Am I hallucinating? Is it the lack of oxygen, because you’re smiling.” Y/n comments, finally turning to look at her boss who has a smile that she knows he saves for Jack. 

“You’re back. That’s reason to smile.” 

They make it to the hospital to find out that Y/n has a concussion, one broken rib and three cracked ribs, and one broken finger. Not to mention the trauma to the trachea. 

“The gangs all here.” Y/n smiles, noticing Garcia has flown down to join the group. Everyone has been gathered in the room since everything settled down, “What are you doing here?” 

“Y/n, you were kidnapped.” Garcia states, still in shock, “You could’ve died.” 

Tears fill Penelope’s eyes and Y/n opens her arms from her hospital bed for a hug, which she easily accepts. 

“Ehh, I knew you guys would find me.” Y/n grins. “I’m fine Pen, I’m getting discharged in the morning and we can all go home.” 

“Yes, speaking of, we should all get some rest. Especially Y/n.”

Slowly, the rest of the team clears out, giving hugs on their way. 

“Not taking your own orders?” Y/n asks, noticing her boss making himself comfortable on the small couch in her hospital room. 

“I don’t think I could leave if I tried.” Aaron admits. 

“And why’s that?” Y/n asks, carefully turning to lay on her side to face him. 

“Because I love you.” He confesses, “I have for a while now, and it’s alright if you don’t feel the same, or if my position with this team makes you uncomfortable. I just don’t think I can go any longer without you at least knowing.”

“You love me?” Y/n asks, her voice cracking. Aaron finally has the courage to look over and she has tears in her eyes. 

“Yes.” He clears his throat, “The way you have become a part of my life, and Jack’s for that matter. You bring so much light with you everywhere you go, even after a day like you’ve had today. You manage to still be the brightest person I have ever met.”

“Please don’t make me get out of bed to kiss you, because I think I would crack another rib.” Y/n sighs. 

Hotch lets out a soft chuckle before getting up from his spot. 

“Only if you promise to go to bed after this, you need rest.” 

“Promise.” 

He leans down to connect their lips, it’s soft. Y/n can tell that he’s being gentle with her. She reaches up a hand to thread them through Aaron’s short hair, using it to her advantage to hold him there and pull him a little closer. They pull away eventually, Y/n stealing one more peck before fully letting go of him.

“Ok, maybe I’ve had worse days.” 

---

AHHHHHH my first time writing for criminal minds! i hope you guys liked it! 🥺

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #agent hotchner #hotch

[ladyartemesia]

▨ FIC • PREVIEW ▨

The Mark of Yun-Ki

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU  • Royalty AU • Fantasy AU • Daechwita AU

Summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir... but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

Word Count: (preview) 2280 (final word count approx. 7K)

Rating and Warnings: Preview is rated M(ature) but final fic will be E(xplicit) for heat sex among other thing. Warnings for the preview include sexual innuendo and mature themes.

Author’s Note: One of the reasons I wrote this was in response to a prompt given to me by @mindays​ like MONTHS ago (I have included the original prompt at the bottom of the preview) • I really hope you like it! Sorry I took so long.

“Why is he blindfolded?”

The guard beside you shifted uncomfortably. 

“The Emperor ordered that his eyes be covered at all times.”

Your gaze traveled covertly over your surroundings, assessing the dimly lit chamber with practiced disdain. 

“Leave us.” 

“My lady, I cannot-”

“Do you know who I am, soldier?”

Your voice slashed through the air like an icy whip. 

“Y-yes, my la-”

“Then you know it is unwise to displease my family.” One jeweled hand came to rest dramatically on your chest. “Your daughter is not yet 15...such a pity to orphan one so young.”

The soldier bowed almost too quickly. 

“I will be outside, my lady-” he bowed again and again as he backed toward the door, “I meant no disrespect-”

Then you were alone… save for the notorious prisoner bound and blindfolded in the cell before you. 

He was clearly aware of your presence, but made no move or sound of acknowledgement, not even when your footsteps brought you to the very edge of his enclosure. 

“Prisoner AG-D2... name unknown... crime unknown...” your hand travelled up to your hair to withdraw a long silver pin, “no date of birth, no date of arrest...”

The prisoner jerked suddenly when the sound of your pin tripping the cell’s iron lock reached his unnaturally sensitive ears. 

His nostrils flared as an almost familiar scent - buried beneath a decade of fury and fear - curled through him. 

“Who are you?” 

The words were more of a growl than a question, but the only answer he received was the sound of his cell door creaking open. 

“Why are you here?” he tried again. 

“I am here to tell you a story...”

The prisoner barked out an empty laugh at your strange reply.

“I love a good story,” he whispered bitterly. The corner of your mouth twitched a bit at his spirit. 

Wrists bound together, eyes covered… but still every inch the proud warrior. His clothes were worn, but well cared for and the body beneath them was sleek and strong. This was not a man accustomed to being bound. 

“You were not raised like the rest of our people... the tales of our customs and our gods were - deliberately - never taught to you...but it is past time that you knew of them.”

He grinned, granting you a wicked flash of razor sharp fangs.

“Are all of the Emperor’s captives tortured with fairytales?”

“Charming,” you snorted, dragging a small stool from the corner of his cell. The prisoner’s ears flicked curiously at the sound.

“Aren’t you afraid of me, storyteller? What if I’ve been imprisoned for devouring beautiful women like yourself?”

You shook your head in amusement as you settled onto the stool.

“Have you devoured many beautiful women then?”

“Oh absolutely-” his grin took on a decidedly sinful slant, “but I doubt that’s why I’m here.”

A strange fluttering stirred in your chest at his words, though you did not fully understand the cause. You could not afford to waste time dwelling on such things, however.

“So... why are you here?” 

The prisoner was silent for several moments as he weighed the risk of being honest with you. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered finally, “I was told the Emperor himself ordered my arrest… but I was never told why.”

Your fingernails dug painfully into the palm of your hand, but you offered no other outward reaction to his words.

“What do you know of the current Min Emperor?”

“Not much. I’ve heard he is young... Stories say he has the temper of a demon, but his people endure it because he is the favorite of an ancient god.”

Your jaw clenched.

“That is correct. Our citizens are privileged to serve and obey the Emperor because the great tiger god, Yun-Ki has chosen the House of Min as his sacred bloodline. It is believed that the Mins are descended from Yun-Ki himself...”

“How ironic,” the prisoner scoffed, “considering that the Mins despise hybrids. They claim we are the unnatural children of the spirit realm and the earth. Surely they would be ashamed to be the product of such… blasphemy.”

Feminine laughter filled the air. It had been so long since the bound man had heard anything so beautiful. The ache it stirred in him was nearly as foreign as the sound itself. 

“Yes it does seem rather hypocritical... especially in light of the events which bring me here.”

Your scent was stronger now. It tugged at the edges of his mind in broken pictures and flashes of sunshine. He knew it...

But he could not recognize it. 

Nor could he explain the heat it began to stir in him. 

“Yun-Ki’s chosen heir bears his sacred mark .... Every child of the emperor’s seed is checked for it the moment they are born. And no concubine or wife of the emperor is ever so exalted as the one who produces a marked heir... except of course, the mother of our current emperor.”

The prisoner leaned forward, fascinated in spite of the strange circumstances.

“The dowager empress is widely revered. I may not know your fairytales, but a hybrid’s ears are better than most. My guards speak of her often.”.

You nodded

“The dowager is indeed very highly regarded… but she is not the emperor’s true mother.”

“Lady…” the prisoner shook his head irritably. “What nonsense is this? And how could it possibly affect me?”

You chuckled softly and the small hairs on the back of his arms rose up in response. 

“Patience, prisoner, the truth I offer you is worth more than both our lives.”

“The fine jewelry I hear clinking around your neck is worth more than my life, lady,” he hissed. “Speak your peace and spare me these cryptic declarations.”

It took every ounce of self-control you possess not to flick him right in his arrogant nose. 

“As you wish,” you replied with heavily affected sweetness. “The story begins with our current emperor’s father. The old emperor was a man of warfare and his spies discovered that the Prince of neighboring PyonKang planned invade our territory, he marched his armies in and occupied the small kingdom without mercy…” (you paused here significantly) “He even took the Prince’s sister as his war prize...”

The prisoner snorted. 

“Did he know what she was?” He smiled coldly. “The royals of PyongKang do not share your nation’s distaste for hybrids or the pleasures of mating with one-”

There was a sharp spike in your scent when he spoke the words; a darker - richer essence than the one he detected earlier, but this time he had no trouble identifying it. 

Arousal. 

Blood churned chaotically beneath his skin, rushing to answer your body’s unspoken request. His mind clouded suddenly and for a moment...he could almost taste you. 

This is dangerous. 

The fabric of your gown rustled as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat - driven to relieve some of the unexpected pressure in your core. 

“He did not know. The lady bore no hybrid indicators. So the emperor assumed - quite incorrectly - that she was not a hybrid.” 

“I’ve heard of such things…” he sighed, sifting through his memory till he found what he was looking for. “A physician I met in Eastern Wei discovered that some hybrids manifest internally. They retain the outer shell of a human, but their inner parts reveal the truth.” His head tilted as he recalled the old doctor’s exact words. “The face of man could hide the heart of a snake.”

You drew your lip between your teeth and nibbled it nervously. 

“You are correct. Except, in the case of the emperor’s war prize concubine, the face of a beautiful woman hid the heart of a tiger.”

The man before you scrambled to his feet in a move so sudden and unexpected, you nearly cried out. 

“You mean to tell me that the current Min Emperor is a tiger hybrid? Surely I would have heard of it. The world would have heard of it.”

You drew a deep breath - almost as if to brace yourself for the words you planned to speak.

The prisoner’s eyes were covered, but he could still make out shapes and shadows through the rough cloth. Your shadow seemed unnaturally still. When you spoke again, your tone was softer and the sound of it resonated deep within him like the bells of the old temple near his childhood home. 

“The princess of PyongKang became pregnant, and gave birth to twin boys. The younger was strong and pale, gifted with the strange golden hair so many of the Min bloodline seem to possess. But his elder brother...”

Your hands opened and closed reflexively in your lap as you worked to calm your pounding pulse. 

“... The elder brother’s hybrid heritage was quite evident.”

You moved then, stepping slowly and carefully until you stood before the prisoner face to face. Your scent swelled erotically with every step until it wrapped around him like a velvet vice. The urge to lean into it - into you - was nearly unbearable. 

“One of the twins bore the tiger god’s mark... but not the one who sits on the throne now.”

Your hand stretched slowly toward the edge of the prisoner’s blindfold. 

“The emperor executed his hybrid concubine immediately, yet even he was not bold enough to kill Yun-Ki’s chosen heir...”

Your fingers hovered a hairsbreadth from his skin. Once you touched him, everything would change. The truth you chased for eleven years would be within your grasp. 

“He sent the child to a poor family of fox hybrids who worked and lived on the estate of his most loyal warlord. The boy was never to know what he was… who he was...”

You could almost feel the moment he grasped the implication of your words. The subtle bond that always hummed strangely between you remained strong despite the years of separation. 

“The warlord had a daughter who loved to ride her horse near the lake.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly as you continued. “One day the horse was startled by a snake and it threw her into the water...”

A single tear wet his blindfold as the alluring tendrils of your scent merged chaotically with the treasured echoes in his mind. 

“Tiger hybrids hate the water,” you whispered, gently drawing the cloth up over his head, “but you dove in to save me anyways.”

Your lungs and throat burned from coughing out the water you swallowed, yet the pain was far preferable to the finality of drowning. The heavy fabric of your gown weighed you down as soon as your body crashed into the lake. 

Death reached for you, but the strange boy cradling you tightly to his chest had pulled you back before you were lost to its embrace.

“Little one, can you hear me?”

His eyes scanned frantically over your small drenched form for signs of serious injury, but you were completely distracted from your almost untimely end by the two feline ears twitching conspicuously amid the boy’s sodden curls. 

“You’re… You’re a cat!”

The boy’s jaw dropped open indignantly. 

“I’m tiger hybrid! Not a cat.” He shook his head irritably. “Have you never seen a hybrid before?”

“I’ve only heard of hybrids. I’ve never really seen one-”

Your fingers itched to touch the soft fur of his ears and you stretched forward almost absently to do so till he lashed out and snatched your wandering hand. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Oh… I was going to...pet you?” you murmured sheepishly, prompting an irritable growl from the boy. 

“Little One, you do not pet tigers.”

He stood to his feet abruptly, dumping you into a soggy heap in the process. It took considerable effort for you to pull yourself upright while wearing 4 layers of thoroughly soaked cloth, but you eventually managed to regain your bearings and scramble after him. 

“Wait! Come back please I EEP-” 

The water dripping off your dress made the grass rather slippery… Both legs flew out from under you and, for the second time in less than a minute, you found yourself flat on your back. 

After a few moments of gazing miserably into the sky, a familiar face hovered over yours. 

“What a strange girl you are, Little One.”

You grinned.

“What is your name, tiger?”

He sighed deeply and held his hand out to pull you up. 

“I’m Yoongi.”

“Hello, Yoongi.” You tried to manage a proper bow, but only ended up losing your balance again. Yoongi grabbed your sleeve just in time to prevent you from crashing face first at his feet. 

“You’re completely hopeless,” he chuckled, endeared in spite of himself. 

Then you smiled. 

It was a fierce, blinding thing and Yoongi became aware of a subtle yet profound shift deep within the recess of his soul; something his primal half recognized immediately, but his human mind could not begin to comprehend. 

“No one’s ever said that to me before, even though I know they all think it.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged. 

“They are probably afraid of my father.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in alarm. 

“You’re the warlord’s daughter?!”

“Yes,” you replied with all the haughtiness a ten-year old could muster, “and I’m quite used to getting what I want.”

Yoongi felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. You were such an adorable little brat. 

“And what is it you’re wanting now, Little One?”

You nibbled your lip for a moment, suddenly shy before the handsome hybrid boy whose beautiful feline eyes danced with unconcealed mirth. 

“I want you to be my friend.”

Thirteen years later, those same golden eyes locked with yours as a strangled sob bubbled up from the back of his throat. 

“Little One?” his face lit suddenly with pure joy “...is it you?”

Please let me know in the comments if you would like to be added to the taglist!

I would love to know any thoughts or theories you have! Thank you for reading! This story will be published on or around 7/31!

This is the original prompt which inspired this story...

#min yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi smut #hybrid yoongi #yoongi smut #hybrid fic

[moonlitceleste]

straight up villain (Villain AU)

This is a songfic based on “Villain” by K/DA ft. Madison Beer and Kim Petras. There’s really no plot to it; I started with a vague idea and just went along with whatever my brain told me. It kinda jumps around and I didn’t proofread this at all, so sorry if it’s confusing!

I’d suggest listening to the song and watching the visualizer video because it’s honestly such a vibe. If I could animate I’d totally make a video full of epic fight scenes, but unfortunately I don’t have that talent learned yet.

This version of the song is a little more chill, so if you find the original too intense you can always listen to the slowed one instead.

On the low Only love myself, no more Take you to the grave, I'll ghost I know I can be so cold In the dark Where I like to keep my heart Know I'm all bite, no bark Like to catch you way off guard

A shiver ran down the crime boss’ spine.

His eyes darted around the room, searching through the darkness.

Shadows flickered. He swore he could see movement in them.

The night was crime’s time to rule; people feared the darkness it brought.

Now, he was the scared one.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“Who’s there?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, revealing his false bravado.

Shaking hands gripped the gun around his waist, knuckles turning white with pressure.

Creeeakk.

The man whipped around, heart hammering in his chest.

Who—or what—was lurking in the shadows?

A snap echoed through the air as he fired a round.

Silence.

The only sound came from distant echoes of Gotham’s nightlife and the frantic beating in his throat.

He swore he had seen something sweep out in the corner of his vision, if only for a moment.

Perhaps it was the paranoia.

He slowly lowered his gun, shoulders relaxing—

Only to whip around when he felt a phantom hand brush his shoulder.

A pair of eyes flashed in the darkness, gone the next second, but he knew what he had seen, what he had felt.

Icy fear seized his body, taking hold of his limbs.

Something was watching him.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

“Stop toying around.”

The gravelly voice was met with a cackle, almost cat-like in nature.

That was his only warning before it stepped from the shadows: a creature out of his nightmares, shrouded in darkness like part of the night itself.

