#There are always repercussions. There is always an effect.

[franciscrozierofficial]

MEN. YOUR ATTENTION. THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SPEAKING.

At the suggestion of Lieutenant George Hodgson (@ltgeorgehodgson) the punishment of Mr. Thomas Jopson (@thomas-jopson) for the infraction of repeated harassment, humiliation, and lies of omission will be made open to viewing.

At eight bells, Mr. Jopson will be undressed, put over my knee, and spanked until I feel that he has suffered sufficient punishment.

Any crew members who wish see what happens when an officer is disrespected may attend— though I will be the only one permitted to touch Mr. Jopson.

Due to the sensitive nature of this punishment, Mr. Jopson has the choice: to be stripped and spanked by his captain, or spend 48 hours on Erebus with no contact to Terror. (I can manage without a steward for 2 days, there need not be an exchange). @thomas-jopson, speak now to make your choice.

Everyone else: as you were.

[slocumjoe]

hey uhhh i went thru ur oc post history and u said gus set himself on fire?? pls context

I love this character because whenever someone asks about him I always have to take a deep breath and get comfortable and suck a breath in through my teeth. I treat him so poorly

More Gus lore, because that specific event is actually tied to the very first event that would fuck him up forever, so I can't really talk about it without going in depth.

This is explaining the core tenent of Augustijn's story, which is guilt and its dangers. Basically, where that constant guilt came from, and how it...turned out for him...

It turns out okay. Just...takes 200+ years, an apocalypse, a divorce, and his son dying! 🥳Yay🥳

Tw; Religious trauma, child abuse, suicide, drug use, cannibalism, mental illnesses, and yet another suicide attempt.

So, some background, Gus's mom, Emma, was a fanatic catholic and generally Bat Shit about religion. As you might imagine, this is the Direct Source of both Gus' questionable worldviews, traumas, and his biological inclination to uuuhhh bad Head Times.

Emma was raised mildly religious, but she...took to it too hard? Her family was not the cause of her obsession, Gus's grandparents and uncles/aunts over there actually cut her off at one point, because she was starting to worry them but reaching out led to her lashing out. So, they just...backed off. Emma herself was a simple, homebody woman, who wanted to be at home raising her kids, and tending her garden. She would have been this way even without the religious thing.

But Emma and her side of the family were prone to addiction, see? And religion became her point of fixation and obsession. This could have still been okay, if not for the church she went into. A catholic church in the Hague that was known by all for being kind of fucking out there, even by other hardcore Catholics. This was one she went into, and even her grandchild 240+ years later would feel the ripple of this decision.

Emma goes into church and gets gnarly ideas about how life works. Its a woman's duty to have kids and raise them, to be good to her husband and her house, to listen and obey her men. Sin is inevitable and everyone does it, only those that admit and accept punishment can get another chance at Paradise. God knows every action you take and he does not care for the context, he only cares about the action. There is no "well, but" under the Lord.

Emma has mental illness, some kind of depression and anxiety, so this Big Brother Watching And Judging fucked her up. Especially since her church, in particular, was physically abusive if you did not confess to anything during confession. They thought if you had nothing to confess, you were lying.

At this point, she's met and engaged to Theodore Reinier, a rich heir to a European manufacturing company. He's pretty, a gentleman, and best of all, rich, so she can have as big and luxurious a garden as she wants. She likes him. She does not love him. She's in her twenties and unmarried with no kids, and her poor family needs to be taken care of. So she marries him. Theodore is smart enough to see this for what it is, and kind enough to allow it. He lets his wife do her own thing and treats her as a friend, rather than a lover. She hates this, she wants to be a wife (she doesnt). She wants kids, he gives her one. Augustijn. This birth goes rough, and she's told no more children.

Theodore makes one rule; August goes to a different church, or he does not go at all. Theo really didn't like Emma's church and he certainly wasn't exposing his kid to that shit.

Emma pretends to agree and takes Gus to That Church. Theo doesn't attend, so he doesn't know this is happening until much later. Gus gets all the same nasty shit Emma does. Theo learns of this when he sees Gus covered in bruises from confession beatings. This puts a huge rift between him and Emma, and he pulls all the strings he can to have her church shut down.

Emma grows to resent and hate Theo and Augustijn for not being the perfect husband and child she deserves as a good, God fearing house wife. Augustijn is left to his nannies, Emma hides away in her private garden, fuming. Theodore tries to bond with his son, but Emma's poisoned that well.

Emma tells Augustijn about demons, to fear them. She specifically tells him about church grims, demons that hunt around churches in the form of a dog to drag sinners to hell. She says this as she's admiring her new obsidian dog statues for her garden.

Eventually, Emma goes yellow wallpaper and loses her mind, and is sent to therapy and put on medications. Augustijn loathes his father for his mother's state. Theodore just wants his friend and son okay. But Emma, as she's out in town, coming back from therapy, she stops at a friend's house while the friend isn't there, and hooks up with the woman's husband. Friend's husband was stern, strict with his wife, God fearing, and generally an obnoxious 50s ideal shithead husband. Everything Emma wanted. This wasn't out of nowhere, it was brewing in the background. She knew both of them from her old church.

Emma goes home, and finally having a reason for the guilt that's always plagued her, elects to acknowledge her sin. She drowns herself in the pond of her garden, stared down by three dark, ruby-eyed dogs, overseeing her passage into the afterlife. Her young son comes into the garden to meet his mother, after she's been gone all day, only to find her in a red pool. He looks up into the eyes of the dogs. He remembers nothing of this incident, blocking it out and having been too young to understand.

Years pass, and Augustijn turns to drugs as well, though his come from the darkest parts of the Hague, rather than a doctor. He turns to sex, to crime, to anything he thinks will either corrupt him so much he doesn't care, or will finally make his guilt feel justified. He wears his mother's cross necklace through it all, and sees her beloved dog with every sin.

Augustijn goes to America for college, to Harvard, studying to become a pastor himself. (This is maybe the most terrifying part of him, the fact that he almost got it). But he doesn't feel satisfied with it, has a moment of clarity and realizes he isn't fit to preach anything. The grim certainly doesn't think so. He instead follows his only friend, Isadora, into the military. The US government allowing their soldiers to do chems means his failed drug tests don't matter.

Augustijn becomes a sniper. He has always hurt people, excelled in it, but taking life frightens him, because he knows he has no right to decide who lives or dies, not like this. But he's in China, and he's told to kill. He does, and he's very good at it. His teammates marvel at just how scrappy and determined he is, like a weed, a mold.

The Biandukou Pass Incident occurs. He eats his entire team, trapped in a Chinese mountain range during a blizzard.

Delirious from almost two months of surviving on nothing but psycho and human flesh, Augustijn is let loose back into Boston, honorably discharged. His lingering hallucinations from his Daytripper addiction, mixed with psycho withdrawal, trauma, guilt, shame, the fear of God—everything culminates. He looks up and sees the figure that has haunted him since that one, awful day; the church grim, staring expectantly.

His mother drowned herself, so he thought it fitting if he set himself ablaze.

[sapphiresaphics]

The biggest misunderstanding about Caitlyn from fans actually comes from season 1, not 2. Fans see Caitlyn break Vi out of prison and talk to Ekko about empathy and think that she’s learning and growing as a character and then when season 2 hits they think all that growth was somehow “abandoned” or “reversed.”

But that’s not true.

Caitlyn has ALWAYS been a spoiled little rich girl who came from a family of rich people who are so used to how much power they have in the city that they don’t regard ANYONE’S feelings or respect ANY rules. Both Marcus and Salow spell this out to us.

Marcus: “She’s a Kiramman! Just like them she does what she wants! I can’t control her!”

Salow: “It’s the name! It bewitches people.”

Time skip Caitlyn is introduced investigating the botched Jinx job at the shipping docks. She is not an official detective and Marcus makes it clear she isn’t supposed to be there. She’s supposed to be guarding her family’s pavilion, but she ignored both her mother’s AND the sheriff’s wishes to investigate a crime because she’s bored.

She breaks Vi out of prison AFTER she’s been effectively laid-off by Marcus, using her connections to Jayce to forge her release papers. Reminder: at this point in the story she is technically not a cop anymore. She’s doing all this stuff with noble intentions of trying to uncover Silco and bring Jinx to justice… but what she’s doing is technically illegal. And the only reason she’s able to get away with it is because she’s a spoiled rich BRAT.

Her privilege shields her from repercussions in season 1, just as they do in season 2.

The difference is that she’s now been traumatized by Jinx. Her bodily autonomy was violated by Jinx kidnapping her when she was literally naked in the shower, she was most likely tortured by Jinx, was tied up and painted on, threatened to be executed at gun point by Jinx, and then to top it all off Jinx murders her mother in a terrorist attack.

And Caitlyn tries to hold it all in. She tries to confide with Vi, she tries to let her hatred go… but both times she is denied her the ability to grieve properly. First by her privilege and not understanding that asking Vi to become an Enforcer would be rejected. And then by Ambessa by funding the attack on the memorial service.

She has no parental figure to guide her, her rage and hatred for Jinx is boiling over… so she resorts to what she always does and what she did back in season 1. She just does what she wants to get her way. She convinces Jayce to develop hextech weapons, she assumes the role of leader for house Kiramman, and she uses her unique position in power to bend systems her family put in place to protect Zaun against them.

Caitlyn in season 2 is very much the same Caitlyn we’ve always known from season 1. The difference is that in season 1 we were rooting for her because we like Vi. She exhausted the same disrespect for authority and people back then but they were in service of things we, the audience, liked. So we gave her a pass. We excused her rule breaking. We ignored her unique brand of privilege because we liked what her privilege could unlock for us.

Season 2 slams that door shut and tells us “no, actually, you weren’t supposed to like this because nobody in power is innocent.”

But rather than learn more about Caitlyn and understand her character better… people are dismiss this all as “bad writing” or “character assassination.”

And what’s more frustrating is the whole “dictator arc.” Because frankly I would argue that by that point Caitlyn HAS learned her lesson about privilege and power, but it’s too late to stop things now. Just as Jayce going vigilante in season 1 was the start of a cataclysmic event, Caitlyn gassing Zaun to look for Jinx results in Caitlyn losing everyone she trusts and respects. Broken up with Vi and alone, she is suddenly granted even MORE power than she’s ever had by Ambessa. And you can see it affect her. In that moment she realizes that Ambessa is the one who spearheaded the attack on the memorial. After seeing what happened between her and Vi, she realizes that by taking this role she will be responsible for even greater atrocities.

She has 2 choices. Let it all go, or use the position of power to her advantage. And just like before in season 1… she chooses the later. Her goal may still be to get Jinx, but she does NOT want to be a part of Ambessa’s dictatorship. This is why she’s so reluctant to join even with all the peer pressure. This is why she’s so slow and hesitant to walk forward. And she only accepts the cape she is crowned with once Ambessa says “your mother will have justice.”

What’s most important about this scene is that SHE KNOWS Ambessa is using her. That’s why when we see her in Act 2 she’s already trying to counter Ambessa’s plans. That’s why she’s constantly challenging Ambessa with “why is peace always the excuse for violence?” That’s why when Ambessa says “you don’t trust me?” Caitlyn responds with a resounding “no.” And that’s why when Vi drops back into her life she realizes she has an opportunity to correct her mistakes. She doesn’t switch on a dime because Vi fluttered her eyes and called her “cupcake.” She switches because she was already looking for an out. And this is why when Vi confronts her in Act 3 she screams “I KNOW.”

Caitlyn’s arc is that of someone who always had privilege and power coming to realize too late how dangerous and harmful that power is. By the time she learns her lesson she’s already entrenched with Ambessa and stuck in this hateful miasma for Jinx. Season 1 was setup for what was going to follow with how her character was going to learn and atone for her mistakes.

And what’s so god damn frustrating about all the discourse around Caitlyn is how reductive and dismissive it all is. So much of the discourse completely ignores the actions she takes to fix things in favor of trumping up the actions she took to get there. All of her transgressions in season 1 are ignored and her own internalized growth is reduced to a joke about Vi calling her cupcake. It’s MADDENING.

[vibingandsimping]

Randomly assorted headcanons (sfw+nsfw) for randomly assorted characters… pt. 2

I have yet to make a pinned post with some sort of navigation/rules guide but I will state in all my posts. Asks and Submissions are always open and if you have trouble with it comment!

Not proofread cause that’s for the weak 🥰

Characters involved: Gale, Halsin, Karlach

Tags/Forewarnings: AFAB + AMAB genitalia mentions, use of magic to enhance sex, size differences, breeding, general worshipping, oral (receiving + giving), temperature play, fingering, penetration.

Gale

Y’all love pathetic men… I support. Anyways… Tell me i’m wrong but he’d love to spoil you. We already know he practically worships the ground you walk on. You entered his life full of strife and paved a way for him to have a more hopeful future. His eyes are practically hearts when he gazes upon you. As such, he’d love to buy you and craft you things when he can. He’d buy you a gorgeous dress/vest/suit and enchant it to your liking. It feels, quite literally, like magic when you wear it. He presses kisses to your ear as he sings about how downright breathtaking you are. You hate the fact that the words make a giggle bubble in your chest.

He holds you at any opportunity he gets. In truth, he cannot fathom that you two are lovers. He’s been with a goddess before but even she did not compare to you. His pinky grazes yours as you two stand near eachother. When someone’s back turns, he presses kisses onto your cheek until you forcibly push him away. Which he always uses his puppy eyes as a retaliation to show his hate. Curse those big brown eyes. If you’d let him, he’d be more intimate without being inherently sexual. His hands glide along your skin as he helps you bathe in a nearby river or lake. Occasionally he whispers about how perfect you are to him, inside and out.

Personally, this man is the male version of a wine aunt. Once he feels that he can unwind in the camp without facing repercussions, he likes to get delightfully tipsy. Enough that his skin warms and his tongue loosens. He laughs along with the companions and makes chatter in the quiet camp. If you happen to grace him with your presence, he sings out your name and beckons you forth. To his surprise, you settle next to him on the bedroll and he wraps an arm around your waist. Squeezing you tight as he presses his nose against the pulse in your neck. He murmurs almost incoherently but you can tell from the tone of his voice it was sweet nothings.

When the camp is silent and everyone is asleep, he enjoys the thrill of seeking you out. He finds you in your bedroll and gently shakes you awake, claiming he desires you and cannot sleep. If you are so kind to spare your sleep and indulge him, he promises he’ll make it worth your time. You two trail off to somewhere more secluded before he grasps you by the waist and presses his lips onto yours. His lips aren’t too rough against yours but pleasantly warm. His fingers dance along your skin, trailing the expanse of your stomach. Suddenly, he’s whispering against your lips. You can’t tell if he’s worked you up properly or if he’s genuinely speaking nonsense. Then, a sudden and intense shiver runs through your body. He smirks at you slightly and you cannot help the excitement in your veins.

You’d nearly forgotten about the strange shiver that encompassed your body until you were on your knees in front of him. His expression held a soft intimacy yet a deep desire. He was anything but pure… just so willing for your attention and love. His cock would throb before you in a silent plead for touch. You wrap your hand around the base before wrapping your lips around the tip. He gasps softly at the sensation whilst your eyes widened. As you touched him, there was a tingle in your own loins. It was shockingly intense and you mentally cursed this man for the effect he had on you. Steeling yourself, you began to work on his shaft. Suckling, licking, stroking… all while breathy gasps and whimpers escaped his chest. The tingle in your body didn’t dissipate- no, it only grew stronger. That’s when you gazed up at him in realization. His gaze was knowing and a little dark. The bastard charmed you… so that all the pleasure he experienced you’d experience and vice-versa. So that you two were properly intermingled for all the pleasure indulged that night.

