#also even then still have her have consequences

[mmaurysiek]

I think we overly rely on feeling bad as a guarantee that someone won't do something again.

let me explain via an example:

as a young child, I made a minor decision that turned out wrong because I was not given enough information about a situation — I don't remember what the situation was exactly, just that the very adult who withheld the relevant information from me demanded that I apologise to them.

and so I was talked in circles: no I was not sorry, I made the best decision I could, given the information I had; — if I had all the relevant information, I would've made a different call, of course, but I didn't have that information; — of course I wasn't going to do what I've done again, since now I had information that told me that a different decision would be better; — no, that didn't mean I was sorry, I was not sorry – why would I ever feel bad for making the best decision I could make based on the information that I had; no, I wasn't going to do the same thing again...

I still don't understand why the adult in question wanted so badly (ha!) to make a child feel bad.

there are other reasons for not doing bad things than just feeling bad about them. for society's sake, we need to acknowledge that.

see, even if we disregard the above example — we cannot tell for sure if someone is or isn't feeling bad. not only all people have more difficulty reading the body language of someone with a different neurotype than them — we all also tend to grossly overestimate our personal immunity to scams / propaganda / deep fakes.

my four years old niece can very convincingly cry on demand (I'm not making this up, I literally overheard her scheming with her friend to use this to get more playtime for them both, and then saw a masterful attempt at executing that plan; the kiddo is a very skilled actress and scammed a number of teachers for extra play supplies). what would we be teaching her if we based ground rules on her appearing to feel bad? on questioning whether she is? nah, it's way more sensible and less cruel to guide her through dealing with the consequences of her actions — like if you break a toy, the toy isn't working as it was even if we tape it back together.

its not funny but i do think about it a lot

[rowie264]

For me it's easier to sympathize zaunite characters rather than piltovan ones simply because they have self-awareness

Silco knows he flooded Zaun with drugs, he knows what this shit does to people. He does it anyway to achieve his main goal - Nation of Zaun.

Jinx is aware she is crazy. She basically spells it out in s1 ep9. She knows that she killing ppl is bad. She just doesn't care

Sevika is Silco's right hand man. She does dirty job for him and and understands perfectly well how his methods affect Zaun. She doesn't even question it because his methods work, and as long as they work, she will work with him.

Singed is just the same. He'll do anything for his daughter no matter how horrific his actions are. He doesn't justify it, simply states it was "for love".

And what we have with piltovan characters? You see because s2 is trying to pretend that oppression wasn't such big thing all piltovan characters looks even worse.

Caitlyn gasses people (and not only barons and their goons, gas spreads), using her priveledge as a Sheriff and Councilor's daughter. She never adresses that and never spells out what had she'd done. Like, yeah, she says "we can't erase our mistakes" (s2 ep8) probably not meaning just Jinx's but also her own but that's so… shallow. Like writers couldn't let her really say aloud what she'd done and face consequences bc it would makes bad things too real.

Heimerdinger was one of the founders of Piltover and councilor. He either didn't know, either didn't care to figure out what happens in Undercity for decades. Like, he goes to Zaun after he gets kicked out from Council and finally realises how badly ppl live there but… he just closes his eyes on it? Again?

Jayce killed that kid in s1 and regretted it but once his mother tries to revenge him? Builds weapons immidiately as countermeasure and moves on. He kills dozens of zaunites in Viktor's commune by killing Viktor and doesn't show even a hint of remorse. Like yeah, they were gonna become creepy robots but you know they were still humans when he killed Viktor. Also he (with approval of the Council for sure) places that Hexgates' big core (dont remember how that shit was called) underground and if that thing would blow up Zaun would be left without water and fresh air. Spelled out by Ekko and immediately forgotten.

In the end by removing characters' awareness of their actions and lack of reflection makes piltovan characters either hypocrites, either stupid, either both. And no, i don't want all these characters to be punished for what they did (all chars - except Ekko maybe - would end up in jail lol) I just want characters to realize what they did. I want impact of their actions/inactions. I want real consequences. I want them to face these consequences, not just brush it aside. And then i want them to act according to their personalities, even if i personally wouldn't like what they'd do.

[razorblade180-heated]

A Naughty Gift

[Warning:Smut. It’s like 90% smut]

There’s no season like the Christmas season. Grimm missions were on the low and the only trouble to be found was lack of ham. That and traffic; man did Jaune have enough of traffic. Five hours of guiding civilians across roads may sound like an easy mission, but doing it in cold snow was a special layer of pain. Boy was he glad to be off.

As he walked into his shared apartment, the wonderful smell of gingerbread and hot chocolate warmed his soul. “Ah~ the smell of joy. Man, I love the holidays.”

He looked around the baker of such treats, but did not find the chef or her assistant. “Ruby? Weiss?” Not a single response. Maybe they stepped out.

Jaune moseyed his way into the kitchen to grab a cookie, but was halted by a note on the dish that said, “Focus on your gift.” A gift? Had they hidden one for him. It was Christmas Eve and Weiss had been super strict about touching absolutely nothing under the tree.

“I doubt it’s there.” He thought, fearing the consequences of unwrapping a present. He knew what they got him, but still had to play by holiday rules. Next likely place would be his room. But first, he wanted to see if anything was strange about theirs.

Jaune walked down the hall and went to Weiss’s room, the first door on the right. He carefully peeked inside to see a pristinely made bed and light blue mood lighting that put snowflakes on the wall. Nothing out of place here.

He then went deeper into the hall to the first room on the left; Ruby’s room. Jaune was way more comfortable opening up the door wider than Weiss’s. Once again, nobody was in there. The strange thing however was Ruby’s bed was also made!

“That’s slightly concerning.” He thought to himself. Now they were definitely planning something. Everything is only spick and span at the same time when thought of doing it later would be incredibly bothersome. Guess his room left. Unless they were both hiding in the bathroom, which he highly doubted.

There was still also the possibility they simply weren’t home. They had finished their missions ahead of him but they could’ve stepped out. Jaune twisted the knob to his room and opened the door. Immediately his face went red and his eyes became bigger than the cookies Ruby baked.

“Well hello. I guess you are home.”

On his bed with a proud grin and red cheeks was Ruby. She waved as best she could with hands bound together by a red ribbon that wrapped around her figure, covering only her chest and restraining her legs a little as well. The only thing stopping her from being completely naked was a Santa hat. Much like her partner, who was a thousand times more embarrassed.

Weiss laid right beside Ruby in blue ribbon that had her wrists tied behind her back. The girl looked a little pouty to be put in such a situation. It was clear who’s idea this was.

“How the heck did she talk you into this?” Jaune said, more intrigued than aroused.

“She insisted this was a Christmas idea she wanted to try at least once. I caved.”

Ruby giggled. “Oh don’t act like you weren’t interested at all.”

“Maybe one on one! This is a lot…” She looked at Jaune anxiously. “I hope you know this took a lot of effort! I can’t tell you how infuriating it was to get the Arma Gigas to tie us.”

“I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Neither did I! My sister would kill me if she knew this is how I made use of my training.” Weiss lamented.

Ruby kissed her cheek and nudged the girl. “Cheer up! I’m very proud of you for humoring me, and I’m sure someone else is.”

It was true, although he didn’t need to tell them that. Both pairs of eyes watched a tent try to pitch itself under jeans in real time. Jaune couldn’t help but chuckle and sigh.

“Never a dull moment in this apartment.”

“Happy early Christmas!” Ruby cheered. “Though this is technically a gift to me, I’m sure we’ll all cherish it.”

Jaune began taking off his armor at a normal pace as much as possible. “I guess now is as good a time as any to give you both a present each.”

“Oh?” Weiss raised a brow. “An actual gift, or was that your way of being cheeky?”

“Haha, cut me some slack.” Jaune walked over to his nightstand and pulled out two small wrapped boxes. “I wasn’t going to put these under the tree considering it was pretty tongue and cheek. Not to mention sorta a joke. Since we’re here though…”

The girls watched him open the red gift that was clearly meant for Ruby. Her curiosity grew more and more until it turned into flustered shock as Jaune pulled out a red collar with her symbol on it. Words failed her. She tried her damndest not to look at Weiss, whose jaw was trying to hit the bed.

“So…that’s what you two get up to?”

“N-Not all the time! It’s just that…ever since I saw how assertive he was with you, I’ve asked him to try a few times on me.” Ruby muttered.

“Don’t pin your awakenings on me!” Weiss heard more wrapper tearing and looked at Jaune with immediate concern. “Hold on-”

“Relax, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Are you certain?” Weiss watched anxiously as Jaune opened the box and pulled out fuzzy light blue handcuffs. An immediate sigh of relief left her lungs and made Ruby squint.

“That’s an interesting reaction. What had you freaking out, hmmm?”

“Listen, some kinks don’t need to be shared.” Weiss blushed deeply. “Leave me with a shred of dignity.”

“We’re naked and wrapped right now but sure, keep your shred. It’s not like I’m in any position to judge right now.” Ruby said lovingly. Right as she finished, Jaune, who was now only in boxers, tilted her head up gently and put the collar on; her face matched the hat on her head immediately. “See? I’m going through it right now.”

“Wasn’t this your idea?” Jaune reminded

“Not the collar! At least not in this situation! I-” Her mind was utterly derailed as he tugged on her gift gently with his right middle finger, pulling her forward until she was on her knees. Ruby’s hands fell against Jaune’s waistband. His right hand moved from the collar to the side of her face. Ruby looked up into deep blue eyes that waited firmly, yet patiently.

“Well? Don’t you want your present?” He said in the voice she loved so dearly.

Ruby didn’t speak. There was nothing really to say honestly. Her fingers tugged the boxer down, freeing the girthy cock underneath. The scent was dizzying to her senses. She had forgotten Jaune had come from work, and yet that only served to lower her head impatiently. In one motion, Ruby swallowed Jaune, working her way to the base of his shaft as the hand on her left began gently rubbing it. Her ears were burning, waiting to hear what always came next when she listened.

“That’s my girl.”

Weiss’s own face became pink as she watched her girlfriend’s head bob up and down slowly. Her gaze turned to Jaune who’s attention was locked onto her. Weiss could feel her heart flutter. He didn’t even put the cuffs on. Although he really didn’t need to in this situation.

“Can you walk?” He asked.

“Y-Yes.” Why was she stuttering now of all times!? Weiss got up from the bed and slowly made her way over to his left side. Her curiosity got the better of her and she looked down at Ruby again. The redhead was trying her best to keep Jaune deep in her throat but clearly struggled, occasionally stopping before the base and attempting to compose herself before trying again. If it was her down there, Jaune would’ve bucked his hips the instant she stopped. Weiss bit her lip at the thought.

“Jealous?” Jaune said, teasing the snow angel mildly.

“As if.” Weiss turned her nose up at the accusation. Her act of pride all but melted through as she felt Jaune’s left hand run up her body. The weight of fingers around her throat made her sigh shakily in yearning as he continued a little further up. Weiss felt him take control of her lower jaw, coaxing her body to stand up on their toes and accept a kiss that robbed her tongue with no intention of returning it. Jaune’s arms moved around her lower back to keep her steady. Weiss appreciated that.

Just like that, the room became an echo chamber of deep yearning. Moans from the trio slipped out alongside the sound of lustful slurps and smacks. Jaune couldn’t help but squeeze Weiss’s soft, plump rear as he tried to control his pleasure. Ruby’s mouth was like a furnace that threatened to melt him as her tongue lathered his cock. In truth, Jaune wasn’t much for aggression in the bedroom often, but they really knew how to rile him up.

Ruby had to remove herself briefly to breathe, coughing as she gasped. Her rest was short lived however as Jaune’s hand ran through her hair and pressed her face against his dick. Not one to keep him waiting, she began sucking and licking along the shaft, causing him to flinch. If only her hands weren’t tied. Her own core was beginning to ache and it looked like she wasn’t alone. Despite her earlier behavior, Weiss was now drowning in a kiss that had her legs trembling.

“Can you please untie us?” Ruby cooed, trying to sway the man.

Jaune broke his kiss with Weiss and let the girl catch her breath. “Mmm I don’t know.” He said, looking down at the flushed reaper. “You both look really cute like this.”

His teasing only made Ruby lose more strength. Her lips continued to play along his shaft. “I…I can’t touch myself like this.”

“Aw, is that what you want?”

Ruby felt his hand slide to her nape. Jaune slowly leaned forward, dragging his fingers down her spine and causing Ruby to raise her hips further until she felt his middle and index slide into her. “Nnngh~” her entire body trembled. Ruby wrapped her lips back around Jaune’s cock as she felt him dig into her. Damn the ribbons. She couldn’t spread her legs wider. To make things worse, the relief turned to dismay as his fingers left her. Ruby tried to groan in frustration, but they merely turned to whimpering.

“I can take care of her.” Weiss said, still a little shaky. No way could she survive another kiss like that.

Jaune had other ideas however. “Or… you both could swap?” He could see the flicker in their eyes. It was surprising they lasted this long doing what the other preferred.

“That could work.” They said in unison.

Jaune removed his boxers completely and laid down in the middle of the bed. It didn't take long at all for to crawl up his right side and get pulled into a mouthwatering kiss that led to their tongues fighting for dominance. The battle wasn’t in her favor unfortunately. With her so close to him, his hand had no problem sliding down her finger and reaching her pussy again. She wasn’t spared this time. Two fingers returned to ruin her, curling their way inside as they pushed in.

“AAAAGHHN~” Her tongue submitted control; Ruby quickly lost so much strength as her hips quivered from assault. Jaune’s left hand returned to the back of her head, keeping her nice and close. She was not escaping this kiss.

On the left side of the bed, Weiss found herself in an equally favorable position. She always did her best work away from prying eyes no matter the circumstances. As deeply as she loved Ruby, there was a thrill in throwing away her inhibitions so while the redhead was none the wiser. Jaune was aware of this, which made seeing his cock pointing to the ceiling all the more exciting. Weiss laid right next to it, dragging her tongue all the way up to the tip before swallowing him whole without issue. She had lost track how many times she’s done this little trick. Each time, it got the results she wanted.