Sharpened black claws glinted under the streetlights, and dark black orbs pinned him in place as it slunk forward. He couldn’t move, frozen like a deer in headlights.

The thing was so human-like in shape, but it was too monstrous to be one.

A wicked smile spread across its face, and his face blanched as he caught sight of the fangs protruding from the top.

The creature stalked forward like a predator chasing its prey.

Then, it pounced.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of drеad 'Til you go pow

It was common knowledge within Gotham’s criminal underworld that the Arkham Knight worked alone. He played by his own rules, merciless in his distribution of justice.

But lately, it was rumored that the Knight had an ally.

There was no proof of this, no sightings to go by, but there was a subtle shift that could be felt—an underlying sensation of imminent danger.

Gunfights and confrontations lessened, and the Knight’s enemies started disappearing without a trace. No blood, body, or evidence of struggle could be found; it was as if they had simply ceased to exist.

Whoever this new player was, they were dangerous.

Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind And I treat you likе a prize, then I throw you to the side? And am I really that bad if l love to make you mad? And get happy when you're sad, only care about a bag

Jason shook out his hair, metal helmet in his hands, and leveled a glance at his companion.

“Did you really have to take so long to kill him?”

The two were in one of their few safe houses, recuperating after their long night of fighting.

“It’s the thrill of the chase.”

Marinette, no longer transformed, stated this as if it were obvious—which it was. Jason had been with her long enough to understand her concept of fun. She leaned forward and stretched, looking much like the animal after which her magic ring was themed.

“We can’t waste time playing around. There are more important things to be done,” he growled.

Marinette simply giggled, bounding over to bat her eyes at him with mock innocence.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Her smile grew wicked, arms darting out to wrap around his waist.

“You look so good when you’re mad,” she purred.

Jason leaned down, and their lips met in a kiss.

In control That's how I like it and I'm never letting go, nah Never had a soul (soul) So you ain't taking nothing from me when you go, nah

Crack.

Marinette smirked as her staff made contact with the target’s skull.

Normally she would use Cataclysm for a more swift kill, but the remains were needed in order to send a message to Arkham Knight’s enemies.

They were growing more volatile, more desperate to expose whatever they thought she was.

Phantom Killer, they called her. The name sounded like something out of a badly-written horror movie. Marinette much preferred the one she had already: Reine de L'ombre.

Of course, she didn’t need a title, but Jason had come up with it. She was pleasantly surprised by his naming skills—it meant Shadow Queen, for she was a queen, and Jason her knight, as he put it.

She didn’t feel any remorse as the pile of bodies below her grew. Perhaps this made her soulless, but she didn’t need one anyway.

Marinette had all she wanted right beside her.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“...you do what you gotta do, am I right?”

Marinette nodded at the man standing across from her, a smile on her red-painted lips.

He had been leering at her from across the bar the whole night, and although that was the goal, she was still disgusted. He had to be at least twenty years older than her. Heck, he was old enough to be her dad.

The intel she and Jason had acquired said the businessman had a thing for younger women, which was apparent. According to the same source, the company he ran was also a front for trafficking and drug rings.

Marinette wanted to see him bleed.

“How about we take this to my room?”

The comment was abrupt, and Jason would probably kill her for her indiscretion later, but she was getting tired of the man’s blabbering.

Her hand moved up his arm, the expensive material of his suit cool against her fingers. She bit her lips seductively, which seemed to convince him.

Bingo.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (yeah, yeah) Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

Marinette gritted her teeth as the man tried to reach for her butt again. 

She attempted to stop him by saying she wanted to wait until they entered her room, but he was persistent. She couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

As soon as she opened the door to her hotel room, she shoved him inside and up against the wall. He seemed to be expecting a kiss, but she punched him hard. For a crime lord he certainly wasn’t a good fighter. Maybe it was the drugs she slipped into his drink earlier that contributed to his quick defeat.

Marinette cuffed his arms behind his back with a pair she had stashed earlier. She could have waited for the man to undress so she could ensure he didn’t have any weapons, but she had gone through enough torture already. Her eyes didn’t need to see that.

She turned him around, giving him a smile that promised warmth and kindness, before pulling out a dagger and pressing it to his throat.

“Now talk.”

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread 'Til you go pow

“Claws in.”

Marinette’s black suit faded away, revealing her now blood-spattered red dress.

She flopped onto the couch, not bothering to remove her shoes or dirty clothing.

After hours of trying to get information out of the businessman, she only managed to wring a few coded phrases from him. He seemed to only be a figurehead of his shady organization rather than its actual leader.

A Cataclysm later and here she was, back to the drawing board.

“Jay?” Marinette called.

It was unusually quiet in the safe house; usually after solo missions they’d greet one another with a kiss. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Jason?”

Silence.

Marinette huffed. She knew exactly what this was about.

Bang, bang You can do anything No fear, no pain Listen to your brain go Go stupid, go dumb, go stupid and Then we go insane, woah Just do what I say Follow me, I'll lead the way

“Are you jealous?”

Jason whipped his head around, caught off-guard by the appearance of his girlfriend in his doorway. It seemed as if she wasn’t wasting any time.

“I’m not jealous. That guy couldn’t get you if he tried.”

“Then why are you mad?”

His jaw clenched.

He wished he hadn’t agreed to let Marinette extract the information alone; Jason almost wished he was there to see the man in pain.

“He was putting his hands all over you.”

“It was for a mission. Besides, I thought you said he couldn’t get me even if he tried?”

Her last words were said with a lilt, and Jason knew she was riling him up. He couldn’t stay mad, anyway—she had a point.

He deflated and leaned forward to brush his lips against her. Marinette smiled into the kiss, then pulled away. She looked him up and down, a glint in her eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, hmm?”

She paused, then wrinkled her nose.

“After I take a shower. I don’t want this guy’s blood on me any longer.”

Maybe they acted stupid sometimes, but the two always followed one another in the end.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price (Woo-ah) All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain (Yeah) Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (Woo-ah!)

Marinette panted deeply, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A mass of bodies surrounded her, but she wasn’t paying attention. This wasn’t just a battle. It was war.

It was a fight for her life, and she wasn’t going down now.

Reine de L'ombre tore through her enemies like a terrifying force of darkness, one after the other. The Arkham Knight fought by her side, fueled by pure destruction.

Maybe they wouldn’t make it out, but they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread

'Til you go pow

A week later, a couple rose hand-in-hand from the ranks as new rulers of the Gotham Underworld.

Reine de L'ombre and the Arkham Knight—a queen and her king.

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

#maribat #celestewrites #jasonette #cel's fics

[spaceshipkat]

i think so much of writing respectfully and inclusively is being aware of what you’re putting down on the page. what do i mean by this? what better author to focus on than sj///m, right? i’ll start with CCity on this, since it’s the one where it’s most obvious she’s trying so hard to fix her mistakes, but the problem always comes back to her fundamental misunderstanding of why and how her shit is problematic in the first place and what she must do to fix said problematic shit. 

i’m sticking this under a cut bc, surprise surprise, i rambled 😌

take, for instance, Hunt: i think it’s pretty widely-accepted he’s coded as a MOC, (potentially an Asian-coded man) since he’s given “golden-brown skin” and “angular” eyes. sj//m was trying to be more inclusive by writing him in such a way that he shouldn’t be perceived as white, but what she failed to realize is two big things: 1) the fact he’s a slave of centuries who is constantly tortured, mutilated, and manipulated by his oppressors, and 2) the fact he lusts after and is demeaned by Bruce, a white girl. furthermore, Bruce constantly makes comments about how Hunt should fight back, shouldn’t allow himself to remain a slave, and taunts him into either disobeying Micah (the man he’s enslaved to) or killing for her. it’s made clear time and time again that Hunt doesn’t like that he’s an assassin for Micah, and yet there are so many instances of him wanting to kill or hurt someone for Bruce, which not only makes his characterization inconsistent, it plays into the problematic trope of the dark-skinned aggressor (a trope that sj///m seems to be particularly fond of, what with the Illyrians). 

(on the topic of Hunt, a quick side-note: the idea of the “alphahole” that comes up again and again in CCity and that antis have critiqued up the wazoo (though not with the “alphahole” colloquialism until CCity came along, but i don’t think many antis actually use “alphahole” as anything but a joke when talking about her obvious love of the hypermasculine alpha male). sj///m is clearly trying to call out her past mistakes and work to rectify them going forward, but she completely fails bc she only succeeds at 1) mocking her readers, who are often fans of hers bc they like the alpha male douchebag sj///m is infamous for, and 2) making herself sound like an idiot when she calls out “alphahole” behavior while actively writing “alphaholes” and making them (possible) endgame love interests (i say possible bc it’s anyone’s guess if sj///m will actually subvert everyone and their mother’s expectations by making Hunt endgame). Hunt is an “alphahole,” even if he’s not quite as bad as riceman or rowboat and even if sj///m thinks she’s not actually writing an “alphahole”. with his aforementioned behavior toward anyone who’s mean to Bruce (aka wanting to kill them for her), he still falls under the “alphahole” category.

but i digress.)

another example of sj///m writing without being aware of what she’s actually putting on the page is her inclusion of queer rep. sj///m queerbaits quite a lot with Danika, thanks to lines she has involving Bruce and her relationship with Bruce, not to mention how many times others wonder if Bruce and Danika are “just” best friends and not actually lovers. we have Hunt wonder about it, after all, several times iirc. one that stands out the most is when he says that they have to be more than “just” best friends because Bruce doesn’t mourn Danika like someone mourns “just” their best friend, thus implying that Bruce is mourning Danika like a lover and/or spouse (bc obviously people can’t be torn to pieces over losing their best friend in a horrific attack, right?). 

here’s some lines that have romantic connotations bc i am nothing if not a historian who likes citations: 

page 38 of my ebook: 

Danika just said it. “If he grabs his phone to check his messages before his dick’s barely out of you again, please have the self-respect to kick his balls across the room and come home to me.” 

page 45 of my ebook: 

But it was Danika’s added “Love you” as [Bruce] slipped out into the grimy hallway that made her hesitate with her hand on the knob. 

It’d taken Danika a few years to save those words, and she still used them sparingly. Danika had initially hated it when [Bruce] said them to her—even when [Bruce] explained that she’d spent most of her life saying it, just in case it was the last time. In case she wouldn’t get to say goodbye to the people who mattered most. And it had taken one of their more fucked-up adventures[...]to get Danika to utter the words, but at least she now said them. Sometimes. 

page 258 of my ebook (aka the line of Hunt’s i referenced above): 

The silence pressed on [Hunt] enough that he asked, “Were you and Danika lovers?” 

He’d been told two years ago that they weren’t, but friends didn’t mourn each other the way [Bruce] seemed to have so thoroughly shut down every part of herself. The way he had for Shahar. 

[...]

Hunt turned in place as [Bruce] padded around the other end of the kitchen island, flinging open the enormous metal fridge to examine its meager contents. “No,” [Bruce] said, her voice flat and cold. “Danika and I weren’t like that.” 

page 696 of my ebook: 

[Bruce] swallowed, looking at the ground that was not earth, but the very base of Self, of the world. She whispered, “I’m scared.”

Danika grabbed her hand again. “That’s the point of it, [Bruce]. Of life. To live, to love, knowing that it might all vanish tomorrow. It makes everything that much more precious.” She took [Bruce’s] face in her hands and pressed their brows together. 

page 700 of my ebook (and i was torn on including this one, but it’s from Danika, so i think i should): 

Danika had whispered, “I love you,” before fading into nothing, her hand sliding from Bryce’s.

page 703 of my ebook (also torn on this, but it does sound a little queer, so): 

But it wasn’t okay. Not even close. What had happened, what [Bruce had] done and revealed, the Horn in her body, all those people dead, Lehabah dead, and seeing Danika, Danika, Danika—

Her breathless words turned into pants, and then shuddering sobs.

also, not for nothing, but the fact Danika dies without an actual male love interest to make Her Straightness Obvious kinda also implies she’s queer, but *sips tea*

furthermore, there’s the way sj///m writes Fury and Juniper: we see the two women together in one scene, in which Juniper is fetishized and goes to sleep with some random guy. for the rest of the book, they never interact on-page and thus we are never given the chance to see their dynamic, which would provide crucial context clues to what their relationship really is by the time this exchange happens between Fury and Bruce on page 494 of my ebook:

“And yet you can still talk to Juniper?” Bryce’s throat closed up. “I wasn’t worth the risk to you?”

Fury hissed, “Juniper and I have something that is none of your fucking business.” Bryce refrained from gaping. Juniper had never hinted, never suggested—“I could no sooner stop talking to her than I could rip out my own fucking heart, okay?”

“I get it, I get it,” Bryce said. She blew out a long breath. “Love trumps all.”

i’ve talked about this scene to death, but this is written in such a way that it can be read as “just” best friends or as two women in a romantic relationship, depending on the reader. the fact that Bruce “gapes” (which faerug also does to Mor, and which i talk about below) implies that being openly queer isn’t accepted in this world, that it’s not very likely you’ll see two women holding hands as they walk down the sidewalk or kiss at a romantic restaurant. it also implies that Bruce, no matter that she says about “love trumps all,” might not be as accepting as sj///m would like us to believe. maybe sj///m has never had a friend come out to her before, but if i came out to someone and they gaped at me (and i’ve come out to several people several times now, both about my sexuality and my gender, so i have some experience here), i don’t think i would be very happy with them/want to remain their friend. 

on the note of queer rep in sj///m’s work, Mor is another fantastic example of trying to be inclusive through a response to criticism without sj///m being aware of what, exactly, she’s writing. Mor comes out because faerug all but forces her to by not shutting up what a good guy Azriel is and that Mor should just give him a chance. that right there is fucked on so many levels, not just because Mor is a lesbian, but bc she’s supposedly faerug’s friend. no one should ever force their friends to date someone they don’t want to (i’ve had this happen to me! i had to literally snap at my friend to get her to back off bc i wasn’t going to go to the dance with this one guy who ignored my every rejection and bought us tickets to winter formal, just bc he’s a nice guy and i might like him if i gave him a chance), but i don’t think sj///m could figure out how else to write Mor’s coming out scene, largely bc she has no fucking clue how disgusting the scene we’re given is. the problem with Mor being a lesbian is threefold: 1) she’s a woman who was tortured by her father and left to die bc she was no longer a virgin; 2) Azriel spends centuries lusting after a woman who makes it clear time and again that she does not reciprocate his feelings and yet he cannot take the fucking hint, so much so that sj///m has to now dangle Elain in front of him like a piece of meat to get him to let go of Mor; and 3) sj///m was obviously setting up Mor and Azriel to be an endgame couple in ac0maf, as evidenced both in canon and in her pinterest board: 

even stans picked up on it, what with their vocal outrage over how Mor “led Azriel on” for centuries instead of just outing herself to a man she obviously does not feel safe around, and posts like these: 

and fanart like this: 

the tl;dr of this ramble is this: if you want to write inclusively and respectfully, you have to be 100% aware of everything you’re putting on the page. when people ask for advice on this kind of thing, my first comment is to always say they’re already on the right track bc they’re already thinking of this, rather than being unaware of problems bc a state of unawareness is where the problems begin to appear. Hafsah Faizal has talked about this before on her twitter (i wish i could find the tweet, but this is from eons ago), but if you write a character of color when you yourself are white, you have to be wholly conscious of how your white character talks to this character of color. if the character of color is constantly yelled at or ordered around or ignored by the white character, that’s a big problem. if you write a queer character when you yourself are straight, you have to be conscious of how your queer character comes out, is perceived by the reader, and is treated by the straight character. if the queer character comes out by comparing their bisexuality to forced prostitution, as is the case with Aedion and Lysandra in t0g, that’s a big problem. 

the moment you share your work for public consumption, it no longer matters what your intentions are (something sj///m has a lot of trouble understanding, hence why she over-explains everything in her interviews and on tours, not to mention why she force-feeds us her opinion of her characters in canon so we’re forced to share the exact same outlook on them) bc all that matters is what you’ve put down on the page. your words, at that point, have no choice but to speak for themselves, and if they do any of the above, your work is going to come under warranted critique, and unless you learn from that critique and do more than half-assed jobs to write more inclusively and respectfully, you’ll run into the exact same problems that sj///m has with CCity. 