He takes a certain pleasure in finding the spots on your body that make you shake and moan. Especially those that aren’t explicitly between your thighs. If he finds a spot on your neck, or thighs, or chest that makes you whimper and grasp his hair? He’s showering it with all his attention and love until it’s practically numb. His beard tickles your skin and causes you to occasionally squirm from the sensation. He wants you as turned on and into him as he is you. You can feel his erection against your thigh as he covers your neck in hickeys. His hips occasionally grinding for some sort of friction as he focused on you. If your hand trails down to his bulge, he grabs it swiftly and holds it beside your head. His lips are swollen and wet from his kisses and his pupils are blown wide. “Not yet, please, I’m not done. Not ready for this to be over yet…” He whines and gazes at you with a certain twinkle. Who are you to tell him no? Or, maybe that’s what you want to see?

Halsin

He adores the size difference you two have. He towers over nearly everybody he knows and gotten used to being large. Honestly, it was kind of a nuisance at times. He envied others who could bed anyone without the worry of repercussions. Yet, that is a topic for discussion later down this list. Point said, he loves the feeling you provide in his chest. A protective instinct overwhelms him. No matter how soft, rugged, muscular or chubby you are. He wants to hold you and ensure you’ll be safe. The look in his eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to even reach him bending over for a kiss shows the thrill he finds in it. It’s even better when you two are cuddling and you can rest your body so comfortably ontop of his. He’ll encapsulate his arms around your form and keep you close, enjoying the thrum of your heart as you sleep.

He’d teach you how to carve wood, if you’d like. It was one of his hobbies and for you to show interest in it only reminds him of how fine a specimen you are. He’s careful as he teaches you, watchful eyes constantly glancing and staring over your shoulder as your thumbs turn the wood and the knife makes shavings. His hands wrap around yours and guide you when you struggle or use improper technique. His chest slotted against your back as he hums softly, paying no mind to how flustered you’d get. When you finish your first lesson, you both show off the sculptures you made. He’s thoroughly impressed and praises whatever you decided to carve. Later, you find it on a table in his tent. The sight makes your chest tighten and heart soar. He loves you so utterly deeply.

He craves you so desperately it is almost amusing. Your touch, your voice, your presence. He doesn’t outwardly express it but there’s a certain air around him when you approach. His gaze softens as his chest puffs and he watches you expectantly. Despite all the lovers he’s taken in his years, you’d swear he looks like he’s fallen in love for the first time. He’s nearly whipped by you. No-one has seemed so enraptured by you before. Each word you speak he’s hung unto, he watches all your movements so closely. Halsin makes sure to wrap you tightly in his hugs. Both to show you that he loves all of you and to remind you of the fact he wishes to protect you. He knows his boundaries and doesn’t follow you like a lost puppy… but when you seek him of your own accord he’s utterly thrilled.

This man is a breeder. Don’t argue with me on it. He seeks all the thrills and pleasures of nature. Regardless of if you can or cannot get pregnant, he stuffs you so full that in your haze you are sure you’ll carry his kid. He tries so hard to be gentle with you and to some degree he is. His hands trail your skin softly like you were fine china. Though, he allows himself the pleasure of gripping your curves, dips and muscles. While he holds you so gently, you cannot say the same for where he’s pushing his length into. It’s vigorous- almost mind-numbing. He groans into your ear shamelessly and with the knowledge you find it attractive. If you’d let him, he’d give into his desires and fill you til he was sure he had nothing else left to give. He’d pick you up after and bathe you. Washing you of the forest dirt and sweat accumulated on your skin. All while whispering about how he adores you and you’ve done so well for him.

We all know he’s a munch/dick eater. It’s literally confirmed in his sex scene that he immediately goes down on you… and for that I will write for.

AFAB. He’ll hook a thigh over his shoulder and press his nose against the bump of your cunt. His tongue lavishes your clit in licks and suckles as his gaze remains heady on yours. If you can even look at him, that is. One hand trails on the leg you’re standing on before teasing your parted lips. He gathers your wetness and pushes a singular finger inside. He watches as your body tenses and relaxes from his ministrations. His tongue does not stop it’s assault. Then it’s two fingers, hooking and searching for the spot that he knows will make you abandon previous care. Once he finds it, you’re crying out to the woods. His large fingers practically abuse your walls as he sucks your clit like a madman. You began to whimper and shake in his hold. His strength became apparent when he pushes your hips against the tree to keep you still. To show that you cannot escape his pleasure and act of love. Pride swells in his chest and he keeps going until you’re shuddering in his hold. The coil in your belly snapping as hands fly down to grasp his hair, hips rocking against his face.

AMAB. There’s a smirk that engraves his face when he sees exactly how hard you’d gotten for him. His hands wrap around your thighs as he trails kisses along the skin of your stomach. Then, as soon as you open your mouth to protest, a kiss is placed on the tip. You tense and he begins to show your length some attention. One hand abandons your thigh to favor your sack, gently fondling as his kitten licks and kisses turn into something more intense. Lips wrapping around the head before taking you in one gulp. Your head throws back and your thighs quiver. Either he had tons of experience or you were simply smaller in comparison and he could do it with ease. Either way, the warmth of his throat is nearly overwhelming to your senses. He looks up between your legs when he could, bobbing his head as you began to melt into the pleasure. His nails gently scratched the skin of your thigh while his other continued it’s undivided attention to the sensitive skin of your balls. He continues like this, humming and suctioning around your cock until you either spill down his throat or pull him off of you. Either way, he has a cocky smile on his face as he wipes spit and precum from his lips.

Karlach

She is a very passionate woman. She burns bright, literally and metaphorically, and is a flame that will forever burn by your side. She is especially passionate about her companions and most importantly you. She supports you in nearly every decision you make and if she doesn’t agree, she tries to understand anyways. She’s loud and speaks so highly of you to those she meets. Almost like a mother showing off her kids accomplishments in life. She’d likely be such a good mother if she ever had that opportunity. Until you fix her mechanical heart she supports you with just words and actions. As much as she craves to pull you into her grasp or press her lips on yours, she’s a ticking bomb and is capable of hurting those. When you do fix it? She can barely keep her hands and lips off you. Ten years of forced abstinence nearly drove her MAD. While she doesn’t outright burn you, she’s so, so warm.

She loves jamming out. Dancing, playing an instrument, singing… it gives her an excuse to release her pent up energy. Bard or not, she gives you those puppy eyes and nearly begs you to join her. She’ll dance with you and wrap her arms around your waist or hold your hand as you two dip and twirl. Her laugh is an angelic sound and any reservations you held melted away in her intense heat and passion. She had a way of lighting the room up and bringing out the best in those around her. You admired her for it. She eventually slows the rhythm between you two and smiles against your skin (hunched over or not). She whispers against you, light and full of emotion. “You have no idea how thankful I am to have met you. I feel complete.” The breath you take is shaky as her words fill you with such fullness. This tiefling had wormed her way into your heart like the tadpole your mind. Except, this was a worm you wished to keep. You both would do anything for each other and you both knew it.

She absolutely seethes when anyone does you dirty. The girl is quite literally growling when someone hurts you emotionally or physically. Even a wrong look can have her hackles raising and her all pissed. You sometimes have to sit her down and remind her that you’re fine. She assures you’re safe and you appreciate it. After losing so much in her life, the control of her own body and mind, she cannot imagine losing you. Small threats alarm her and she feels guilty that she cannot contain her emotions. This time you assured her that you weren’t going anywhere because she was passionate and hot-headed. You two had your own issues… and she wants nothing more than to work through them together and be the biggest supporters for each other. She pulls you into a bear hug afterwards, nuzzling against your jaw as her horn tangles in your hair. She plants kisses along the skin til you’re laughing and the air is less tense between you two.

As much as she so UTTERLY wishes to touch you, she’s so touch deprived. You know that she needs the attention after she’s had her heart repaired. You lay her down on the ground and trail kisses from her lips down to her throat and to her chest. She watches you with an excitement. It appears as if she was ready to jump out of her skin from the pure joy of being able to enjoy the sensations of flesh once more. You pay extra attention to her breasts and nipples before continuing further down to her navel. At this point, she’s squirming and whimpering desperately. “Come on, babe. Don’t tease me. I need you- so badly..” Her tone was pathetic if anything. There was no true fight or bite in her words. She liked giving her submission to you for once, letting her mind shut down. You wished nothing more than to give her what she deserved after all this time.

Once you finally reach further south, your hands slot around her hips and hold them down as you plant a few kisses against the inner of her thigh. All the teasing between you two was so worth it when you hear the wanton moan escape her lips as your tongue finally met her most sensitive parts. The heat of her cunt was intense- just like the rest of her. It was nearly overwhelming… almost burning your tongue. Yet, you ached for that warmth. To finally enjoy her moans and provide her with such pleasure. She has claws in your hair, tugging and tickling your scalp. One hand on her chest as you begin a rhythm with your tongue against her clit. Once she was beginning to properly fall apart against your mouth, you released a hand from her hip and trailed betwixt her lower lips. Your fingers sought her warmth and was pleasantly surprised with how she burned even hotter inside. Truly a creature of the hottest hells. Yet, it didn’t quite burn you… certainly was a different sensation compared to the crisp air around you. You know that she’ll return this pleasure tenfold to you. It’s her nature… and you couldn’t wait til you two were properly intertwined later in the night.

[aroaceleovaldez]

I was reading a post about CoTG and I realized: Rick has seemingly started to write every character pairing with the exact same dynamic, and he's not good at writing that dynamic and it doesn't make sense for 90% of the characters he writes it for.

It's that very specific dynamic of one half of the pair who is almost aggressive to the other party - "teasing" them constantly/insulting them, affectionately punching/judo flipping/maiming/etc, seemingly almost always exasperated with the other - and said other party usually just accepts this treatment or blanketly views it fondly, and may generally be framed as more incompetent than their partner and a little bit of a doormat (particularly relating to being insulted/teased/etc by their partner).

We start seeing this dynamic in HoO with Percy and Annabeth, as a sort of semi-inconsistent twist on their rivals-to-friends-to-lovers dynamic from the first series. Then the dynamic pattern develops further with Leo and Calypso. Then Magnus and Alex. Then Nico and Will, particularly in TSATS. And now in CoTG, it's Percy and Annabeth again but even more in this direction.

I know people have talked about Nico and Will's relationship over the series rapidly being shoehorned into Percabeth Two™, and it's extremely apparent in TSATS that Rick's doing it on purpose (including directly quoting Percabeth scenes but minorly tweaking them to be Solangelo). But recognizing it as an overarching trend in Rick's later books honestly reminds me a lot of how Rick started trying to apply the "Percy Formula" so-to-speak to nearly every protagonist in HoO (and then try to replicate similar character archetypes with Magnus and Apollo's narrations - moreso Magnus in being jaded and sarcastic, very much trying to be first series Percy. He only sounds unique because Rick failed at making him Percy 2. Apollo is more akin to later-series Percy characterization of being goofy and incompetent. Apollo [and Zeus] even got retconned to give Apollo a more similar backstory to Percy's). Rick seems to have decided that he thinks the audience wants this specific dynamic but 10 times over, except he's not good at writing it the first time because it's a bastardization of the time he did a different thing okay.

And Rick also seems aware of that too! Because he retconned Calypso and Leo at the end of TOA, probably because he realized how absolutely awful it was reading when they were written with that dynamic of Calypso just functionally hating Leo and constantly being aggressive towards him! The only time Rick's actually made the dynamic even semi-successful was with Magnus and Alex, because it actually fits within their characters, their dynamics with each other, and their environment. Alex beheading Magnus on the regular works out fine because there are no repercussions to that in Valhalla, Magnus will be fine, so it does genuinely come off as humorous. And Alex has been effectively established to be abrasive at times but have her genuine feelings shine through regularly, and that meshes well with Magnus' jaded-and-aloof-but-quietly-very-empathetic character. And Magnus has been established to, yes, not be great at combat, particularly compared to Alex. They are the only time that flavor of dynamic in that form was effective and cohesive.

Percabeth is no longer rivals-to-friends-to-lovers badasses on equal levels with shaky pasts who finally found some form of permanence with one another. Now it's super smart doting and affectionately aggressive girlfriend and her silly goofy 50%-of-the-time incompetent boyfriend who she judo flips/pushes off cliffs/etc - but affectionately~! Solangelo is trying to riff off of the early series "Poseidon & Athena are enemies" dynamic that Percabeth had but with Apollo & Hades being "opposites" but learning to accept each other, except it ends up with Will just coming off as a huge asshole and Nico being retconned to a complete doormat about it - when prior to that those characterizations would be completely contrary to their established characters (even just from TOA!). Calypso in HoO gets retconned from her PJO characterization to being snooty and aggressive, and Leo's false persona gets merged into his just normal personality except he just also becomes a doormat but more goofy than Nico with occasional haha-dark/depression-humor! Which Nico also got. Which was also a bastardized Percy trait that got redistributed.

It's exhausting. Rick write more than one relationship dynamic you can do it I promise

[seethesin]

wake up call

pairing: Hazel Callahan x F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, hazel & reader are 18+, established relationship, college au, body worship, teasing, oral over clothing, orgasm denial/edging (18+, mdni)

a/n: i too have caught feelings for my favorite arsonist, hazel callahan 😔 have an uncharacteristically short, smutty fic while i work my thoughts out.

loosely based on this prompt. gif pack/gif credit. enjoy :)

"Baby, it's time to get up."

You're too busy trying to sleep off a migraine to pay attention to Hazel stirring in bed or what she has to say. Even with an eye mask on, any stray refraction of light is enough for a splitting pain to reverberate in your head. You should have drank more water and less tequila last night.

Hindsight was always 20/20.

You and Hazel had met your friends at Mary's, a local gay bar a mile from campus. The bouncers never commented on the fake IDs you thrust in their hands every weekend and barely bothered to check them as they ushered you inside. Your best guess? They'd take every dollar they could get.

It was a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment, but it was fun enough for the group of you to drink, dance, and sing desperately off-key. It was your usual meeting spot on Thursday and Friday nights—sometimes Saturdays if you and Hazel had the strength to get out of bed in the morning—where you all could gossip about your professors and peers. You don't remember much from last night, but you do remember grinding on Hazel after downing three tequila sodas while Isabel bitched about her Econ professor, Mr. Weber.

You were now facing the repercussions of your debaucherous, dehydrated actions.

"Babe," Hazel tries again. Her disembodied voice is farther away now, most likely in the bathroom next door. "You're going to be late for calculus."

Who the fuck convinced you to take Friday classes? Let alone actually attend them?

Oh right. It was Hazel.

At least both of you managed to find off-campus housing at the end of sophomore year. If you had to share a bathroom with an entire floor again, you would have hung yourself with dental floss.

"Professor Hoyt can eat my ass," you grunt, grabbing your pillow and smashing it into your face. The next part of your sentence is so garbled that you can't even understand yourself. You hear Hazel's footsteps reenter your bedroom as the mattress concaves next to you. The pillow is nudged off your face and stray beams of light bury themselves back into your eye mask.

"She better not." Her breath fans against your cheek as you feel her nip playfully at your skin. "That's all mine."

Hazel can't see your exaggerated eye roll, but she feels the grin growing across your face. She mirrors it eagerly, pressing sweet, soft kisses down your cheek. You feel her lips ghost down your jaw before gliding down your neck. You hum quietly, reflexively tilting your head to the side to expose more flesh to her.

Hazel notices and firmly bites at the base of your neck. You moan, caught off guard.

"I can just ask Isabel for the notes after she gets out of Econ." It comes out as a whine as you feel Hazel shift on top of you.

"Mhmm," she mocks, her hands creeping under your nightshirt. Gingerly, she tugs it up and over your head before shoving it towards her side of the bed.

Her hot mouth reconnects with your skin, trailing down your chest, and kissing just over the curve of your breast. Her lips sink lower, enveloping themselves around your nipple as she sucks. Her hands slide up and down your body reverently before resting on your waist. You mewl, rutting your hips forward.