Weiss felt Jaune pulse in her throat, his hips immediately raising up to fill her mouth repeatedly. Her cheeks burned red. Gods, why was she like this? Weiss swirled her tongue around his uncompromising erection, getting a full taste of the precum leaking out while he slowly fucked her throat. Weiss was now torn by Ruby’s early request. She really didn’t need her hands, but it was impossible to ignore how quickly her thighs were getting damp. No one was touching her at all and yet she could feel her walls squeez down on what wasn’t there.

“Mmph~” she moaned, anticipating not only her future pleasure, but the load she’d soon taste. Weiss sucked harder.

Jaune groaned as he put up their best fight. “Thank goodness my mission wasn’t intense today!” He did his best to focus on Ruby but Weiss wasn’t making that easy. Thankfully he knew their weaknesses as well as they knew his.

Ruby felt like she was in a pure trance. Her body steadily found balance in their make out session and she tried her best to hold out. That was…until Jaune had to go and break her concentration. His left hand finally moved from her head but fell down towards chests. Ruby broke the kiss. “N-No! Wait!” She gasped, but her plea was ignored.

Nimble fingers slipped through the wrapping paper and captured her right nipple, latching onto it like a clamp.

“AAANGNH!!!” She cried out without restraint. Ruby’s breath became nothing more than ragged panting

“You always were sensitive here.” Jaune teased, pulling lightly while biting her earlobe. He will give her no room for escape. Jaune pumped his fingers harder until she was sopping wet.

Ruby’s vision blurred. “I…I’M….!” Everything went white. Her voice let out a dry, strained wail that made Weiss blush deeply. Ruby felt her orgasm flow down her trembling legs as Jaune continued to rub her walls. “MERCY!! JAUNE! I CAN’T…” She whined, tears welling up.

“Yes you can.” He whispered, reducing her to a puddle. “You’re doing so well cumming everywhere.”

Her orgasm felt never ending. Jaune had taken it and demanded more of her lust with each passing second, until another wave hit. “AAAGNH!”

“Gooood girl~” He finally slowed his pace. “I knew you could do it.” He let her tit go and rubbed her head again as he gradually brought her down from her high.

Ruby was in no state to respond. All she could manage was whimpering while her body flinched randomly. Jaune’s fingers finally left her as she remained faced down on the bed.

With Ruby needing a moment, Jaune finally locked eyes with his blushing blue eyed girlfriend who diligently played with his cock. Time her weakness.

Weiss watched as he sat up, gaining the leverage he needed to grind his hips in earnest against the back of her throat. His left hand rubbed the side of her face slowly as he got rough.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, knowing what was in her heart. A chill ran up his spine as Weiss stuck her tongue out more. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Don’t waste a drop.”

He came directly in the mouth. Weiss felt her eyes water as she put her face comfortably in his lap, allowing him cum to coat her throat. The taste flooded her senses and clenched her thighs together as she felt her body succumb to the shameful desire. Weiss slowly removed herself from the beastly appendage and began coughing as she took her first breath or real air. Before she could even say a word, Jaune gave her a quick, chaste kiss.

“Good job.” He smiled genuinely.

It was insane how quickly he switched gears from treating her like a hole to pampering her. To make matters worse, he brought his thumb up to wipe her mouth sense she was unable to. Weiss could only avert her gaze.

“Last time I checked, you were supposed to unwrap your gifts before playing with them.” She huffed.

“Technically it’s not mine to unwrap.” He quipped. “Even if I did, in your case, I’m putting the cuffs on you.”

Weiss tried to hold a definite stare but not even she could believe her own false anger. Not when she still felt her core aching. Her eyes looked down at his lap to find his erection persisting.

“Do as you please then. Just…keep touching me a little longer.” She confessed, looking into his eyes again. “I want to feel like Ruby did.”

“Even if that means-”

“Yes.” She said immediately, embarrassing both of them. “I…prepared beforehand.”

Finally lucid, Ruby turned her body over to see her two lovers near the foot of the bed. “You two having fun without me?” She teased.

Weiss playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh hey, you’re alive.”

“That’s my line. You sounded like you were drowning.”

“You were screaming bloody murder.”

“Hehe, yeah...” Ruby sunk into the bed. “I might be down for the count still.”

“Nope.” Jaune said, getting up and walking over to Ruby to loosen some of the ribbon around her legs. Before pulling her more to the center of the bed. “Show Weiss just how good you felt.”

There goes that voice again, playing tricks on Ruby’s heart. The girl blushed again as she followed the order. Slowly, her legs parted to reveal strands of her arousal clingy to her thighs over pink convulsing lips. Seeing Weiss stare directly at it was more dangerous to Ruby’s mental fortitude than she realized.

Jaune looked at Weiss. “Still want your ribbons undone?”

“I’m alright.” Weiss said softly. Her legs weren’t inhibited much to begin with, and it’s not like her hands weren’t going to immediately be taken away again. She instead focused on the young woman presented in front of her. Weiss lowered her body between Ruby’s legs and trailed her tongue right up her slit.

“Please be gentle.”

“I can try, but I like your screams.” Weiss continued lapping up the mess, feeling Ruby flinch with every tongue flick.

Jaune rested Ruby’s head back onto a pillow. “Stay right here and relax. Try not to cum too soon.”

Easier said than done! Even with slow movements, Weiss’s tongue ran down every groove and remembered to show Ruby’s clit some personal attention. The reaper’s bound hands reached for Weiss’s hair and held it firmly. She needed anything to latch onto if she was going to survive.

Jaune made his way back behind Weiss after grabbing a bit of lube “Hips.” She raised them instantly, arching her back and giving him a wonderful view. Man he loved the holidays.

Weiss could feel his tip rub against her entrance repeatedly. Not as if either of them needed more preparations. That being said, Weiss had given him free reign to make a mess out of her, and with Ruby occupied, she knew he’d take advantage of it. Weiss felt her face burn up as cool lube was applied around her ass. A thumb gently rubbed it in, circling around the entrance before pressing in.

“Nngh.” Weiss focused harder on Ruby, trying to act normal as Jaune played with her butt.

Thank goodness his present was cuffs and not a plug. Weiss was still working up the nerve to express this particular interest to Ruby. She didn’t even express it to Jaune. Damn dolt messed around and stumbled upon it! Honestly it was for the best. She doubts she would’ve come clean about it otherwise. His thumb left and was replaced with the same two fingers that brought Ruby to tears.

“Uungh!” Weiss felt her hips float.

Ruby didn’t know what Weiss was going through, but it made her damn good at her job. Her tongue finally slipped in and began eating her out in earnest. “Yes! Just like that!” She could feel herself close around the girl’s tongue.

Weiss didn’t know if she had the best job or the worst. Either way, leaving was the last thing in her mind. Her body grew more impatient as Jaune continued his teasing. She was practically dripping down his cock. She had to speak for a second.

“Jaune, please!” She begged, not caring at all how she sounded. “I want it!”

“How do you want it?” He watched her ears turn red.

“Y-You know how.” She whined, her hips moving on their own. Ruby’s hands pulled her back into her warmth while Jaune’s fingers slid out. Weiss felt her body shudder when his tip slowly pressed halfway into her pussy before leaving it neglected. A firm hand gripped her ass and spread it apart, carefully opening it up with Jaune’s slick cock. Weiss could only clench her hands together as the man finally fucked her. Weiss let her thoughts fade away, focusing on devouring Ruby as her ass was used. She could feel him take it down to the base, bottoming her out like it was made to take him. Even now, her pussy squeezed for something that wasn’t there, and she couldn’t get enough.

Jaune brought both his hands to her waist. The way her ass clung to him made it impossible to keep his cool. To think she prepared herself for this only drove him wilder. If this was the gift she wanted, he was gonna give it to her. Jaune couldn’t help himself from fucking her with deep strokes that drove him crazy.

“You two are so perfect.” He gasped, getting lost in the bliss with them.

Ruby was dire straits, trapped in her own bliss thanks to Weiss’s hungry slurping. Ruby couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of how good Weiss was at oral. Just like with Jaune, she was completely at Weiss’s mercy.

Not another word was shared between the three. Only a need to satisfy their urges and express their fulfillment through countless moans. There wasn’t a stroke that didn’t make Weiss squeal, or an instant Jaune wasn’t breathlessly trying to keep himself together. Ruby could feel her toes curling the sheets in a desperate attempt to hold on just a little longer. This moment felt too brief and yet like eternity itself. Despite her best attempt, Ruby couldn’t stave off the inevitable any longer. One more trail around her clit broke her down. Ruby’s hips lifted off the bed and pushed against Weiss’s lips, giving a good taste of her handy work as another strong orgasm hit like a crashing wave.

Ruby felt her body turn rigid as stone before becoming as feeble as puddy once her body hit the mattress. Her strength was absolutely spent. Her eyes flickered rapidly as she tried to calm herself. Jaune must’ve noticed her orgasm. She could feel Weiss’s tongue pull away and hear muffled cries of delight. Blurred figures slowly became clear again and brought new speechless clarity to Ruby’s eyes.

Weiss was in utter disarray, completely lost in pleasure. Jaune had torn away the ribbons, along the girl to reach up and lock her hands behind his neck as his arms wrapped around her body. A stern hand had once again returned to her neck while the other wrapped around her torso to keep the girl on her knees as he fucked her without restraint.

“Oh wow…” Ruby couldn’t help but blush. She could see exactly how Jaune made such a mess out of their prideful Ice Queen. She was in another world, falling endlessly into euphoria as her body writhed. Ruby watched as Jaune filled her up, his cock pulsing rope after rope until it leaked down his shaft from the overflow. “Maybe I’m the vanilla in this relationship?”

Unable to stand any longer, Weiss fell forward. Ruby found it in herself to move quickly enough to lean forward and catch the girl, slowly leaning back and allowing Weiss to lay on her. Out of breath didn’t describe the state she was in. Weiss simply wasn’t here right now. Just a woman doing her best to breathe as her eyes grew heavy before shutting altogether. Ruby glanced up to see the man responsible utterly exhausted. Their gaze finally met again and she could tell by the slow internal panic in his eyes that his wits had returned.

“Ummm.” He had absolutely nothing to say. Not really much to say to get out of this situation.

Ruby pinched two fingers together and ran them over her lips like a zipper before flicking an imaginary key away.

Jaune chuckled in relief. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah I’m pretty sure we’re on the naughty list.” Ruby raised her hands up. “Please release me.”

Jaune looked at a dangling end and tugged it, effortlessly undoing the knot before looking at Ruby in slight judgment.

“Hey, not everyone gets post-nut clarity. I’m too tired to think.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He finally allowed himself to fall onto the bed beside them.

“You didn’t have to.” Ruby followed his lead and laid back.

“Rubes, please tell me you're too tired for sex.”

“I’m too tired for everything. Don’t worry, I am beyond satisfied.” Ruby aimlessly reached at his nightstand before finally grabbing a pack of wipes. “I see why you have these in your room now.” She tossed them his way.”

“Thank you.” He groaned.

“And she had the nerve to look at me crazily for wanting to gift wrap ourselves? You two are freakier than me.”

“Hehe, so is this new information going on the list of things you want to try?”

Ruby blushed. She didn’t know if she was ready for all that. “At least let me get used to the color first.” She covered her face. “I’ve really opened Pandora’s box, haven’t I?”

“Not really. Weiss didn’t notice you watching and I’m not about to start randomly messing your butt. I’m still doing what I always do, matching the tone.”

Ruby turned to him. “Okay, but if you were the one to set it?” She watched his face slowly turn a little pink as he pondered the question.

“Well…if you ever did get a little curious, I wouldn’t mind seeing a tail with the collar one day. You know, just every now and then.”

Even the most polite people have their fantasies. Ruby couldn’t tell if she had turned these into freaks or if it was the other way around. Regardless of the answer, she was the one who wanted assertiveness and the collar. The girl sighed at her own disappointment, feeling the same bashfulness and shame her dear girlfriend displayed in the beginning.

“Give me till Valentine’s Day.”

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

I recently rewatched Mouthwashing (thanks to CoryxKenshin being back like the king he is) and going through the tag again and I think everyone's missing like, one big thing with Anya. Specifically due to people not realizing just how long they were all stuck there.

tw under the cut for... everything that happens to Anya in this game.

More specifically, TW: sexual assault, pregnancy, abortion, miscarriage, suicide.

Anya was not still pregnant when she died.

I kinda figured this was common knowledge but I keep seeing people like... assume she was dying while still pregnant, and the thing is. It doesn't track at all.

When Anya asks Curly how much longer they'll be in space, and she depressedly realizes it will be eight months, that's cause she already knows she's pregnant by that point. Human pregnancy is roughly nine months, if you weren't aware, and women tend to realize they're pregnant at about 2-3 months. AKA: she's realizing she has no chance of an abortion. Clearly they don't have the medical tools for a safe one on the ship, and they're not going to leave the ship for eight months. By that time, the kid will be born. Even if miraculously she's still pregnant by the time they land and she can get a late-late-term abortion, even if she gives the kid up for adoption, she still has to be pregnant, on a ship that barely has the tools for the survival of five healthy people, with her rapist's baby, for eight months. And again, that's not going to happen; she's already 2-3 months along at that point, the kid would probably be born in the med bay.