#anti sjm #anti ccity #anti acotar #anti tog #long post #stans being stans #writing advice #writing tips #sorta

[magaprima]

I really love and admire how through the course of the series, we see that by Part 4 Lilith has managed to break out of the abuse cycle (the idea that the abused go on to abuse others as that’s the only behaviour they know) she had with Lucifer. 

I mean, she obviously has relapses (after all, she has been in this abuse cycle for millennia and technically since her creation if you also consider the way she was treated by Adam in the Garden and the False God) and there are moments we have to acknowledge are symptoms of her own survivalist nature, of self-preservation at the expense of all else (though considering she’s so often been threatened/banished/punished for her behaviour in the past, we can’t help but wonder how much of that survivalist nature is borne of her abuse. After all, she dared know her own worth and her own creator left her to die as punishment). 

But, back to the abuse cycle, we see her in Part 1 engaging in that cycle completely, treating Sabrina how Lucifer treats her (as expendable to her own ends, as something to be used for another purpose, not caring for the consequences on them personally), she kills Stolas for saying something she didn’t want to hear (just as Lilith has learned not to say things Lucifer doesn’t want to hear), even risking all of Greendale to get Sabrina to sign the book. Actually, I would say that is the prime example of Lilith being part of the abuse cycle, because in order to avoid the Dark Lord’s wrath she summons the Greendale 13 and the Red Death (’the Dark Lord was growing impatient with me. I needed to change tactics’); she is abusing others in order to escape abuse herself. 

But her time in Greendale being treated as an actual person and with respect by Sabrina, the staff and students at Baxter High, and experiencing what it is to be in a healthy romantic relationship in her time with Adam 2.0, makes Lilith slowly start to break out of that cycle. It’s small at first, just questioning the Dark Lord slyly, daring to challenge him, and defying him (in hiding Adam rather than killing him as requested), until eventually she steps out of the shadows, and the cycle, entirely when she exposes her role in the betrayal of Lucifer in order to protect Sabrina from harm (significantly, at his hand). Her words ‘hold that nasty thought!’ as she does it are particularly revealing because it’s not just her recognising his behaviour,or even just her stopping it, she is vocally condemning it as well, revealing she has broken away from his behaviour entirely, and has stopped the cycle. 

Part 3 is the first time we see Lilith living her life outside of that abuse cycle, and we can see clearly that, yeah, she is learning and developing as this new separate-from-the-cycle person and making her own non-cycle behaviour choices, and there are relapses as I said (the primary example is probably when she tries to torture Sabrina and her friends into leaving Hell rather than, you know, talking) but you see throughout the episodes that she supports Sabrina rather than plotting against her (despite being so very clearly irritated and pissed off when Sabrina takes the crown instead of handing it over like she promised). She is, eventually, even actually happy at the idea of sharing the throne for eternity and ruling at Sabrina’s side, whereas in Part 1, and even in Part 2, she’d just be full on planning Sabrina’s murder. 

She also goes out of her way to help return Lucy to her Mother (I say ‘out of her way’ because she doesn’t just drop the child off unceremoniously at the door, she waits until the mother arrives, even watches a moment to ensure it’s done, and wipes Lucy’s memories so that she doesn’t remember anything bad, only eating ice cream), she tells Mary to run rather than killing her on the spot (which after Mary unwittingly hands Lilith over to Lucifer, Lilith, in part 1, would definitely have killed Mary for that. Heck, she killed her just to copy her body in the first episode), and then when Sabrina M is crowned, we see Lilith being actually supportive rather than vicious, giving her extremely good and solid advice (and Sabrina M even openly says that Lilith is ‘super supportive’), because now that she’s been living for some time out of the abuse cycle, she recognises that Sabrina is not her enemy, and that she’d just be attacking her for a circumstance created by Lucifer. Out of the cycle, Lilith is able to consistently recognise the true abuser and issue, rather than just lashing out at the immediate situation/person. 

So with all this, by Part 4 we have a Lilith who now asks for help rather than demanding it, she says genuine thanks for that help rather than dismissing or presuming, she’s concerned for their welfare when they take risks for her sake (when the sisters say she can stay with them, she asks ‘but what about the Dark Lord’s wrath?’, a concern she certainly wouldn’t have had back in Part 1), she’d rather have her own suffering and grief than to have her child suffer, she is honest about her emotions and motivations, and she doesn’t condemn or manipulate others over their emotions. We, in fact, see no manipulations from Lilith at all in Part 4 beyond her manipulation of Lucifer in order to kill him (even her plan to stop Sabrina M’s marriage to Caliban is much less manipulation and much more your typical relative-tries-to-stop-disaster-wedding-and-teams-up-with-other-relatives-to-do-so. It’s basically a rom-com plot waiting to happen). 

We also get further confirmation of how much she has completely broken away from the abuse cycle and grown positively as a person when we have the Emperor Blackwood alternate reality. We see that everyone in this reality reflects their motivations/team in the real world (e.g Mary is on Blackwood’s side, Zelda is still running the school, Dr Cee and Hilda are the safe haven), and Lilith, instead of being off on her own with Adam and putting herself and her survival first as she most certainly would have been had this been Part 1 Lilith, is instead part of the Resistance, she is someone who is standing by the coven even in a world when they don’t know they’re a coven, and is fighting for what’s right rather than what is easiest and least risky. 

And finally, we see the last confirmation in the finale, when we see we now have a Lilith who mourns Sabrina’s death, rather than seeing it as finally having no challenger to her throne (which, again, in Part 1 would have been certainly how she viewed it, as she viewed everything through the abuse cycle Lucifer had kept her in) because she’s not only broken out of the abuse cycle, but she’s also no longer engaging in the patriarchal brainwashing that often comes with abuse at the hands of man, that teaches you all other women are the competition/enemy, 

She grows so much over all four Parts and has broken out of the abuse cycle so completely by the finale that I genuinely believe that if she were to be sent into the past to relieve everything from the beginning of Part 1, she’d make very different decisions. 

#headcanons

[elia-de-silentio]

RECAP ON DOMINIQUE AND NOÉ

So, as finally our girl Dominique has been given a well deserved focus after two years of absence, I want to make another recap, this time about her and especially her relationship to Noé.

Above, here's how Dominique is introduced to us. A confident, charming lady in a somewhat masculine attire, her image surrounded in shojo flowers, claiming to be Noé's fiancée.

Her later appearences at the Bal Masqué seem to confirm her 'Strong & Charming Lady' appeal: she's a graceful dancer, she lives up to the sadistic side implied in her name, she swordfights and her open, assertive personality destabilizes more conventional, 'shy' women such as Nox and Jeanne. She's also shown to be very protective of Noé, worring about him and even torturing Vanitas to ensure he wasn't a threath.

But there's also a softer side to her relationship with Noé - who actually keeps her friendzoned - one made of mutual respect, long-standing affection, comprension and willingness to listen to the other troubles ... partially. She listens to Noé, but doesn't actually tell him her feelings or thoughts, even if our cinnamon roll would very likely listen.

At the same time, some cracks begin to appear in this image. She fails to fight her sister away from Vanitas and Noé (and ends up tied and hanging from the lamp for everyone to see); she's later revealed in her chat with Jeanne about Vanitas that she doesn't know much about relationships, despite what her being so outgoing can lead to think.

Moreover, by this point of the story, Noé's childhood flashbacks have started.

Dominique is the one in the frilly dress, hiding behind her brother. As a child, her personality was very different: a conventionally feminine, shy child. This led people to theorize that her change was brought about by her mourning for Louis, an attempt to keep his memory alive by resembling him as much as she could.

Then we have the Arc of Gevaudan, in which she is barely mentioned, and then we have the latest chapters.

First of all, in chapter 43, we see her interacting directly with her older siblings. And while it was hinted that they didn't have that great of a relationship, here she looks to afraid to be in their mere presence. Every single disparaging remark from Veronica and Antoine (and they throw around a lot of them) gets an almost frozen in fear Dominique as a reaction. It's like, in the presence of her family, she regresses to the shy girl of her childhood, with none of her usual confidence.

Next, in chapter 45, in the midst of trying to keep the "insecure" Jeanne from entusiastically yelling to the world how horny she is for Vanitas, she reveals: 1) that she actually is pretty conventional when it comes to love and relationships; 2) that she sees Noé as dashing and strong and is confirmed as head-over-heels for him; 3) that she doesn't think she is good enough for him.

She believes Noé would prefer Jeanne (when he never indicated anything more than a vague curiosity about her), and when reflecting about it, she thinks back to her siblings' insults.

She thinks that she's not as charming as Jeanne, and then she seems on the verge of a panic or anxiety attack, thinking obsessively about Noé.

The ending of the same chapter reveals that there is a good helping from Misha on her situation: he did something to her, to tamper with her control of her own actions, but still her love for Noé is stronger, she fights back against the order of bringing him to the little creep.

The bigger point, as revealed in chapter 46, is: Dominique has zero self-esteem. Like the flowers around her were spewn around by a machine, that first image we got of her was carefully crafted, to hide an extremely insecure young woman.

Since early childhood, Dominique was unfavourably compared to her older siblings; she isn't as strong of a combatant as Veronica, and as Antoine helpfully points out, she holds no political power, unlike him.

And then there's the whole Louis affair.

The story so far has shown the toll his death had on Noé, but here we see the effect on Dominique, and it was devastating.

She wished she had been the one to die. She believes she's at fault for what happened.

And she gets what in her mind is a confirm: the reason why Louis was kept isolated was because he was her twin, and this in the appearently terribly superstitious vampire culture is seen as bad luck. So, in her mind, if she had never existed, her brother would have had a long and happy life.

Moreover, Veronica sees fit to completely destroy her sister's self-worth by bringing up those 'expectations' Dominique failed to live up to.

Then, with an excellent timing, Noé wakes up from an angst-induced fever, and puts the icing of shit on the cake of shit that has been Dominique's day. He essentially confirmed her worst fears: everyone would have preferred Louis to her. Those who theorized that Dominique's new mannerism where due to trying to keep Louis alive were so right, in a likely worst way than they could ever have thought of.

(Random thought I don't know where else to put: Dominique, in all of the manga,has never been seen in her usual masculine clothing around her family. She had either a ballgown or a nightgown, both very frilly and similar to what she would have wore as a little girl; way to represent her feelings of inferiority in front of them).

And so we have it. Dominique's life has been one of regular emotional abuse and a severe trauma; between the image her family tried to force her to live to and the awareness that only a whim of her father and grandfather -independent of any personal characteristic of the children - left her to live instead of her brother, she developed a very feeble sense of self - and what little personal identity she has, she doesn't like. So she tried to hide it all with a mask, to take on herself the identity of her brother to make someone worthier live in her stead ... but it didn't work out very well.

And the saddest part of all of this, is that Dominique has a very definite identity to those who love her, and it's a great one. Despite not reciprocating her feelings (as far as we know) Noé values her the world as his friend. She has always been here when he needed someone to talk to. She worries about him, but respects his choices. Her love for him is so strong, that it overrides Misha's mind control.

And do we want to talk about Jeanne? Dominique barely knows her, but she sees this girl in a social position other vampires despise, and she immediately bonds with her. She encourages her to get out of her shell, tries to give her advice at the best of her abilities, and she was very willing to risk her reputation and the wrath of her family to protect her.

Dominique is a great friend, an observant and caring person, and she doesn't give a damn about her family's racism and classism. If only she could realize it.

Personally, I don't know where her arc is heading. She's in a very precarious position right now. Her death would give Noé a second trauma and a reason to hate Misha that could lead to a clash with Vanitas (who clearly still cares about his younger brother, as shown by his guilt complex), but would also make Dominique's own arc a very tragic one. Her life would have been defined by being used by others, never realizing her true worth. It would lack closure - which narratively is something that can be done to work, but it's not what I personally would like for poor Dominique.

On the other hand, if Noé manages to get her to safety, then she can be helped. She can be cured by whatever Misha did to her, but above that, she can make her own arc one of self-descovery and affirmation, which definitely would have me cheering on for her.

Knowing Mochizuki's reputation, her survival is quite uncertain; but let us remember that the main theme of this work is 'salvation', and that we already got a surprisingly sweet ending for the Arc of Gevaudan, with everyone surviving and happy.

Until next chapter, we just have to wait and hope.

#vanitas no carte #vnc #vnc dominique #vnc noe #vnc meta #the case study of vanitas #vnc jeanne #vnc spoilers #elia's recaps

[justlightlysedated]

for @zuluoscarecho​ 🥰🥰

-

Michael is in the middle of changing the oil on Mr. Jameson’s ancient Chevy, when there are hands wrapped around his ankles rolling him out on the creeper from beneath the hood of the car.

Michael takes in the military uniforms, tactical gear, and the fact that they all have their faces completely covered and is immediately on guard, trying to figure out how to get out of this without actually revealing his secret.

"Are you Michael Guerin?" One of them asks, voice muffled by their masks, but the command in their tone is unmistakable.

"Who's asking?" Michael asks instead, not wanting to give an inch.

"His face matches the picture, Number Two," another voice pipes up. "We can just take him and confirm once-"

The voice is cut off with a painful sounding hiss, but Michael's eyes are narrowed and on the person who seems to be in charge here.

"What are the charges?" He asks, pushing himself up to his feet, and letting the creeper slide back underneath the car. "Because I know you can't arrest me without a warrant."

The group of four soldiers are all pointing their guns at him, except the one called Number Two, whose eyes look too amused for Michaels liking.

"Who says we're here to arrest you?" They ask, and before Michael can think of something to say to that, one of the soldiers closest to him moves, swinging his gun and catching Michael right on the side of the head.

Fuck, Michael thinks as everything goes black.

-

Michael comes back to consciousness violently, fists swinging and feet kicking, his knuckles smart when he actually comes into contact with someone, who grunts in pain.

"Calm down, Mr. Guerin," the same commanding voice from before says. "We're not going to hurt you."

The only difference in the voice is that it's not muffled anymore, which is the only reason that Michael opens his eyes and gives them a pointed look in answer.

The woman in question is standing in the middle of the room, she's tall and regal looking, blonde hair kept away from her face by a braid. The other three soldiers are sitting on the opposite side of the small room, two more women, one wearing a hijab, the other a brunette with her hair cut short and severe aligning with her chin and a blonde guy, built like a linebacker, hair buzzed on the sides and cropped short on top, rubbing a red spot on his cheek and glaring at Michael, all of them looking around the same age, which is not any much older than he is.

“The fact that you knocked me out and then brought me here, wherever here is says pretty much otherwise, so excuse me for not actually believing that,” Michael says, ignoring the pounding in his head to sit up, not really liking being in a vulnerable position around so many people, especially considering these people were soldiers.

The woman, who he figures is Number Two, straightens up even more, tucking her hands behind her back, and she somehow looks even taller than before as she starts to speak.

“Our apologies, but we need your help,” she says, and keeps speaking before Michael can ask what exactly they need him for.

“We are Troop Eleven-Zero-Six of the USAF, in charge of infiltrating and retrieving. I am First Lieutenant, Barbara Wilson, but everyone calls me Number Two. My team,” she motions over to them and they all introduce themselves, but Michael is still caught back a couple of sentences before when she said they were part of the USAF, the Air Force, meaning that this was either his one way ticket to a dissection table or this had to do with Alex.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says, interrupting the guy who’d been rubbing his cheek earlier. “But I don’t really care who you are. What do you want with me?”

The guy opens his mouth, probably to argue, but Number Two steps up, holding a hand out to stop him before he can say anything.

“As of 0600 hours yesterday morning, our Captain, Alexander Manes was reported MIA, during what was supposed to be a simple routine pick up. Our assumption is that he’s been abducted and is being kept somewhere outside of our jurisdiction. My team has been put on the sidelines and told to wait, while inexperienced older men debate whether or not it would be worth it to use the resources to find him.”

Michael had always known that the Air Force was going to get Alex killed. 

Even though it’s been weeks since the last time that he reached out to Alex, the distance making their connection waver and spotty most of the time, like an old radio trying to pick up radio signals that are out of range, Michael reaches out for him almost subconsciously, and he is marginally relieved to feel a sharp irritated nudge back, even if it’s Alex Code for leave me alone.

“What do you need from me then?” he asks, partially because he thinks he already knows what. But at the same time, their soulmate status is something that they never actually discuss with each other, so Michael had assumed that Alex had never told anyone else.

“You are his soulmate, aren’t you?” The girl in the hijab, who Michael vaguely remembers, had introduced herself as Carter, no first name, asks stepping away from the wall she’d been propped up against.