"Haze," you breathe but she ignores you.

Her lips pull away from your breast, kissing across your chest to give short, equal treatment to its twin. Whatever she was trying to do had the opposite effect on you; there was no way you were leaving this apartment when your girlfriend was too busy devouring every inch of your body.

Hazel kisses wetly against your skin as she begins her descent down your abdomen. Suddenly, she halts. Her nose brushes your navel and her mouth hovers just over your loins. She's so close to where you want her and you vocalize your frustration with a growl. Hazel's thumbs hook under the waistband of your underwear as her head sinks lower.

"Use your words," she teases, voice husky as she snaps the elastic band back into your skin.

You whimper, shoving your hips closer to Hazel's face. If you weren't so hungover, you would have clamped your thighs against her cheeks and squeezed. Hazel had a thing for breathplay anyway; she would have loved it.

"Put your mouth on my pussy."

"Yes ma'am."

Immediately, Hazel's hands grope the meat of your ass, tugging you toward her. Her lips kiss against your clothed cunt, her tongue poking out to kitten lick against the fabric of your underwear.

You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut as short, raspy moans push from your throat.

"Fuck yes," you sigh, wriggling your hips to steal more friction from Hazel's tongue. The coil in your stomach begins to tighten as heat radiates from between your legs. Your underwear is soaked from a combination of your slick and Hazel's saliva. You were embarrassed to admit it, but you were already nearing your first climax.

Apparently, Hazel has a sixth sense for impending orgasms because she realizes that too. Without another word, she detaches herself from your body. The bed creaks as she rolls off it. Her footsteps retreat to the other side of the room.

She's gone. You keen.

"Hazel, what the fuck?" Your thighs press together, rubbing feebly to try and salvage a lick of your previous pleasure. It's useless and you give up with a petulant huff.

The brunette chuckles from a distance, the sound growing louder as she returns to the bedroom. You rip your eye mask off, squinting for a full-fledged minute as your pupils adjust to the sunlight. After blinking feverishly, you stare at Hazel, now leaning into the doorway. A sheen of spittle and slick glows from her chin.

"You're up," she states obviously, her arms crossed over her chest. The way they press into her tits makes your mouth water.

"I've been up!"

She snickers.

"Good. Now you won't be late to calculus anymore."

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Wild Flowers (18+)

Alastor x reader Rated: Adult, 18+ Content warnings: Sex pollen trope and related questionable consent due to intoxication, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, knotting, praise, dancing that shouldn't be that sexy, biting, a touch of blood drinking, female masterbation, some possessiveness, Alastor being a bit of an ass

Audio version brought to you by @nyx-umbrakinesis​,  Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6.

Summary: You had always loved flowers, so when you found a patch of pretty purple wildflowers growing in the small forest behind the hotel, you didn't think twice about picking a small handful to bring back to your room. While they smelled lovely, you were wholly unprepared for the side effects of exposure or the repercussions of offering the terrifyingly handsome Radio Demon a smell on your way to your room.

With your body burning from the inside out with an overwhelming need and a displeased Radio Demon pushing his way into your room, you have no idea what you're in for.