I think that's also part of why Jimmy freaked out. The "taking responsibility" could be seen as him having to take responsibility for a kid, but the way I always read it, it was that once they landed, there would be zero chance that Jimmy could deny he'd slept with Anya. DNA tests are accurate now, I'm sure in our far future where we can space-travel it's gotten even better. His best case scenario would be her not pressing charges or claiming it was consensual and then he'd have to either help raise the kid or pay child support when he clearly can't even afford to take care of himself AND he just lost his job. But that's again, the best case. What I think he knew would be more likely to happen would be that she would admit what had happened to her, the baby would serve as proof, and whether Curly backed him up or not, Swansea and Daisuke were less fond of him and less loyal to him respectively. If they testified that they didn't see any consensual relationship going on, or if they testified about him harassing her or worse, that'd be three-against-two, and that's assuming Curly would back him up on the basis of them being friends. Curly claimed to Jimmy that he was going to figure it out for them, and his efforts to appease Jimmy over protecting Anya are what caused this shitstorm to happen, but he's also a professional who isn't very inclined to dishonesty from what we've seen of him.

Jimmy, I think, knew that. He knew that "taking responsibility" wasn't just "for the kid you brought into the world," it would be "for the crime you committed." If the MouthwashingVerse society is similar enough to ours, he would be arrested and charged, probably jailed, and put on a sex offender registry, which would severely limit his job prospects once he got out of incarceration. If the society is better than ours, he might get longer jail time and worse punishments then we see for rapists in our world. And if it's worse, there's still physical proof that Jimmy created a kid and he'd be expected to take care of it. But I think the former options are the more likely, and why Jimmy was so willing to die rather than take responsibility. It wasn't "I would rather die than be a father," it was "I would rather die than face consequences for my crimes." Let's also not forget that in storytelling, babies are basic metaphors for the future. Jimmy does not want to face his future, so he kills it for everyone.

But with the crash, back to my main point: Anya would've been 2-3 months pregnant by the time of the crash. They survive five months on the asteroid before everyone dies. I know this game is low-poly, but does Anya look 7-8 months pregnant to you? The game has enough polygons to make Swansea plus-sized, so you'd think it wouldn't be that hard to make an alternate Anya model. But she not only doesn't look pregnant, not a single other character mentions a pregnancy in their laundry list of current problems. It's not exactly easy to hide when you're seven months pregnant.

It's most likely that Anya miscarried early on in the crash. If the crash itself didn't do it– which it probably did– the next five months of limited food, high-stress, and no medication would do it.

Why am I bringing this up? I keep seeing people assume that Anya's suicide was then in her last-ditch effort to not have to birth her rapist's baby. An attempt to take control back of her own body. But there isn't a baby by then. Anya hasn't been pregnant for a while. I think it's a little scary for people to try turning her suicide into her triumphing over Jimmy, when part of the horror of the story is how everyone's deaths were tragic and avoidable. Anya did not kill herself to avoid being pregnant, she killed herself because she was traumatized and suicidal and didn't see a future for her or anyone on the ship.

[loverslantern]

Mirror- Dean Winchester x f! reader oneshot

Description: Reader doesn’t feel pretty so Dean tries to show her what he sees in the way he knows best: praise.

Warnings: It’s hot and heavy in here, inherently sexual but nothing happens, manhandling?, praise

Word count: 2k

Note: This is not only my first time writing something like this but also my first time writing something not related to The Hunter and The Witch series so please leave feedback!

  I catch my reflection on the screen of my laptop and groan. My face looks weird today. It’s just one of those days where I just couldn’t feel…pretty or nice or any other adjective. It shouldn’t matter now when I’m alone in my motel room and researching for the next hunt. There’s no one to impress in the desolate room other than the four beige walls and a creaky bed. 

  It shouldn’t matter. To be fair it shouldn’t matter in general when beauty is an objective concept, and yet it does. I do not know the psychology behind it, maybe it’s a biological thing as animals would choose the mate that’s more appealing or strong to have offspring that can survive. I shake my head, ridding myself of the thought. This would just spiral into a psychological analysis that would only make me think of it further rather than ignore it. 

  It’s an obsessive thing, isn’t it?

  Either way, I don’t like the way I look today. I couldn’t get my hair to look just right this morning and I tried so many up-do’s that my arms got sore. It still didn’t look right, so I left it down. 

  And my face just looks wrong. Maybe my eyes are too big or too small in proportion to the rest of my face. Or, maybe my jawline is too soft, perhaps I’m not rough enough. Perhaps I’m too rough. Somehow, every possible thing feels true. 

  I groan again, leaning my head back against the headboard of the bed, and squeeze my eyes shut as if it will get rid of it all. I’m meant to be focused on research. It was supposed to help. But stupid screens and their stupid reflections.

  The jingle of keys forces my eyes open, my eyes landing on my door as it clicks open. “Hey, sweetheart,” Dean greets, casually inviting himself in. 

  “Hi,” I breathe. I suppose the consequence of giving someone a spare key is that they will use said key. But, I’m not that bad of a thing considering it’s Dean who’s walking in. “I’m gonna head to a bar, you in?”

  “Eh,” I answer. “You go ahead. ‘Not feeling it tonight.”

  He eyes me for a moment, squinting just slightly. “Not even as an excuse to dress up and listen to music?” he pushes. “‘My treat.” Of course, his treat meant a fake card or money he got from hustling. But, god the way he smiles and holds his hands up as he tries to convince me is cuter than it should be. “Sorry, Dean,” I say despite the sight, “Just not feeling it.”

  His shoulders and smile drop, “Come on I’ll buy you as much (favorite drink) as you want.”

  “You can go without me you know?” I point out as he saunters over to the bed and plops himself down. “We both know you’re gonna be leaving with some random girl anyway.” 

  He rolls his eyes as he leans back on his elbows, his black shirt flexing against his muscles. He knows I’m right. “I thought Sam was the nerd,” he comments, ignoring what I said by lifting my laptop off my lap and discarding it in the empty space next to him. “Why don’t you wanna go out? ‘You feeling okay?” he asks and for a moment as his eyes scan my face, I can see the concern pass through them. 

  “Oh, I’m fine,” I insist, trying to be as convincing as possible. Yet, he sees right through me, giving me a pointed look. He’s hard to lie to. I break, shaking my head, “Fine. I just…I don’t feel pretty today so I don’t really wanna go out.”

  His eyebrows raise, his lips parting a bit as if that’s the last thing he expected me to say. “You?”

  My eyebrows furrow, head tilting in confusion, “….Yeah….” Who else?

  He studies my face again and I worry he’ll see what I’m seeing. He’ll see I’m not pretty. His features soften regardless. “Come with me,” he announces, gesturing a hand to follow as he gets up from the bed. I don’t listen, giving him a confused and cautious look. “Come on,” he insists, his voice firm. 

  I hold back my sigh as I stand from the bed. I almost didn’t want to know what he had in store. But, he doesn’t leave me with much choice but to turn back as he takes hold of my hand. His hand is big and warm as it envelopes mine, butterflies erupting in my gut at the simple touch.

  He leads me into the bathroom, his hand leaving mine to travel up my arms and to my shoulders, positioning me in front of the mirror. My hips press against the sink, his hands on my upper arms and his body close behind mine. He nearly looms over me with his tall stature, his head and eyes tilted a little down as he uses the mirror to meet my eyes. “Don’t look at me. Look at yourself,” he directs. But my eyes linger on him, on his pretty green eyes, sharp sculptured jaw, and his straight nose. His fingers tap against the skin of my upper arm, “Come on,” he encourages, his voice a little gravely. 

  I give in. He makes it so easy to give in. I pull my eyes from him and land on myself. A frown pulls on my lips as my eyes jump around my features, even my frown looks wrong. He squeezes my arms, gaining my attention back in the same second my gut lurches. “Uh-uh,” he hums. “Eyes back on you, baby.”

  Jesus. 

  Again, I force my eyes away and I can feel his burning gaze on me. “What do you see?” he asks. I scuff and roll my eyes, “Dean, I’m not—“

  His hands rub up and down my upper arms. “Just—what do you see?”

  I bite on my bottom lip. I look unamused. That’s what I’m seeing. I sigh, trying to humor him. “Myself,” I answer plainly.

  He tuts, “Not what I meant, sweetheart. What do you see that you don’t like?”

  Everything. That seems like an appropriate answer. But I can’t just say that and I don’t. I hardly want to share what I feel when it’s hard to put words to it. “How about this?” he says, his head dipping down to occupy the space by my neck, putting himself closer to my level than far above me. “I like your smile,” he admits, his voice so soft it’s like a rough whisper. “I like when you smile at me…” he squeezes my arms, “like I’m damn important.”

  “You ar—“

  “Uh-uh,” he hums again. “This is about you, baby.” 

  One of his hands drifts upwards, the muscles in his forearm flexing. The sight is nearly intoxicating as I watch it move in the mirror, resting at the base of my neck as he stands to his height again. His thumb brushes back and forth against my collarbone, his eyes downturned to his movements. “Keep watching yourself,” he reminds me. I hadn’t realized I was watching him but could you blame me?

  He presses me back against him, his body solid and warm. I wonder if he can feel the increase in my heart rate. “And your skin…always so smooth. Hardly any scars.” He presses down on the base of my neck, encouraging my head to lean back against his chest. My breath hitches.

  “Shows how careful you are, yeah?” I can almost feel his warm breath as clearly as I can feel my heart beating against my ribs. “You a careful girl?” His gaze is burning as it travels down me. “Yeah…” he drawls, eyes traveling back up. “You are.” His thumb taps once against my collarbone, reminding me to keep my eyes on myself which seems like an impossible feat now. “There you go,” he praises, his voice low. 

My skin feels warm. My everything feels warm as if I am a furnace with the sole purpose of burning and he stokes the fire, poking at it, adding wood to keep it going. 

“Those eyes,” he mumbles, and I can feel the rumble in his chest as the words protrude from his lips. “‘Damn pretty eyes. Then you give me that look…fuck.”

  My eyes flick to his, something burning deep within my gut. He doesn’t scorn me for looking away from myself. “Yeah…” he whispers, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “That look right there. Eyes all big, your lips parted just a little.” His hand drifts up from my neck, gracing my jaw. His thumb presses on my bottom lip. “So pretty…” he mumbles. “‘Don’t know what you aren’t seeing. Can you look at yourself again baby?” 

  I do as told and my knees feel wobbly with the heat that pools within. It’s the sight of him rather than me. The sight of him practically playing with me. “Want you to know how pretty you are,” he mumbles. “How good you are. God, you’re so good.”

  His thumb is a little wet as it slips from my lip onto my chin and my neck. His lidded eyes watch the slight mess he makes, his breath a little shallower. He hums, his chest rumbling with it. “Do you know what I think?” he asks.

  “What?” I answer the single word sounding like a sigh. My eyes drop to my lips in the mirror, my bottom lip coated in a thin layer of my own saliva like a coat of lip gloss. My breasts press against my tank top, seemingly wanting to spill over with each shallow breath. The soft swells of skin peeking from the neckline. His hands drop to my hips, pushing me forward until they’re pressing into the sink with a force that knocks me forward a little, a gasp escaping my lips. I grip the sides of the sink to catch myself. His fingers press into my hips as he holds me firmly. His body looms over me as his eyes take in my bent-over form. Those stunning green eyes that usually resemble the greenery of a forest when the sun is shining through the canopy of leaves just right, now a darkened green like the parts of the forest the sun can’t reach. 

  His hands massage my hips roughly, pushing them forward before drawing them back. His eyes are downturned to the movement, his mouth parted a little in the same manner mine is. My breath is quicker, and my heart is pounding in my chest like it’s trying to escape the space behind my ribs. “What’d I say about keeping your eyes on yourself?” He says roughly despite his own distraction. I swallow roughly, forcing my eyes back on myself for the umpteenth time.   

  He continues his actions, eyes burning into my hips and my ass like nothing else matters. “I think…” he starts, circling back to answer the question he asked me before, one I forgot about. “I think it should be sinful,” the word is like a purr coming from his lips, “to look this good. To be so fucking pretty.” It should be ironic coming from him but why would he go through all this trouble, all this guiding, pushing, pressing to convince me of something he didn’t believe in? And I can see it. I can see it, through the fog of a bad day, exactly what he’s seeing, or at least part of it. 

  “Are you seeing it?” he asks in a low voice as if he saw the change in my eyes. “Yeah,” I breathe, nodding, “Yes, I see it.”

  “Good,” he answers firmly, and yet I can hear the cocky smile that no doubt threatens his lips. Then, his hand circles around the back of my neck, tangling into my hair. He squeezes just once before he’s guiding me up, straightening me out ‘till I’m standing straight again. I spin in his hold, his large hands immediately going to my hips to keep me pressed into the sink. His eyes meet mine, something written in his irises that I can’t decipher. Then, they drop to my lips and then to my chest, that cocky smile finally making its appearance as his eyes drag back up to my lips. “Where’d you learn that?” I ask.

  His smile widens as he answers, “You don’t wanna know.”

[lilac-sweet]

My interpretation of all the Solas endings:

I have been wanting to write about this topic for a while, since I’ve seen a lot of criticisms about Solas being out-of-character. IMO all the Solas endings are brilliantly written, and here’s why:

Solas breaks in 3 different ways:

1: Breaks his wisdom (Becomes Pride)

2: Breaks his pride (Becomes Wisdom)

3: Breaks his leash/conviction (Becomes more human)

1: Breaks his wisdom:

Solas has always walked the line between pride and wisdom: unlike pure spirits, he is able to fluctuate between them - just like Mythal with benevolence and retribution. This makes him more “human” and complex: he even instructs Cole in how being a “demon” and being a “spirit” essentially comes down to a choice we make ourselves.

So Solas is clearly aware of his own failings (just look at his name), but his greatest flaw is not changing in accordance with his own awareness. Due to his wisdom, he knows he is prideful, so he constantly asserts that he is NOT a god: this is as much to make others not worship him as the dread wolf, AND as a mantra to himself to keep him from becoming another Elgar’nan.