“He’s obviously not,” the guy who he’d interrupted before, and is now labeling, Blonde Asshole, says, a sneer on his face. “There is no way some backwards cowboy hick from Roswell is the Captain’s soulmate. I told you we should’ve checked his mark while he was unconscious.”

“That is an invasion of privacy,” Carter says, sounding disappointed.

Blonde Asshole scoffs, “We’re in the middle of an unsanctioned mission.”

The woman with short hair sends a truly impressive bitch face to the Blonde Asshole, and Michael thinks she introduced herself as Sabrina, “That doesn’t give you the sanction to act like such an asshole. Oh, wait, that’s just a delightful part of your personality.”

Blonde Asshole makes a mocking face at her, “It would’ve saved us the trip. The Captain’s life is in danger. We don’t have time to-”

Michael gets to his feet, effectively shutting him up and turns to Number Two, who stares right back at him. 

“Alex is in danger?” he questions, sending a wave of worry to Alex, which is immediately cut off with a stone cold icy wall, like Alex doesn’t want to give him even an inkling of what he could possibly be feeling right now, which usually would make Michael scoff and roll his eyes and go to the bar and drink until he can dull the awareness of Alex in his head.

“Yes,” she says, simply and effectively changing the mood inside of the room. “Our mission before he went missing was highly classified, and it’s entirely possible that it pissed off the wrong type of people, and this is their way of getting revenge. They’ll interrogate him to get as much information out of him first, and then they’ll kill him. And the Captain is a hard nut to crack. He’ll withstand the torture for a long time. But I wouldn’t put it past the Commander to just drop a bomb instead of risking a rescue mission.”

“So we’re not only on a time limit, but we’re also risking possible dishonorable discharge, not to mention actual prison time, so if you’re not going to be any help, you may as well tell us now so that we can find another way to save him,” Blonde Asshole says, and he potentially sounds worried, but Michael ignores him and keeps looking at Number Two.

“So what are we waiting for?” he asks, not caring that he hasn’t confirmed that he is Alex’s soulmate. 

He is, which is all that matters. He doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone right now. They’ll get their proof soon enough.

“For the plane to land,” Number Two says, and the plane hits a spot of turbulence on an otherwise completely still flight, and Michael drops down back to the row of seats that he’d woken up on, feeling a little dizzy. He has never been on a plane, and he doesn't understand why knowing he's actually in one, makes him feel worse than not knowing.

Number Two just reaches out and pats his shoulder, “Rest up. Once we hit the ground, there’s going to be no time for that.”

Michael nods his head, thinking that that is easier said than done, but as soon as he leans back against the seat, he feels his eyes flutter close, exhaustion hitting him like a wave,  dragging him under and before he knows it, Michael falls asleep.

-

After the plane lands, he gets shuffled into a standard armored vehicle, squeezed between Blonde Asshole and Sabrina, who asks him if he's an actual cowboy or if he just wears the hat.

Michael doesn't really answer because since the moment he touched the ground, wherever they are, since he didn't exactly get an itinerary before he'd been kidnapped, he could feel his awareness of Alex coming back in full force, and now that he was closer, he could tell exactly why Alex had been pushing and putting up walls, and trying to keep him away.

Their bond was bright hot red with his pain, and not only was he going through whatever it was causing him pain, torture being the likely candidate, but he was also actively trying to keep their bond blocked.

Michael closes his eyes and concentrates fully on the piece of Alex that he had inside of him, feeling it light up in the back of his head, and right on the center of his chest, warm and pulsing.

Alex sends out a drowsy question, probably wondering what the hell Michael is doing, and Michael sends back an image of getting pulled out from beneath the hood of Mr. Jameson's Chevy by his team.

He feels Alex’s alarm sweeping through him, and before he can say or think anything else, Alex drags him out of his head.

Michael gasps as he feels overwhelmed with pain, stinging from the tips of his fingers to an ache in his chest that makes it hard to breathe to the excruciating pain of what he’s pretty sure is at least one broken leg.

Michael opens his eyes with difficulty and takes a look around the cell that they have him in, but there are no windows, and even if he could find it in himself to move, whoever took Alex has his hands cuffed together and tied to his cuffed feet.

If Michael concentrates, he'll be able to tug against the bond and use his powers even while in Alex's body, but before he can, Alex is dragging him out of his head and into their mindscape, a phenomenon that only seems to be possible when an alien is your soulmate since it's one of the many strange things about their bond that isn't like anyone else's.

Michael lets Alex tug him forward and check him over, asking about a million questions, but he can barely hear any of that.

His entire focus is taken up by Alex. Even though he knows that in the mindscape he's nothing more than a projection of his subconscious, which is why he looks all of seventeen years old, the same exact age they were when they fell in love and formed their bond. Michael can't help but be relieved at the sight.

He misses Alex so much while he's away, even more when he's overseas and he can't even get this.

Alex stops speaking, probably noting the lovesick look on his face, and he sighs, but Michael can feel the swell of affection pulsing through him.

"Guerin, focus," Alex requests, snapping his fingers in Michael's face.

Michael blinks a few times before he nods his head, “I’m here.”

Alex nods his head, “Good, now tell me. What do they have on you? Because I can convince Wilson to get lost while I figure out how to get out of here.”

Michael is too charmed by the way he puts air quotes around lost and forgets to actually pay attention to what Alex is saying.

Alex shakes him a little, and Michael blinks a few times before he realizes what Alex is saying.

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head. “This isn’t about me. Well, not about the alien thing. It’s about our soulbond. They think I can help find you.”

Alex furrows his brow and shakes his head, “Tell them no.”

“It’s already a little late for that,” Michael says a little sheepishly, pushing his recent memories towards him.

Alex just inhales deeply and closes his eyes.

"Fine, okay," he says, sounding defeated. "My team is good at extraction, and having a direct line to me through you should get the job done, but-"

He stops himself and turns to Michael, looking at him with a pleading expression, "But you have to promise me that you're not going to do something reckless and dangerous and expose yourself."

Michael wants to tell him that he will do anything if it meant getting him back safely, but he also knows that it's probably a declaration that Alex doesn't want to hear.

"I'll just lead them to where you are and stay out of the actual fight, you don't have to worry about that,” Michael says, and Alex gives him a look like that’s asking for him to do something impossible.

Before either of them can say anything else, Michael feels a jolt of pain coming from Alex’s side of the bond.

Alex grits his teeth, shutting his eyes tightly and shaking his head.

“Is that why you push me away sometimes, because you’re trying to protect me from this?” Michael asks without actually meaning to.

Alex blinks his eyes open, and just looks at him, and Michael can tell that he’s on the right track, but now isn’t the time to be discussing this.

Alex just breathes in deeply, and then narrows his eyes at Michael, and Michael feels a deluge of memories, scents and sounds and limited vision, of the drive to wherever it was that they took Alex.

It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for Michael to piece it together.

“We’re going to find you,” he tells Alex, infusing the words with as much conviction as he can.

Alex gives him a wan smile in return. “I know.”

Michael just nods his head and Alex closes his eyes, and then Michael drops back into his body like he’s been dropped from a great height.

He jolts and his eyes snap open, and he sees Number Two and Carter, turned around looking back at him.

He can feel Sabrina’s hands on his neck, and wrist checking his pulse.

“Is everything okay?” Number Two asks slowly, eyes darting all over him, probably worried that they’d concussed him earlier.

Michael nods his head, “Just conferring with Alex. I know how to find him.”

Number Two looks at him for a long moment, scrutinizing, before she nods her head sharply, "Alright then."

She turns towards the front starting the truck up again while Carter hands him her tablet with their location and the map pulled up, showing real time images.

Michael grabs it gratefully and starts looking for something that matches the memories that Alex gave him.

"Let's go get our boy back."

#malex fic #2kcelebrationfic #this was the first thing to pop into my head when i read your prompt so i hope that you like it :D

[inky-duchess]

History Bites: Bad Ass Moments (Women)

In History Bites, I pick the best moments of history and the antics historical figures in order to give you inspiration for your WIP. Think of History Bites like prompts, only juicer and 90% accurate (results may vary).

Today, we will discuss the bad ass moments of history (women). This post may have a part two. Let's get to it.

Arsinoë IV was the younger sister of Cleopatra. During the civil war between her elder sister and brother who were meant to be jointly ruling, Caesar besieged Alexandria on behalf of Cleopatra, taking the royal family hostage within the palace. In the confusion after the Library of Alexandria was accidentally burned down (I mean Caesar, I love you but you're fucking dick for burning the library), Arsinoë escaped the palace and took command of the Egyptian army. Under her control, the army enjoyed success even trapping Caesar as he tried to take the Lighthouse of Alexandria. This was an important symbol to the city as well as a masterful weapon, whoever controlled the Lighthouse controlled the harbour. To escape, Caesar had to swim across the bay throwing off his great purple cloak and fine armour, holding up his important papers as he limped back to dry land, defeated by a 15-18 year old girl.

Katherine of Aragon handed Scotland its biggest defeat in history. She led troops at Flodden, winning a battle where the Scottish King died. When she wrote to Henry as well as sending him the Scottish king's coat and banners, she mentioned that she had wanted to send the body of the king but the nobles were being pussies and said no. It may have been the shadiest letter of all the Tudor period.

Artemisia Gentileschi was one of art and history's all time bad asses. She was a skilled painter at a time when women were not permitted to attend art schools. She surpassed her father's own works and some of his other students. At 18, she was raped by another artist. In a time far behind today's understanding of rape and justice, Artemisia took a great risk in publicly accusing her rapist. She underwent numerous tortures so the judges could be sure she was telling the truth. The rapist was convicted (a major win). Artemisia went on to become one of the Baroque period's most powerful painters.

Marguerite de Bressieux was a 15th century noblewoman in France. When her father's castle fell to the armies of the Prince of Orange, Marguerite and the other women of the castle were all sexually assaulted. As the French army passed through the devastated lands, they came by a group of twelve knights armoured and mounted, bearing a black banner with an orange pierced by a spear. The commander revealed their face... it was Marguerite. She asked to join the French King's forces and he allowed her though he was quite taken aback. At the Battle of Autun, each of the female knights and Marguerite hunted down the Prince of Orange's men, unmasking their faces before they killed their rapists so they would know just had come.

Harriet Tubman was an American slave who ran the Underground Railway, ferrying slaves off to freedom. After escaping herself, Harriet refused to leave others behind. Known as Moses, Harriet risked life and limb to free slaves from the plantations. During the Civil War, she worked for the Union first as a cook then as scout and spy. Over her life, Tubman released over 300 slaves.

Countess Constance Markievicz was the first woman to be elected to a British Parliament ... while imprisoned for her art in the numerous acts of rebellion in the last years of English rule. Markievicz was one of the figureheads for Irish freedom, even acting as a sniper during the 1916 Easter Rising. When the rising was over, she was imprisoned but not executed (being a woman and a high status woman) which made her angry. She believed that the fight for Irish freedom was not just a male one. Her advice to women and girls of the time was "Dress suitably in short skirts and strong boots, leave your jewels in the bank, and buy a revolver"

Grace/Grainne O'Malley, the Pirate Queen of Ireland was one of the Lords of the West of Ireland. On her father's death, she inherited his lands and fleets as his heir, turning her into one of the most powerful lords of the west. She fought in the Nine Years War, becoming a thorn in the side of the "Governor" Richard Bingham. When her sons and half brother were captured and threatened, Grainne turned her sails to London to speak with Elizabeth I. Grainne did not bow to Elizabeth and began hammering out the terms of a peace. Bingham was fired, her sons and brother were released on the terms that Grainne would stop supporting Gaelic uprisings. Grainne didn't.

Jeanne de Clisson or the Lioness of Brittany, was a 14th century noblewoman. Her husband was imprisoned by the French King who suspected him of being a spy who had lost a battle on purpose. He was executed. Jeanne went immediately to the fort her husband had commanded. The garrison let her in. Jeanne's army took the fort. By the time the French King heard, Jeanne was gone. After a treacherous crossing over the Channel where she lost at least one child, Jeanne resurfaced in England. The English king granted her three ships which she used to wage war on France in revenge.

Ching Shih was a Chinese pirate queen, formerly a prostitute. When her husband died, she took over his fleet of ships. Ching Shih went about on tightening the reigns on her sailors. They could not rape captives, if they did they were beheaded. If they wanted to have one of the women, a sailor had to marry her and treat her right. To disobey a superior twice was death. As she got the fleet into shipshape, Ching Shih began her reign of the seas amassing millions. The government fought her a few times but soon gave up their war, paying Ching Shih to go away. She retired as a respected millionaire.

Osh-Tisch or "Finds Them and Kills Them” was a Native American warrior. She had been born male but chose to live as a woman also known as a baté, a person which two souls in their body. Osh-Tisch took up arms along with the other batés when her tribe went to war with the Lakota, winning the war. As missionaries came to to stick their noses in where they weren't wanted, Osh-Tisch and the other batés were subject to horrific abuse. Batés were forced to dress and act as their assigned gender by the dickheaded missionaries. Osh-Tisch disregarded the missionaries and continued to work with batés across America in order to support one another.

Harriet Tubman escaped from slavery in the years preceding the Civil War. Harriet refused to leave others behind and returned about nineteen times to volatile south to rescue slaves, under the name Moses. During the war, Harriet served as cook, nurse and spy for the Union. Harriet saved over 300 slaves.

Matilda, Lady of the English once escaped a besieged castle. How did she do this? She walked out of the gates and left. She was wearing a white cloak which camouflaged her against the snow. She walked eight miles in the snow to continue her fight for the crown.

Cleopatra VII (that Cleopatra) was once summoned to Tarsos go meet the new Governor of the Eastern Provinces of the Roman Empire, Mark Antony who wanted to borrow some money. They negotiated back and forth on who should come to who. Cleopatra refused to go... but then showed up in Tarsos on luxurious barge. While feasting with Antony at his expense, Cleopatra claimed that she could host the more expensive meal. She dropped a pearl earring into her wine, where it dissolved and downed it like a queen.

Caterina Sforza was an Italian noble woman in the Renaissance period and you could literally not find a bigger bad ass. She rode at the head of an army to occupy the great fortress of the Castel San Angelo in the name of her husband, while being seven months pregnant. At the siege of Ravaldino, Caterina and her children were prisoners of the treacherous Orsis family who had killed her husband. Caterina persuaded the commanders to let her enter the city to negotiate the surrender of the castle. One inside, she climbed the battles and cussed out the besiegers. Utterly stunned, one commander threatened to kill her children but Caterina lifted her skirts and flashed them, claiming she could make more. OK, that may be a rumour. She may have touched her belly or claimed to be already pregnant but still it was a moment. It ended up buying her enough time for more forces to come and beat the army outside.

Catherine the Great born a minor German Princess overthrew her husband Peter III in a successful military coup. A few days before the original coup was going to commence, a co-conspirator let slip to another guard that it was happening. The man was arrested. When the news got to her, Catherine left the palace via carriage commandeering horses along the way. She went to the barracks of the Ismailovsky regiment dressed in burrowed military uniform and made an impassioned plea to the soldiers to earn their support which they gave her. She was crowned sole ruler of Russia and forced her husband to sign his crown away.

Khutulun, the great-grandaughter of Genghis Khan was badass from the beginning. She was the only girl in a family of boys and grew up to be the fiercest. Khutulun was a highly sought after bride. She didn't hate men but felt she shouldn't be married to somebody unequal to her. Every man who sought to wed her had to wrestle her or pay ten horses. She had ten thousand horses by the time she died.

Boudicca was the Queen of the Iceni, a Celtic tribe in England. Her husband, an ally of the Romans, left half his kingdom to Rome and the other half to his daughters. When he died, Rome took it all. When Boudicca spoke out against it, she was flogged and her daughters were raped. Boudicca decided that it was time for the Romans to fuck off and die. Raising a massive host, Boudicca burned three major Roman settlements down Londinium (London), Verulamium (St. Albans) and Camulodunum (Colchester). She was the greatest threat the Rome since...

Amanirenas, Queen of Kush was an African Queen who fought the Romans. Kush lay south to the new conquered Egypt, which meant it was next on Rome's agenda. Kush moved first. Though one-eyed, she was an able warrior who survived at least a dozen battles. Though the Romans burned the capital and took slaves, Amanirenas still fought on bringing Rome to its knees. Rome and Kush signed a peace treaty, preventing Rome from crossing the border ever again. Amanirenas's badass moment came thousands of years after when archeologists were digging up the tombs. Found under her the foot of statue, was the head of the Emperor Augustus.