All you wanted was to pick some flowers but you got so much more.

~~~~~<3

You loved flowers. In life, you would gleefully pick wildflowers any chance you could get. It disappointed you endlessly to find they were far and few between in hell. The natural environment was a wasteland dotted with twisted trees with toxic sap and sharp grass. 

Florists imported flowers from the other rings where things grew better, less touched by the toxic byproducts of human souls indulging in the worst of the worst. Things in Pride ring were never what they seemed and what did grow often caused rashes or fought back. Everything was out to get you. Nothing could be trusted. 

That was a lesson you had to learn repeatedly over the years since your death and yet, you still found yourself being over eager. Learning from your mistakes wasn’t something you were good at.

You didn’t think twice when walking through a trail in the wasteland behind the hotel, being mindful to an extent of the sharp grass and trees. The trees were thicker here, a small patch of forest that you were eager to explore. With everyone at the hotel away, the building technically closed while the residents tended to assorted meetings and appointments, you had nothing else to do. 

In it you found something you hadn’t expected to find at all, a patch of pretty purple flowers. Their petals were heavy with pollen as you drew your face close, taking a deep breath, letting the floral scent wash over you. 

Finding them pleasing both to the nose and the eye, you picked a few while humming an old tune Alastor had been playing earlier that morning. It wasn’t exactly your taste but the old jazz had a way of lingering in your mind, the same way the man who favored it did. 

With a small bunch of purple blooms clutched in your hand, you made your way back to the hotel. The day was getting warm, making sweat begin to dampen the back of your neck, under your hair. It would feel nice to return to the air conditioning of the hotel. 

You hadn’t expected to find anyone in the hotel but as you made your way down the hall, Alastor was leaving his room. He glanced at you, eyebrow raised as he cut the tune he had been humming along to off. 

“What have you got there?” He asked, ever present smile wide on his face. “Been to the florist or did a suitor come to share his affections with you? What would we do without your delightful presence if someone were to spirit you away?”

“No,” You smiled up at him and reminded yourself for the millionth time that the easy flirtation was simply a product of the time he had been raised in. He intended nothing by it. “I found them growing, they smell lovely so I thought I’d pick some for my room. Would you like to smell?” 

He leaned in, taking a polite sniff as you held the flowers up to him, “Delightful.” 

You excused yourself, allowing him to carry on with his day as you made your way to your room. A glance over your should as you made your way down the hall showed him standing tall and still, watching you from down the hall. 

Finally, he gave a nod of his head and turned to go about his business as you reached your door, flowers clutched in hand. 

It was warm in your room. The whole of the hotel had felt warm, now that you thought about it. Perhaps that was what business Alastor had been off to handle, seeing to getting the cooling system working. It wouldn’t have been the first time it broke since you’d moved in and it likely wouldn’t be the last. 

You slipped your shirt over your head, leaving you in the clingy tank top that functioned as your undershirt, without thinking much of it. It wasn’t uncommon for you to shred the outer layer of your outfit when in the private space of your own room after all and it was so warm.

As you filled one of the glasses you kept in your room with water and set the flowers inside. Stepping back, you admired their color and delicate petals. You wished you had picked more, the glass looked half empty. Perhaps later, after this heat passes you’d go out and pick more. 

It seemed like it just got hotter in your room as the day went on. Before long, you changed out your pants for a pair of short athletic shorts. Sweat dotted your skin as you fanned yourself with a notebook, feeling like you would burn up. You were restless, moving about your room as you tried to relax. All you accomplished however was working yourself up more. 

You wanted to find Alastor, demand he find a way to fix the cooling. You wanted to make your way downstairs to the walk-in freezer and just sit in it, letting the frozen air bite at your overheated skin. 

When fanning yourself no longer worked, you simply spread out on the bed as you took panting breaths. Could you get heatstroke in hell? Raising a hand in front of your eyes, you admired the way the back of it was flushed with heat before letting you hand turn, flopping down against your abdomen. 

Your tank top had rode up, gathering around the thinnest point of your unnatural waist. The skin was hot under your hand and you found yourself rubbing your stomach, trying to soothe the hot skin. 

The feeling set sparks over your skin, leaving you gasping. It was so hot in the room but every caress of your hand cooled the skin for a short moment. In a few moments, you were running your hands down your chest and abdomen, trying to caress away the fire under your skin as you panted. 

Something wasn’t right. The hotel wasn’t hot, you realized, the heat was within you. The heatwave was coming from some internal fire and you needed to put it out before it consumed you.

Closing your eyes, you saw red eyes looking at you as your fingers brushed against the hem of your shorts. Thighs rubbed together as you felt the fire settle in your core. Every time you blinked, you saw red eyes. His red eyes dominated your thoughts. 

When your fingers found your slit, it was soaked already. It was like your body was trying to drown the fire within it with its own fluids. It wasn’t enough though, the fire still burned. It burned hotter with every teasing pass of your fingers.

Your fingertip brushed your clit, sending electric sparks through you. The light, teasing brushes of your fingertips felt far better than they had in the past. It left you gasping. Somehow it was too much and not nearly enough at the same time. 

With how wet you were, your fingers slipped between your folds without any intention to do so. It was still early in the day, far too early to be indulging in your body. The others could be home any time now, they could come back and hear you. 

Again and again you told yourself to stop as you fingers circled your clit. Something was wrong, why couldn’t you stop?

Squeezing your eyes closed, you tried to think of anything to break the unbearable spell of desire that was washing over you. It didn’t do any good. All that closing your eyes did was bring forth an image of Alastor, watching you walk down the hall. 

He was such a handsome man. Tall and lean. Powerful and frightening. He was everything you were attracted to. You knew how dangerous your affection for the man was, always trying to keep him out of mind. 

As your middle finger slipped into your weeping hole, he was all you could think about. Caressing your clit with your palm, you worked your finger in and out, trying to put out the fire in your blood. 

Desperate for more, you pushed a second finger inside, moaning as your body accommodated the intrusion easily. It wasn’t enough and you quickly added a third.

That was better. You were gasping now, working yourself closer to your climax in hopes that it would put out the fire. 

“Alastor,” his name fell from your lips in a soft whisper as you tried desperately to push yourself over the edge.

You flinched, ripping your fingers from your core as a soft ‘tap tap tap’ sounded at your door. Icy dread washed over you in what should have been a welcome relief. Quickly cooling strands of slick fell on your thigh as you quickly wiped your fingers on your bed as you rushed to your feet. 

“I know you’re in there, my dear.” Alastor called through the door.

Rushing to the door, you tried to straighten your clothes. There wasn’t much you could do for the sheen of sweat on your skin or the flush to your face. One deep breath later, you opened the door.

Alastor’s long fingers wrapped around the door as he leaned into the opening, “May I speak to you?” He asked, “In private?” 

It wasn’t really a question. He was shoving the door open and knocking you to the side in his eagerness to enter your room before giving you a proper chance to answer. It was a space you had never once invited him into. The thought had never crossed your mind nor had the occasion to make the offer.

“Can I-” Alastor’s large hand reached out behind him, striking the door and slamming it shut harshly, the sound seeming to echo through the space as it cut your words off for a moment, “help you?”

“Perhaps you can!” Alastor’s smile was strained and pulled tight. “As upon doing some research, it appears you’re the cause of this minor trouble.”

“What are you talking about?” You followed him as he stormed into the room, “I’m kind of-”

“In the middle of something?” Alastor rounds on you, grabbing your hand, still damp in places with your slick, you realize to your horror. 

“I- No, It’s not…” 

Your words died in your throat as he pulled your hand up toward his face by the wrist. He took a long breath in, taking in the scent of you as your face burned with shame and your body burned with a wholly different fire. 

Shap yellow grin split as his pale pink tongue slipped free from the fanged prison. It was too long, too pointed and you flinched back as it made contact with the portion of your palm that had just a few short minutes ago been pressed against your clit. 

It got worse, or perhaps better, as he wrapped his tongue around your middle finger, searching out every damp place where slick still lingered between your fingers.

“Delicious,” Alastor hummed, eyes slipping closed for a moment, cutting off the suffocating eye contact he had been maintaining and allowing your heart to once again start to beat in your chest. “Where are those damned flowers?” 

“What?” As he slipped your fingers into his mouth, sucking the remnants of your juices from them after he spoke, you struggled to process the question at all. 

“The flowers,” He spoke against your palm after letting the digits free with a lewd twist of his tongue. “All I can smell is them and *you*. Where are they?” 

Alastor’s red eyes flitted about the room, giving you a moment to really look at him. His face was flushed, something you had never seen before. His hair was mussed, with strands tangled on his antlers, seemingly caught from the action of running a hand through his hair. The antlers on his head were usually small with two prongs, easy to miss but now they stood taller by an inch or so, branching out more. 

The longer his hand stayed wrapped around your wrist, the more you became aware of the contact. The drying saliva on your hand and fingers was no longer cooling. It felt like static danced over your skin where his claws wrapped around your wrist. It felt better the longer his touch lingered. 

Alastor’s attention was on the flowers sitting prettily on your desk, blooms open wide and pollen dusting the petals. The snap of his fingers was far too loud in your room, amplified by the power the man contained. 

Dark green flames sparked, shattering the glass and sending water spilling over your dresser. Delightful purple wild flowers curled, crisping before charring and turning to dust. Only broken glass and black ash was left, the water evaporated away with the heat of the fire, to show what had happened. 

“Alastor?” You intended to sound outraged. You intended to be angry. You intended to yell at him. 

Instead his name was breathy, falling from your lips as arousal washed over you. The display of power had your core tightening and need sparking the dim flame in your blood to life, bringing it to the forefront of your attention. 

“You sound delightfully needy,” Alastor turned, bright eyes alight with something you couldn’t identify. “Do you know why that is?” 

Alastor pulled you to him by the wrist still clutched in his crushing grip. His other hand came to rest on your hip. Without asking, he pulled you into a clumsy dance, moving your body with his and keeping his grip firm enough to ensure you didn’t consider disobeying. 

You could feel his pants brush against your thighs with each clumsy step you took. Two of his fingers rested on the bare skin below where your top gathered, riding up your curve and above the elastic hem of your small shorts. It was hard to think of anything other than where he was touching your skin directly. 

“No,” you finally whimpered out.

“Hyperrigidus purpureus,” He said as if those words should mean anything to you. “Your flowers.”

“Okay?” He tugged you closer to him, resting your free hand on his chest, not knowing what to do with it. The feeling of his chest, under his clothes made her mind run with what could be hidden under the layers of fabric. 

“Flowers, one of the few that grow wild in Hell,” Alastor pulled you through the space, twirling you without sparing a thought for the way his thigh caressed your core as he took steps between your legs too large for you to have any hopes of matching.

 Each fleeting contact had you clenching around nothing. You could feel your moisture heavy over your lower lips, slick spreading down your thighs with each pass of his thigh and lunging step. Never had you so much regretted the choice to forgo panties. There was nothing to contain your ever building slick as you felt his thigh smear it into your skin. 

“Do you feel hot, darling?” Alastor asked, pulling you tighter to him as he twirled you around your modest room to music that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. “Does it feel like you could crawl out of your skin? Did touching yourself only dampen the fire in your blood slightly?”

“How do you know that?” Your breaths were coming shallow now, face aflame and blood raging in your veins.

“Because I feel it too, ma chérie.” Alastor laughed bitterly, pushing your hips into his tightly, “Do you know why it is I am plagued by burning desire just as you?” 

“Why?” You felt the hardness of him against your hips, just beginning to awaken yet clearly present. 

“Those cursed flowers. HA! Can you imagine, something as simple as flowers could do this to you? To me?” He spun you around, stepping between your legs with each leading stride, grinding your wet cunt against his thigh as you tried to ignore the fact that your slick was being smeared around now not by your thighs rubbing together but by his rubbing against you. “Of course, I had but a fleeting exposure and yet, I burn. The fire within you must be so much brighter, having stood within a field of them? Having plucked the cursed blooms with these very fingers you had buried in your dripping cunt? The fire is consuming you, is it not?” 

He leaned down, into your space as his tight smile strained across his lips. 

“What do-” You gasped as he pulled your hips against him, dragging your core up his thigh. “What do we do about it? How do we make it stop?”

“We cannot,” Alastor laughed again, “We must simply ride it out.”

Alastor shoved you on the bed harshly, towering over you as he made quick work of unbuttoning his coat. Sharp shadows danced around the room, smothering the light from the sconces on the walls, dimming them.

Alastor ran one hand up your thigh as he reached up to his neck, fingers trembling as they took hold of his bowtie, working it free. The fingers of his other hand slipped under the worn fabric of your shorts, thumb caressing your inner thigh, slipping on the slick in the process. 

He tossed his bowtie to the ground where it joined his discarded coat. Your thigh trembled under his touch as you watched him easily unbutton the first three buttons of his collar, doing little more than to review the pale skin of his long neck. 

“There are things we can do to make it more manageable,” Alastor said, fingers snagging the hem of your shorts and tugging them lower on your hips. “Things to lessen the discomfort and perhaps even make the experience enjoyable, as you’ve already discovered.”

You whined his name, shame and want warring in your voice. You were uncomfortably wet, shorts sticking to you as your eyes roamed over Alastor. 

He looked indecent, delicious and dangerously sexy without his coat and neck exposed. The sight of him, just slightly disheveled had your core clenching. You could feel the wetness seep from you with the action. 

Alastor leaned forward, both hands finding your legs as he pulled you by strong hands wrapped around your thighs. The grip was bruising as you were dragged to the edge of the bed, knees on either side of him.

“What are-?” You were not prepared for the feeling of him standing between your knees. 

Nor were you prepared for the feeling of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your shorts. Your breath caught in your lungs as he pulled your shorts down, stepping back from you to allow them to be flung to the floor. 

Cool air did nothing but heat your core more as you watched him take the sight of you in. Large hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart. The dim light sparkled on your slick. 

“You see,” Alastor dropped to his knees and ran his tongue out over his lips, “We’re both going to suffer with the effects of the exposure, perhaps for hours. I am going to suffer in this distasteful state because of your actions and you will have to deal with the consequences.”

“What?” You gasped, feeling the weight of his eyes on your slick cunt. He ran his fingers up your thighs, leaning into the space between them as his tongue ran across hot skin, soothing the fire in your blood. 

“It is your fault that my body has betrayed me. It is your fault that all I can smell is you.” His fingers dug into your thighs, spreading them further apart as he ran his tongue higher up your leg. “It is your fault my body burns for you. It is your fault I crave to taste you.” 

Alastor’s breath washed over your spread folds. His tongue ran over his lips again as if he was preparing for a feast. 

“Please,” You begged, not sure if you were begging him for. Fire swam inside you, being stoked and soothed both by his touch. 

“If I must suffer through this state,” Alastor leaned forward, breathing you in before licking slowly up your spread folds, greedily gathering your juices on his tongue and groaning at the taste. “Then I will use you to sate the hunger I have been so rudely cursed with.”

“What do you-” Your question became a gasp as he lapped at your folds, running the tip of his tongue around your clit with each pass. 

Each circle became tighter, providing more friction on your sensitive nub. Soon his attention was focused on it directly, lapping his tongue over it between harsh sucks and teasing nips. 

Just as the attention on your clit felt like it would send you over the edge, his mouth left it. Traveling down, his long tongue snaked into your hole, drinking your slick directly from the source. You were panting, desperate to come as his nose nudged your clit carelessly. 

His tongue slipped out, finding your clit again as a dangerous claw tipped finger slowly slipped inside. Alastor teased your opening, hardly pushing in beyond his first knuckle as he brought you near your orgasm again only to withdraw and stand.

“Please,” you begged, hand running down your body to caress your clit yourself. 

“Uncomfortable?” Alastor smiled down at you as he unbuckled his belt. He moved slowly, at a casual pace as if you where not spread out before him begging while your slick cooled on his face. “I imagine so, your exposure was much more than mine. Should I have you like this? I could walk out, take care of myself and ride out this condition in solitude.”

Your eyes fluttered between his face and his hard cock as he pulled it from his trousers. He was large and standing proud in his fist as he casually ran his fist along his length. Veins traced their way around him, leading to the angry red tip already smeared with precum. 

He was larger than you’d ever had. 

Pulling your knee up to rest against his hip, he placed his knee next to your thigh, allowing him to draw close. You reached out for anything to ground you as he ran the head of his cock along your folds. Again and again he repeated the action, smoothe head nudging your clit with each pass, sending lightening through your nerves. 

“I need you,” You tried to wiggle your hips down closer to him. “Please. I’m so hot, Alastor.” 

“You want me so bad?” Alastor sneered down at you, “Then you shall have me.” 

Placing the head of his cock at your entrance, he twitched his hips forward. You gasped at the soothing pressure as his head just probed your tight opening. He was large, both in length and girth but you struggled to think clearly enough to consider what that would mean for you as the fire inside your blood became an inferno. 

Alastor gave you one last moment to relax before snapping his hips forward and bullying his way inside your sopping opening. He spared no thought to your comfort as he harshly shoved your walls aside. Your slick provided more than enough lubrication for him to bury himself nearly all the way within you in one swift movement. 

You cried out as he stretched you, walls stretching around his girth as your body gripped him, trying to protect your unprepared opening from his intrusion.

“It’s too much,” You cried out, pushing against him with your leg and weakly tried to escape the pressure against your cervix. “I can’t. I can’t. It dosen’t fit. You don’t fit-”

“You’ll take all of me,” Alastor said darkly as he continued to push forward, “I’ll make you take it all.” 

Pleasure and pain mingled together as he pushed deeper still, head of his cock pressing against your cervix as he forced you to accommodate his length. He didn’t let up on the pressure until his balls were against your ass and his sharp hips were slatted tightly against you. 

Only when you took every little bit of his considerable cock did he still, bent over you and panting. His eyes burned into you, the fire behind them as hot as the fire in your blood. 

Never had you been so full. Never have you been so stuffed. You were stretched beyond what you thought was possible, impaled on a cock of such size you never would have guessed Alastor possessed. 

You stretched, arching your back to try and somehow create more room for him within you. His strong hands gripped your waist and thighs, claws puncturing the skin ever so slightly. Though you tried, his grip didn’t allow you to put any distance between him and you, forcing you to lay and accept the burning stretch. 

“What’s the matter, Little Doe?” Alastor teased, running his hand up your side and under your shirt, claws caressing the soft underside of your breast. “Doesn’t it soothe to have me inside you? Does it not smother the fire?”

“Yes,” tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, without the fire raging inside you there was no buffer between you and the burning stretch. “Too much. It’s too much.” 

“Oh but I’m not leaving the warmth of your cunt,” Alastor pulled back a short inch or two only to ram himself back inside to punctuate his words, “until this is out of my system. The squeeze of you around me, it soothes me. I could stay just like this.”

Alastor’s words, the sound of his voice fanned the embers if desire to life again. It wasn’t fair, he was so calm and collected and yet you struggled to form thoughts around the way his cock twitched within you. 

“Please,” you whispered, the fire in your blood coming to life with each twitch, dulling the pain. “It burns. Please, Alastor.”

“What do you want?” He sneered down at you.

“Something. Do something. More.” You rocked your hips against him, trying to dislodge him from where he pressed tightly against your cervix and get some sort of relief from the pressure, the pain and the burning.

“I thought I was too much for you?” Alastor teased, pulling back. 

The drag of his cock along your stretched walls was painfully slow, inch by inch slipping out and letting your body relax. You could swear that you felt every vein along his shaft. 

The emptiness you felt in your core shocked you. It should have been a relief to have his massive member removed from you body but it wasn’t. Looking down at him, you could see more and more of him and it made you want him to push back inside.

“Please,” you whimpered, head falling back on the bed. 

“You keep begging like that,” Alastor snarled, head of his cock just slipping free from your core, “And I won’t be able to conduct myself as a gentleman.” 

That thought, oh the way the fire surged with it. You twitched and wiggled, desperate for more as your mind was overcome with the smoke, struggling to think of anything else. If this was him being a gentleman, what would he be like when he wasn’t?

“Please, Alastor. Please, I need you.” 

“You like that?” Alastor laughed, pushing both of your legs up around his hips and thrusting forward. “You want to just be used? Ha! Those little shorts, this flimsy top? I wonder how much of this is that damned flower.” 

You moaned as his head bullied your cervix harshly only to withdraw and repeat the process, each push inside harsh and each pull out painfully, teasingly slow. You twitched and tried to rock with him only to be pinned in place as he put more of his weight on your legs. 

“I need you,” You struggled to think as he both soothed the fire and fanned the flames. “Please, Alastor. Need you. Want you. Have wanted you for so long,” 

You spilled your secrets without a single thought. It was worth it if spurred him on, if it would prevent him from stopping again. Did it matter if he knew you had thought about him when everyone else was sleeping? 

He filled you again, slower this time as he curled over you, strained smile seeming to glow with his eyes in the dimly lit room. “For how long?” 

“Always,” you struggled to think as his head pressed tightly against your cervix and his balls nestled against you.

He fucked into you slowly, each pull out bringing a wash of your slick out, coating your ass. The front of his pants were wet with slick where they hung off his hips. The hem of his shirt was damp with it, soothing your hot skin where ever it would smear against you. 

“From the moment,” you struggled to speak, moaning as his pace picked up. 

Looking away from him, you hoped that it would allow you to think. You didn’t have a chance to find out however. 

Alastor planted his hand on the bed next to your head, supporting his weight. “Look at me,” He ordered, “You will look at me while I take you.” 

“Alastor,” You whimpered as his thrust turned harsh, your body jerking with the force of it. 

“For how long?” He asked again. 

“Since we met,” your face burned. If it was from shame, desire or the flower, you didn’t know. “I’ve wanted you since we met. Please, Alastor.” 

Your hands ran up his chest, pulling at the buttons of his shirt as you tried to ground yourself. Each hit against your cervix was intoxicating, shifting more and more away from painful as he forced your body to make room for him. 

“There you go,” Alastor praised as his name fell from your lips again and again. “So good for me. See what you get when you’re a good girl?” 

You hardly had a chance to register how close you were before your orgasm washed over you with a loud moan. The power of it left you gasping and panting as Alastor seemed to swell within you. 

At first, you thought it was just the way you tightened around him as you came on his cock but there was no denying the way the base of his cock was changing with each thrust into you. 

Grabbing you harshly, he forced himself as deep as he could reach as his whole body shuddered. The knot at the base of his cock felt like it would rip you apart, there was no way you could hold it within you in addition to his girth but he gave you no choice. 

His cock twitched wildly as he rutted against you, rocking his hips rather than thrusting as you felt his seed explode. You were so full of him as the smoke seemed to blow away from your mind. Cold air caressed your skin as he pulled you up against him, supporting your weight as he sat back on the bed. 

Your body weight forced him deeper still, ensuring his knot was well and truly planted inside you. You shivered against him as his lips ran over your neck. 

“Alastor?” You licked your lips, trying not to moan as his still hard cock twitched deep inside you, pumping the final spurts of his seed inside your walls. 

His knot was so tightly stuffed within your hole that not a drop of his seed was escaping as you straddled his lap. 

“I wasn’t aware I could do this outside of season.” Alastor laughed as his sharp teeth ran over your collar bone, nipping and lapping at the blood his stinging kisses spilled.

“What?” 

“This.” He said, trying to pull his cock from you only to have your hole unwilling to allow his knot to slip free. 

“Is it,” Goosebumps ghosted your skin as he moved the thin strap of your top off your shoulder, not that it was hiding much from him at all. You could feel the thundering beat of his heart under your hand, half on bare skin and half over his partially open shirt. “Is it over?” 

“Not even close,” Alastor’s hands pulled you back from him, shifting your torso on his twitching cock and making you moan. He pulled the thin tank top up and over your head, leaving you naked in his lap. “This is but a momentary reprieve, allowing for clear heads before the fire returns to life anew.”

“Then why are you-?” He ran his tongue over your nipple, teasing the bud with the tip. 

“Oh!” He nipped at the sensitive bud as you felt the knot just inside you walls begin to lesson, “Because I can.” 

Your legs flexed on either side of his hips, raising yourself carefully off his cock as the swelling at his base went down. What you expected was for him to allow you to separate, to allow his body and yours both to rest. 

Alastor had other ideas however, thrusting up into you just as you had thought the head of his cock was going to slip from you. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

Alastor grabbed your hands from his chest, pulling your arms behind you harshly. Your balance was lost and you sank down on his cock harshly, feeling it impale you as he gathered your wrists in one of his hands behind your back. 

He pulled your arms back so far that you had no choice but to arch your chest into his face. Another powerful thrust up into you had you gasping as your hands dangled, fingers twitching between his knees as he bit at your breasts. 

The fire quickly returned to your blood as Alastor worked his legs out of his pants, letting the stained garment fall to the floor as he fucked up into you. 

“So weak,” He licked blood up from the curve of your breasts, smearing it as they bounced with the force of his thrusts, “You can only ride me if I allow it. How lucky are you?”

When you failed to answer him, he bit down on your shoulder. You clenched tightly around him, the coil in your core winding as quickly as the fire was returning to your blood. 

“Answer me.” 

“So lucky,” You were bouncing on his lap, head lulled back and hair falling away from you as he let you ride him in only the most technical terms. “So lucky, Alastor. I’m so close.” 

All you needed was to shift just so and his body would caress your clit with each thrust. That would be enough to send you over the edge but you had no room to move. Your legs were going numb from how they were folded under you and he just kept fucking up into you. 

“Do you want to come?” Alastor asked as the sound of his wet thighs slapping up into her filled the room. His hand left your hip to caress your abdomen. 

“Please.” 

“Look here,” his voice was gentle and you struggled to raise your head as he continued to thrust into you. 

Looking down at yourself, you saw first how his massive cock would pull from you. He was drenched with your combined juices. For a moment, you had the irrational urge to run your tongue over him, to taste the way your bodies mingled. 

There was a slight bulge in your abdomen each time his hips snapped up into you. His cock was so large that he was stretching you from the inside out. The sight had you moaning.

Your shoulders ached as he let go of your hands, pulling one forward and holding it to where his cock pushed out toward the world. You could feel him, every thrust into you from the outside. 

Pushing against your hand, he made the pressure between the two of you even greater. His other hand gripped the hair at the back of your head, using your hair to anchor you. Each thrust ran against the palm of your hand as his teasing nips ran across your jaw. 

“Come for me,” he ordered and you did, without a second thought. 

His lips crashed into yours, kissing you for the first time as your jaw fell slack. You could taste yourself on his lips, drying and strong as he swallowed your moans. You could feel how your body strangled and convulsed around him. You could feel every twitch of his cock. 

Without warning, he ripped his lips and cock both from you, tossing you to the bed. While your orgasm granted you a moment of clarity, fire raged in his eyes as he ripped at his shirt. 

You looked up at him with fear as some bulbs around your room shone brighter and brighter before bursting, unnatural shadows growing deeper. 

He climbed on the bed, grabbing your ankles and forcing you to flip onto your stomach. Strong hands ran up the back of your thighs. 

“Alastor?” 

“I am going to shape your cunt to me.” He promised, wet tongue running up the back of your thigh. “When I am done with you, no other man will be able to touch where I’ve reached. None will leave you satisfied.” 

He pulled you to your knees. His body contorted, joints shifting to allow him to lean down, face close to your weeping cunt. His hot breath washed out over the swollen folds before his mouth was on you again. 

Pushing you forward, your elbows collapsed causing you to fall face first on the bed. His tongue washed over your clit, working you closer to another orgasm with every pass before slipping with ease into your abused hole. 

“Al-” every part of you was sensitive. 

The fire was little more than embers again, quickly being stroked to life as he slurped up your combined fluids. Looking down, between your spread legs and under your body, you could see his massive cock hanging below his legs, heavy and glistening. 

His fist stroked his length lazily as you clenched around his tongue, orgasm washing over you unexpectedly. You were mortified as you bit into the sheets. Alastor had coaxed this one from your body without the fires having had a chance to build in your blood. 

This time you came from him alone, unassisted by the poison desire the flower’s pollen provided. The way he chuckled as he pulled back, licking his lips, told you he knew what he had done. 

“That’s the third time,” Alastor announced, patting your over sensitive sex harshly, smile only growing as you moaned at the soft slap. 

“Alastor, I can’t anymore.” You were over stimulated and sore. Your mind was lost on a cloud. 

“You’ll take me until I am done.” Alastor entertained no discussion, pushing inside in a swift thrust. 

His hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he pinned you face down, ass held up by a hand on your hip. You struggled to keep your head tilted enough to ensure you could still breathe as he fucked harshly into you. 

A chaotic mix of music played from somewhere, though you didnt know where. You had no radio. Rather than covering the sounds of his balls slapping harshly against your clit, it accented it, station changing with every rough hit. 

“What a good girl,” Alastor praised as you looked back at him from the corner of your eyes. 

His pace was unrelenting, slamming into you our sore body again and again as you tightened around him. How many times would he make you come? How many times could you come?

“When I’m done with you, you’ll beg for me to take you again. You’ll do anything to have me take you. Your cunt will belong to me. Only me. Mine.” 

His antlers were wide, heavy and dominating as he rammed into you with such force that the bed was jerking along the floor. Anyone at the hotel would know what was happening. 

You couldn’t make yourself care as he folded over you, squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple. All you could care about was the way his cock hit that space deep inside you that none would ever be able to touch again. 

Drool slipped from your lips but you couldn’t be bothered to care as the coil tightened yet again. How long has be been fucking you? You were hot and cold all over but you could think. At least, you were pretty sure you could think again. 

It was hard to think with the way he pounded into you, the way his breath washed over your shoulder. 

“Who do you belong to?” Alastor demanded, rutting harshly into you as his hand squeezed tighter, making your moans more gasping. “Who’s cunt is this?” 

The raw possessiveness is what did it for you. You clenched again, fluttering and twitching as you came hard, his name on your tongue. He swelled again inside you, knot dragging in and out of your hole as he leaned forward and bit down harshly on your shoulder.

“Fuck,” He groaned, voice naked of the filtered overlay that was nearly always present as he slammed his swelling knot into your tight cunt again and again, chasing his release in your milking walls regardless of the way your opening caught on his knot with each thrust. A final groaned ripped from him as he declared you his as he slammed home, biting down a second time and not letting go. Your walls twitched and pulled at him, urging him deeper in the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

You were locked against him by his teeth on your shoulder and his knot tightening in your cunt, somehow feeling even larger than the first time. His panting breath washed over you, blood dripping onto the bed from your shoulder. 

His heavy cock jerked and twitched inside you as he shot his second load, filling your corked hole with his seed. Each small thrust if his hips had his knot pulling against your rim, unable to breach it without serious intention to do so. Every time you felt it tug against your opening, your breath caught and your body twitched around him.

He held you tightly to his body, torso pressed tightly against your back as his tongue soothed the puncture wounds he left on your shoulder. He twitched deep within you with every rock of his hips. You were limp in his arms, spent. 

“How do you feel?” He asked, voice softer than you expected. 

“So full,” you whimpered as his hands stroked soothingly over your skin. 

“I know, My Doe, I know.” He shifted, falling to his side, taking you with him as he spooned you, still locked together by his cock. “You took me so well.” 

“Is it over?” You whispered as he caressed your sides, hot breath making your hair tickle your face. 

“Soon,” he promised, rocking his deflating knot until he could pull out of you only to lazily slip back inside your messy hole. “Just a little more.”

You whimpered as he lifted his knee, hooking your leg over it and spreading your folds as he worked your hole. You were sore, sensitive and yet your whimpers quickly turned into soft sighs as he caressed your clit. 

The fire was little more than embers, no matter how he stroked you. That didn’t keep you from desiring the way his fingers felt on you. It was a desire that was nearly all your own now. You gripped his thigh, fingers slipping in the soft fur that ran up the outsides of his legs and nails digging into the skin. 

“One more,” He promised as he worked your sore body up, tongue running along your neck and fingers pinching at your breast and clit both. “One more, and we’ll be done.”

You swore you couldn’t do it. Each stroke of his fingers was painful and yet your body tightened under his hand, greedy for more. He was softly working you up once again, grinning as you gasped and moaned with every thrust. 

“Alastor, I-”

“Even after taking me again and again, you’re so tight,” his praise had you clenching around him. “Made for me.” 

He sighed as you came around him, body too spent to do more than flutter and twitch, his name falling from your lips in a prayer. As you came, his thrusts turned harsher as he followed you, cock swelling yet again inside you. 

The tip of his cock nestled against your cervix as he locked into place, twitching as he deposited another load inside you, whispered praise dripping into your ears. 

You sagged on the bed, held tightly in his arms as you realized the fire was out. Sweat cooled on your skin as you sighed. Alastor was still held tightly within you, twitching slightly as his knot deflated more with each passing minute. 

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, afraid to face him now that you could think clearly. Alastor had never shown any interest in you in either a real romantic sense or a physical sense and you had essentially drugged him into a sex filled afternoon. It hadn’t been intentional but the guilt still ate at you. 

“All’s well that ends well.” Alastor said against the back of your beck, “And I would say that ended rather well indeed. Wouldn’t you?” 

You hesitated, not knowing what exactly to say. If you agreed, you feared giving away how much you had enjoyed the afternoon but if you disagreed, you would be insulting his performance. 

Alastor rocked his hips against you, though he was softening for the first time he was still firm enough for the friction to have you gasping. “Well?” 

“Yeah,” you blushed as he slipped out of you, feeling the wave of fluids that followed. 

Alastor snapped his fingers, materializing a warm wet towel into is hand. Softly, he cleaned the fluids from your thighs as he hummed, sitting on the bed naked beyond the mostly unbuttoned shirt. 

Sleep called to you, body sore and spent as his soft touches lulled you. Your eyes slipped open as his fingers caught your chin and forced your attention onto him. 

“In the future, do not pick random blooms. You never can be sure what unintended consequences exposure will have. Oh, and do warn me should you find your nose in those particular blooms again, I wouldn’t want you to suffer.”