However, the limelight is an intoxicating thing, and with him choosing to carry the cross as the dread wolf, he invites that prideful corruption into his heart. It is difficult to truly believe you are not more special than everyone else when everyone else keep telling you how you totally are. As a spirit made man, he is still in danger of becoming what others view him as: he mirrors how you treat him in inquisiton, and he took the name of fen’harel (probably uttered by Elgar’nan) as a badge of pride.

We are told he treats everyone as disposable pawns in order to reach his goals, and we also see the truth of this in his memories. Some people argue that this is out of character for him, since he cares deeply for the elven people and their freedom. I don’t think these things are mutually exclusive: he simply rationalizes everything in order to reach his goal of helping the elves: even if that means sacrificing people

The thing that is so chilling about his character is that he was never meant to lead - he never WANTED to lead either: Mythal was the judge, he her advisor. Without her caring heart to guide his brilliant mind, he becomes callous and makes decisions based only on how best to “win”. This is not to say he does not have a heart, but that he believes he has to set it aside for the greater good: which is exactly where his reasons for leading the rebellion/ tearing down the veil and his methods for doing so contradict each other

He ends up losing sight of his initial reasons because the war makes him so calloused. I believe he shuts down emotionally and can not feel anything but apathy towards everyone when he puts on the mask of the dread wolf - as seen in how he treats the inquisitor vs Rook.

By making so many decisions with such dire consequences and not letting himself feel the weight of that (it would break him) he becomes separated from the “pawns” he uses and stops thinking of them as people. The world becomes a chessboard and a game to him, and that is exactly how a god would think.

That is also the reason he becomes so angry at Rook for saying he views himself as a god: he is so afraid of becoming that conceited, but at this point, the thing keeping him sane and keeping the dam of his pride sealed is the mantra: “I am not a god”. He KNOWS the truth of that mantra, but as this point he doesn’t FEEL it, because he has denied himself to feel anything for anyone in order to be able to get rid of them if logic dictates it.

Through his wisdom he understands why it is detrimental to believe yourself a god, and because of this he is in denial of his own feelings on the matter: he acts like a god, feels like a god, yet knows that he would become what he hates most by acknowledging it - that’s why he uses the mantra: it’s his last effort to stay somewhat grounded.

This brings me to the “I AM A GOD” ending. This is where the dam breaks: he finally allows himself to fully embody his mask; his pride; his demonic side.

By losing to Rook and co through force he is forced to admit to himself that he sees Rook and the world as inferior - he is the only one who can make it right and they are all children, who do not understand him (they shunned understanding when they used brutish force) because compared to them he is a GOD. He accepts pride and abandons the wisdom of staying grounded with the people - the people abandoned him so he abandons the people. He becomes what he has feared most becoming (it is also interesting that his biggest fear is to be alone - and a god stands alone in their arrogance).

He is truly lost to his demonic aspect in this ending and the dark colours of the ending picture reflect this. It is not difficult to argue this is the most tragic ending.

2: Breaks his pride:

Most schadenfreude ending in terms of outsmarting Fen’harel: proving to the world AND to Solas he is not a god and that he is not immune to be outsmarted by a mortal

It breaks Solas’ ego to be outsmarted, since his cleverness is his pride. It sets him free from his pride as it was the proof he so desperately needed: the people inhabiting this world are capable of being his equal and besting him at his own game. He is not better than them, or better put: his cleverness is not infallible. You could argue that a romanced Lavellan/ friendly inquisitor has already proven to be his equal in terms of wisdom, but then again, he has never truly been their adversary.

There is a maddening clarity to him when he finally says “and I am a fool”. I find the break of his pride to be heartbreaking: even though we are told it is a demon version of wisdom, we have seen Solas balancing both aspects - and his name also reflects how big a part of him it is. You could argue he becomes less of a person in both the Pride and Wisdom ending, but more demon/spirit. It is a loss of human complexity and he finally returns to the Fade more alike himself before he took on physical form.

Perhaps it can be argued this ending is the best one from Solas’ P.o.V without a romanced Lavellan: after all, she was the only thing that could ���steal his attention from the Fade” or in other words: the only reason he would consider willingly taking physical form without being asked to.

3. Breaks his leash:

The third one is more complex (so bear with me here), because accepting your mistakes and growing in order to not repeat them requires human complexity. A thing Solas has avoided his entire physical existence. He is stuck in regret, yet would repeat all his mistakes again given the chance.

His avoidance of humanity is best seen in the contradiction of his disregard for lives and his conviction of freedom for the elves. His nature compels him to stand against tyranny and enslavement - to be a champion of freedom of choice and thought. Yet as a leader and a strategist he refuses to acknowledge that people matter in more ways than being pawns. He will grieve them later, yes, but his love for a person will never waver his decision if he deems their sacrifice the best course of action in the war - he will not even ask their consent (as seen with the Disruption spirit in the Fade memories).

He does not acknowledge that people are an intrinsic part of war and their lives matter in that equation. He struggles with his mistakes and the lives lost but he can not stop to think he might be going about it all wrong, because I imagine he fears if he factors in the emotional weight of his choices, it would impede his end goal, or worse: break him into indecision.

The emotional weight of the war and the lives lost, his mistakes and his position as a leader - not an advisor, are so against his spirit nature that he suppresses these issues instead of dealing with them like a person. He becomes prideful because he shuts other options out. His way is the only way.

He sees everything fall apart: everything he does: disaster is sure to follow: The blight, trapping the elven gods, the murder of Mythal (x2) - yet he can not stop. He does not know how. He is desperate for a way out - a way out of regret and feeling the weight of his mistakes - he pushes on because that is his only option lest he truly faces what he has done and the pointlessness of it all. All the lives he has sacrificed need to mean something - that is what he sacrificed them for. How can he face that he killed them and not have an excuse for doing so?

In the last ending he is forced to talk about these things: the Inquisitor tells him he is forgiven if he just stops. Yet this is not enough - he has sacrificed Mythal (and in ways himself) to reach his goal and it can not have been in vain. Here Mythal jumps in and helps him carry the weight of it all by shouldering it beside him. He finally lets himself feel the weight of it all and it breaks his conviction. Mythal releases him from her service: the leash of service to not only Mythal, but to her dreams and visions for the elven people; the very reason he was made manifest in the physical world, and so their very long and increasingly painful relationship comes to an end. He gets closure. He allows himself to grow and so he sets out to undo his mistakes: to sit with them (the blight) and truly do the best he can to heal what can be healed. It is the most difficult ending - a true apology: he has to pull a Bharv.

It is also the ending which was foreshadowed if you chose to let Varric help Cole in inquisition. I might get into this more in another post, but essentially he becomes more human by dealing with his shit and growing. It is a warm thought that the best ending is the ending Varric helped make way for.

It wraps up the story nicely as well: he enters the Fade a human, just like he entered the physical world a spirit, underlining the complexity of his character arc.

This is also the only ending in which he can end up with Lavellan: I think it is poetic that she can only join him if he becomes more human, less spirit; a mix of both Wisdom and Pride. He has to accept his humanity and the weight of a human heart - metaphorically, he has to make the choice to finally enter the physical world and all of its complexities of his own volition: and there he finds her waiting.

[numinousmysteries]

@poangsecretsanta

[on Ao3]

Vrooom, vrooom, let's basketball! For the delightful @xf-cases-solved aka diz who loves Milagro:

Agent Scully is already in love .

The words taunt him as she digs her nails into his back. She's crying hot tears onto the shoulder of his sweater and clinging to him like a life raft in a storm. He tries to focus on the thumping of her heart against his chest, the frantic breaths she gasps into his ear—signs that she’s alive, that he hasn’t lost her—but he can’t get Padgett’s words out of his mind. 

Padgett's a liar and a murderer, he tells himself. The guy would say anything to get a rise out of him. 

But he loves her. He's known for years although he doesn't know how to admit that to her, or even to herself. The possibility that she could feel the same way is too overwhelming to even consider. And the potential consequences too enormous. 

The paramedics arrive and give her a preliminary exam on his living room couch. Despite the volume of blood on her clothing, there doesn't seem to be an entry or exit wound and her vitals are normal. They offer a ride to the hospital just to be safe, but she declines.

"Alright," one of them says, slightly baffled. "Well, don't hesitate to call us again or come into the ER if your condition changes."

“Yes,” she says, her voice firm, the Dr. Dana Scully tone she uses for the rest of the world. For everyone except him. 

He shows them to the door. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks her once they're alone.

"Yeah, I think so," she says softly.

"Why don't I get you a change of clothes? Or, do you want to take a shower?"

"I-I'm not sure," she says and he realizes she's shaking.

"Oh Scully, come here," he says, taking a seat next to her on the couch and opening his arms to her.

Her lower lip trembles as she closes her eyes and rests her head on his chest. He wraps his arms around her and rubs soothing circles on her back. Her blood stains his sweater, marking him. 

"It's okay," he says. He leans down to kiss the crown of her head. It's warm and damp with sweat. She smells like fear. 

He hears her sniffling and trying to catch her breath. After a few moments of sobbing, her breathing slows down and becomes more measured. He feels her pulling back and he releases her from his embrace. 

"I'm sorry," she says. "I should go."

"Hey, wait, Scully," he says, grabbing her onto her wrist to keep her from rising from the couch. "You don't have to go just yet. I don't know if you should be driving like this."

"I'm fine," she says, although her warbling voice betrays her vulnerability.

"If you think I care about anything he wrote in that book—"

"Oh, Mulder, stop," she protests, but he continues.

"He didn’t know you at all. It was just the fantasies of a mad, lonely man."

"That's the thing," she sighs. "I think he did know me. Some of that was eerily accurate. It was almost like he was profiling me. I felt so exposed."

"But not all of it, obviously," he says.

"You mean, that I’m not in love?” 

He pauses, frozen in his tracks. He meant the part about her sleeping with Padgett. He wasn't expecting they'd actually discuss that part. 

"Scully, I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about it."

She sucks in her top lip and bows her head, tears still wet on her face.

"What would that mean?" She asks. "I mean, to you? What would it mean to you if I were in love?"

He's confused, tiptoeing carefully around her question. "Well, I'd buy the lucky guy a beer to congratulate him. Let him know he's in for a lifetime of being second-guessed. But also that I'm damn jealous of him for getting to spend it with you."

A soft laugh catches in her throat and turns into a cough. "Mulder," she starts, looking down at her hands in her lap. "You know there's no one else...in my life."

"No one else besides..?"

She sighs again, this time more in frustration, and looks up at him with wet, blue eyes. "You're really going to make me say it?"

"I don't want to assume anything. But if you were to say you were in love with me, I'd assure you that there's nothing in the world that would make me happier. And that the feeling is more than mutual." 

She stares at him in stunned silence and he immediately wants to take his words back. Not because they aren’t true, but because he isn’t sure he’s ready to face their implications. 

“Shit, Scully, I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re in shock.”

“No,” she says quietly but resolutely, bringing a small palm to the center of his chest. Her touch feels firm. “I feel the same way. I have for a long time.”

“I’m flattered, truly,” he stammers. “But it doesn’t have to change anything between us. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it weren’t for Padgett and I don’t think we should give him that much power.”

He expects her to withdraw her hand but she doesn’t. With each fervent beat of his heart he feels the gentle but assured pressure of her touch. Not for the first time, he feels as if his heart will stop beating if she pulls away. 

“Can we really go back, though?” She asks, her eyes pleading. “To the way we were before?

He thinks, No, please, anything but that. He says, “Of course we can. We’ve made it through far worse.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to go back,” she says quickly, just barely above a whisper and he freezes. 

“Well, then.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice. It sounds strangled in his throat and he’s terrified of saying the wrong thing. Or the right thing. “Then maybe we don’t have to. What's stopping us?"

"I'm scared," she admits, with a furrow of the soft skin in between her eyebrows.

"I am, too," he says softly, stroking her back with one broad palm, feeling muscles easing underneath his hand.

She stares at him in puzzled amazement and he fears he's gone too far. But he sees her lips starting to part and they simultaneously lean in to meet in an impossibly soft, delicate kiss. It's sweet and sad and endearing. They're both scared to push the envelope so they barely move as their lips touch, as if just getting used to the sensation of touching in this way. It feels ancient and new at the same time. Like coming home while also jettisoning out of the earth’s orbit. 

She sucks in a sharp breath of air and pulls away.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"No, no," she says quickly. "Please don't apologize. I want this so badly, too, trust me. I just...I don't know what it will look like. How it will change things between us."

"I don't know either," he admits. "But I think it's worth a try."

He has all the same questions she has. Do they keep this a secret? Can they ever be seen in public as more than just coworkers? Can they sleep over each other's apartments? They've been followed and trailed and bugged before so they know any change in their normal activities would quickly get noticed by their enemies. Although, in light of recent events, it seems that the group of men who've been conspiring against them might be much smaller in numbers now.

"I don't know what this will look like," he reiterates. "But I don't think I could live without you."

She nods solemnly. "What if they use this as an opportunity to tear us apart?"

"Who? The bureau?" he asks. "I'd quit. I don't care. You're more important than all of this."

She pauses thoughtfully as his proclamation washes over her. He knows what he's saying and he means it. Six years ago he told her nothing else mattered beyond finding his sister. At the time it was true. But six years later, his priorities have shifted. He's been lied to and fucked over too many times to genuinely believe that the truth about his sister is knowable. And if it is, he'll only find it with Scully at his side.

He told her once that she made him a whole person and it's truer now more than ever. Losing her would be worse than losing a part of himself. 

"I want to try then," she says, embarking on this shift in their relationship with the same seriousness she applies to everything she does. Scully does not leap without looking. He felt hurt in the past when she had her one-night stand with Ed Jerse, confused how she could do something so rash and frankly, stupid, but he realized she was only able to act so quickly because it meant so little to her. When the stakes are high, she takes her time.

"Me too," he says.

She gives a little laugh out of overwhelm. "We're talking a lot about this for people who have just barely kissed."