#tw: rape #tw:sexual assault #writing resources #history bites #badass moments of history #writing advice writing resources #writing reference writing resources #writing advice #writing reference #writer's problems #caterina sforza #Katherine of Aragon #Amanirenas #boudicca #grace o'malley #Catherine the Great #Cleopatra vii #arsinoë iv #artemisia gentileschi #Jeanne de cousin #ching shih #countess markievicz #harriet tubman #Marguerite de bressieux #khutulun #osh-tische #baté #Matilda lady of the English #fantasy guide #fantasy prompts

[reallifesultanas]

Portrait of Murad IV's consorts / IV. Murad ágyasainak portréi

Haseki Ayşe Sultan

The Haseki

Ayşe Sultan was Murad’s favorite, dominating his reign throughout. Ayşe may have been roughly the same age as Murad, born around 1612. We know that her origin was Greek, for the ambassadors often likened her to her Greek mother-in-law, Kösem Sultan. Ayşe appears in harem records from 1628, so presumably, it was at this time that she became Murad's concubine. Unfortunately, we do not know who Ayşe’s children were and how many children she had, her only known daughter was Esmehan Kaya, who was born in 1633.

We do not know exactly when Ayşe became Haseki Sultan, but we can assume the date 1632. For from this year we have an ambassador report according to which Murad asked his mother for approval to raise the mother of his most recently born daughter to the Haseki rank. Unfortunately, we do not know which girl was born in 1632. Hanzade was born in 1631 or 1632, and a girl named Esmehan was born and die surely before 1633, but we do not know who was the mother of these sultanas. It is also possible that we erroneously postpone the birth of Esmehan Kaya to 1633. However, since Ayşe held the rank of Haseki and dominated throughout Murad's reign, we can assume that she had several children in addition to Kaya, especially boys. So it is simply possible that she gave birth to a child in 1632.

Not much of Ayşe's personality is known. In 1637, the Venetian ambassadors' secretary Angelo Alessandrini spoke of Ayşe as a woman of outstanding beauty, but in spirit, she was not in the least like the Valide Sultan, Kösem. Nonetheless, according to Alessandrini, the sultan holds her in high esteem and treats her like a queen, and Ayşe also strives to behave like a real queen. However, according to the secretary, she has no chance and in vain she tries to imitate the Valide Sultan in her clothes, jewelry, and number of servants, she can never reach her. Alessandrini reveals a lot about Ayşe with this short description, but it is important to keep in mind that Alessandrini and the ambassador he worked with were extremely loyal admirers of the great Valide Sultan, Kösem, so it is not surprising that no one could reach her in their opinions.

The strong bond between Ayşe and Murad is well exemplified by the fact that Murad took Ayşe with him on his campaign of Yerevan. This was exceptional, for the sultans had not taken their wives and favorite concubines with them for centuries. Bayezid I and his wife fell into the captivity of Timur Lenk together and, according to legend, Bayezid was tortured by Timur with raping and humiliating his wife in front of Bayezid. There is also a known case from Selim I's time when, during a campaign against the Safavids, Selim captured one of the shah's favorite concubines (or his wife), who he then married to an unimportant Ottoman official. Aware of such risks, most sultans did not take their wives with them. Some believe that Ayşe gave birth to a son named Aleaddin during this campaign, but this is probably the result of a misunderstood. Prince Aleaddin was indeed born in 1635 during the campaign, but he was born in Istanbul, so Ayşe, who was on the campaign, could hardly have been his mother, and Murad could hardly have allowed his pregnant concubine to accompany him to the campaign.

Perhaps precisely because Ayşe was with Murad throughout the campaign, many blame Ayşe for the execution of Murad’s younger brothers. After returning from the campaign, Murad killed his two half-brothers, Bayezid and Suleiman. However, there is no evidence that Ayşe ever tried to turn Murad against the princes. After the campaign, several eyewitnesses described Ayşe’s return to Istanbul as a very magnificent event. For Ayşe, this was probably one of the last magnificent moments, as soon Murad's health deteriorated, his sons died and a new concubine emerged, whom Murad also raised to the rank of Haseki and who was paid a higher salary than Ayşe.

The Widow Sultana

After the death of Murad in 1640, she moved to the Old Palace with the other concubines of Murad and with her child or children. Her relationship with Kösem Sultan was probably never very good and close, but it soon reached a low point. Esmehan Kaya entered an age to be slowly married off in the mid-1640s. The selection of the husband was the responsibility of the Sultan and the mother of the child. The Valide also had a word but she was not the one to decide. We know, for example, that even though Nurbanu wanted to marry one of her grandchildren to a certain man, Safiye (the girl’s mother) prevented this. That is why there was nothing strange about Ayşe choosing a husband for Esmehan Kaya herself. The husband candidate was not particularly politically significant anyway. He was one of Murad's former swordbearers, to whom Murad himself promised Kaya before he died. Kösem, however, wanted one of her own trusted men to be Kaya’s husband, a pasha who was loyal to her already and who she could permanently chain to herself with marriage.

So Ayşe and Kösem were tense to each other, but it is not known in detail how the war between the two women took place. Some say Ayşe tried to seek the help of Sultan Ibrahim, who, however, wanted to take advantage of the situation and wanted Ayşe for himself. In the end, this did not happen, so Kösem and her chosen one, Melek Ahmed Pasha won. Kaya and Kösem were close to each other, she was Kösem's favorite grandchild, this is why it is strange that Kösem forced her to marry Melek Ahmed despite Kaya's own will. The fact that Kösem forced Kaya, a barely 13-year-old girl, to consummate the marriage with a pasha (who in age was like Kaya's own grandfather) complicating matters further. It was especially extreme because Kaya threatened the pasha with a dagger to leave her alone and the pasha accepted this. So both of the parties were totally fine with it, but Kösem still did not let it happen. Maybe Kösem thought that without consummating the marriage Ayşe could have tried to invalidate it.

Perhaps the former events also are related to the fact that instead of Ayşe's previous high salary (2000 aspers per day), in the Old Palace she received only 100-200 aspers per day for the rest of her life, regardless of whether Valide and Haseki Sultanas could keep their original salaries even in the Old Palace. Ayşe disappears from the harem records in 1680, suggesting that she died in either 1679 or 1680. During her relatively long life, she could see the reign of three sultans, reached heaven as Murad’s favorite, and reached hell as a mother. In addition to Esmehan Kaya, she certainly had sons and perhaps other daughters who all died as children. Her only child who reached adulthood, Esmehan Kaya, also died before Ayşe in 1658.

The second Haseki Sultan

Not much is known about her, her name, origin, the identity of her children are all obscured. All we know is that after Murad’s campaign in Yerevan, she was elevated to the rank of Haseki, certainly because she gave birth to a son. Maybe she was the mother of Prince Aleaddin, but more likely she had given birth to her child later, perhaps she was the mother of a prince who was born in 1638, perhaps of another unknown child. The second Haseki started her career with a daily salary of 2571 aspers, which was higher than the salary of Ayşe with 2000 aspers. We do not know the reason for this, but barely seven months later Murad also reduced her salary to 2,000 aspers. Perhaps the reason for the extremely high salary could have been that she became pregnant (or gave birth to a son) when all of Murad's sons died and by the time Prince Kasim (his brother) had already been executed? A heir was more urgent at this time than ever before, so it makes sense for Murad to give the concubine an outstanding allowance for the news of pregnancy or childbirth. Then, seven months later, when the Haseki lost her child or gave birth to a daughter, Murad reduced her salary to the level of Ayşe's, who also lost her sons.

Regarding her origin, the possibility arises that she was Sicilian. Jean-Baptiste Tavernier reports that Murad spent a particularly large amount of time in the Yerevan Pavilion with a Sicilian woman who he loved very much and who, in addition to her beautiful appearance, was a truly generous creature, so Murad never denied anything from her. According to Tavernier, she was a Sicilian noblewoman who was captured at sea and then gifted to the Sultan by Algir's beylerbey. Maybe the story is true, maybe not. Maybe it's about the second Haseki, maybe someone else.

With Murad’s death, the second Haseki disappears from the harem records forever, for which there are only two explanations (especially knowing that Ayşe appears precisely in the same register until her own death). The second Haseki maybe died shortly before Murad or was married off. The latter would not be unusual, since the widows of the sultans were often married off if they were childless or only had daughters. Since it is quite probable that the second Haseki lost her child, it was a logical solution to marry her off. Since she did not live in the harem anymore and is not on the registers, we do not know when she died.

Sanavber Hatun

Sanavber was a member of Murad's harem, of whom we know that she had a foundation which she established in 1628. The date of 1628 makes it probable that Sanavber may not have been Murad's concubine as Murad’s first child was born in 1627, so while it is possible for his mother to be Sanavber, it is unlikely that a young and inexperienced mother around the age of 15 would be allowed (and has the money) to establish a foundation. It is more likely that Sanavber was a high-ranking harem servant who owed her privileged status to either Murad or to Kösem Sultan. What makes her particularly interesting is that the documents of her foundation refer to her as “Sanavber bint Abdülmennan,” which is not the usual reference to converted slaves but a reference to a Muslim woman. Sanavber, then, may have been a high-ranking, free Muslim woman who perhaps belonged to Murad’s harem as a poet or associate, such as Hubbi Hatun was in the harem Selim II and Murad III?

Emirgün's sister

According to some, when Emirgün surrendered and handed over the castle of Yerevan to Sultan Murad in 1635, he presented his sister to the sultan. Legend has it that the woman was so beautiful that all of Murad's concubines faded beside her. Others say Murad never made Emirgün's sister his concubine, but there are also those who say Emirgün never gave his sister to Murad. Either way, the woman never entered Murad’s Istanbul harem.

Rosana

Rosana is probably a legend rather than Murad’s real concubine. Legend has it that Rosana was tall, blonde, and very light-skinned, but very bad in personality, so much so that Murad was afraid of her. Rosana was jealous of everything and everyone, hating Murad's other consorts, his younger brothers. Some go so far that it was Rosana, who executed the sultan's younger brothers on behalf of Murad. When one of Murad’s sisters realized this, she accused Rosana, but Murad didn’t believe her sister and became so angry that he killed her with a hammer. Finally, Kösem proved that Rosana was the murderer of the princes, by the time Murad himself stabbed the woman with a dagger, but the sultan never loved another woman later. I think it’s clear to everyone that this is more of a fairy tale than a real story. Never does a harem register or any ambassador from the period mention Rosana.

Used sources:  C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; L. Peirce - The imperial harem; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery

*    *    *

Haseki Ayşe Sultan

A Haszeki

Ayşe szultána volt Murad kedvence, aki uralkodását végig dominálta. Ayşe valószínűleg Muraddal nagyjából egy idős lehetett, 1612 körül születhetett. Származását tekintve tudjuk, hogy görög volt, ugyanis a követek gyakran hasonlították szintén görög anyósához, Köszem szultánához. Ayşe 1628-tól tűnik fel a háremjegyzőkönyvekben, így feltehetőleg nagyjából ekkor lett Murad ágyasa. Sajnos nem tudjuk, hogy kik voltak Ayşe gyermekei és hogy hány gyermeke volt, egyetlen ismert lánya Esmehan Kaya, aki 1633-ban született.

Nem pontosan tudjuk, hogy Ayşe mikor lett Haszeki szultána, azonban feltételezhetjük az 1632-es dátumot. Ugyanis ebből az évből maradt ránk egy követi beszámoló, mely szerint Murad anyja jóváhagyását kérte, hogy Haszeki rangra emelje (vagy feleségül vegye) legújabban született lányának anyját. Sajnos nem áll rendelekzésünkre, hogy melyik lány született 1632-ben. Hanzade 1631-ben vagy 1632-ben született, egy Esmehan nevű lány pedig tudottan 1633 előtt, ám nem tudjuk ki volt ezen szultánák édesanyja. Az is lehet, hogy Esmehan Kaya születését tesszük tévesen 1633-ra. Mivel azonban Ayşe a Haszeki rangot viselte és Murad uralma alatt végig dominált, feltételezhetjük, hogy több gyermeke volt Kaya mellett, különös tekintettel fiúkra is.

Ayşe személyiségéről nem sok maradt fenn. Angelo Alessandrini velencei titkár 1637-ben úgy beszélt Ayşéről, mint kiemelkedő szépségű nőről, aki azonban lélekben a legkevésbé sem olyan, mint a Valide szultána, Köszem. Ettől függetlenül Alessandrini szerint a szultán nagy becsben tartja és királynőként bánik vele, Ayşe pedig igyekszik úgy is viselkedni, mint egy valódi királynő. Erre azonban a titkár szerint esélye sincs és hiába próbálja ruháiban, ékszereiben és szolgálói számában is utánozni a Valide szultánát, sosem érhet fel hozzá. Alessandrini ezzel a rövid leírással is sokat elárul Ayşéról, azonban fontos észben tartanunk, hogy Alessandirini és a követ, akinek dolgozott, Köszem végletekig hűséges csodálói voltak, így nem meglepő, ha számukra senki nem érhetett fel a nagy Valide szultánához.

Az Ayşe és Murad között lévő erős köteléket jól példázza, hogy Murad magával vitte Ayşét yerevani hadjáratára is. Ez kivételes volt, ugyanis a szultánok évszázadok óta nem vitték magukkal feleségeiket és kedvenc ágyasaikat a hadjáratokra. I. Bayezid és felesége ugyanis együtt estek Timur Lenk fogságába és a legendák szerint Bayezidet úgy kínozta Timur, hogy feleségét gyalázta és alázta meg előtte. Emellett I. Szelim idejéből is ismert egy eset, mikor egy szafavidák elleni hadjárat során Szelim fogjul ejtette a sah egyik kedvenc ágyasát (vagy feleségét), akit aztán rangol alul házasított ki egy oszmán tisztviselőhöz. Ilyen kockázatok ismeretében a legtöbb szultán nem vitte magával feleségeit, nem úgy Murad. Egyesek úgy tartják, hogy Ayşe a hadjáraton adott életet Aleaddin nevű fiuknak, ez azonban valószínűleg egy félrefordítás eredménye csupán. Aleaddin herceg valóban 1635-ben született a hadjárat ideje alatt, azonban Isztambulban jött világra, így aligha lehetett a hadjáraton tartózkodó Ayşe az édesanyja és Murad aligha engedte volna várandós ágyasának, hogy elkísérje a hadjáratra.

Talán épp amiatt, mert Ayşe végig Murad mellett volt a hadjáraton, sokan okolják Ayşét Murad öccseinek kivégeztetése miatt. Murad ugyanis a hadjáratról visszatérve ölette meg két féltestvérét, Bayezidet és Szulejmánt. Azonban nincs arra utaló bizonyíték, hogy Ayşe valaha is a hercegek ellen próbálta volna fordítani Muradot. A hadjárat után több szemtanú is leírta Ayşe Isztambulba való visszatérését, mint egy igen pompás eseményt. Ayşét pedig nemsokkal később Murad is követte. Ayşe számára valószínűleg ez volt az egyik utolsó fényűző pillanat, hiszen hamarosan Murad egészsége egyre rosszabbra fordult, fiai hamarosan meghaltak és hamarosan előkerült egy új ágyas, akit Murad szintén Haszeki rangra emelt és akinek magasabb fizetést adott, mint Ayşének.

Az özvegy szultána

Ayşe Murad 1640-es halála után a Régi Palotába költözött Murad többi ágyasával és gyermekével vagy gyermekeivel együtt. Viszonya feltehetőleg sosem volt túl jó és közeli Köszem szultánával, de hamarosan elérte a mélypontot. Esmehan Kaya az 1640-es évek közepére lassan kiházasítandó korba került. A férj kiválasztása a mindenkori szultán és a gyermek édesanyjának feladata volt. A Valide szultánának minden bizonnyal szintén lehetett szava, ám nem ő döntött. Tudjuk például, hogy Nurbanu hiába szerette volna egyik unokáját egy bizonyos férfihoz adni feleségül, Safiye (a lány anyja) ezt megakadályozta. Épp ezért nem volt abban semmi furcsa, hogy Ayşe maga válasszon férjet Esmehan Kaya számára. A férjjelölt egyébként nem volt különösen jelentős politikai szempontból. Murad egyik korábbi fegyverhordozója volt, akinek még maga Murad ígérte oda Kayát, mielőtt meghalt volna. Köszem szultána azonban a saját emberei közül akart valakit Kaya férjéül, egy olyan pasát, aki hűséges hozzá és akit végleg magához láncolhat a házassággal.