~~~~~<3 Tag List: @catticora

[revelboo]

Hmmmouhhh,, all of your wiritng fics is absolutely delicious and i'am EATING ALL OF THIS!!!!

but my most fav are def soundwave, ratchet, knockout and starscream in youre fics!!! I cant wait for more from you because all of them great and wonderful!!! :D

Thank you!

Everything is Alright Pt 71

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Stretched out on your belly on his shoulder, cheek resting on an outstretched arm, you watch Soundwave work. Distracting yourself from your worry with his warmth and the weight of Lazerbeak lying on your back with his head on top of yours making it hard to breathe. Still trying to decide if the cassettes are or aren’t his grown adult kids and if they’re now yours by extension.

• “Busy thoughts,” Soundwave murmurs as you make a noise. Feeling your embarrassment even if he can’t pick up more than impressions again. He needs more skin on skin contact to get a better grasp of your actual thoughts. When he’d been inside you, he’d felt everything. Seen more than you’d probably meant for him to see. And he can’t help but wonder if the link between you would strengthen if he bonded you to him. Wanting to, but not sure if you want that. The Seeker still hasn’t explained anything to you.

• “Worrying,” you tell him because it’s easier than asking if you’re now a parent. And those thoughts are just to distract yourself from what’s happening to Starscream. Shouldn’t he be back by now? Is he okay? In medbay? “He’s okay, right?” Because you feel like crying just thinking about him getting hurt because of you.

• Those soft fingers are tracing spirals on his neck mesh. His body responding to that touch even though he knows you’re not even realizing the effect you have on him. “Starscream always is.” Eventually, but he can’t tell you that. Wants to hold you, but knows he shouldn’t. Not after lecturing the Seeker about using too much energon and drawing attention to them. But he understands now why Starscream had risked everything to be with you.

• It feels so strange going into Soundwave’s quarters. His wings flick and flare out as he finds you sprawled on Soundwave’s shoulder, Lazerbeak sleeping on top of you. “Star!” Primus his spark aches as your eyes find him and go shiny with tears. Were you worried for him? You must have been. Ignoring Lazerbeak’s indignant noise as he takes off into the air and Soundwave rumbling at him in protest. They don’t matter, just you as he picks you up and cradles you close to him, pressing his face against the warmth of you and feeling those little hands on him. “I was worried.”

• Picking up his datapad, Megatron tiredly swipes through reports. Knows he should have punished the Seeker, because he always pushes harder, tries to get away with more if he thinks he can get away with it. If there won’t be repercussions. Servos pausing as he finds a notation. Extra energon cubes requisitioned by Soundwave. Just a small thing, but unusual. Had one of his cassettes been injured? How long has it been since he’s checked on Soundwave or any of his officers but Starscream? And the traitorous Seeker only gets extra attention because he’s constantly undermining him. But Soundwave? He owes him so much.

Previous

Next

[yupuffin]

I think the aspect of the 2.7 story that felt most impactful to me was something that was previously addressed in the Penacony main story, but was reemphasized and expanded upon with Sunday being the narrative focus of this update:

Sunday is scared.

His motivation to protect the people and things important to him -- Robin is an excellent example -- manifests as a desire for control, to eliminate potential dangers. This motivation is based in fear; he's afraid to lose what he has to factors beyond his control, like the bullet that nearly took his sister's life.

And part of the "true paradise" he longs for involves preventing the sense of powerlessness that accompanies that fear. He believes that humanity sleeps because "we are afraid to awaken from our dreams." Indeed, the appeal of the "sweet dream" of Penacony is freedom from the uncontrollable and inevitable tragedies of the waking world.

It's part of what made him such an effective villain in the Penacony arc; even though you may disagree vehemently with his actions, you can understand with and sympathize the rationale behind them. In his mind, absolute control over the Dreamscape -- the elimination of frightening unknowns -- is the most effective way to keep everyone safe and happy. However, this undermines the real freedom and autonomy of the affected populace, many of whom are unaware of the Dreamscape's true nature.

In the 2.7 update, Sunday is "nerfed after turning into a good guy," to use March's words. Previously, he enjoyed immense social status as the head of the Oak Family -- and as the imposing, invulnerable, "final boss"-style antagonist. Now, his role is effectively reversed; he's a fugitive who has to disguise himself to evade the potential consequences of simply being seen.

He's an incredibly vulnerable position.

Not just physically -- as the audience, we also get intimate insights into his feelings and thought processes. Now he recognizes the scope of the harm he was previously willing to cause in the name of absolute control, and shoulders the responsibility of dealing with the repercussions.

His newly evident guilt and shame is emotionally moving on its own...

...and becomes even more poignant when you realize that guilt and shame and vulnerability has been a crucial aspect of his character from the very beginning. After all, so much of his deep-seated fear of the unknown stemmed from him blaming himself -- his lack of control over the situation -- for Robin's unforeseen injury.

I found the scene at the Dream's Edge the most touching in this update. Sunday's conversation with Robin is a bit of a paradox: he is deeply sincere and vulnerable in speaking to his own sister, yet guarded because he must avoid revealing his true identity. And Robin, in turn, directly provides an alternate outlook on Sunday's character, describing him as though to someone who's never met him, as though he isn't there.

And Robin's perspective reaffirms that Sunday's apparent invulnerability was essentially a facade. He may have been the head of the Oak Family, and the imposing final boss, but at the same time, on the inside, he was continually paralyzed by fear.

Sunday has always been vulnerable. He has always been scared.

And I think what makes the conclusion to the 2.7 story so satisfying and triumphant is that Sunday begins to properly address his fear, his persistent guilt and shame. He moves beyond simply acknowledging it, and recognizes not just how indulging his fear can bring further harm, but also what good things (that otherwise wouldn't occur) can happen when he overcomes it -- as it were, when he doesn't let his fear control him.

I'm going to be real, I probably had an intelligent-sounding conclusion for this, but... it took me several weeks to write this and I've forgotten any idea i might have had previously, so let's just say he definitely hit me right in the feels. 🤣

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

The Peter Pevensie post did well.

Here's Edmund.

Edmund has trouble putting down his chess pieces that first time. In Narnia he could assume his opponent knew what he was doing, that chess was not just a game, that sacrificing pieces meant a unit, an officer, a collection of friends never seen again.

No one remembers that back in England, where chess is just a game, not a play preparing you for war.

He loses badly the first few times, too often distracted by thoughts of his dead friends. Thoughts of the ones alive, that he hopes to see soon.

Then he becomes unbeatable. When chess is about strategy again, no longer conjures images of men dying, sacrificed to gain a tactical advantage, Edmund becomes a master. Chess champion, of his region, of the country. Not a piece too many suffers.

It takes a few months. Those first ones in boarding school, Peter has to guard him. When bullies gang up on him for his strange way of talking (as if generals listen to his advice), strange way of walking (as if there is a weight on his hip), strange way of behaving (as if there are servants for his every need) Peter protects him. They've seen protective brothers; they've never seen anything quite like Peter, who hits until bone breaks.

Edmund will often remark on how the punches thrown his way lack technique, don't really hurt.

Everyone wonders how a 110 lb 11 year old kid knows anything about punching technique. He's a scrawny white boy from the city, doesn't look even slightly dangerous. How many fights has he been in, everyone wonders, to know what type of blow breaks bone, how to collect fingers into a fist.

When he is not protected by his brother, he displays the tricks he learned in treacherous courts in fantasy lands where the men could snap him in half with half a finger, where monsters ruled. Where only his silver tongue kept him safe.

It keeps bullies far away from him. They're not just afraid of physical repercussions, but of being expelled, reputations ruined, careers unreachable before they begin.

Peter retaliates either way, physical punishment along with the other repercussions. Still, it's strange to hear that the lanky sleepwalking teen mostly interested in political science knows anything about fighting, about blood.

By the third month in boarding school, Edmund has the staff wrapped around his finger.

His tongue is as silver as the lion ring he wears. Ed can talk any opponent into submisson. He can talk any girl into his bed, too, despite other men vying for their company. Sometimes he does it just to prove a point. It earns him a few more fights than he had to be in, but that's okay.

The ones stupid, angry or brave enough to physically fight him learn fast Edmund isn't easy prey, that he knows how to fight, how to think, how to outmanouvre you. Peter is a tornado, all fury, but Ed fights like a chess master. No wasted movement, no unnecessary punches, not moving a single inch more than he has to.

Fighting Peter hurts. People soon find that fighting Ed discourages. He doesn't really seem all that hurt by fighting, often quips when taking a fist to the gut. He can deal blows so nasty you feel the effects two weeks after.

The ones that fight him in groups, still willing to try, meet Peter's fists in a dark ally.

Still Edmund never needed Peter. Their bond is strange, sure, Peter copying his younger brothers' notes without remark, asking for his advice often and seriously.

But both know politics is Edmund's territory. At the start, no one messes with him due to his big brother, who always seems to hit harder than boys his age.

In time, Ed is feared more. Differently.

A fight with the oldest Pevensie brother ends in the infirmary, a fight with the youngest ends your career, ambition, prospects with the ladies.

Edmund knows what he can do. Knows his brother can do it too, but does not prefer it. He is known for his silver tongue, his brilliant mind. Peter, more so for his steel boots.

He plays chess, studies politics, does it right. Highest marks in his class, many extra-curriculars, a seemingly unbreakable bond with his sisters and brother, which he visits often everyone. No one can understand them when they are together, a strange lilt in their voices. Some people are little scared of him. He's a debate champion, talks rounds around anyone. Excellent chef, even though he only cooks for friends.

He's loyal to a fault, clever like the devil, and a perfect gentleman. In an archaic way. Ed is the kind of man to have a hankerchief in his pocket.

That's why no one unserious dates Susan or Lucy. They all know anything unserious ends badly.

Gradually, people start to like Edmund, even if they feared him at first. His smile is devilish, but also charming. Ed is free in his head, in his hands. Brilliant in many different ways, including fencing. There is a rumour in the halls, after a while. That Ed likes men too.

But no one talks.