He smiles, feeling love and warmth emanating off her. "Well, I plan to change that as soon as possible. Why don't we get you in the shower to clean off and take it from there? Only if you're, um, comfortable of course." He wants this so badly but he also doesn't know if he wants their first time to be marred by the brutality of this attack. 

"I think I'll be very comfortable with that," she says. "Will you join me in the shower?"

"Pull my leg.” 

She rolls her eyes at him and he remembers, It’s Scully . No matter how their relationship changes, they’ll still bicker and disagree and she’ll still give him that look. 

He stands up and offers her his hand. She takes it and he leads her to the bathroom. The water takes a moment to warm up so he twists the knob first before addressing their clothing. She's already discarded her jacket on the sofa when the paramedics were examining her, so he starts with slowly unbuttoning her bloodied blouse. He moves so slowly, wanting to memorize this moment. He wishes there wasn't any blood.

After each button, he looks up at her, silently asking for permission to keep going. Her pupils are big and glassy but she nods each time they make eye contact so he continues. Her skin is soft and unbroken underneath her shirt but still marked red with blood. Her skin goose-pimples from the cold so he pulls her into his chest before sliding the shirt off her shoulders. 

"I love you," he whispers into her hair. "You know that, right? I've loved you for so long."

She leans against his body and sniffles. 

"I know," she says, and he kisses the part in her scalp, the white skin where her red hair originates. "I love you, too.” 

He returns to undressing her, moving more quickly now as he's eager to get her into the warm shower. Once she's naked in front of him, he pauses for just a moment to admire her before quickly pulling off his sweater and t-shirt and stepping out of his jeans. Her intellect and integrity loom so large in his mind that he forgets how physically small she actually is. He can span her waist with two hands. He’s terrified of what a man with less noble intentions could do. 

They take the final step into the shower together. She gasps when the hot water hits her skin and he feels a jolt of panic before seeing her visually relax in front of him. She closes her eyes and tilts back her head. On the shower floor beneath them, the tide runs scarlet.

The water is hot but she's still shivering so he pulls her in, wrapping his arms around her, pushing his torso into hers. 

He imagines Padgett touching her like this, his leering gaze lingering on her skin as he skimmed his hands over her breasts, her waist, her hips. He grips her more forcefully imagining how much this stranger wanted to do this to her, but never will. Mine , he thinks to himself as he goes in for another deep kiss, his hands on her neck feeling her stubborn, insistent pulse. She perseveres.

"I want–" she says into his chest. She doesn't finish her sentence but he knows what she wants. He wants it, too.

He takes a step back, still with his arms around her but at a distance so they can meet each other's eyes.

"There's no going back after this," he says. "You know that, right?"

Even amid the running water he can see tears forming in her eyes.

"No going back," she promises. Her voice is firm, strong. It’s the voice he’s come to trust above all others.

He's kissing her again, this time without hesitation, searching furiously within her mouth with his tongue as his hands explore her body. He's hard, now, aching for her and he doesn't shy away when he feels her soft belly press against his erection.

The water is running clear now, all the blood rinsed off her skin. He reaches for the faucet handle, seeking approval in her eyes. She nods and he turns the water off. Without stepping out of the shower, he reaches for the nearest towel, wrapping it around her. She's shivering so he brushes his hands vigorously against the cloth, hoping to warm her up. He's still wet, naked in front of her but he doesn't care. There's only one towel on the rack. Why would there be another? He always thought he'd die alone here. It's been years since he knew she was it for him. Either she'd come around or she wouldn't and he'd have to be content with their friendship. But now she's here. Naked in his shower wrapped in his only towel.

"Just a second," he says. He pads out of the shower, leaving a trail of wet footprints through to his bedroom where he finds an old threadbare towel in the closet. It smells vaguely mildewy but he doesn't care. He just needs to get himself sufficiently dry. He towels himself off then tosses it in the corner of the bathroom and returns to her.

"Cold?" He asks.

“A little, yeah.” 

He  embraces her once again, the towel she's clutching under her chin the only thing between them.

"Come get warm."

He guides her to his bed, pulling the sheet and coverlet over her, lifting her wet hair up on the pillow she lies on so it spreads out around her like a halo.

"You," she says.

He knows what she means. He slips under the covers to hold her against him. He's kissing her neck and whispering I love you, I love you, I love you into her collarbones when she stops shaking.

She snakes a hand between them and she feels her small, thin hand wrap around his cock. He gasps, involuntarily, the novelty of a touch that isn't his own for the first time in years is enough to set him off. The knowledge that it's Scully's hand is enough to make him cry.

"We don't have to...tonight," he says.

"I want to," she says.

"Well then I'm not going to argue with you," he says, smiling. She grins back at him and he feels the weight of the universe lifting off him. 

“That’s a first.” She grins. It’s a challenge and an invitation.  

He pushes himself up so he's on top of her, kissing her hard as she holds his rigid cock in her hand. Then, he starts working his way down her body, giving a little sigh when he's low enough that she has to release him. He wants this to last forever. He doesn't know if they'll have another chance. If she'll wake up in the morning and realize she was acting on fear and adrenaline and tell him this can never happen again. It's entirely possible, so he wants to savor every moment in case this is their only time. He wants to see her body respond in pleasure, instead of fear or pain.

She's already moaning by the time he makes his way to her navel. He tongues the concavity, then turns his head to face her gunshot wound. It's only a few months old, still dark and angry against her pale skin. He kisses that, too. 

Lower still, he gently parts her legs with his palms, pausing to glance up and lock eyes with her. He’s looking for a nod, a sign she wants him to keep going. She keeps her gaze steady on him, though, then opens up her legs further and wraps her calves around his back. 

He’s seen her naked before, but never like this. Never so open, so vulnerable and welcoming, and he knows how significant this is for her. For both of them. He presses a kiss on her mons, the soft hair still damp from the shower. He smells his own soap but underneath that, her . She tenses her thighs around him and lets out a little frustrated gasp that makes him smile to himself. 

He can’t deprive her what she wants. He gives her leg a squeeze, then licks her slowly, running his tongue from her opening up to the hood of her clit. That last part makes her gasp again and he focuses solely on her clit next, pursing his lips to suck while teasing her with his tongue. Just like he’s learned nearly everything there is to know about her over the years—when she’s truly angry at him or just needs a lame joke to break the tension; the way she licks her lip when she’s pondering a mystery—he takes the time to learn what she likes. She isn’t loud, but he seems to be expertly interpreting each of her little sounds as her body responds around him and she grinds her hips up to meet him. 

“Mulder—” she calls out and squeezes his shoulder.

He stops suddenly, panicking that he's done something wrong. She reads him easily, though, and gives him a reassuring smile. “Get up here,” she whispers.

He kisses his way back up her body until they’re face to face.

She takes the lead now, pulling his head down to meet hers and kissing him hungrily. He’s achingly hard against her and terrified he isn’t going to last long enough to make this memorable. 

“Can I?” He whispers into her, grinding against her like a teenager.

She answers by reaching down and guiding him inside her. She’s wet but so, so tight and he looks to her to make sure she isn’t in pain as he lowers himself down into her inch by inch. He’s trying to move slowly, fighting against every instinct in his body to plunge fully inside her. She takes him out of his misery by sliding her hands around to palm his ass and bring him closer to her. 

“You feel incredible,” he whispers into her ear.

He wants to remember every sensation—the warmth of her breath on his neck, the smell of her sweat, the grip of her inner walls around his dick. 

They start moving in unison, their bodies finding a rhythm that mirrors the intellectual volley they’ve established over the years. Burying his face in the curve of her shoulder, he hears her moaning into his ear. Thankfully, it seems like she’s close because he doesn’t think he can last much longer. 

“Oh, Mulder,” she purrs as her orgasm ripples through her body. His name on her lips is enough to make him surrender, thrusting quicker and harder until he comes hard inside her. The scope of his universe is suddenly reduced to their bodies, tangled and intertwined on his bed. 

Coming down from his high, he rolls off of her. Without speaking, they turn to face each other. Burgeoning tears blur his vision. He blinks to see her more clearly and she wipes them off his cheekbones with her thumbs. 

“That was…” He pauses, struggling to find the words adequate to describe the immensity of his emotions.

“Perfect,” she finishes for him. 

Their lips meet and this time the kiss is languid and indulgent. Worn out from physical exertion and emotional exhaustion, they take their time. His fear that she’d immediately regret what they did and they’d have to go back to being partners evaporates. It’s not an ending. They’re evolving into something new. Just as they’ve gone from coworkers to friends, the road to this next level of their relationship, he knows, won’t always be smooth but will be more than worth the journey.

[aloveofclaritea]

Hi and thanks for your reply. You have a couple points here that I am happy to address.

"This logic of spaces by sex didn't stop abbusive men to get access to women spaces"

By this logic you are arguing that it doesn't matter whether we have single-sex spaces or not. That it makes no difference to the safety of women and girls to have single sex spaces. This is patently false. Even when the single-sex space is established by social custom alone (i.e. no armed guards at the doors of the bathroom, just a sign saying "Women") this provides more safety to women and girls than if the door says Men/Women/All.

Why would this be? After all, it's just a sign, right? There are different reasons, but one major one actually links back to the original quote. Men who DO respect women's boundaries and spaces would never purposefully enter this female-only space (unless there is a good external reason like a father needing to change a diaper and there isn't a changing table in the men's). Consequently, a man who DOES enter purposefully gives us a pretty good idea that he doesn't have good intentions because he has broken a social contract and is violating a female-only space. Not only that, but a woman in this situation can have recourse to other people around her, to people in authority, to security and law enforcement, can say "There's a man in the woman's bathroom," and expect that her concern will be treated seriously.

So yes, it may not stop predators and abusers, however it does help to identify and guard against them. Human beings are social creatures. Social norms and customs are actually strong motivators of behavior and when those norms and customs are broken it provides important information that keeps us safe.

2. "Cis men could just pretend to be [trans men]"

As soon as that man opens his mouth, if there was any confusion about what his sex is (which is ludicrously doubtful), there would be no longer. The truth is, no-one can change sex, and over the millennia humans have developed a fine-tuned ability to accurately sex other humans as male or female. This has been scientifically shown through research many times over. It is a myth that we suddenly just "can't tell," and if there is any initial confusion it is cleared up fairly quickly in-person.

Even if a man who pretended to be a woman pretending to be a man DID manage to fool people into thinking that he belonged in the woman's bathroom, the law and norm should still be in place that will provide consequences for that man violating a female-only space.

3. "Trans women would be thrown as a shield for cis women, and they would be targeted the ones who pass could be SA'd the ones who didn't also would be SA'd by being immediately clocked and also ridicularized"

Preserving women's single-sex spaces has nothing to do with "transwomen" being a "shield" for women. "Transwomen" are men. As previously stated, human beings cannot change sex. Trans-identifed males belong in the men's bathroom, and all other single-sex spaces for men.

Men assaulting other men in their single-sex spaces is truly a problem. In fact, male violence in general is huge problem around the world (important to remember though that the primary victims of this violence are not other men). However, it is not a problem to be solved by abolishing women's single-sex spaces.

"What are you going to do, have genital inspections to use the bathrooms?"

-a TRA

Males truly cannot conceive of the idea of simply respecting the space and boundaries of women. It literally doesn't cross their minds, so their minds immediately jump to whether or not women can forcibly stop them. The belief is that if a woman cannot forcibly prevent it, you may take anything you like from her with impunity.

- Marian Rutigliano

[mayweneverdie]

Heyyyyyyy I love your work do you have have any hcs on what red flags the rdr characters would have

Yes!!

RDR2 Red Flags

Cw: bad habits/behaviors, red flags (duh)

Notes: i’m putting the (who I consider) main people of the gang plus pookie bears ef and paytah, some of these red flags are already practically canon, but i cannot not add them. If you want any of the members not mentioned down below then send in another ask!!!

Sorry for dying 😭

If any of these seem ooc then send in an ask or dm me and I can review them! I got some help from @tempting-andromeda

Characters: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Charles Smith, Sadie Adler, Javier Excuella, Dutch Van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Eagle Flies, Paytah

—

Arthur

Way too negative about himself

To the point it starts getting people around him negative/uncomfortable

Because they know it ain’t true

Sometimes gets too into fights and picks at you in a way that you don’t understand/catch until way after the fight

John

Trouble committing to something (or someone)

Does obviously stupid shit that can often inconvenience or hurt someone

Take responsibility? Hardly know her!

I feel he has a youngest sibling complex where he can kinda snake out of consequences

Charles

Not the greatest at communicating

Gets snippy and short when he’s at his wits end (but you wouldn’t know unless he told you)

Similarly to Arthur I think if he’s heated enough he’ll make a jab at you that you won’t realize until after the argument

Sadie

Easy to set off (though more due to trauma)

Slow to forgive

Also makes jabs but it’s very obvious and you feel it the second she says it

Rarely apologizes (too prideful)

Javier

Also slow to forgive (though isn’t as quick as Sadie to anger)

Ignores you rather than arguing or making jabs

But he will argue if pushed far enough

Dutch

Ok so what about him isn’t a red flag?

Arrogant and pompous in a ‘holier than thou’ way

But not in a Angelo Bronte way more of a savior complex way

Wandering eyes

Deceitful

If its you and him running from a pack of wolves but they all have one limb he’s still pushing you down to make sure he gets away

Uses gifts and services as leverage

“I give you xyz and you act like this?” “Even after all I’ve done you won’t do this/that?”

Ik his list is way longer than the others but like…

It’s Dutch

Hosea

Kind of condescending in a very fatherly way

Also like dutch but it’s very discreet

I cannot stress this enough but in many aspects they are different sides of the same quarter

This man is a con artist so he’s manipulative in subtle ways

Similar to Dutch he also uses things he gives or does for you as leverage

Except more nice like “Since I did abc it’s fair you do xyz.”

Drum roll please…

Eagle Flies!!!!