Ayşe és Köszem egymásnak feszültek tehát, de nem tudni részletekbe menően, hogyan zajlott a két nő közötti háború. Egyesek szerint Ayşe igyekezett Ibrahim szultán segítségét kérni, aki azonban ki akarta használni a helyzetet és magának akarta Ayşét. Végül ez nem történt meg, így győzött Köszem és a választottja Melek Ahmed Pasa. Kaya és Köszem különösen közel álltak egymáshoz, ő volt Köszem kedvence, emiatt is különös, hogy Köszem a lány kérése ellenére is hozzákényszerítette a saját választottjához. Tovább bonyolítja a helyzetet a tény, hogy Köszem kényszerítette az alig 13 éves Kayát és a nagyapja korú pasát, hogy elhálják a nászt, miután ezt Kaya megtagadta a pasa pedig egyetértett vele. Talán Köszem motivációja az volt, hogy elhálás nélkül Ayşe megpróbálhatta volna érvényteleníteni azt.

Talán az előbbi eseményeknek is köze lehet ahhoz, hogy Ayşe korábbi magas fizetése (napi 2000 asper) helyett a Régi Palotában csupán 100-200 asperes napi fizetést kapott élete végéig, függetlenül attól, hogy a Valide és Haszeki rangot viselők nőknek Régi Palotába költözés után sem volt szokás csökkenteni a fizetését. Ayşe 1680-ban tűnik el a hárem jegyzőkönyvekből, ami arra enged következtetni, hogy vagy 1679-ben vagy 1680-ban halt meg. Viszonylag hosszú élete során három szultán uralkodását is láthatta, megjárta a mennyet Murad kedvenceként és a poklot anyaként. Esmehan Kaya mellett egészen biztosan voltak fiai és talán más lányai is, akik gyermekként mind meghaltak. Egyetlen felnőttkort megérő gyermeke, Esmehan Kaya is Ayşe előtt halt meg 1658-ban.

A második Haszeki szultána

Nem sokat tudni róla, neve, származása, gyermekeinek kiléte mind homályba vész. Annyit tudunk, hogy Murad yerevani hadjárata után lett Haszeki rangra emelve, minden bizonnyal azért, mert életet adott egy fiúnak. Talán ő volt Aleaddin herceg anyja, ám ennél valószínűbb, hogy még később hozta világra gyermekét, talán ő volt egy 1638-ban világra jött herceg anyja, talán más ismeretlen gyermeké. A második Haszeki 2571 asperes napi fizetéssel kezdte meg pályafutását, amely magasabb volt, mint Ayşe 2000 asperes fizetése. Ennek okát nem tudjuk, azonban alig hét hónappal később Murad lecsökkentette az ő fizetését is 2000 asperre. Talán az extrém magas fizetés oka lehetett, hogy akkor lett terhes (vagy szült fiút), mikor Murad összes addig élő fia elhunyt már és amikorra talán már Kasim herceget (édesöccsét) is kivégeztette? Ekkor sürgősebb volt egy örökös, mint bármikor máskor, így logikus, hogy a terhesség vagy szülés hírére Murad kimagasló juttatást adjon az ágyasnak. Aztán hét hónappal később, amikor a Haszeki elvesztette gyermekét vagy leányt szült fizetését Murad lecsökkentette a szintén fiait elvesztő Ayşe szintjére.

Származásával kapcsolatban felvetődik annak lehetősége, hogy szicíliai volt. Jean-Baptiste Tavernier beszámol arról, hogy Murad különösen sok időt töltött a Yerevan Pavilonban egy szicíliai nővel, akit nagyon szeretett és aki gyönyörű külseje mellett igazán nagylelkű teremtés volt, így Murad sosem tagadott meg tőle semmit. Tavernier szerint nemesi származású szicíliai nő volt, akit a tengeren ejtettek fogságba, majd Algír beglerbégje ajándékozta a szultánnak. Talán igaz a történet, talán nem. Talán a második Haszekiről van szó, talán másról.

Murad halálával a második Haszeki örökre eltűnik a hárem jegyzékből, melyre csak két magyarázat lehet (különösen annak ismeretében, hogy Ayşe precízen megjelenik saját haláláig ugyanebben a jegyzőkönyvben): a második Haszeki is elhunyt Murad előtt nemsokkal vagy kiházasították. Utóbbi nem lenne szokatlan, hiszen a szultánok özvegyeit gyakran házasították ki, ha azok gyermektelenek voltak vagy csak lányaik voltak. Mivel elég valószínű, hogy a második Haszeki elvesztette gyermekét, logikus megoldás volt kiházasítása. Mivel nem a háremben élt és nem szerepel a jegyőzkönyvekben nem tudjuk mikor halt meg.

Sanavber Hatun

Sanavber, Murad háremének egyik tagja volt, akiről annyit tudunk, hogy a nevével ellátva létezett egy alapítvány, melyet 1628-ban hozott létre. Az 1628-as dátum valószínűsíti, hogy Sanavber talán nem Murad ágyasa volt. Murad első gyermeke 1627-ben jött világra, így bár lehetséges, hogy az ő anyja legyen Sanavber, ám valószínűtlen, hogy egy 15 év körüli, friss és tapasztalatlan anyának engedik (és van rá pénze), hogy alapítványt hozzon létre. Valószínűbb, hogy Sanavber egy magasrangú hárem szolgáló volt, aki kiemelt státuszát vagy Köszem szultánának vagy Muradnak köszönhette. Különösen érdekessé teszi helyzetét, hogy a dokumentumok úgy hivatkoznak rá, mint “Sanavber bint Abdülmennan”, ami nem az áttért rabszolgák szokásos hivatkozása hanem egy muszlim nő hivatkozása. Sanavber tehát lehet, hogy egy magas rangú, szabad muszlim nő volt, aki talán költőként vagy társalkodóként tartozott Murad háremébe, mint például Hubbi Hatun II. Szelim és III. Murad háremébe?

Emirgün testvére

Egyesek szerint mikor Emirgün megadta magát és átadta Yerevan várát Murad szultánnak 1635-ben, akkor húgát a szultánnak ajándékozta. A legendák szerint a nő olyan gyönyörű volt, hogy mellette Murad minden ágyasa elhalványult. Mások szerint Murad sosem tette ágyasává Emirgün testvérét, de olyanok is vannak, akik szerint Emirgün sosem adta oda húgát Muradnak. Akárhogy is, a nő sosem lépett be Murad isztambuli háremében.

Rosana

Rosana valószínűleg inkább egy legenda, mintsem valódi ágyasa Muradnak. A legendák szerint Rosana magas volt, szőke és nagyon világos bőrű, azonban nagyon rossz természetű, olyannyira, hogy Murad is félt tőle. Rosana mindenre és mindenkire féltékeny volt, gyűlölte Murad öccseit. Egyesek odáig mennek, hogy Rosana volt az, aki Murad nevében kivégeztette a szultán öccseit. Mikor Murad egyik húga rájött erre, megvádolta Rosanát Murad előtt, aki nem hitt testvérének és egy kalapáccsal megölte őt. Végül Köszem bizonyította, hogy Rosana volt a hercegek gyilkosa, mire Murad maga szúrte le a nőt egy tőrrel, ám a szultán később sosem szeretett más nőt. Azt hiszem mindenki számára egyértelmű, hogy ez inkább egy mese, mint valódi történet. Soha egy hárem jegyzék sem említi Rosanat és egy körabeli követ sem.

Felhasznált források: C. Finkel - Osman's Dream: The Story of the Ottoman Empire; L. Peirce - The imperial harem; G. Piterberg - An Ottoman Tragedy, History and Historiography at Play; Öztuna - Devletler ve Hanedanlar; Uluçay - Padişahların Kadınları ve Kızları; F. Davis - The Palace of Topkapi in Istanbul; Y. Öztuna - Genç Osman ve IV. Murad; G. Junne - The black eunuchs of the Ottoman Empire; R. Dankoff - An Ottoman Mentality: The World of Evliya Çelebi; R. Murphey - ‘The Functioning of the Ottoman Army under Murad IV (1623–1639/1032–1049):Key to Understanding of the Relationship Between Center and Periphery

#haseki ayşe #Murad IV #sanavber #rosana #farya bethlen #Kösem sultan #kösem #mahpeyker kösem #esmehan kaya #ismihan kaya #kaya sultan #ayse #ayse haseki sultan #haseki

[nukyster-blog]

Changing Course Chapter 22) Crossfire

.-.-.

Ivar was brought back to the shed and dropped on his stomach, although he wasn’t aware of his transition. Unconsciousness momentarily redeemed him from the flaring pain spreading all over his back like a wildfire. The battered skin in between his shoulder blades had ruptured due to the lashes, leaving large bloody gashes.  

In a flash, he regained consciousness as his faithful guardian took it upon herself to disinfect his wounds. Although her touch was soft, pain seared through his upper body better than a branding iron. 

Bloody cloth after bloody cloth dropped aside Ivar’s writhing body; pain taking over a good portion of his brain. It was all consuming, his mind  conceding in agony but aware of the necessity of Piglet’s torture. So he balled his fist and tried his best to lessen the primeval noises that come from his mouth; that of a dying animal. 

The pain burned and radiated, it should have shattered  his soul but deep down Ivar saw the blessing in his pain, it brought him closer to his Gods, it made him realise he was inviolable.

Piglet applied a salve, which smelled of honey, plantain, and chamomile while humming her song in candlelight. Ivar listened and turned his head so that he could look up to her. The young woman’s face revealed how badly his wounds were; her forehead puckered, lips set in a grim line and her hands were shaking. 

“Lay flat,” she said matter-of-factly, which was an unnecessary order, because he wasn’t planning to move, not even an inch. He lay still as hay tickled his face and nose.

Piglet eventually curled up on her side to face him properly. 

“Thick-head,” she sneered, eyes clearly upset over the hell he’d put himself through.

“Savage cunt,” Ivar murmured back apologetically. 

“Did he come for you?” Ivar asked when Piglet was done rolling her eyes skywards, “last night?” 

“No, he walks funny now,” Piglet revealed with a devilish grin, “you’re a mad dog.” 

Ivar gave her an all-tooth smile, very pleased with the thought of marking the young ruler.

.-.-.

Ivar’s punishment had caused a change inside the castle’s walls. Although daily routine started as winter swiped through the shed with icy claws like an eagle, the atmosphere was different. The Giant spat his orders into Piglet’s face, but kept far away from Ivar’s box, as if his cripple slave was stricken by the plague. 

Ivar had expected the brute to give him another kick after, definitely now that he lay battered and defenseless on the floor. 

But the Giant left along with Piglet, leaving Ivar to face boredom and cold. His mobility was close to none, every moment hurt and could cause the cuts to rip further. Being exposed to fresh air would accelerate the healing process; the downside was being awfully cold. 

Ivar slept for the most part of the day and was awoken by the fluttering footsteps of the two linen maidens. Both young women seemed anxious to step over the threshold, but eventually curiosity got the best of them. 

With large doe-like eyes the two maidens kneeled down at his box and took in every inch of Ivar’s battered body. 

Being the main act of their freak show wasn’t actually how Ivar had planned his afternoon, but aside from throwing daggers with his eyes there wasn’t much he could do about it. 

One of the two maidens then did something unexpected, she clasped her hands together and started a soft prayer while the other placed two thick woolen blankets next to his trough. 

After a brief hail Mary, both maidens hurried to get up and fled the shed, leaving Ivar completely dumbstruck. 

That same event occurred two more times with different people. A peasant mother and daughter snuck inside the stable to behold Ivar’s beat down form and placed a bowl of goat milk aside his box before leaving. Two youngsters ogled him for a while before daring to enter the stable and, instead of throwing stones, left one of their most treasured possessions; a sling and a wooden miniature toy horse.

Piglet was less humble about entering and burst out laughing when she noticed all the gifted items. Shaking her head, she nicked the milk and brought it closer to Ivar. It was awkward drinking milk while lying flat, but Ivar managed without spilling too much. 

“Ivar the bloody,” Piglet sniggered and drank some herself, “martyr.”

And so, Ivar learned he’d been given a new nickname among the poor population of de Haar. ‘De martelaar’, The Martyr, as Piglet put it. She explained as good as her Nordish vocabulary allowed her that a martyr was someone who suffered persecution and death for advocating a religious belief or for a good cause. Apparently, Piglet’s life was useless, yet her virtue was considered sacred enough to fight and nearly die for in the eyes of the slaves, serfs and servants. 

Although Ivar completely despised the way his punishment was now silently considered a holy statement, he did enjoy the benefits; proper food, warmth in forms of decent clothing and blankets. And he must admit, the smoldering eyes of the female population fully in awe of his quote on quote ‘scars of true heroism’, flattered his ego greatly. 

Piglet managed to keep her lips in a proper shape and hands clasped together as she registered all the gifts and from time to time ushered spectators out who dared to take too much time of the healing martyr. 

After a few days Ivar managed to turn on his side without rupturing the gashes, Piglet wasn’t happy with it, but Ivar had to place himself in another position. Laying still for an extended amount of time caused so much ache in his legs he’d rather cut his own skin open again.  

His body was no longer an unblemished canvas, but he had come to  treasure his first won symbols of victory. He victored a Christian death, for even his crippled body was stronger than that of the enemy. 

Was Ivar simply a stubborn young man, willing himself to survive torture, or did he lay there as something sacred in the punishment brought upon him? 

Whatever it was, his new near holy status made it possible to survive the upcoming cold. The Giant did not bother him and stayed away from the shed. 

It even placed him on a pedestal of the more fortunate of castle De Haar...

.-.-.

A week. It took Ivar a week to be able to place himself into a sitting position. It hurt, badly and he couldn’t maintain the position for long, for it was impossible to place his back against the solidness of a wall. 

But it allowed him to massage his legs. Kneading his calloused fingers into the poor muscle tone of his calves his heart ached for a hot bath. And the warmth of a fire. And the satisfaction of a belly filled with mead. 

The fallen prince extended his wish-list and glanced up puzzled as the door creaked. It was an odd hour for his so-called worshippers to risk a peek. Everyone should be working, it was way past lunch. 

Cocooned in the finest of silk and furs, the fair maiden desecrated her sandals as she tiptoed into the shed. Ivar’s mouth dropped as she came closer, Kattegat was known for their beautiful women but this maiden outshone them all. 

He could not breath, eyes drawn to her golden locks that gently caressed its way down to her neck, reaching her bosom. If her God was real, Ivar told himself, then this woman was one of His masterpieces. 

She was scared, petrified. Ivar failed to find reason in her fright, for he was still recovering and enchained  for the matter. Her hurried glances over her shoulder revealed her true dread; she wasn’t supposed to be here.

Now, this drew Ivar’s full attention. Why would a noblewoman, with so much to lose, put herself at risk for a crippled? Now this was interesting. 

She kneeled down, and with that pulled her cloak around her tighter to stave off the keen wind. Closing her eyes, the fair maiden started to pray, clasping her hands together and bowing her head. 

Now this was very interesting. Her submissive demeanor drew Ivar closer. As his chains rattled, the fair maiden hunched further forward and trembled. Oh, she was scared, a lamb willingly walking into a lion's den. And why, for gossip and rumors spread by her lessers? 

Ivar edged closer, as close as the chains allowed him. And he waited for the fair maiden to finish her prayer, out of curiosity, for he wondered what she’d do next as she’d face him from up close. Lowering her trembling hands the fair maiden found enough bravery in her heart to look up. And her eyes, they were, in one word, beautiful. Her eyes were a perfect spring sky and along with terror they were incarnated with sanctity. 

Ivar found himself bizarrely fascinated by the fair maiden’s utter devotion of her faith. She was risking hers to lay eyes on his skin, for he who was De Martelaar. 

With one swift move Ivar grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in. She was close, so close that he could see her heartbeat gallop underneath the fair skin of her neck. She smelled of rose water and jasmine, pure and unblemished. 

Ivar looked down at her trembling hands, her ring finger still lacking a wedding ring. 