Edmund goes into politics. He has a family that is in the top echolon of decison making, an analytical mind. Edmund has a talent for justice. In his presence, no one feels left out, everybody is heard. Many feel that with Ed as their PM they are finally represented. A noble man, even with his bloody knuckles, the unimpressive surname.

A statesman in everything. Fashion, vocabulary, manners.

But still he believes in Narnia, goes to see the spectre.

He is facing his brother in the train, happy, talking about Narnia when it crashes.

[wingsdippedingold]

The thing that always gets me about SJM is that she says she loves Nesta so much, but at every point Nesta is degraded or self-hating.

The way Nesta is written and people react to her, it’s pretty clear that she’s not actually a bitch but just guarded and cautious of an unfamiliar/ hostile environment.

SJM often writes scenes like this (screenshot stolen from @theladyofbloodshed )

In this Nesta’s in an odd position, where she’s portrayed as the victim of Mor’s ire. However, the characters that regularly antognize Nesta (Amren, Rhysand, Mor, etc.) are never acknowledged to be antagonistic towards her, only that Nesta herself is antagonized. Nesta’s character exists in a weird limbo where she’s meant to be a a wrongfully hated character to the reader, but the people who do wrong her are also supposed to be in the right.

SJM wants to write Nesta to be the underdog mc who defies her haters and becomes someone beloved, but the issue is she’s hated by characters the narrative wants you to also love, and whom Sarah can not bring herself to let ever be in the wrong, because then it would break the idea that they’re infallible and make the rest of their faults also up for criticism.

At every point where she’s put in a bad position, it’s acknowledged that the blame is not hers, but the narrative doesn’t place the blame anywhere else, essentially making what happened entirely a product of Nesta and no other character’s actions. We see how dreadful Nesta feels in ACOSF, much of it at the hands of the ic, and the narrative wants us to sympathize and understand her situation, but with no outlet to fault her situation towards the ic and no attempt to make it known that these feelings that are a product of the ic’s actions are directly a product of the ic.

SJM also writes Nesta to be one of the only characters who self-reflect on their actions and find fault within themselves. None of the ic ever introspect on their actions and effect on other courts and people, contributing to Nesta being the wrong ones and them being correct, simply because the narrative has not made the effort to explore wether or not they’re wrong, whereas it has with Nesta. Nesta’s actions were explored and allowed to be negative because it is what allows her to change her mind, but because she’s the only one changing her mind, she only becomes more and more fitting of the ic’s standards and the series’s idea of moral correctness.

The inverse is also an issue because Sarah writes the ic to be “morally gray”, which grants them the excuse of “you can’t expect them to always be perfect/good, they’re supposed to be morally gray” but the issue with that notion and archetype in this case is that the never face any repercussions or criticism by the narrative, but rather the people opposing them, effectively establishing them as the moral high ground. You cannot defend them as “morally gray” when the narrative has done nothing more than to portray them as always in the correct even in their “morally gray actions.” Discussing their character in that way while not acknowledging how the narrative treats them absolves them of their own faults and is a slippery slope when analyzing the characters in the story.

This is one of the reasons I think so many people find it hard to like Nesta or actually sympathize with her like SJM wants; because their favorite character hates Nesta, though acknowledged to be unjustly, the character themself is not acknowledged to be unjust, therefore portraying their actions to be correct.

This was written really quickly and I just woke up from a nap, but if anyone else wants to discuss this topic, I’d love to see it!

[hayanwulf]

“How much do you love Pepper?”

The question came out of nowhere. Tony pulled himself out from where he was neck-deep in machinery, and looked up at the Wizard who sat occupying one of his several workshop chairs, his eyes still fixed on the book in his lap.

“More than the world,” Tony replied honestly. “It’s scary, honestly.”

It truly was scary, the lengths he knew he could go to for the people he loved.

Stephen did look up from his book, then.

“Let’s just say, hypothetically—” Tony raised an eyebrow at that, “—that Pepper was in love with someone else. And they loved her. And they were very happy as they were.”

Tony could sense there was something deeper going on here than simply hypotheticals. What, exactly, he wasn’t sure. Yet.

“And let’s say,” Stephen continued, “that you had the power to change that. You had the power to keep her all to yourself, to make her forget all about that person, and that person all about her. Literally. And no one would ever know what you had done, or that things had ever been any different than the reality you fabricated. She would love you, would never know what she has lost, and you’d never give her a reason to feel any less happier. And before you ask, no, it will not create any unfortunate side-effects for anyone or anything.”

Tony’s brows progressively creased at the very dubious description of this hypothetical.

“If you had the power to do all that,” Stephen concluded, “Would you?”

Tony opened his mouth to give the obvious answer that no, I wouldn’t do that, because that’s wrong.

But then he paused, jaw snapping shut, as he realized something after rerunning Stephen’s words through his head.

Stephen was talking about a scenario where consequences stopped mattering. Where, perhaps, morals stopped mattering. Because no one would ever know that Pepper’s life had been manipulated — not even Pepper herself — not only that, but Tony knew he would treat Pepper the way she deserved, would give her all his love, his soul, heck, the world if she asked for it.

He knew that he would keep her happy, and that she would do the same for him. Because that was how it was, in present, in the reality.

So, with all that in mind, even if it was morally wrong to play with someone’s memories, to fabricate a reality that hadn’t always been the truth, did it really matter that those things had been done? Because at the end of the day, there would be no consequences, no repercussions, nothing negative that would come out of it.

Suddenly the question felt a lot more terrifying. It almost felt like a test, of sorts, of a person’s integrity. And Tony did not have a lot of integrity to spare. No, he was more than willing to bend the rules sometimes if it meant that it would help him achieve what’s best for this world.

(Except, he wasn’t very good at telling what qualified as ‘best for this world’ either, now, was he?)

So.. if he were to be tempted into it.. wouldn’t he give in? Wouldn’t he want to have Pepper? He wanted to say no, that he wouldn’t let himself fall into that pit, because there was no getting up from it ever again. But..

But power corrupts.

It would corrupt him, too.

Tony bit his lip and focused back on Stephen.

It was then that he realized that Stephen had his eyes keenly fixed on Tony throughout the silence of contemplation. There was something in his eyes.. akin to anticipation? Except, it was way more intense.

Something clicked in Tony’s mind. Or perhaps it was several pieces clicking together, solving a puzzle that had been right in front of his eyes all along but he had somehow missed for so long.

The question wasn’t hypothetical. It wasn’t hypothetical, because Stephen had that kind of power. Didn’t he? Tony would think so, after he’d watched the man take down a Titan with 4 infinity stones, prevent their planet from being eaten by a planet-eating cosmic entity, and defeat a witch who could warp reality and create kids out of nothing.

Stephen was in love. Stephen was in love with someone who he couldn’t be with.

The thought made something constrict painfully tight in Tony’s chest. But there would be more time, later, to think on that.

Right now.. right now Stephen was on the verge of falling apart. He loved this person so much that he was willing to go to any lengths, if it meant he could be with them. (The vice around Tony’s heart tightened even more, but really, this was no time to process that.) Even if it could be considered extremely immoral. And..

And he was, in a way, asking Tony’s permission for it. Perhaps to assuage himself that it was fine to do it. Perhaps to convince himself that it wasn’t wrong, that anyone would want to do the same.

Tony swallowed. The workshop’s air, that had been cool and pleasant just a minute ago, now hung with a damp sort of heaviness.

This was extremely hypocritical of Tony, given that moments ago he had admitted to himself that he.. that he wouldn’t be entirely opposed to using that kind of power to have Pepper to himself.

But Stephen.. he couldn’t let Stephen break. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not for this. Losing morality was a slippery slope. You couldn’t stop once you’d started.

He couldn’t let that happen to Stephen. He couldn’t.

(And if a small, insignificant voice in his mind screamed, you’re doing it only out of selfishness, he shut it out.)

“No,” Tony said. “Because.. even if no one would know the truth, I would know.”

“Because it would haunt your conscience forever?” Stephen asked.

Oh, Tony had no doubt that it would. He also had no doubt that his own conscience would slowly convince him that ‘it’s fine’ that he ‘did the right thing’. It would feed him lies, and he would make them his life’s truths.

That was, in essence, how the slippery slope of amorality started. Always.

Tony shook his head. “No. Because the Pepper that lives in here?” He tapped at his chest, right where his heart rested, “She’d hate me for it.”

Stephen’s eyes traced down to that little hand gesture, and stayed there even after Tony’s hand fell away. For a second that seemed to stretch for hours, Stephen simply stared at the spot where Tony had tapped his finger, and Tony grew just a hint distressed, that perhaps it hadn’t worked. Perhaps he didn’t manage to convince Stephen. That he would lose Stephen into this spiral of wrongdoings and never be able to recover him—

Stephen’s eyes flickered up to Tony’s, and something flashed in his expression, gone as quickly as it had come. Tony still caught what it was, though.

Self-disgust.

Before Tony could speak again, Stephen interrupted him, getting up as he shut his book with a slam. “Apologies, there’s an emergency at the Sanctum.”

And before Tony could do anything else, Stephen was already disappearing through a portal.

“Stephen!” He called out as he stood up, but it was no use, the portal already closed, the last of orange sparks showering down on his floor.

Stephen was gone. Stephen was gone, and Tony knew that no immoral reality-bending, mind-altering magics were going to be performed today. But Stephen was gone, reeking of shame and disgust for himself, gone to lament in whichever secluded place he always disappeared to, not to be found by any force of the universe unless he wanted to be found.

That hadn’t been Tony’s intention. That hadn’t been Tony’s intention.

But he could do nothing but watch at where the sparkly portal had stood, wishing that it had been him who Stephen loved with such intensity.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Jealousy or caring?

Hi guys :)

After the results of the survey, this is the story you have choosen. I may write the others too though.

Summary : This one talk about jalousy and everything who can come out of it, whether it’s little cute reconciliations or a little more complicated repercussions.

TW : Jealousy, discomfort with her feelings, a little angst.

Enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

Looking at your sleepy girlfriend, you gently raise your hand to caress her face. Your gesture is gentle and delicate, afraid to wake her up. Alexia’s moments of rest are so rare these days that you do everything you can to make them as restful as possible.

You loved everything about her, even her jealousy. Or, as she prefers to call it, her caring. As the days, weeks, months and even years went, you realize that Alexia's jealousy caring has different colors.

********

Losing has never been easy for anyone. But you must admitted that on your side, you are perhaps less accustomed than some of your fellow teammates. You’ve been playing at FC Barcelona for a few years now and the few times you’ve lost have traumatized you. Perhaps because it often happened in the finals, you must admit that disappointment is always up to the hopes and efforts that have been made to get there.

Your national team is a little less successful than your club though. You are of Norwegian origin and even though you qualified for the last World Cup, you are having a little trouble earning points for the next Cup. After another loss, you find yourself in the last place in the ranking and the bitterness that reigned in the locker room after your defeat is still well anchored in you.

You're actually lying on your bed of the hotel room that you share with Ingrid Engen, your bestie, who also plays in Barcelona. You’ve both been staring at the ceiling without saying a word, unable to sketch the slightest gesture. You are lying in a V-shape on the same bed, the legs of the brunette on yours. You’re playing the game in your head again and again and the things you could have done otherwise to allow your team to win. And you know that it’s the same kind of things that also turn in Ingrid’s head.

You only get out of your lethargy when you feels your mobile phone vibrate in the pocket of your jogging, making you jump. You startle Ingrid at the same time and she throws you a glare while you roll your eyes, wriggling on the bed to extract your phone. Looking at the screen, you smile when you see that it's your girlfriend. You pick up and wait patiently for the few seconds necessary for the Facetime call to connect.

The black screen gives way to Alexia’s face and your heart tightens when you remember that she's thousands miles away from you. Even if Ingrid is your best friend, you’d rather be lying in the same bed as Alexia.

"Holà Bebita" makes you affectionately the latina and you smile tenderly.

"Hi."

"How are you feeling?"

You pout and shrug. Always lying on your back on your bed and your blond hair in halo around your head, you are not sure of the effect, but never mind. You don’t answer with words, but that’s enough for Alexia to understand what you mean. She can’t stand to lose, too.

"For what it’s worth, you played very well."

"Not good enough apparently"

You grumble, but you’ve seen a few comments from frustrated fans who feel like you should have found situations to get the ball in the net a second time. Your equalizer wasn't enough to save your team and a few minutes before the end of the match the opposing team scored the goal of the victory.

Alexia frowns when you say that and you already know the words she will say. They are always the same when a teammate takes the team’s defeat on her back. However, this doesn't seem to apply to her, she's the first to declare herself guilty during a defeat.

"Hey I forbid you to say that. If you hadn’t done your best, you wouldn’t be that exhausted. How’s Ingrid?"

Preferring not to answer and focusing on her question, you turn your head towards your best friend. She's Alexia's friend too after all. The brunette imitates you a few seconds later and your lack of common energy ends up amusing yourself. So it's with a slight smile that you bring your attention to the screen and Alexia.

"She's laying down on my bed and didn’t even have the courage to get fully dressed after her shower."

"Perdóna me?"

You hoped to tease Alexia’s jealousy, but it's finally Mapi’s face that appears on the screen, her eyebrows frowning. You are surprised to see her, Alexia didn't inform you that she was in her company, but not entirely astonished. If Ingrid is your best friend, Mapi is definitely Alexia’s. This allows the four of you to have great moments together, even if Alexia and you are less likely to party than the other two.

"Y/N why is my girlfriend not answering her phone and naked on your bed?!"

"Holà Maria" you laugh.

"Mapi give me my phone back!" your hear Alexia in the background and some noise make you realize that she's really trying to take it back.

This chaos makes you smile and ends up shaking Ingrid from her lethargy. She rolls on her stomach to also watch the screen of your phone. Even if for the moment you have a breathtaking view of the ceiling of Alexia’s living room, then some fingers, then a black background and finally Alexia’s face again, with Mapi pouting in the background.

"Hi darling" Ingrid smiles when she sees her girlfriend. "My phone battery was discharged, I call you as soon as it comes back on."

You laugh when you see Mapi's face but Ingrid slaps you on the head and you frown.

"Hey" you whined, rubbing your head with your hand, as Ingrid gets up from bed to check her phone.

It actually had to come back on since you lost time to look at the ceiling and when she unplugs it from the cable, you look at your screen again. When the brunette informs you that she will call Mapi, you decide to plug in your headphones so you can focus on the conversation you have with Alexia. And besides, your roommate is doing the same. Rolling on your side, face on the wall, you look at your perfect lady.

"I miss you so much"

The confession you make to the blonde isn’t surprising, even if you are not physically demonstrative in public, you are very often together. Alexia actually has more things to do outside of trainings than you do, but you have at least all your evening together.

"I miss you too" Alexia replies before hesitating to continue "… but Ingrid was really not naked, huh?"

********

Alexia's jealousy, excuse-me, caring, wasn't always cute and nice actually. At the beginning of your relationship, you decided not to tell the fans. Partly because you didn’t want to deal with the reactions it would cause, but also because you wanted to be sure it would be a serious relationship. To be perfectly honest, you already knew on your side that this was the case but you didn't want to put too much pressure on Alexia, believing that she already had enough things to manage like this.

Her insecurities have always surprised you, even if she never really talked about it. She never accused you of anything and you know perfectly well that she never searched in your phone either for example. But the fear that sometimes colors her eyes when she sees you talking to another girl surprised you so much the first time that you told yourself that you were imagining things. Spoiler, you weren't.

You also remember perfectly well the time when you were looking for an enveloppe with pictures of your childhood in your apartment, making a mess in your living room. "I’m sure Anna put it in there" you mumbled, head down in a drawer.

"Who is Anna?"

The question was thrown as lightly as if Alexia had asked you the weather for the next day. But when you turned around, her face seemed too smooth and the fact that she looked away very suspicious. Again, there were no accusations in her behavior or tone of voice.