Like Sadie he’s quick to anger and slow to forgive

But it’s mostly as a defense mechanism and not because he’s an asshole

Doesn’t communicate and tries to find the quickest way to solve something or to send a message

Has the ‘you’re either with me or against me’ mentality

Spoiled as in wants things his way

Paytah!!!!

Shout out @tempting-andromeda for helping me with Paytah’s portion!!!!

Ends up ignoring you and others a lot accidentally (ie replies in his mind but doesn’t verbalize it)

Gets super defensive even if you’re on the nose about it (esp if it’s concerning his home life)

Subconsciously labels everything like if one girl he knows likes pink then that must mean all girls like pink

And it’s gotten him in very avoidable situations.

—

AGGHGGHH I’M FINALLY POSTING SOMEWHAT AGAIN!!!! Sorry for falling off the face of the earth, it will happen again!

[therealslimshakespeare]

|| Strip Search

Summary: having been tipped off by some inner informant, one of the German officer’s attempts an inspection while the women are at their showers- an altercation ensues.

Warnings 18+ contains mild spoilers: despite the title no such search actually happens, however there’s also an array of other hard things in here. Such as, reference to past rape and medical experimentation, brief suicidal ideation, unwanted pregnancy, violence, threat of strip search, death of a guard dog.

Thank y’all for your patience while I worked at this, it’s got a lot more action than I’m usually comfy with so it grew me, hope it is also enjoyable for you. 🥰 and to miss Christi who helped me overcome my writers block

Edited by my exhausted little eyes, have mercy and lemme know if changes are needed

Circa: Feb 1944, previous fic

Maureen is pleased with how faded the bruises are as they wash. It’s late February, water is frigid, there’s no towels still and yet they finally have showers.

For some it took months for their bruises to fade and Maureen took morbid, officerly interest in their progress. For herself the cuts on her own hips look like jagged white bolts of lightning, harmless tokens of a past no longer of consequence, her hands are marred, mildly misshapen with sickening little pits where there should be nails. But they work.

Gale’s twin cuts on his cheeks have turned purple and remain. He had finally told Maureen of them, how they came to be, a week after Benny already had. One for flak, one for honor. He had kissed her after, as if testing whether she’d want him still. His cuts remain and so do the long winter nights she fights not to panic in, but the want remains, for both of them. It is oddly strong in this tired place.

Lu’s face looks smudged most days but it’s the dusky circles under her tired young eyes and nothing more, nothing fresh, her jaw a clean slate once more. Her breast is jagged and lumpy when she runs the soap over it but no longer hot to touch. The Mercury salve that Maureen forced on her day after day must have done its job. It glittered when they did it under a bulb, Maureen and told her to think of it as war paint, silver on bronze, Lu had broken her first grin in weeks and never fought it again. Even mentioned it when Maureen hadn’t gotten to it that day. It’s jagged but it’s not infected.

One of the sergeants has a swastika cut into her hip, she tried hiding it at first but Maureen has watched during showers as it faded from vibrant crimson to a dull, resigned lavender. Just like Gale’s cheeks. Just like everything in this camp, it’s grown tired and worn and pale.

Except for Ida’s child. Maureen is sure her Colonel’s ruse has not worked, skulking in the corner of showers, always wearing her coat, never mentioning the pains and the hunger and the vomiting -Maureen is pretty sure most of the other women know; they simply don’t speak of it. Smith knows; sweet Lu gives Maureen looks as if asking her to help Ida somehow, as does Gale. Bucky and Brady look at her like she’s a threat. Maureen was once hopeful, then she went mad, now she’s tired. Not even the cold showers hold the capacity to make her feel sorry for herself any longer. She’s too tired for that.

No, instead she watches the bruises, she watches Ida and guards her with her own pale, wane and goose-pimpled body. One little barrier of flesh between their officer and the rest. It’s futile and Maureen finds herself sickly fascinated by watching Ida’s form do anything but shrink in this dismal place. Week after week, same shivering soaking in this damp and gritty shower room but the change is always spectacular.

Miraculous. Sickening.

Ida’s hipbones stick out as always, her hips as lean as a boy’s, but her once meager chest is now swollen into plush handfuls that any starlet might be proud of, the effect is ruined by the caved in hunger of her pronounced sternum.

This, her officer, has grown grotesque.

It did not hit Maureen quite so hard before. She had been scared and aggravated and jealous just as Ida’s symptoms had been vague and nebulous. Looking at the terrifying gnarled dome of Ida’s abdomen, Maureen finds herself sickened by a very sudden rush of reality. It is her own worst fear, to be forced to carry a child made in such evil, to have some entity take up residence inside oneself and leach all vitality and strength from her. For one’s own body, one’s shell to be a threat without any consent from that very being. Today Ida looks unmistakably with child, it is not the bloat of hunger or the curves of a more endowed woman, she is emaciated and yet she is enlarged.

And Maureen knows the thing is not swimming dead in there, Bucky Egan lays his hands on that distended stomach nightly and coos in the privacy of the bunkroom about kicks and flutters as if it were a thing to be celebrated. As if he were its father, as if Ida wants it at all, as if it won’t be shot along with its mother as soon as it’s discovered. Or given to the dogs.

Maureen feels her chest squeezing close to unbearable, it’s not a hard thing to do when so very cold. Blood clots form, hearts enlarge. She finds cold discourages nausea. Nothing like a cold pack to the belly on a hot day, a bottle of bubbly pulled straight from the ice pail and held to the throat. Her stomach is settled, her heart constricts.

They have plans, her friends, both the ones who call it a child and the ones who call it “the current most pressing issue.” They have radios thanks to Smith and Gale and maps and provisions. Fritz the guard, by Maureen's own daring and cajoling, has proven an utter subvert, they have papers forged by the Poles and stamped by Fritz. They look legitimate, they look official, they make out Bucky and Ida to be a farmer and his wife. The time to dare is any day now, and Maureen knows it’s not a moment too soon for Bucky’s mental stability, for Fritz’s job security and for Ida’s likely travail.

Maureen is glad of it, she is glad to have aided it in a small way. She’s sick all the same, since it is all so futile. She is late to help and she is sorry for it, but her mind is unchanged.

At night she dreams of Sergeant Forsyth bleeding out on the cement of the prison floor, mauled to death by the dogs, just out of reach of her friends behind bars; every night Maureen dreams of Forsyth and she dreams of Lu’s torn breast and every night the memory mangles itself into imagination until it is of this child.

A Brady. A German. A child. The current most pressing issue. Torn to pieces. Why waste a bullet.

And still, Maureen cannot bear to think of Ida having to push out the child of one of those men. Not even safe and remote in the Polish woods somewhere with Bucky Egan happily receiving the spawn from between her legs.

Those men and their cruelty will haunt her even then. Maureen used to be jealous of the woman, angry at her recommended demotion from pilot to bombardier, grateful she was not so stubborn or so sober herself. Nothing in the world could make her jealous of Ida Brady now, not when looking at the still mottled skin, marred and scarred by the very hands that made that thing, that grotesque belly.

Ida had gotten into a fight earlier in the week. Maureen wondered and Brady accused her of purposefully trying to harm herself. For all her offers of willingness to help, to abort, to erase, Maureen had no real concept of how to execute them even if accepted. She had not been in the end, and her relief was as strong as her worry. And now Ida had turned to this.

“It’s a life and it’s mine.” Ida had told her, and somewhere along the way Maureen had forgotten the woman might think that, and loath it all the same. When someone jumps off a bridge, warms the bath and slits their wrists, writes a note and closes the garage, they don’t deny it’s life. That the life is theirs. They just can’t bear it anymore.

Looking at Ida, freshly bruised and with a belly so taut the outline of her child’s positioning is in stark relief, Maureen can now so easily imagine her unable to take it. It is grotesque, it is Maureen’s worst nightmare, it is hard to look at it or acknowledge but here it is, large and real and possibly will be gone soon. And Ida is having to bear it.

Maureen wonders if she’ll ever even see her colonel again. Bucky either. Or if they’ll show up in the states when it’s all over with a blonde little girl in tow. Bucky insists it’s a girl -John Brady looks at him with utter grief each time.

Ida says nothing those times. She has come to say less and less. She still speaks to Smith when needed, she will tell Bucky to not be rash, she huddles with her brother and they make each other snicker but there are no other words she finds or uses these days unless it is to ask Maureen her worthless opinion.

Otherwise, Ida Brady has gone quiet.

Except for when she sings. Softly and always a little sad lullaby of a song, folksy and homesick. It makes many of the boys fall asleep. It makes Maureen cry with a pillow smothered over her face and Gale’s hands squeezing her forearm comfortingly. It brings Jack and Bucky’s lungs out of disuse to make a harmony. Crank sometimes, too. It’s the saddest thing in all the world.

“If you miss the train I'm on

You will know that I am gone

You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles

A hundred miles, a hundred miles

A hundred miles, a hundred miles

You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles

Lord, I'm one, Lord, I'm two

Lord, I'm three, Lord, I'm four

Lord, I'm five hundred miles from my home

Lord, I'm five hundred miles from my home

Not a shirt on my back

Not a penny to my name

Lord, I can't go a-home this a-way

This a-way, this a-way

This a-way, this a-way

Lord, I can't go a-home this a-way”

“When are you going to try for it?” Maureen asks her now, hushed voice still echoing loudly in the tiled place, poor water pressure hardly making a splash amongst the line of showers. She should wait to ask in privacy, to respect the delicacy of the escape plans, but she cannot bear this quiet or the gingerly tolerance that has grown up between them lately.

“When the full moon wanes.” Ida answers, only her eyes flick up, wary but searching and she instantly adds. “I wish you could come.”

There were not enough papers or chances. Gale is staying, too. Maureen is less happy with that assurance than she was a month ago. She wants Gale out now. She was mad then at his risks, she is scared now at his resignation. She wants them all out before they die here.

“I want all of you out.” Ida’s voice says it at the same moment, it cracks but not from emotion, she sounds ill. Most of them have some sort of congestion from the cold.

The woman hates being the center of so much risk and expense of life, hates being a jeopardy that requires so much sacrifice when she is the officer, the ranking one who should be last to leave the ship. Maureen thought she’d find that more validating, instead her chest hurts and she will, perhaps, be missing her friend soon. Mourning her, grieving even.

Maureen decides to say what she wanted to say when she thought they were going to die, lined up in the muddy square of Ravensbruck, before survival, religion and bellies, the ever increasing madness of forced proximity along with resurfaced memories and dotted amnesia all drove Maureen to become ugly and bitter. “You’re a rock.” she mumbles the compliment to her colonel as she splashes her armpit free of the burning lye.

“I want you all out.” Ida repeats so guiltily Maureen has to harden her heart not to grow worse than tired and become snappish, it hurts so very much. She was going to be better, she promised Benny that. She thinks of his lies, how good he is with the nice ones.

“We’ll get out. Just you wait and see.” she says, they both know it’s lies, they both know Ida and Bucky will likely be shot a few yards out the gate, and no one will follow, “And your brother’ll be the first one I haul out by the scruff of the neck. Trust me.”

“You’ll look after him, won’t you.” Ida asks but it’s not a question; it’s a compliment even if she knows they won’t get out, she knows Maureen cannot prevent what happens to him anymore than Ida herself has been able to, “You always were so brave that way.”

Brazen. Crude. Liberal. Those are qualities Maureen did not anticipate being called upon for triaging hurt men. Boys that she liked, respected even, boys she wanted safe and not even aware of such cruelty. Jack’s bruises do not fade with the others, they start small but grow ugly and larger day after day along his forearms, needle holes festered and lips gone violet. He won’t let Maureen check anywhere further, she wonders if he’s let Ida.

“You know I will.” Maureen swears, because she will try, “Buck said the Kommandant was inclined to intervene.” she adds hopefully and all it does is send the most wretched look across Ida’s face. Lateness in these cases is too late, Maureen would know, she thinks of her own brother, his innocence and his spark and a little late was too late to really matter.

“It’ll be better when I’m out.” Ida rehearses to herself. She sounds so much like Jack in these moments it makes Maureen’s skin crawl. “He’s doing so much of this so we can -can have supplies.”

To escape, to live in the wilderness, to raise a child on the edge of the world.

Maureen comes alongside her, wondering what she’d have liked someone to say to her the day she found she had to protect her brother from her uncle, from her priest, and even her father in some small way. When she found out and yet couldn’t ever seem to manage it like she wanted, she had cursed her mother then, for being gone and she kept on cursing her and the specter of her in every woman since, stranded ever since with the guilt that gnawed where a beating heart should be. “You’ll make good on his trust, Colonel.” she squeezed Ida’s hardened bicep under the spray, an arresting comfort, because Jack was different from Lance and he wasn’t a kid and he wasn’t Maureen’s to fuck up, “You’ll get out of here and we’ll close ranks and he’ll be fine. He’ll make it, too.”

“You been playin’ poker with Smith again?” Ida turns her face to her, hair grown out just long enough to cut across her forehead and temples in ink-like slashes, “You’re getting awful good at bluffing.”

Maureen grins back, “Always was sir, just lost it for a bit.”

Ida regarded her for a minute with a half endeared look Maureen realized with a jolt she had not seen since Thorpe Abbots, not directed at her at least.

“Sorry about your cheeks.” Ida muttered, almost bashful.

Maureen’s hands flew up to her cheekbones out of instinct, the bruises from the book long gone and the incident left behind over a month ago. It was like Ida to let things bother her months later; when Maureen tried imitating her in that exercise she found herself utterly exhausted. “Even, like that,” she nodded to Ida’s swollen belly, “you hit harder than the gestapo.”

Seemed like a good thing to say, the way the remorse left Ida’s face and a wry look of pride warped her lips briefly. She looks painfully like her brother with her swan neck strained in the cold and the chopped length of her hair flopping into her eyes.