“Poor little lamb, you’re sold off to a monster,” Ivar murmured with pity, “but I bet you already know that.” Their eyes locked like magnets and although the fair maiden couldn’t understand his language, his humble bit of sympathy didn’t go by unnoticed. With wide eyes she watched as the crippled martyr slowly rose his free hand and pressed his index finger down in between her brows. She took in a sharp breath as he drew a small cross and spoke a blessing with sencernity:

“God zegene u.” 

They were the words their holy man spoke at the end of every service. Ivar didn’t know the depth of the words, but witnessing how the fear drained from her face and got restored with hope, he knew he did little right today. 

“How lost you must be, if you perceive me as something biblical,” Ivar scoffed soft, lips turning in a sideway smirk, very pleased that she still allowed him to touch her. A noblewoman on her knees in filth and animal dung, so desperately in need to find a shatter of hope. 

Ivar’s fingers ran down the bridge of her nose fully aware that he was playing with fire, enough to burn the entire castle down. 

Ivar did not know what emotion drove him, was it a simple payback in regards to her fiance? Was it selfishness? Weakness? Lust? Or a simple consideration towards a beautiful young woman, to briefly veil her from the terrible truth; that she was going to be married to a monster? 

Whatever it was, Ivar kissed the fair maiden and the world fell away. The touch was light and soft, comforting in ways words would never be, for language was their barrier. His hand moved and rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. 

The sounds of a tearing potato bag broke their spell. The fair maiden jerked her head in the direction of the sound and Ivar managed to look over her shoulder. 

Piglet lingered in the doorway, holding the torn bag against her chest with a pile of potatoes spread around her feet. Still as a statue the slave gawked at the scene in front of her. 

It was the fair maiden who broke the awful silence. As being touched by fire she jolted back, struggling to get on her feet. Shame-faced she whispered something to Piglet and managed to shove something in her hands before evacuating the shed. 

Piglet managed a deadpan expression all while striding with large steps into Ivar’s box. There she exploded, beating her fists into his chest and smacking him across the face. 

Alongside the curses in her mother tongue she managed to slip in some Nordish: 

“Thick-head, do you have a death wish?!” She repeated numerous times before dropping on her knees and staring up skywards. 

“IDIOT!” She exclaimed and thrusted her fists into the ground. “Hamar! Stupid idiot!” When Ivar failed to speak she crawled back on her feet and marched off. At the doorway she took a small pause and threw the fair maidens item across the shed. 

Ivar played marble until he no longer could see the back of Piglet’s head before reaching forwards in the way. He picked up a woman’s necklace. A golden cross dangling at the end.

.-.-.

A/N Yeah, so this happened. This was not supposed to happen. But then again, Ivar is into blondes so yeah maybe I shouldn’t have let her get down on her knees. Also I didn’t have the intentions of making Ivar a Martyr, but it’ll get the pair of them through winter and c’mon you know how good this is for his ego. Mister God complex. But fuck, why did they had to kiss. Yes I’ll I seriously need to recover from this. 

Also ‘God zegene U’, means ‘God Bless you’ in Dutch. So at least he blessed her before making out with the fiance of the guy who’s responsible for tearing his entire back open. I’m team Piglet with this one, he’s a complete and utter idiot. 

So, what are your thoughts of our young Prince smoothing up with the WORST OPTION in the entire castle….

Xoxoxo Nukyster 

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

#ivar the boneless #Ivar the marthy #ivar the bloody #ivar fanfic #vikings fanfic #vikings fandom #alex hogh andersen

[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 17: Haunted

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 17/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,761 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, School Festival, Haunted House, Mentions of Fake Blood Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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

Ever since elementary school, the cultural festival had been something Makoto looked forward to all year. In the weeks leading up to it, the atmosphere surrounding the school was even more pleasant and amicable than usual as everyone put in effort to make their class' event stand out. Preparing their event was a lot of fun, but the real fun came when their hard work came to fruition and the festival began. Seeing what all his classmates came up with, showcasing what his class made, enjoying all kinds of food at the various stalls and cafés, watching recitals and plays, it was a blast from start to finish. It was a time of unity between classmates and at the end, he was left feeling satisfied and fulfilled.

Makoto hadn't expected the enjoyment of it would dwindle when he got to university. On the contrary: everything was on a much grander scale and there were a lot fewer restrictions than in high school. Because of his job, Makoto wasn't in a club and therefore hadn't participated in the organisation, but he'd been looking forward to going to the festival with Haruka and experiencing what his friends had been working on for so long.

But more than twelve years of amusing cultural festivals were at risk of being destroyed in a single minute.

"Come on, Tachibana," Takagi said. "It's not that scary, I promise."

The axe headband sticking out between his copper-coloured locks and the fake blood trailing down his forehead did not support his claim. The instant Makoto spotted his friend, he had let out an audible shriek, drawing the attention of everyone in the hallway and sending his own blood rushing to his cheeks.

"You don't have to, Makoto," Haruka said from beside him and although he appreciated his support, it only strengthened Makoto's doubt.

Takagi had been a good friend of his since day one of university. They sat next to each other in Psychology and hit it off right away, agreeing to swap notes and help each other wherever they could. Quickly thereafter, Takagi had joined the Movie Research Club and, in collaboration with the Creative Writing Club, they had created a haunted house for the festival.

According to the advertisement posters, it was supposed to be like stepping inside a horror movie, a storyline the visitor was the protagonist of. That description set off numerous alarm bells in Makoto's head. He avoided haunted houses like the plague and vehemently refused to watch horror movies and this brought the worst of two worlds together.

The decision of whether or not to partake in this particular event seemed crystal clear. After all, he had strategically evaded the haunted houses in past festivals and had planned to continue this streak. But there was one roadblock: Makoto was a giant pushover.

"We all worked so hard on this and I would love for you to see what we made." Takagi slapped his hands together and bowed his head, nearly smacking Haruka with his axe-handle. "It's like a compilation of horror movie clichés, so it's more funny than anything. But if you do think it's too scary, I'll treat you to whatever you want."

There it was. It was not so much the promise that persuaded him, but the fear of disappointing his friend.

"W-Well, if you insist it's not that scary…" Makoto trailed off with an awkward chuckle.

"Thanks man, I appreciate it," Takagi said with a pat on Makoto's shoulder. "I hope you enjoy it. You too, Haru!"

With that, he stormed off to a group of young women to coax them into entering the haunted house as well.

The exchange left a frown on Haruka's face. "How am I on a first-name basis with your friend but you aren't?"

The dry comment dissipated some of the tension gripping Makoto's stomach. "Sorry, I think it's because I talk about you so much."

"Hm," Haruka hummed, and when he was sure Takagi was out of earshot, he said, "Makoto, you don't have to go in if you're not comfortable. I can go in by myself and tell you about it afterwards, in case he asks you what you think of it later."

Despite feeling like he was seconds removed from willingly throwing himself off a cliff, Makoto smiled. "Thanks, Haru, but I'll go with you. He said it wasn't that scary, so I should be fine."

Except he wasn't fine. The instant he stood before the room and heard the eerie music, Makoto knew he made a huge mistake.

When they entered the house, they got a handful of cards with dialogue options that they would need for certain checkpoints, then the interactive movie began. There was no way back.

Following the story that was being portrayed, Haruka and he moved into a vacant house that was far cheaper than the surrounding lots in the neighbourhood - a house Makoto would never buy in reality for obvious reasons. Right away, strange things began to happen in the house: lights flickered, keys clinked, lamps fell over and the phone rang, but when Haruka picked up, the line was dead. That was already enough to have Makoto clinging to Haruka's arm.

"It's alright, Makoto," Haruka said, rubbing his skin with his thumb. "Just close your eyes and try to think of something else. I'll guide us through."

Haruka's advice was a small comfort, but it was futile. Makoto's heart was actively trying to burst through his ribcage and his fight-flight-or-freeze instinct had kicked in, therefore he couldn't tear his eyes away from any of the things that were happening around him. Logically, he knew everything was fabricated by his peers, but it felt so real. This was exactly why he hated horror. How could anyone enjoy being scared?

When Makoto had unsuccessfully convinced Haruka it was fine, they continued. They had to investigate the reason behind these weird occurrences and found out that a hundred years ago, a young girl was murdered inside their house. It had been haunted ever since by various vengeful spirits and the only way to break the curse that had befallen the house was to figure out who the killer had been.

What the conclusion to the story was, Makoto didn't even care. A light, feminine voice ruptured the silence, ominously whispering about bringing forth suffering to those who had wronged her; suffering that exceeded the torture she endured. Makoto clamped onto Haruka's shoulders as he scanned the room to see where it was coming from. A short girl in torn, ivory robes emerged from the darkness, hunched over with her long dark hair obscuring her stark white face. She glided closer and when she stood before them, she looked up and revealed her pitch-black eyes.

When she popped up into his field of vision, Makoto screamed so loudly it alerted all the orcas within a thousand-mile radius. He nearly jumped on Haruka's neck in an attempt to hide his large frame behind Haruka's smaller one.

Fortunately, the girl noticed how genuinely terrified he was. She recoiled and forwent her script in favour of asking if he was alright, voice a bit heavier than the childlike tone she put on. Before Makoto could come with excuses, Haruka spoke up.

"He's not alright. Is there a way for us to leave?"

The girl nodded. "Code yellow!" she yelled, her voice vibrating throughout the area, then she turned back to them. "You can walk through now. No one will bother you."

"Thanks," Haruka said, and he tugged Makoto along by the hand. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Shame filled Makoto's senses, but when they passed through the rest of the haunted house and he saw the bloodied decor and props, relief washed over him. If he had to stay for the rest, he would either leave crying or in a fear-induced coma, so this was better for everyone involved.

What he did take away from this was that he would no longer trust Takagi's judgement. More funny than anything, he said. The only funny thing that happened inside that haunted house was Makoto's pathetic reaction.

When they were finally outside in the daylight again, Haruka dragged him over to a bench. Once he was seated safely, Makoto's soul returned to his body and his back slumped like all the life force had been sucked out of him.

"Are you okay?"

He looked up at Haruka with blazing cheeks. "I'm sorry, Haru. Because of me, you didn't get to experience the haunted house like it was intended."

Haruka merely shrugged. "As if I care about that. I just want you to be comfortable. But you do need to grow a spine."

"I know," Makoto said, head hanging low, "My childish fears always ruin everything."

"That's not it," Haruka said with a squeeze to Makoto's knee. "It's not weird or embarrassing to be scared of these things, a lot of people are. But next time, you need to come out for it and reject these offers right away. Stop being so afraid of letting people down and straight-up tell them no if you don't want to do something."

It was hard, but Haruka was right. He was an adult now and he should act like one. That included setting boundaries and adhering to them. "You're right. I'll tell Takagi-kun I couldn't handle it and that I won't go in next time. From now on, no more haunted houses or anything else ghost or murder-related for me."

"Good," Haruka said, bidding him a gentle smile that calmed Makoto's overworked heart. "Takagi owes us, but we'll find him later. First, is there anything you still wanted to see or do?"

The terror within his gut mellowed out and he smiled back at Haruka. "Well, I saw a sign for a sweets café earlier. Maybe we can check that out?"

"Sure. My treat," Haruka said and Makoto opened his mouth to protest, but he sent him a look that made it clear there was no room for argument.

Hand in hand they strolled over the campus towards the building that hosted the café. Haruka asked him what kind of pastries he was hoping they'd have and Makoto's mouth began to water at the thought of cakes and brownies.

If there was anyone who could chase off all the bad images and demons that resided in Makoto's mind, it was Haruka. It had been like that since they were kids and it would stay that way even as they grew older, because some things never changed.

#i'm sorry i'm stupid #makoharu #makoharu fic #my fic #fantober2020 #colourful days with you

[real-jaune-isms]

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 7 Review/Remix

Last episode before the holiday break. The long long long holiday break. And here I am only posting my review the night before we come back... I was having a lot of fun playing my new video games, okay? Let’s just get right into this with the joke everyone has already made. War: What is it good for? Actually a lot, if you can believe it. Only in this specific context though, because the warfare in the American streets these last few days is disgusting and emblematic of what has been wrong with the country for a while. A government leader sending his followers into the nation’s capital on a mission of rage and personal catharsis? Ick. At least in RWBY the tyrant isn’t attacking members of his own population... Oh wait, Mantle. :P

For a moment you might be fooled into thinking we’re starting back in the farmlands of Mistral, maybe getting another look at Oscar’s earlier life or seeing a little more of Nora’s mysteriously tragic past before she and Ren met. But no, these are the wheat farms on the outskirts of Atlas and Sabyrs are charging through like raptors through the tall grass in Lost World. A battalion of Atlesian soldiers, human soldiers I might add, stand armed to meet them. But even if they’re armed they are by no means ready. Monstra keeps coughing up a new wave of Grimm, and I do mean a wave, every minute or two and Atlas is pretty damn whelmed in the face of it. There are some big bots with guns standing in straight lines, but the majority of the defense put up by Remnant’s supreme authority on military power and strength is mortal men with fear in their hearts rather than expendable robot soldiers. And the big bots seem to be lined up in a way that the ones in the front block the ones in the back, so that’s just poor planning too. It’s just a concerning sight all together, and they are not efficiently handling the coming enemy. We cut up to Ironwood in his office, and it seems he is not dealing with this situation well at all. We know he’s under a lot of stress from all the recent events, but they are in fact mostly his own fault due to his poor decision making skills in times of crisis, and his single minded drive he calls a Semblance. Speaking of the eternally expanding list of Ironwood’s bad ideas, he decides to evacuate all the civilians into Atlas’ below ground subway tunnels. Fun fact: There were Apathy among the Grimm Monstra has been spitting out. Second Fun Fact: Apathy were last seen thriving and murdering in an abandoned underground tunnel system beneath a well. If one is familiar with fantasy television pop culture of the last decade, the Crypts of Winterfell might pop into your mind as a similarly poor place to hide all your unarmed women and children. Y’know, cuz in Game of Thrones they were facing a guy who could raise the dead as his minions and crypts are just tunnels full of corpses. Just saying, this could end up being a non-birthday massacre. Whatever captain of lieutenant Ironwood was talking to is hesitant to go along with this idea, but Ironwood puts his foot down by putting his fist down. And so his voice comes on over the city-wide PA system to tell everyone they need to get down into the subway for their own safety. Compared to the organized marching and relative calm of the poor folks down in Mantle, these rich fat cats practically trample each other to run and scream down the stairs. A father is concerned his daughter is going to get snatched up by a swarm of Lancers, but seems even more upset by the squad of airships swooping in to combat them. 

Speaking of airships, we cut to the one Marrow and Harriet are flying. The Ace Ops have arrested YRJ, because of course they did, and they all hear radio chatter as pilots are reporting in about how Monstra is too tough for them to pierce from the outside with any of the weapons available to them. Winter checks in over comms to report her team’s limited successes, and Ironwood tells her to stay on jailor duty for a bit. Yang snarks at Winter for continuing to follow orders despite the circumstances, but conversation is stifled by Monstra coming into view for the group. Jaune laments that the beast now serving as Oscar’s confinement is larger than they had imagined from a distance, and Vine continues to be rigid in his assertions as to just what Grimm can and cannot do. “Grimm don’t take prisoners” he says, as if that’s an irrefutable fact. It’s not like any Grimm have done anything new or unheard of recently, like talk or grow wings or exist within a river of evil sludge or shoot up miles into the air as a geyser or have gravity Dust crystals in their underbelly to fly, or as you are witnessing right now belch out ponds worth of sludge from with waves of Grimm are emerging to fight your ground troops. Yep, we definitely know every single thing a Grimm does, especially one brought here by the mistress of the entire Grimm collective who is commanding most of them here. You sure are smart, Vine... Yang continues to be riled up and ask they be let go to help, but Elm and Vine hold her in her seat. Ironwood is heard giving the Manta jets new orders and reveals Command is working on a solution for Monstra. Winter, naturally wanting to be kept in the loop, asks what that might be. He reveals the science team is putting together a bomb that might be able to take the whale out if detonated inside it. That means Winter and the Ace Ops will be delivering it into the literal belly of the beast. I don’t know if he intends for it to be a suicide mission with the bomb going off as soon as they’ve got it inside, or if it’s just incredibly risky to try and get inside Monstra at all, but Winter pales at this news and her eyes go wide before sadly drooping closed again. She composes herself and grows determined again as she accepts the new marching orders. Jaune and Yang are again audibly against these plans due to the risk to Oscar’s safety, but they are subdued as needed, though we see Winter’s act isn’t absolute and her hands are shaking.