"My cousin? Who came last week?"

"Oh."

And with that, Alexia had moved on to another subject after a few seconds. You felt her relief and you saw how her whole body suddenly relaxed. It was always like that with the blonde. She has never been in the habit of talking about her emotions and even if she shows you that she loves you and cares about you, she is not the type of person to make you long love declarations. But you love her this way.

********

Because of all this, the first time her jealousy really took over her, you were taken by surprise.

It was during a casual match with a team in the middle of the ranking. You were easily winning and the match took place in a rather good general atmosphere, the visitors being rather respectful of the game.

This didn't prevent a bad tackle from an opposing player on you, more clumsy than voluntary, throwing you to the ground with a stabbing pain in the tibia. This pain made you stay a few seconds on the floor during which you resumed your breathing. The player in question quickly leaned over you to apologize, making sure nothing serious happened to you. You didn’t even calculate her hand on your shoulder, but you willingly accepted the helping hand that Alexia held out to help you up, taking you away from the other girl.

"I'm ok" you simply reassured her, taking her suspicious look as an interest on her part for your leg.

Well, you still think she was worried about that too. But, head in your game, you went back to your position and you didn’t think about this incident again.

When the referee whistled the famous three shots, you stayed on the pitch for several minutes to chat with your teammates and go sign some jerseys and take some pictures. After examining your tibia, you saw that a bruise has starting to form and the medical team asked you not to wait too much before going to put at least a little ice on it.

So you apologized to the fans and walked into the hallway leading to the locker room. It was at this moment that the player of the opposing team came after you, calling you by your first name. Surprised, you turned around and smiled at her when she made sure once again that you were okay.

You showed her your tibia to reassure her and with that you started to discuss a bit about the game. She ended up asking for a jersey swap and after a few seconds of hesitation, you agreed. It was at this very moment that Alexia made her appearance and the timing could probably not be worse.

Even if you had nothing to reproach yourself, she nevertheless found herself facing the image of her girlfriend only dressed in her shorts and a sports bra, facing another girl wearing her jersey. All of this with a few laughs that reflected on the walls of the corridor and the hand of the opponent placed on your arm to thank you.

The moment you met her gaze, you knew the situation was going to be complicated. Alexia were frozen a few feet from you, but you perfectly saw her jaw contract and the muscles of her hands tense.

You naturally ran after her when she turned around and it took you the whole way to the locker room for her to at least agree to look at you. And you had to take her face in your two hands since saying her name repeatedly, asking her to listen to you seemed to have no effect.

"Ale, Baby, look at me"

You had to put yourself on tiptoes to have your eyes at her level and finally really have her attention. The way she pushed your hands back into that corridor and walk with a quick step while shaking her head and not even looking at you gave you the impression that she was only there physically.

You never raised your voice, feeling that it would only make things worse. And you were right. Alexia’s eyes cut off your breathing and for once it wasn’t in the right way. The anger she had felt a few moments ago seemed to have deserted her mood, replaced by distress and insecurity.

You were alone in the locker room but you knew there were risks that it would not last. And Alexia would never want to be seen in this state of emotions by anyone. So, ignoring your bruise, you informed her you were taking her home. You left her no choice and she didn't protest, which may seem surprising coming from Alexia, but you were relieved to see that she was not trying to run away from you anymore.

The ride was quiet and it was a relief when you arrived in the safety of your apartment. That said, you didn’t really know what to do with your girlfriend, suddenly turned into a mute wall, looking at nothing. So you made the decision to sit her on your couch and kneel in front of her, between her legs. The fact that you are both still in football outfits added to the strangeness of the scene.

"Ale?"

Her gaze rests on you and the emotions that were previously there was added the fact that she seems lost. You put your hands on her lap and you look at her for a long time, not really knowing what to say. But you end up choosing what you think is most important.

"I know what you saw and that it may have seemed inappropriate, but I swear there was nothing. She just apologized and asked me to swap our jerseys"

You feel her gaze scan you and you let her do it, leaving her the time she needs. She finally nods, but you’d like her to talk to you, explain what’s going on in her head. Except she seems incapable of it for the moment.

"Come on, let’s take a shower."

You hope that the hot water will allow Alexia to relax and gather her ideas and you let her enter the shower first. Until she finishes, you unpack your bags and you decide to make her a cup of tea. Even if you are not English, your mom had this habit when someone was not well and you took the same way.

To give her as much privacy as possible, you left some spare clothes and you wait patiently on your sofa for her to come out of the bathroom. Looking at your phone, you realize that your hurry departure surprised some of your teammates and you don’t wait to answer them that everything is fine and that you are together. You can already imagine the kind of gritty scenario that Mapi will put herself in the head.

When your girl had finished, it was your turn and you hurry to go back to her as soon as possible. Despite her silence, you’re afraid you won’t find her when you get out of there. But no, except instead of being on your couch, she’s sitting on the foot of your bed. She plays nervously with her fingers and looks up at you as you slowly enter the room.

"I'm sorry"

You don’t see why she apologizes, but you decide not to ask her a question right now. Instead, you climb in the bed behind her and pull her against you, reversing your bed habits. Usually, it’s you in the role of the little spoon. But this time, she willingly nestles against you and you gently rock her, leaning against the head of the bed.

"Can we talk about it?"

She nods again, but remains silent. Looking for a way to start the conversation, you realize that you feel her heart beating against your skin, testifying to the strength of her emotions.

"Ale, you know I would never do that, right? Cheating in any way. I care too much about you to risk losing you. I only look at you."

Alexia obviously heard you, but you realize she seems to be grappling with words. She never has problems finding the ones that are necessary to motivate her teams or to reassure others, it seems to be another thing to find those to express her emotions. This isn't surprising, once again the number of people to whom she opened must be counted on the fingers of one hand.

"Ok, let me try to help you. How did you feel when you came into this hallway?"

"I wanted to rip her head off."

Well, that was rude but clear. You find yourself trying not to laugh.

"Something else?" you asked, hiding your smile in her hair.

You couldn't do it for long though, since a few seconds later Alexia gets up to sit and face you.

"I know you would never do anything like that, but that doesn’t stop me from fearing losing you. If I told you that I trust you, but I don’t trust others, would you understand the difference?"

You nod and replace a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"I don't care about the others, though"

"I know I'm beeing stupid b..."

You interrupt her by placing a finger on her lips, making her look up at you for the first time since she spoke again.

"Don't. You're not stupid because you feels emotions Alexia. You're an human, not a robot"

"I don't know what to do with all this emotions" she mumble.

"Talking to me can help?"

You try a smile and she gives you a smirk back. That's a beginning right? You take her again against you and she half sit on your lap, her face against your shoulder. The silence is this time more relaxing and you feel Alexia relax in your arms.

"Thanks for getting me out of there before the others saw me like that."

"Always here for you, Love."

********

But Alexia can be possessive too.

As time passed, she learned to deal with her frustrations differently. When a girl has looked at you for too long for her taste at a party for example, it isn't uncommon that you find yourself the next day with scattered hickeys all over your body. Your bond has continued to grow and your understanding to evolve to the point that you can understand each other only in a few seconds, without even having to speak.

This connection has obviously been noticed by almost everyone, but there are only two people who can brag about knowing Alexia perhaps better than you. Alba, her little sister, but especially Eli, her mother. This one is grateful to you for regularly bringing her eldest daughter home, apart from the weekly diner organized at home. At first, you refused to accompany Alexia, preferring to let her spend time alone with her mother and sister. But, when your girlfriend informed you that her mother was about to sulk you permanently, you ended up going every week.

"Here you are at last!" Eli said the first time you went back.

You laughed and gave her a hug before you went to greet Alba. If Alexia quickly dragged you into the family lounge to watch their usual series, Eli eventually commandeered your help in the kitchen. Laying a kiss on Alexia’s head who hums and smile at you, you obviously agreed and found yourself peeling carrots with your mother-in-law.

You expected remonstrance from what you told Alexia, but instead you find yourself facing Eli’s inquisitive gaze.

"You swear to tell me nothing but the truth?"

"Uh… yeah?"

You are intrigued but also a little worried. You don't see what you could have hidden from her, but she has the same effect on you as when you have to pass the security gate of the customs at the airport.

"It’s been weeks since you were seen here. I thought you and Alexia broke up and she didn’t have the courage to tell me."

"Oh… no, everything is fine between us" you assured her by turning your attention to your carrots.

"Really? You’re not pretending to be always together so you don’t worry me?"

"Promised"

You smiled at her and after a few seconds scanning the blue of your eyes, she responded to your smile. Realizing that Alexia has the same way of looking through your eyes amuses you a lot.

"Why would you worry anyway?" you ask, frowning. "Alexia could find someone else in a snap of the fingers."

Eli snorts and you turn your attention to her.

"Maybe she could, but I sincerely doubt that she will find someone as good for her as you are. She hadn’t been with anyone for a long time before you came from your freezing Norway. I was genuinely afraid that she would never find someone good enough for her. I never asked you if you want children or getting married like I know Alexia want to, because I know that the bond you both have will take you where you have to be."

What could you have said to that? Nothing. So you cut those damn carrots, lost in your thoughts. You are obviously convinced that Alexia is made for you, otherwise you would never have been with her for so long. But you never claimed you were made for her in return.

After the carrots, you attacked another kind of vegetables, always in silence. Hearing your mother-in-law talk to you about marriage and children is rather peculiar, you never really touched the subject with Alexia. You obviously noticed the way she behaves with children and it makes your heart melt every time. You know she’ll make a good mom when her turn comes, but you don’t know if she wants to have that with you. You don’t even live together right now, after almost a year of dating. Even if you are more at her home than at yours.

"What have you done to my girlfriend?"

Not seeing you coming back to her, Alexia ended up leaving her couch to come see what’s happening in the kitchen. She knows you well enough to realize that you are lost in your thoughts and not necessarily light things. But by your side, Eli gathers the vegetables in a pan to start cooking them.

"Nothing, we were just talking mija."

The look Alexia gives you is uncertain and you give her a small smile that you hope reassuring. (It’s not). Eli sends you back to the living room and you follow your girlfriend to finish the current episode. At the end, Alba decrees that she has a call to make and Alexia takes you with her to the garden. Her fingers are tangled with yours and you looked up at the sky that darkens when she draws you against her. You let her do it and you find yourself facing her, her hand coming on your cheek. This gesture intrigues you, not that Alexia isn't tender with you, but you wonder what is behind her head.

"Are you ok?"

"I am"

You answer and, taking advantage of your proximity, you kiss her softly on her lips. A few seconds later you pass your arms around her neck to extend the kiss, enjoying of this sweat moment during which you get lost in all of her. But Alexia, determined to know more, finally backs down to plunge her gaze into yours.

"Talking to my mother about things you don’t want to talk to me about now?"

Alexia has arched an eyebrow and looks amused, but you know perfectly well that behind this light air, there is a real concern. You laugh gently though, taking the time to kiss her again before answering her.

"Do you want children?"

"I… What?"

"Living with me? Getting married?"

"Y/N - "

"Maybe get a brother or a sister for Nala?"

"A pomeranian?"

You laugh slightly but shake your head gently. Without releasing your hands around her neck, you back your face a few centimeters to have a better view of her.

"Have you ever thought about a future together, you and me?"

Alexia bites her lip and slightly tilts her head to the side while looking at you. The length of time it takes him to answer you creates a knot in your stomach and you detach this time your hands around her neck. You’re trying to pull back a little more, but Alexia’s arms around your waist are holding you back.

"Don’t take this the wrong way, okay?"

Well that’s a bad start. You only frown for answer and look forward to the rest.

"The first time I saw you, I knew. I knew you would be the one I wanted to live with. I want everything you just described, even though the second dog didn’t come to my mind."

You smirk and arch an eyebrow. As she spoke, you felt your stomach relax and your heart rate drop. But you don’t interrupt her, having learned over time that if you wanted to know more about her deep thoughts, you have to let her talk.

"You were more than patient with me, you knew how to get to know me and understand me better than anyone else. I fell in love with you the very moment you walked into the gym, half hiding behind Ingrid."

The scene is still fresh in your memory and you laugh softly remembering it. You were impressed, more than ever, to be faced with world-class players.

"I know my jealousy is sometimes difficult to deal with, but I really love you more than anything. And I don’t even want to imagine my life without you."

You find yourself without words, for once in the role of the one who is unable to find the right terms to mean what she thinks. You are not used to receiving such statements from your girlfriend, the latina preferring to cover you with attentions and gifts.

So you just pass your arms around her neck and kiss her with everything you have. This kiss is passionate and intense, it makes you completely forget the place where you are currently. Alexia tightened you impossibly close to her and the blonde took the opportunity of a moan from you to slip her tongue between your lips. Both lost in your embrace, you only take a few seconds between each kiss to catch your breath before starting again.

You can’t tell how long you’ve been kissing here, but you’re still grateful that it’s Alba who surprised you rather than your mother-in-law.

"Oh wow, I’m going to have to wash my eyes with bleach" she exclaims as she puts her hands on her eyes. "Diner is ready"

With that, she goes back inside and you laugh slowly before putting your attention back on Alexia. With a smirk, she kiss lightly your neck while whispering "We will resume this conversation later".

********

Over the years, Alexia’s jealousy has continued to punctuate your life. But she always kept a healthy jealousy, never accusing you of anything.

There was for example the time when you went out to a restaurant during your summer vacation. No one seemed to recognize you, allowing Alexia to feel particularly relaxed and comfortable with your physical proximity. You were surprised at the beginning of the stay when she takes your hand in her when you strolled around town or when she joined you on the same deck chair to enjoy a sunbath while cuddling.

The restaurant you booked that night was highly recommended by Ona and Lucy, who had come to the same place some time before. You failed to swallow your gum when you saw Alexia come out of the bathroom after putting on a red dress that showed nothing more than necessary but that made her breathtaking. More than usual.

And she may swear you’re the prettiest of the two, but you don’t believe it for a second. You must restrain yourself so much from letting your eyes slide over her body, in places that only you have the honor of knowing at your fingertips, that you don't realize Alexia’s growing annoyance towards your server.

It's true that he perhaps insists a little too much to know if everything is fine and that he has a strong tendency to talk to only you. It's only when you notice that Alexia’s jaw is a little too tense that you realize that something is wrong. You gently place your hand on hers and caress her skin with your thumb.

"What is it, Bonita?"

"Nothing, don’t worry."

She smiles bravely at you and since she doesn’t want to talk about it, you don’t insist. Instead, you draw her hand to your lips to lay tender kisses. The smile coming back on your girlfriend’s face, you leave this information aside until the end of the meal. After dessert, you forbid Alexia to spend any penny and pay the bill. When the waiter gives you the receipt of your payment, you slip it in your bag without thinking about it for a single second.

After a walk hand in hand, you return to your suite, secretly in a hurry to get rid of your high heels. In truth, you are so in a hurry that you decide to remove them just out of the elevator, highly amusing Alexia.

"Where’s the room card Bebita?" she asks smiling.

"In my bag"

You hand it to her and sigh of relief as you feel your feet breathe again.

"Maybe I will be able to still play football after all" you grumble as Alexia searches your purse for a few seconds, giggling about what you just said.

The sweat sound stop rather abruptly though, making you raise your eyes on her. She was livid. Regaining your seriousness, you take a few steps in her direction and you question her at the same time when she resumes speaking.

"Ale?"

"What is it?"

You frown as you look at the piece of paper she holds in her hand, realizing that this is the receipt you had slip into your purse when leaving the restaurant.

"The restaurant's bill?" you answer, not understanding what was going on.

"No. This."

Despite her calm voice, you see her hand shaking as she approaches the paper from your face. And there you see. The waiter thought it clever to write his phone number in hand, accompanied by a small annotation. "I finish at 0h, call me ;) " Your face drop and you raise your eyes on Alexia again, feeling a wave of panic going through you.