“You should let me trim up your hair before you go.” Maureen realized, her hand gingerly darting out to rake the hacked off locks back from her eyes, only to hesitate at the last minute in unsurety if the familiarity was welcome anymore.

Ida simply leans her forehead into Maureen’s palm and the world settles alright and forgiven in her chest: trust.

“Make it one of those chic little cuts?” Ida suggested.

“Chicest farmer’s wife this side of the rhine.” Maureen agreed, “You’ll have everyone wondering why you settled for that oaf, Egan.”

There was the saddest flash of mirth on her face for a brief instant. “Tell me straight then-“ Ida began with a crease to her brow that promised a talk about logistics, but just then a commotion outside drew their attention.

It was not uncommon for whoever was guarding the door to have a spirited bit of chirping with any hapless passersby, sometimes an argument over shower times with some batch of men who didn’t care about giving the women privacy, or worse, a full on altercation over the same. There were no locks on the inside of the drafty room, making the boys’ guarding presence essential, and so far, always effective. It was Crank and Demarco on duty today, and Maureen strained to hear their words as their voices rose outside, more than typical.

“You finish, I'll go look.” Maureen muttered, patting Ida’s arm and going to dress as her paltry shower was in fact complete.

She was shrugging on her sweater, great coat in hand, when she pressed her eye to the slat, a gust of northwestern wind and the sight of guards on the steps giving her a shock. Benny wasn’t letting them by, and that was the only reason they weren’t in here already, and that reason could be put aside with a shove or a bullet. She sees one of the krout officers reach for his sidearm as he goes up the first step, toe to toe with Crank on the second, and that was all Kendeigh needed to swivel round and yell at her girls to dress. She can see their miffed and startled faces, too morosely caught up in their cleanliness to even notice the impending danger. Most of them are stark naked, except for the few who are trying to use the few flight suits left as towels. Ida doesn’t even turn off her tap, she charges towards the hooks on the opposite wall and Maureen realizes the farce is quite over, every single girl here has seen that belly now.

She puts her eye back to the gap in the slats. Crank is closer than last time, his sleeve almost by her eye on the other side of the wall, she guesses he’s trying to hold onto the door handle. Benny is in an officer’s face, baiting death. It’s not a situation that will last peaceably for many more seconds. There’s side arms out, a dog straining at the leash.

Maureen feels a rustling by her side and she could have guessed who it was before an accented voice mutters beside her, “How’re we going to secure this.” Sanchez is shrugging on a coat while keenly eyeing the wooden loops this side of the door, loops usually capable of holding a board as a lock, one on each door, sliding a beam through makes it impressively strong. But like all things in this place, security is absent, there’s no beam, no pole, no nothing, the wooden rings are empty and without the presence of their securing beam they look mockingly like handles.

“Doors open in.” Maureen reminds her. It’s not an excuse, they’ll have to find a way to lock them, keep them closed, they both know that.

Crank can’t hang on when he’s been shot.

That’s a cold truth that simply settles and Maureen once again tastes the feeling of going up, of sitting in the glass nose, rocking her eye against the rim of the bombsight, bruised cheekbones from the jarring turbulence of deathly flak bursts; it's foggy, faint and nostalgic but it’s an enjoyable cocktail nonetheless, one she’s missed: bold flavors of action hitting the tongue, washed down by responsibility, afternotes of terrified vitality.

“They’re onto the belly.” Sanchez is saying, listening to the useless argument Benny is holding with a pistol pointed at his chest, buying time like only a man that brave and that smart can.

The belly, Sanchez says -it’s not a baby here. That’s what Maureen had been trying to say before. She feels like she and Sanchez might’ve been real tight in another life. As is, they're about to die together trying to keep shower doors shut a little longer so that Ida can get shot a little later.

There’s a gunshot outside. It goes through the eaves of the roof and Maureen doesn’t really think when she decides to thread her arm through the wooden rings and makes a fist. Crouched towards the room, and half starved into willowy thinness, she gets the whole limb through there, one wooden ring at her shoulder, another right above her elbow. Her back to the door. Arm as a beam. She saw a picture of a princess doing this for the royal nursery when she was a precocious child, raiding her aunt's library. It comes to her now. The impulse. It’s always fucking childhood, everything she does these days is some gut impulse from some fucking childhood memory.

Sanchez looks at her like she’s mad, then grips Maureen’s wrist with truly maniacal determination. She gets it, Maureen thinks with relief. Sanchez will hold onto Maureen’s arm when they push, and it won’t last long but it’ll be something. “It’ll snap.” Sanchez observes, staring at Maureen’s strained elbow.

She feels the first push of someone trying the door, expecting less resistance. It’s just a cursory push. Maureen braces her back and gets ready for pain. She’d handle it better if half the girls weren’t still naked and panicking.

Including Ida, who’s only managed her trousers and shirt, belly utterly obvious beneath some man’s borrowed drab. It makes Maureen froth with anger.

“No!” Is all Ida says when she notices Maureen’s bizarre configuration as human barrier, rushing at her in horror, “you let me out and I’ll give myself up.” Ida is saying and Maureen cannot believe she’s not gotten her fucking coat on yet. “I’m who they want.”

Maureen thinks she laughs. Because the idea of trading Ida for months in here without Ida is a good joke. The logic of the escape doing the same somehow doesn’t settle. Maureen’s only feeling is rage, her impending sacrifice of a good arm is likely to be in vain if her colonel doesn’t put a fucking coat on soon. Real soon. There’s a pounding on the door at her back.

They’re giving them the courtesy of knocking. Next they’ll shoot at the door. Sanchez actually looks ready to take Ida up on this stupid fucking martyrdom. Her grip loosens on Maureen’s wrists, looking relieved that she doesn’t have to serve as one half of this gruesome, human lock.

“Fucking hold on.” Maureen snaps at her, and Sanchez does, after throwing Ida Brady a look that suggests she is to blame for this and she’d happily serve her on a platter to the thugs outside. That’s about all Maureen’s fuzzy, battle primed mind needs to give her steel in her madness; they didn’t get this far, they didn’t fall apart and glue each other back together, they didn’t befriend German guards and allow German doctors to hurt their best just to roll over when they got tested. “Nobody gets searched, nobody gets handed over. We said not again.” She looks past Ida and directly at Lu Smith, who is actually visibly shaking she’s so scared, and still half naked, but her eyes look like they’re of the same mind.

That’s Maureen’s ticket, she can count on Lu wanting to die with her rather than go through it again. Rather than hand Ida over. “Smith,” he grits out, “get the colonel’s coat. All of you, the hell is wrong with you? — get your fucking coats on.”

Vaguely she can hear the German officer on the other side telling her to let them in, that he can hear them talking in here. That it’s just a customary inspection. She feels Sanchez tighten her grip on her wrist and wonders from afar how many places along her arm will break from this. If Gale will come out to see what all the commotion is about. If the Kommandant ordered this or if this is one of the guards' ideas of being a proactive subordinate.

There’s the rattle of the door behind her back. A push and mounting pressure.

Foggy, fuzzy, somewhere between waiting for it to be over and waiting for it to calm down, because being over never meant it didn’t still hurt, it will hurt just as bad for a few minutes after- Maureen learned that quickly, she learned to stay away after the pain, long enough for the tearing reality to hit less, and so she waits. She’s good at waiting for it to be over. And when it’s over she’ll feel it then, that heady rush of coming back into the body, that nerve wracking and tingly feeling of being aware again and mad as hell about it. It dulls the pain, it collects a terrible collateral of innocent bystanders, but it's better than remembering the thing itself. Until then, she waits and gets ready to float away. And if she screams it’s all lost in the gunshots and Sanchez’ yell and the commotion of everyone else who doesn’t want this to happen.

She hears the crunch, that part she can hear and she can feel others around, finally some fucking help, other girls throwing themselves at the door, pushing back, giving just a tiny bit of room for Maureen’s nerveless arm. They’re all in their overcoats, the ones piling on the door, stepping between her skidding legs, shoving their shoulders into the wood alongside Sanchez. Maureen thinks if she was really here for this, she’d be feeling pride. It’s nice to not be alone, it’s nice to have a pack, it’s nice to know she is not alone in feeling feral and discontent with this sorta of death. This is how she wanted to go in the yard in Ravensbruck when all her friends stood quietly in line and all but allowed it to happen- if that had been the plan. This time she’s not alone, there’s girls with their teeth barred and arms that are braced and solid as steel in their desperation. Dying alone isn’t just about numbers, it’s about mentality, too. It feels rather like when the fort got toasted, knowing they were done for but all of them done for together and none of them wishing otherwise. It was worth staying in a nose-diving B17 to be together rather than jump and die alone in the wide blue sky.

Maureen hears the shot.

She doesn’t know how it is but the ones that hit somehow have a peculiar ring to them, like they’ve got an invisible decibel attached that heralds their purpose. This solitary shot, amongst a load of lead thrown at them was made to strike home. Sergeant Abott, Maureen thinks it is, slumps down beside Maureen, looking unharmed due to the layers of her greatcoat, but her hand pressed to her hip tells where the damage was done. She looks more angry than pained but she doesn’t get to her feet again.

“Sweet Jesus, they've got a gun to Crank.” -Maureen doesn’t know who says it but it explains the sudden lack of agony. She tells herself not to come back yet but the curiosity nags. Cowards! -of course the German fucks would abandon an unlocked door with a bunch of girls behind it to put a gun to a stray Captain’s head.

Dimly through hazed eyesight, Maureen can see Ida speaking to Abbot who's now on the floor, they’re interrupted by Sanchez and then those two go at it, crack for crack and Ida’s rank comes out on top.

Everyone is in their coats. It’s the only comfort for Maureen when Lu Smith grabs hold of her unharmed shoulder and begins to pull her away from her death spot. “Shh, shh we’re gonna bargain it out.” Lu tells her as she tries to fight against the unwanted rescue but Sanchez has abandoned her too, Maureen’s wrist is limp and unheld, hardly attached to her when it threads back through the wooden rings, and Lu keeps ahold of it as it slinks out, boneless and revolting even to herself.

“Kendeigh, hang on.” Ida tells her through the fog that comes when reality tries to come back too soon, and Maureen wants to beg her not to do this, not to give herself up after all this.

Fuck’s sake, Brady, let some sore sucker die for you for once.

Laying on the floor, with Lu’s gentle hands holding her mangled limb together, Kendeigh feels the whipping rush of weather when the door opens, it shouldn’t feel so close to betrayal to see it thrown wide but it hits that way anyway. There’s about five guards on the step, sideways in her line of vision, and Benny is telling Murph, who must be somewhere out of sight, to “go get Cleven. Now!” Maureen’s curiosity regarding the Kommandant is relieved- he isn’t there. It’s just some rogue officer and his little minions, chomping at the bit to invade them at showers.

“What is it that you needed us so urgently?” Ida is tall enough to be toe to toe with the officer on the threshold and it takes the pressure off Crank who’s poor threatened head gets set free. “You’ve shot one of my girls.”

“You resisted inspection.” He returned.

“Because you violated agreed conduct.” Ida shot back. “We were showering.”

The man shook his head, “Others do not get immunity from random searches. Why should you?”

“Because we have been guaranteed such.” Ida was saying as Maureen drew up her legs from beneath her and made a go at kneeling, aided by Lu’s hand at her back.

Demarco had shifted closer on the steps and Maureen met his eyes, the way he clocked her injuries and searched Lu for the same, back down to Abbott who did not rally from her place on the floor. “Smith,” Maureen gritted out, “put some pressure on Abbott’s hip.”

Maureen stood up with difficulty, her entire arm a mass of throbbing flames that hung too limp and heavy from her shoulder, she staggered briefly before one of her girls righted her.

“Egan is comin’.” Benny added to the argument Ida and the officer were having. “Clarke will be right behind. Let’s all just- fucking cool it.” he suggested, pointedly at the German whose position was growing more precarious as attention gathered outside the showers.

The German chose not to cool it, with the short calculation of a very petty and none too bright man, he slipped the leash on his dog before Maureen could even blink. The vicious thing bounded in and latched onto the first overcoat it could focus on, snarling and yanking with its steel jaws, ripping the heavy wool and exposing fragile flesh beneath. Before any of them could do more than jump, Benny was on the dog, hand in his collar like the snarling thing was his own pet, his knees aimed in a devastating strike on its under ribs. The animal gave a wheezed howl from the breakage and let go of its would-be victim, jaws snapping wildly at Benny who was just out of reach.

“The hell is goin’ on?” Egan’s sudden presence in the showers and his bellowed demand shook the group. “Put that fuckin’ gun up, put it up. The hell is goin’ on here?” he addressed the German officer, who stood there with his pistol still half out of his holster and his eyes darting from Bucky’s towering form to the trapped dog beneath Benny’s knees.

He rallied, briefly as if remembering suddenly who was prisoner and who guard, “Inspection.”

“Not durin’ showers, ya don’t.” Bucky volleyed back. “Been agreed, ya little over eager beaver. Shot two of my girls over this?”

“M’not’shhhot.” Kendeigh tried to assure but it came out thick and slurred and likely lost under the noises of Benny’s exertions and the dog’s dwindling whines. The overlapping talking was cacophonous, echoing and surreal in the tiled room. The wind that had been so frigid seeping in through the gaps now poured in through the open door and froze the puddles ‘around the drains as they swirled. Maureen couldn’t feel her arm anymore, she couldn’t feel much of anything.

But Ida was still standing there, right within reach, her coat on, Bucky next to her. It would be alright.

For today.

“The doctor was given a lead-“ the officer protested.

“You obey the doctor now?” Bucky snapped back and before that line of reasoning could be continued, the sound of jackboots crunched outside and the Kommandant himself came in view, Colonel Clarke beside him, lockstep as if mutually offended by this breach of order.

Maureen watched the two German officers level back and forth, their men watching, Hans part of the newly arrived party backing up the commander. The officer’s pistol was returned fully to its holster.