Meanwhile, Salem is having the time of her life doing her best Mickey Mouse impression. Classical music plays as she conducts the waves of Grimm sludge out of Monstra’s mouth like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice playing conductor to the stars themselves. Emerald watched from a distance, and seems less than thrilled about the whole thing. She heads down the halls and has to use her Semblance to keep a Seer from noticing her and potentially reporting her going where she doesn’t need to be to Salem. And where she’s going is the door outside Oscar’s torture room. He’s coughing up blood, and Hazel is still insisting he start telling the truth before Salem loses her patience and just kills him despite how futile it’d be. Instead Oz starts asking some questions of his own: Does Hazel know why Salem sought to recruit him in particular? It turns out she approached him with the promise of making a new world order where there won’t be any kingdoms or Huntsman Academies. Oz just has to laugh at that naiveté. When Salem gets the 4 Relics, there won’t be a world at all. She’s been around for so goddamn long, all she wants is for it to end, and she thinks taking the whole world down is the only way to get it anymore. This just frustrates Hazel, and we learn why. He’s pretty damn sure Salem can’t die at all, because when she first approached him about working together he spent the better part of a day killing her over and over and over again. This man, whom we know from the Battle of Haven to have massive reserves of Aura and strength to endure and keep fighting, kept fighting until he was too worn down and exhausted to lift his fists again. And in that time of weakness and awe at her power, Salem made her sales pitch that even if he couldn’t kill the one leading the Grimm he could at least have vengeance on the establishment sending young people to their deaths against her. Oz points out that that’s exactly why she went to him, because she could make him believe this was the right way, that it would bring him closure. It’s what Ozpin deserves, Hazel argues, and Oz does not disagree. But does Oscar deserve it? Do the innocent people who haven’t been affected by Salem or Ozpin yet?  No, this isn’t for justice, this is personal. Because Salem said it would help Hazel. Has it?

We don’t get an answer to that, instead going back up to Weiss’ room in Schnee Manor where she’s reapplying Nora’s bandages. Still mostly unconscious, Nora mutters “Now what... am I good for?” I can think of a great many things Nora is useful for outside of her great strength and straightforward approach to combat, but its a damn shame no one has actually bothered to tell her that before now. Before Weiss has a chance to offer any, Blake and Ruby enter the room with cups of tea. I’m not ashamed to admit I initially thought they were hot chocolate cuz I’m not used to tea being that sort of amber color. Weiss admits that she’s done the most her limited medical knowledge can offer, and Nora needs more than that. Blake expresses her concern for the other half of their group, but almost slips up and says... well we’re just not sure, but we like to assume she was gonna say she’s especially worried for someone in particular. The shippers can fill that in how they like. Their moping is interrupted by May entering the room with some less than stellar news from Fiona and the others down in Mantle. They haven’t seen Yang’s team in a while, and with everything going to hell like this a search party is at the bottom of the priority list. She’s about ready to get back on the airship and head back down to Mantle, but Weiss protests and this sparks a debate. May points out that Mantle doesn’t have the luxury of the Atlas military protecting them so Ruby’s group and the Happy Huntresses are the only thing keeping the people safe from the chaos of the invasion, but Weiss argues that there are still people suffering up her and I have to agree. Just because a police force is around doesn’t automatically mean they’re doing the best job of keeping everyone safe. But Weiss pushes the wrong button by asking about May’s family. The Marigold’s were ashamed of the way their “son” acted, wanting to help the suffering down in Mantle. And so May would no longer let herself be called that, she became a woman proudly working as part of the Happy Huntresses for the service of the people. She kicked her Marigold name and reputation to the curb and her cousin Henry stepped up as the socialite snob instead. 

This cannot have been an easy scene for Kdin to record, but we all need to give a standing ovation for her performance in it. Powerful words that likely hit very close to home. What a queen.

May is sure Weiss gets where she’s coming from with their families casting them aside in favor of a more obedient heir, her being replaced by Whitley after her outburst at the charity concert. Weiss wants to voice her disagreement, but May questions whose side she’s on in all this. Blake doesn’t like that, they’ve heard this talk about taking sides before and judging by her tone she’s none too happy to be hearing it now. May is about to give her a strongly worded piece of her mind too but Ruby stands between them to remind everyone there are no sides. All of humanity needs to be united, and Salem is the one creating the tension that’s dividing them so their real enemy is her. The only question now is how do they get out of this problem? The solution might be hiding just around the corner, literally. Whitley has been listening from behind the door, and he seems a little inspired.

Meanwhile Oz seems to have just finished telling Salem’s dark cursed backstory to Hazel, and it seems her final plan really is to have the world so divided and ruined that when the gods are brought back to judge it they will deem Remnant a failure and destroy it and hopefully her with it. Hazel seems less than inclined to believe this story though, he still holds a damn hard grudge over his sister. Oz is getting nowhere so Oscar asks to be put back in the lead, and so he is just as Hazel is about to wallop them again. Oz is willing to trust him so he can earn Hazel’s trust in return. So he goes right ahead and tells the big guy Jinn’s name and that it’s how you summon her for one last question. Hazel seems mad that Oscar gave up the info so effortlessly after all that, but Oscar asserts that he’s not telling Salem. He’s telling Hazel, and letting him decide what to do with the knowledge and the chance to gain deeper knowledge still. Pretty rad strategy. Wouldn’t you know it though, Emerald is still listening outside the door and heard everything. She goes to tell Mercury, but he’s busy packing a duffel bag for a trip to Vacuo. Guess Salem doesn’t need him here right now so we’ll get to see him again in Volume 9 or 10. He’s less than convinced that they should try and use this behind the scenes knowledge to go against Salem, cuz if Hazel couldn’t do it then why would he change his tune now? And why would they risk their necks too? It’s not like Oz was telling the truth, right? Salem isn’t really gonna destroy the world! But the teens get another surprise lecture from Uncle Tyrian: Of course Salem plans to destroy Remnant!! You couldn’t tell from the start? Everything about her screams end of the world, and it is beautiful! And if you thought she’d do anything different then you must really be crazy... Bold worlds from a psychotic serial killer, but we already know he’s unhinged. Mercury doesn’t much like getting this rude awakening though, especially since Tyrian will be the one going with him to Vacuo. Merc and Em share one last sad look, but he’s made his bed and now he’s resigned to lie in it. Bye bye Mercury, see you after Emerald has probably switched sides and will have to face you as an enemy...

Speaking of ships soaring through the air, we go back to the Ace Ops and YJR heading for Monstra. Yang is protesting the bombing plan since Oscar is still inside, but Vine insists they can’t afford to wait and risk further death and destruction. Jaune offers a side plan, send the three inside Monstra ahead of the bombing squad to scope things out for them and try to rescue Oscar while they’re doing recon. Marrow is shocked that they’d be willing to go into the literal belly of the beast alone, but Yang asserts he’d do the same for one of his teammates if they were in this position, right? He doesn’t have an answer for that. Elm argues that trading their lives just for one other person is stupid, but amazingly it is Ren who objects. Oscar is their friend, and they will do whatever it takes for someone they care about like that. A real turnaround from his attitude of closing himself off emotionally, but I guess he’s realizing how ridiculous it sounds coming from other people? Harriet gets out of her seat to do what she does best and start talking down to someone as naïve and wrong. Feelings are stupid, the job is what matters. When you lose someone you just replace them and forget about them. We find out that Winter is indeed meant to be the new leader instead of Clover, and before Marrow there was apparently a member of the team named Tortuga, but Ren is not about to let anyone tell him that someone is replaceable. You don’t say that to Team JNPR, and we definitely don’t say that about Ren... Not now. In his outrage, Ren suddenly finds... clarity. He starts seeing the world a little differently. In less cryptic terms, his Semblance seems to have evolved and he now sees people’s emotions swirling around them as colorful bursts of flower petals. Harriet is actually furious about losing Clover, she’s lying to herself and trying to suppress her feelings. She does not like being called out like that, but the rest of the squad needs to be put on blast. As opposed to Hare’s red petals Marrow is surrounded by blue that I guess would mean sadness or depression, Elm has orange and some red, and Vine is clouded with green. The meanings of the last two are a little less clear, but they’re all definitely feeling some strong things that they’re trying to hide under a calm façade. This is the reason the Ace Ops lost to RWBY, they’re all held back by trying not to connect with each other so unity and team bonds never formed. Elm does not like being told she’s a loser because she won’t make friends, but at least it’s a a reaction, which means he’s absolutely right. She’s about to deck Ren in the face but Winter steps in to get everyone calmed down. She looks these three “fugitives” over, and makes a decision. She’s going to trust her sister’s friends. They will get the teens in close and give them a small window of time to try and get in and out before the Ace Ops need to bring in the payload and blow it all away. Harriet is pissed Winter is giving these “traitors” a chance, and questions her decision thusly. But you’re outranked, you boob, and you can’t do a damn thing to stop her from showing human decency. They have a very tight schedule to attempt this rescue, and Jaune accepts that fully. The three get uncuffed and are given their weapons back as the ship lands at the front lines. Ren tries to appeal to the doubt and regret he can see in Marrow to get him to switch sides while the getting’s good. Marrow wants to, but he sticks to the job for now. Yang and Jaune head out first, while Ren lingers to tell Winter he knows she doesn’t want to be a part of all this anymore either, and we see a rainbow of many emotional petals around her head. Either she has a balance of many emotions in check and is the most levelheaded of the Ace Ops, or she has the most emotions repressed and her mind is a tempest of feelings that aren’t being addressed and may spell her end... take your pick.

As this militant Schnee considers her options, we go homeward to see Weiss and the others heading for the front door. May isn’t keen to stay her any longer than needed, and the kids need to make a choice about where she’s dropping them off. Either they go to the front lines here in Atlas or back down to Mantle to help with the chaos there. No other options, and especially no breaking their jailbirds out for an assist. May doesn’t have the optimism and heroic hope that Ruby still holds dear, she won’t entertain the idea that this can become a complete victory all around. This isn’t that kind of world. Either they help one place, or they help another. And even then, that’s no guarantee wherever they go will be successful at stopping the invasion. It’s very depressing, and it’s on these kids to accept the facts and make the hard decisions. If you take a look at the last few Volumes, Ruby does seem to have a bit of a habit of ignoring the dreadful possibilities/facts in favor of pursuing a hopeful and bold plan that could fix everything immediately so she doesn’t have to cope with reality and actually grieve her mistakes and losses... I’m not saying it makes her a bad character or that she’s wholly wrong for trying to see a bright side whenever possible, just that this is an unhealthy strategy for a leader with so much on her shoulders. But before anyone has time to make a decision right now, there’s a hard knock on the front door. Everyone draws their weapons and approaches slowly, before Weiss cautiously opens the door. In a most definitely welcome surprise, she is greeted by Klein!!! She missed him dearly, and apologizes for whatever fault she had in his being fired, but while cycling through personalities he assures her she has nothing to be sorry for since it’s all Jacques’ fault, the bastard. Turns out, Klein is here to use his medical knowledge to treat Nora. What, didn’t you know all butlers to heroic millionaires have field medic training? Alfred Pennyworth set the gold standard, I dare say~ But of course, Weiss didn’t call him and none of her friends know his number so who told him to come?... Would you believe it, Whitley is responsible and we could not be more proud of him! Weiss certainly is, and she gives him what might be his first genuinely loving hug in years. Klein heads upstairs to begin treatment, while the rest of the group share a hopeful moment. But this silence too comes to a crashing halt as there is further ruckus outside. This time Ruby answers the door, to see a smoking crater in the front driveway. RWB rush outside and kneel at the edge of the crater as the smoke clears. Penny has crash landed, and lies there in a pool of what we can only presume to be her green synthetic blood. All she has the strength left to do is apologize before she passes out and the screen darkens with her. There lies the end for the next 6 weeks, and we were left to panic and speculate all the while. Too bad I’m a lazy bugger who only got this review out now and there’s no tension left before the thrilling continuation comes tomorrow morning. So lets all get one last panicked sleep in before the living nightmares come for our girls! Penny is totally gonna be under Watt’s control, the Hound is coming, it’s all gonna be a huge damn mess... Can’t wait, can you?~

#rwby reviews #general ironwood #winter schnee #yang xiao long #jaune arc #lie ren #harriet bree #marrow amin #elm ederne #vine zeki #salem #emerald sustrai #hazel rainart #oscar pine #ozcar #nora valkyrie #weiss schnee #ruby rose #blake belladonna #may marigold #mercury black #tyrian callows #klein sieben #penny polendina #put the people in the subway #best plan since the crypts of winterfell #game of thrones reference #getting a little political #kdin jenzen is our queen

[aion-rsa]

Why Black Widow’s Dreykov is the MCU’s Nastiest Villain

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains spoilers for Black Widow.

“Is he gone?” 

It’s the solitary line spoken by Olga Kurylenko’s Antonia Dreykov, a tragic figure who until the end of Black Widow had been programmed by her father to be a ruthless killing machine. Yes, this is Dreykov’s daughter, a victim of an attack by Natasha Romanoff herself when Antonia was just a child which caused her severe facial scarring. Her father put a chip in her head, we are told, made her cover her face with a mask, and forced her to act as his weapon under the name Taskmaster. 

Taskmaster can perfectly mimic anyone’s fighting style. She is virtually unstoppable. And yet there is still one person who strikes dread into her heart—her father.

It’s just a glimpse of how much of a monster Dreykov clearly is. He might not have disintegrated 50 percent of the universe, he might not be an actual Nazi with a skull for a face, or a Goddess destroyer of worlds, but Dreykov is still a bigger bastard—and a very recognizable one at that. 

This villain is not an experiment gone wrong, or a damaged character hell bent on revenge; he has no misguided noble ideals, he’s just an utter, utter wanker who treats women and girls as a commodity. Dreykov runs the Widow program as if it was a farm. He takes children from their families when they are very young (Yelena was six – Natasha was even younger). One in 20 survives the training and becomes a Widow. He kills the rest. Given the reveal of how many brainwashed Widows Dreykov has stationed around the world, the body count he must be responsible for is huge. But the ones who survive are hardly better off. We learn through Yelena that these women have no freewill. No meaningful life at all. It’s funny, but it’s also quite heartbreaking how excited Yelena is about buying herself a piece of clothing for the first time.

Dreykov has Harvey Weinstein/Jeffrey Epstein/Donald Trump vibes. He’s an embodiment of toxic masculinity, a violent bully obsessed with power who sees women as property—in fact he describes girls as “the one resource the world has too much of.”

There is nothing to suggest Dreykov is a sexual abuser, but then there’s nothing to suggest he isn’t. What motivates Dreykov is power and he has complete control over these women—hundreds of women. They aren’t people to him. So the limits of his abuse aren’t defined. And the fact that he is able to treat his own daughter so abhorrently would indicate that there aren’t limits at all. He treats women and girls like trash, including his own child. 

Dreykov’s Widows are given involuntary hysterectomies—Yelena describes the process to Alexei with cold detail. He violates these women’s bodies and controls their minds, keeping them in a state of waking torture. They are conscious and aware of what they are doing but can’t tell what is them and what is not.

And when Dreykov is confronted by a woman he can’t control, Natasha, then his facade slips. He loses his temper. And his reaction is to punch her in the face. Repeatedly. Nat can take it. It’s all part of her plan. But you know in another life Dreykov would definitely be a domestic abuser. 

He is absolutely a villain for our time and there’s nothing cartoonish about him (apart from his accent…). Dreykov is a scummy man, taken to absolute extremes: he is the all powerful scummy man. He is what happens when a man who hates women isn’t stopped. He is a cautionary tale and in the retrospectively chilling opening credit montage, we see him cozying up to world leaders. He can start and end wars, make or break kings, we are told. He is the kind of real world villain that we must be afraid of—Gods and monsters aren’t real, but people like Dreykov are. And it’s fitting that it takes three women (and a super soldier) to bring him down.

Marvel villains don’t always die when they are defeated. Fan favorite Loki who actually did die, now has his own show, while the decision not to allow Zemo to take his own life at the end of Captain America: Civil War was a key moment for T’Challa. But Dreykov had to die. He is irredeemable and his sphere of influence too powerful to take any risks. He might be just an old, human male, but he’s the nastiest piece of work the MCU has ever created.

Black Widow opens in cinemas on July 7 in the UK. It opens in theaters and on Disney+ Premier access on July 9 in the U.S.

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