"I'm not... I didn’t see that he wrote that, I never would have taken it! Alexia I swear."

You were scared, really. Alexia had never been as relaxed as she was on this trip and had never behaved the same way with you outside the four walls of your shared apartment. You were terrified that it would make her step back or worse, that she would think that you might be interested in him somehow.

But you soon realize that if she’s angry, it’s clearly not against you. Furiously opening the door of your room thanks to the magnetic card she finally found, Alexia enters like a furious. And you follow her on tiptoe, dropping your shoes next to the door that closes behind you.

"Alexia?"

"Who the hell does he think he is?" Alexia roars, making you wide-eyes. "Wasn’t it visible enough that we were on a date? I’ve practically been drooling over you all night and if your eyes could undress me I wouldn’t be wearing my dress anymore."

Laughing may not be a good idea right now, but your girlfriend’s phrasing still amuses you a lot. You bite your lower lip to avoid to do it and grab her by the arm to prevent it from spinning like a propeller in your room. Drawing her against you, you pass your arms around her waist, unable to access her shoulders. If you got rid of your high heels, this is not the case for Alexia although she is only five centimeters taller than you without it.

"We don't care about him. I’m only yours, Alexia, for as long as you want me."

"Don’t say that kind of thing where you’re gonna get stuck with me for the rest of your life" she grunts against your hair.

"Can’t wait."

[djuvlipen]

The Czech state threatened to institutionalize my children if I didn't have an abortion, later I learned they also sterilized me

Jarmila Adiová is one of many forcibly sterilized women who are fighting with the lifelong repercussions of that traumatic experience in the Czech Republic. In an interview for ROMEA TV, she reveals how pressure from physicians and social workers led to more than one irreversible intervention in her life.

Adiová has applied for the compensation of CZK 300,000 [EUR 12,000] currently being offered by the Czech state and is still waiting to see whether it will be awarded to her. For the time being the official deadline for filing requests for such compensation is 2 January 2025.

Some politicians are now proposing to extend that deadline by another two years, though. Adiová was living a contented family life with her husband and five sons before the intervention.

The entire family was looking forward to their next child, whom they all hoped would be a little girl. “My husband and I had been preparing for it to be a little girl. He actually looked forward to that, he was glad and kept saying ‘I hope it will be a girl and not another boy’, because we already had five sons. I was also looking forward to it very much,” Adiová told ROMEA TV.

“We were a normal, functional family, the children were doing well and everything was fine,” she recalls their life before the intervention. However, their plans were thwarted by pressure from social workers threatening to institutionalize her children unless she aborted her pregnancy.

“The social workers started coming to our home and they were always looking for something wrong, they deliberately invented stories to see whether our household lacked something it shouldn’t. Back then it was the case that if they saw you had more children, they immediately told me that I was ‘giving birth like a cat’ and that they would not keep disbursing me welfare benefits all the time. They proposed that I get rid of the child I was expecting. They said that if I didn’t, they would take my other children and put them in an institution. I was out of my mind with fear, my husband was, too. We didn’t want to do it at all, but ultimately they forced me to do it so I could keep my five children at home,” Adiová told ROMEA TV.

After the abortion, Adiová found out that she would never conceive again. Without fully understanding the repercussions, she had been forced to undergo sterilization as well as an abortion.

“I had no idea that I would no longer be able to have children. It was not until the operation was over that my husband and family told me it was irreversible. That shock marked me for life,” Adiová described.

To this day Adiová is being treated for the longstanding mental problems resulting from that experience. Suspicions that Romani women were being subjected to forced sterilizations in the Czech Republic were raised in 2004 by the European Roma Rights Centre.

The illegal sterilizations were undertaken in the former Czechoslovakia and in the Czech Republic for decades and were most often performed on Romani women. They were subjected to pressure and to threats that their children would be institutionalized unless they underwent the surgery and were not properly informed about the nature of the surgery being recommended to them.

Dozens of women contacted the ombudsman about their treatment and several have also sued in court. According to the compensation law now in effect in the Czech Republic, victims have been able to request compensation since 2022, but the opportunity to apply ends on 2 January 2025.

Politicians in the Czech Republic agree it is necessary to extend this opportunity by another two years. Just like other victims of forced sterilizations, Adiová has applied for the CZK 300,000 [EUR 12,000] in compensation being offered.

Adiová does not yet know whether she will be awarded the compensation. “The money will not heal these wounds. I wanted my sons to have a sister. They took that chance away from me, though,” she told news server ROMEA TV.

She hopes her story will support other women who are fighting for justice: “This is not just about me, but about all the women who went through this. All we wanted was to have families and children, but they denied us that.”

[hoiststowline]

through smoke

ultra magnus x f!reader

Even in your nightly routine, little stopped the mech from being the protector, even without your knowledge. While there were many sleepless nights per him, partially because he didn't need it as frequently as you, yet mostly because he would work until the repercussions caught up to his internal systems. You'd often wake up to find him knocked out at his desk, materials still in one hand as his entire frame relaxes. 

Magnus had caved into your request in a moment where your pout had ultimately been effective, realizing he was due to recharge two Earth days prior. While often he had to turn down your pleas, not because he wanted to, but because time-sensitive matters had trumped his health, this was a rare instance where he could say yes. He doesn't know if he'll ever get over the way your entire face lights up, a beautiful smile overtakes your face followed by a squeal of happiness that hums from your lips. 

He wants you to always be happy. It is a massive ask, and between the two of you, it's a feat easier said than done, but if something so small can enchant you, it's worth the time lost. 

Approximately three hours into your sleep, Magnus is still wide awake beside you. He's staring up at his berthroom's metal ceiling, servos clasped across his torso, a blank look on his face as he contemplates nothing yet his processor will not halt its rampaging thoughts. There's a lingering question that it should be easy to fall into recharge, but the action will not come willfully. 

You're curled in a ball within your normal spot, above his shoulder just beside his helm. Effortlessly, you capture his attention, turning just slightly to the left to observe your form, when nearly immediately his brow furrows, confusion seeping into his expression. Easily his optics take in your entire figure, baffled by the way your lips mumble incoherent words as sweat gathers at your forehead, but your body trembles as if you were cold. 

It's a scenario he's never found himself in before. Magnus has nothing to compare it to, because typically, you sleep like a statue, and the only relief he had was watching the way your chest rose and fell with steady breaths. This time around, your breathing appeared irregular and hitched, like you were crying. 

"y/n?" His inquiry remains a whisper, moving silently up onto one arm as his body shields you from the rest of the room. The unoccupied servo goes to reach out for you, wanting you to be alright, but the deed is discontinued before it can make contact. You are crying, and something heavy comes to sit within his chassis. 

Ultra Magnus has zero idea what is happening directly in front of him. He has no idea if you are hurt, ill, or both- but there's little he can do with his limited medical expertise. Just as he rapidly contemplates his options, you re-enter reality, sitting up with a start, a palm on your chest as the other grabs fistfuls of your blanket atop your legs. 

There's one awful moment where the only sound is your heavy gasps for air, eyes squinted shut as more tears run rivers down rosy cheeks. Everything in you wants to scream, but you also haven't realized that Magnus is awake, hovering over you with one servo still extended awkwardly. A brief hope washes over you that you'd be able to handle this without waking the poor guy up, knowing that he needed his rest more than anyone else.

As your exhausted eyes blink open, you're disheartened to find a soft cerulean gaze staring down at you with an almost nauseating expression of disquiet. A gasp stumbles forth, hastily wiping the lingering tears away as an apology stumbles out next, shrinking under his regard. 

"What is the matter, y/n?" It's blatant the way he disregards your apology, but to him, it's important to get to the root of your distress first. 

"I had a nightmare, I think." You sniffle, catching his still-extended hand in your peripheral vision. "I'm good." 

Magnus buckles under an imaginary weight, like relief and stupor were fighting for control. "None of what I just observed demonstrates that you are 'good'."

Finally, his servo comes to rest beside your thigh, not quite touching your skin, but close enough that he left the decision in your hands. He's in a transparently uncomfortable position, torso twisted as one hand splayed out behind him as it supports his upper body's weight. His guise is unsettled, a ghost of something more within his features, but you can't find the conveyance properly in your anxious state. 

"Well, it is the first one I've had in a while," You shrug, rolling your shoulders as a sense of safety floods your achy head. "I guess it's the first one I've had since meeting you." 

"First what?" He rumbles, tilting his helm to the right. 

"Nightmare." You repeat, blinking owlishly. "I don't know how I normally behave because no one is usually there to see me."

In turn, Magnus takes two languid blinks, as if he's straining to follow your sentences. "Forgive me, but that word, nightmare- it is lost to me. I cannot find an established translation from your language to mine." 

A laugh bubbles in your throat, but for the sake of the circumstance, you swallow it back down. Nothing about this is funny, and he would certainly scold you for displaying such a reaction, even if it was uncontrollable from within your subconscious. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't realize." Recovering, you waste little time in continuing. "It's uh, kinda like...the opposite of a good dream?" 

"Cybertronian's cannot dream." The delivery is comparable to a deadpan, but you know better. "So I am vastly theorizing here, but I take it you were within a state that was not peaceful." 

You free that previously stifled laugh, but it's drier than you imagined. "Good guess, Mags." 

"Are you unwell?" He dips closer, leaning forward until his frame entirely swallows you, digit coming to rest gently atop your thigh. "Do not lie to me, y/n. I will call for Ratchet."

"I'm fine," You drawl, teeth sinking nearly unbearably into your bottom lip. "You look like you're having an existential crisis."

"And what was I to think?" He huffs, slumping just close enough that his lips poise just above your forehead. "I worry, y/n, whether you think it's rational or not." 

"Hey, I didn't say anything about it not being rational," Argued exhaustedly, but meaningfully. "Sorry, that I worried you. I guess from my perspective I always just woke up, I didn't even realize that I thrash around like that." 

When he doesn't answer in turn, you tilt your head backward to try and catch his gaze. Something is resounding within his chassis, a soft hum that lulls the atmosphere into a state of tranquility. "You have nothing to apologize for." A pause, and then he continues. "While Cybertronian's cannot...dream, there is a similar recollection of memories while within recharge."

"Like...bad memories too?" You ask meekly, feeling a pang of guilt as he nods wordlessly. "I hope you can recall good ones too." 

"Certainly." You don't miss the small smile that twitches onto his face-plate. "But to circle back to the original topic, I can understand the feeling of a bad dream. I can only hope that it does not continue to occur."

"Yeah, you and I both." Joking, your fingers reach to swipe under your eyes to brush away the lingering tears, but Magnus' digit beats you to it, cool metal bringing a warmness to your cheeks. "Did I wake you up?" 

His finger remains atop your skin, another cupping your chin as he keeps your gaze to his as if to observe any unspoken words. He does believe you, understanding that you are just fine, but it is also unknown territory to him, not entirely convinced the nightmare transpired out of nowhere. 

"No." Magnus gravels, dipping down an inch further. "I was awake." 

"Why?" You ask, brow furrowing. "You gotta be tired, Mags. If you could have dark circles, they'd be permanent." 

He could brush your uneasiness away with a simple shutdown of the conversation, shushing you to go back to sleep, but it would be futile. "I've got a little too much on my processor." Magnus ex-vents, finally pulling the servo that was supporting his upper body from behind him. At this, he lowers himself to the berth, hand never leaving your cheek as he now faces you on his side. "Do not trouble yourself about it." 

"What's on your mind?" If laughter came more effortlessly to the mech, he's certain one would have followed your query. He likely could have bet money on that one, observing the way your eyes lose some of the glimmers they previously had, replaced with a bit of fret. 

"Did you simply ignore the last part of my sentence? y/n, please-" His breath hitches as your tiny fingers lay atop the back of his servo, appendages warm to the touch. 

You sniffle, shuffling just a bit closer to his face-plate. "Hey, you got to ask me questions, why can't I ask you?" 

"You were the one in distress." He counters, words firm. "My ailments can at least wait until morning." 

"Yeah, you say that, and then when I ask in the morning you'll say: 'Leave it be y/n', and then we'll never get to talk about it." Magnus is heavily amused at your poor attempt to convey his voice, tone dropping in mockery. 

"I do not sound like that." He murmurs, liking the laugh that bursts from your lips. 

"You do, but that's okay. I love you anyway." You roll your shoulders, a comforting action to ease the pain that was starting to ache there. "So, what's up?" 

Love was a word tossed around so simply on your end, but the tone was always different per situation. The way you said it to him was so unique, he's never heard it roll off your tongue to another soul before, and he wishes he could bring himself to say it so casually in return. 

You mean it every time. And though his mumbles of the sentiment are saved for more intimate moments, he supposes those are what you appreciate the most, enjoying the way your whole face flushes and is replaced with a twinge of red color. 

"It's too much to divulge now, y/n." Hair is moved away from your eyes, tucked back behind your ear as he continues. "Perhaps I make a promise to discuss it at a later time?" 

Your eyes move from his to the pinky he has extended your way, a childish yet meaningful gesture of a promise you had taught him. He treats it like a bond forged in fire, the tapping of your pinkies, and you like to keep it that way. You know that he intends to come back to this exchange, whether it be tomorrow or a week from now. 

"Deal, Magnus." Your fingers briefly interlock, a smile working its way to your face. "Try and get some rest though, for real." 

"You too, y/n." The lingering trace of a kiss lands atop your forehead, missing his touch as fast as it goes away. "Good night." 

"Night." His touch never felt more comfortable as you quickly faded back to sleep, blanket soft atop your skin as his optics ultimately fluttered shut. 

[demon-country]

I've noticed that people seem to kind of gloss over Stolas' loss of his magic. Usually I see people write about him missing it, and it being disorienting to not be able to do the things he used to be able to do, but that's as far as it usually goes. A rare few times I've seen it that he feels a sort of void within himself where it used to be.

And that's fine if that's your preference, but I do think it'd be interesting if it went further than that. His magic is an intrinsic part of himself, after all, one that's etched into his very being. He's likely always had it in some capacity, especially if the theory that his pupils are now showing because he lost his magic is true, since his eyes have always been completely red. And it was just violently ripped out of him. His body was infused with magic, and it was torn out of him without warning, without consent, and within seconds. How could that possibly have not hurt? That'd be so fucking traumatic for both his body and his mind. How violating. Does it count as mutilation if the effects can't be seen? If his body was left intact, but a crucial part of it was removed by force?

If it was in his organs and his bones, in his blood and hands and eyes, and now it's gone, I can easily imagine him developing chronic pain. A full body ache and an exhaustion he struggles to function through, made worse by his depression. A disability that no one can see and is easily dismissed, because on the surface it just looks like he's simply no longer able to levitate things and open portals.

Every time I think about his punishment, the crueler it becomes. It's not enough to just make him homeless and penniless, to strip him of custody of his daughter and toss him into the tender mercies of the angry masses who would sooner hurt him than help. No, they also felt the need to rip out a vital part of his body in an extremely violent, violating way. They didn't just leave him destitute, they didn't just throw him to the wolves, they also wrecked his body and left him extremely vulnerable in every way possible. All without anyone seeming to care except for the members of I.M.P, Vassago, and perhaps Octavia once her anger and hurt receed enough to see past how betrayed and abandoned she feels. Were it not for Blitz taking him in, he'd have been torn apart - both figuratively and perhaps literally - by people who would take glee in and feel vindicated by hurting and potentially killing him if they were now able to, because in his exhausted state he'd have been too weak and dissociated to protect himself. Man, that sure is one hell of a "slap on the wrist"!

It's been very fun reading all the posts and fics about how Stolas is going to struggle cope with his mental health taking a nosedive and losing everything, I just think it'd be neat if there are long-lasting physical repercussions to go with all that, as well. It's what makes the most sense to me.