“A misunderstanding.” The Kommandant assured Colonels Clarke and Brady in turn, his observant gaze taking in Abbot and Kendeigh’s bloodied hands and Benny still retraining the snarling dog. “There are rumors, our doctor is concerned. Female issues, ja? Pregnancies. I trust none of you would be so stupid?”

He looked over the women and there was, as if by joint consensus, a violent shudder passing through them in denial.

“Your government fixed you, no doubt.” The Kommandant looked satisfied with his own assurance and it made Lu shoot Maureen a hazed look of shock. “So there will be no trouble, ja?”

“We won’t strip.” Maureen croaked. “If that’s what the inspection’s about. We won’t.”

An irritated look crossed the Kommandant’s face, as if he found the subject more unsavory than truly concerning. “It will not be necessary. This was carried out without authority. Those not needing medical care may go. You-“ he pointed to her specially, “should see our doctor. Her too.” -to Abbot. “Unless you protest even that?”

It hung there, a dare and a challenge. Ida’s face blanched briefly; the doctor an ever sore subject in this place but to Bucky, who had as little awareness of the rumbling subterfuges and threats from the doctor as the cat under their shack, it seemed a perfectly plausible choice. Maureen saw him look at her with exasperated expectancy and steeled herself with his own naïveté. If she refused, it would look bad for them all. If she went, even if the doctor proved himself interested not just in catholic school boys but in used up debutants too, it would in a way be working for them- proving her to be truly infertile. Barren as the ground outside, stomach flat as a pancake. One girl searched, it was better than pushing the point, it would buy Ida time.

“I need a doctor.” she agreed with a grin, trying to flap her crushed arm for emphasis and finding she had very little motor skills left. “Abbot worse.”

“Good.” The Kommandant looked cheered now Bucky had ceased to glower with all the rage of a fury unleashed, the matter resolved with a single clap of the man’s black leather gloves, “Hans,” he addressed the boy, “put that dog down. Colonel Clarke, there will be damages to be paid.”

Maureen watched Benny turn his face away, hand shaking in the collar when Hans' tall boots stopped short of the half dead animal. A single shot ran out, the wheezing whines stopped. “C’mon Lu, it’s over.” she heard a Benny mutter to the girl as he got up with a stiff grunt, sounding like he himself wasn’t so alright either.

“Kendeigh-“. Ida muttered low, sidling up to her, hand on her unmaimed shoulder and a deep concern Maureen had only associated with Gale brimming in her eyes, “That d-“

“I need that doctor.” Maureen croaked back, assuming her meaning, “Abbot even worse,” she repeated, “who’ll you send with her? Smith? Nah, Ida, I’ll go. Fucking testicular humanoid of a surgeon doesn’t even care about us women, you know that. Be fine.”

“I was going to say,” Ida pressed on, eyes looking very steely hazel and even a little gentle under the film of what might have been tears had Maureen any surety in her own foggy observances left, “that door business? More insane than your flying that Stearman under the bridge in Boise.”

Maureen’s world fuzzed a little harder, training memories and the mellowed thrill of a dared stunt coursing diluted but present through her veins, “Oh.” she felt drunk with it. “Oh that.” she knew her face was splitting in a smile, it was a traitor like that, always when Ida was being earnest.

“Stupidest, bravest, fucking idiot.” Ida gripped her once bruised cheeks and shook her with each saying, lean musicians’ hands, hands that could pull a bomber from a nose dive, hands that had wrenched open a jammed door, “I’ll have some of that hooch for you when you get back.”

The thought of liquor and the warm relief it promised made Maureen think life half worth the living again. Poor Abbott could use some, too. Unharmed but oh so cold with her white skin and violet veins and lips of iris blue, Maureen could only think of Ida, how it might tint her cheeks if she had some. She wanted that for her. “Y’shou’d try some.”

Ida gave her a smile, sad but agreeable, like she was thinking of a longer game plan than Maureen could imagine. “Maybe I will.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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[raayllum]

An interesting thread in S7 that I noticed:

You are destroyed by the things you create.

The first time we see this kind of thread (at least I think, I might've missed something) is with Kpp'Ar and Viren in season 6. Kpp'Ar takes Viren on as his "most eager student" and teaches him much in the ways of dark magic, even eventually handing over the position of High Mage. And even once acquiring said position, Viren betrays him in order to take the Staff of Ziard, citing:

Then you have Viren being destroyed and creating the exact circumstances he didn't want. In corrupting Lux Aurea, he expelled the Sunfire elves, leading to Karim's increasing fanaticism, power struggle, and usage of Sol Regem. This led indirectly to Sol Regem bringing Viren's worst nightmare down upon Katolis.

We see this more directly with Aaravos as well, as he created Sir Sparklepuff and had Avizandum specifically summoned back from the dead in S7, both of which have a hand in his demise:

This also ties into Aaravos' desire to destroy the Cosmic Order, as they created the circumstances that led to his anger in killing Leola, and therefore his violence and great machinations:

This "you are destroyed/defeated by what you create" is also one of the things that won me over when theorizing about S7, as I thought that if Callum used dark magic to defeat Aaravos fully (rip Rayla's positive character development theorized there too), while it might have felt a bit thematically muddied, would've had a great layer of irony: Aaravos, being imprisoned/defeated by the very thing he created. Close, but no cigar!

Then, for the core protagonists, to a certain degree we have this theme with Viren and Claudia. Viren realizes his horror at what Claudia has become, as well as the path that he's pushed and led her down by example. This doesn't literally destroy him, but it does emotionally devastate him, and does end up destroying their relationship in a lot of ways.

Even Claudia gets a bit of this, as she stabs her mother in the back—a daughter killing her own mother—just as Soren stabbed Viren in 3x09. Children killing their own parents, even as illusions, fits the theme, don't you think?

Ezran also gets interwoven into this idea in a few interesting ways in season 7. In creating the circumstances that led to Ezran being king, and thereby creating the child king and his rage, Runaan could've become a victim of it, and indeed nearly was (7x01, 7x02).

The second way this could come to a head for Ezran is Project Ruby Fire, though we'll have to wait for future seasons. While the project is his and Aanya's brainchild to keep Katolis (Evrkynd now?) safe and safe from the threat of dragons in the future, it's unlikely that these weapons of destruction will stay unused, and could possibly lead to devastation and loss in their kingdoms and/or of their friends (Zym).

Last but not least, we have Callum and Rayla. While not a literal destruction (but close to), they were prepared to sacrifice everything for one another. Callum's death would've made Rayla an assassin, hardening her heart further than it already is; on the other side of things, Callum became a mage and a dark mage because of her (2x07, 5x08): "If you love her, you'll be the you who can save her," even if that means demanding she'd become the her who can kill him, and save him / the world from a fate worse than death.

At the same time, Callum only begins doing the dark magic spell because he trusts Rayla to be his safety net. I can see solid arguments for whether she would've actually gone through with it on either side, but it led to Callum re-corrupting himself and opening himself up to Aaravos' possession in the future either way.

Like with Ezran and Project Ruby Fire, I expect this plot thread to be more of a beat in Arc 3 / future seasons, but am still deeply interested to see how it may all come to pass - and how there could be more consequences (the Nova Blade?) even from trying to do good.

[synthient]

Here's how The Tardis Did It can still win:

1st shot appears to be the Doctor experiencing some kind of time/space glitch or warping effect in the interior of the tardis

"It's all a game to them. But the games are deadly." Sums up the Doctor himself's tendency to approach things like a game even when they have very real consequences for the non-immortals involved. "I thought it was fun" resonance

The Doctor's new tardisbounding outfit, as visual cue of the two of them being enmeshed

More blurring of the fiction/reality boundary via Cartoon Guy, Mrs. Flood (I think that's her? The lighting's not great) and her opera glasses. The glasses themselves suggest that she's an observer of this story, not its author

"What the hell is this!" The Doctor has already seen pantheon members do fucky things with reality - is he reacting to something that can't neatly be explained that way? Also looks like he's wearing one of his period wigs, so this could be the episode where he meets Belinda, and have something to do with Belinda/Mundy + all those Susan Twists the tardis 3d printed

[bwat5-blog]

A Heart Imprisoned: Vi's Time In Stillwater

**Spoilers For All Of Arcane**

Vi is all of fifteen years old, when she is kidnapped by the Sheriff of Piltover himself and thrown into the bowels of Stillwater prison. There she will spend seven years of horror, isolation, abuse, and fear. Accused of no crime, with her name not even on the record, she has no hope of escape or mercy until the naïve rookie Enforcer who will change her life comes to her cell.

What I want to try and delve into today, is the impact these seven years have on Vi as a person. Vi continues to be one of the most grossly misunderstood characters in this show. Even now I can come up with no logical explanation as to why, but that's okay. I don't think logic plays a big part in the anti-Vi crowd's day-to-day anyway. But! Still we soldier on, and hopefully by the end of this I can illuminate a tragic part of this remarkable character's story in a worthwhile way, and lend even more to the cause of helping see the humanity in her story.

Lead Up:

I have covered the events of Vi's childhood in heavy detail in other documents. So here, I will just run down a quick list for understanding.

Sees death of birth parents on bridge of progress: Age 9

Spends 6 years as part of family with Powder, Vander, Mylo and Claggor: Age 9 - Age 15

Vander, Mylo and Claggor all die violently in front of her. She barely survives brawl with more than ten armed thugs working for Silco, she is wounded during incident, she is separated from Powder in traumatic manner that leaves her ravaged by guilt.

Imprisoned for seven years until Caitlyn Kiramman frees her: Age 15 - Age 22.

To say Vi's life even before Stillwater has been harsh is a mild understatement to say the least. She begins her story in tragedy. And even though Vander and her siblings love her, the undercity is a hard and dangerous place to grow up. She is not saying things like "wanna see how that ends" to a knife wielding attacker at fifteen years of age because her life has been easy.

We also need to review a few telling things about Vi before her imprisonment to better understand the teenage girl who is sent to Stillwater.

"When people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish.. whatever happens, its on you"- This lesson of Vander's will come to haunt Vi's life for years. He gives her this speech entirely from a place of love and support, talking to her about being aware of the consequences of her decisions as the other kids look up to her. But when things go so..so wrong. Vi internalizes this to the point that she is unable to move on from the guilt of what occurred.

"I grew up knowing I'm less than them, that my place is down there. I want Powder to have more than that, and I'm willing to fight for it."- Take note of what she says. She doesn't protest that she isn't less than.. only that she wants Powder to have more. Vi tells us so early that she doesn't see more for herself. Only more for those that she loves, and that she is willing to bleed for it. And she will... over and over..

"I know you wanna hurt the topsiders for what they've done to us. But who are you willing to lose?"- Again, another of Vander's lessons that Vi tries to take to heart. it leads her to try and make the right decision to protect those she loves, and through no fault of her own ends with Vander taken, and Benzo and Grayson dead. She tried to stop fighting. Tried to lead with her heart and the world crushed her as a reward.

"You've got a good heart. Don't ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you"- See above.

"Take Care of Powder"- Again, this one is tough. Vander's last words to Vi are not of comfort to her, but instructing her. I am NOT bagging on Vander. Had things not gotten even worse Vi would have been the leader of their family now and Vander knew she could do it and was trying to help her be strong. Unfortunately, because things go so terribly, all it is is another source of guilt driving Vi into the dark.

Losing Powder:

Tragically, Powder in an attempt to save her families life detonates a monkey bomb that kills Mylo and Claggor, and initiates the series of events leading to Vander's death as well. All when they were so close to escape. Powder is a little girl. this is NOT her fault. And she is shocked when she comes around the corner to meet Vi's rage instead of praise...

But as I have stated. Vi was only fifteen and having been through all that she had, lashes out at her little sister. Hitting her, calling her a jinx, and aggressively grabbing her face before walking away in horror at her actions, stolen by Marcus before she can make it right.

Conclusion: So what does that all mean in a nutshell? A fifteen year old girl who has already lived a life of loss, and violence, has her entire family taken away her violently in one night, save for the little sister she feels she has betrayed. She is then thrown in a terrible, hellish prison, with the only thing to focus on being the loss of her family, Vander's lessons, and how she believes she failed him, her brothers, and most importantly, her sister.

"I spent so many nights, in that shitty prison. On the freezing floor, hungry, bloody, counting the hours. The only thing.. the only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you."

In Stillwater:

Thankfully for all of us who don't hate this character for breathing, we see none of what happens to her while she is in here outright. But there are a few things we know:

She is routinely assaulted- When she and Caitlyn are speaking she says to just send in whoever is going to hurt her so she can get on with her night. The warden confirms this with absolutely zero shame. And when Caitlyn opens Vi's cell, Vi is rolling her shoulders out like she is getting ready to fight.

There is no record of her or her crimes - Marcus locked her up with no trial, no paper trail, no nothing. She would have been kept there forever. Routinely beaten and totally stripped of her identity. Gee, I wonder why she tattooed her name on her face. They tried to erase her from existence.

She isn't in solitary all the time, as she had access to the tattooed goon she keeps wrecking throughout the show- I'd say this is probably the only reason she is at least slightly functional and still able to socialize in the real world to some degree.

A Layman's Understanding Of The Impact On Her:

First and foremost lets dispense with the obvious. I am not a mental health professional of any kind. But as an adult with a basic understanding of people I feel confidant saying that seven years in a violent prison being victimized and assaulted are what leads to the guarded young woman who has turned her body into a weapon that Caitlyn Kiramman meets that day. Cut off from any kindness, or love, or understanding Vi has hardened herself to the outside world because the last time she tried to do otherwise, her entire life was taken from her. And I am not going for the pity points or for dramatics. But she was fifteen... I'm going to guess something akin to her crying for someone to help her, or for her sister and than being viciously beaten is not outside of the realm of possibility. Her entire life has taught her over and over that the only thing she has to offer is her ability to do violence. An article from the University Of Santa Cruz a few years ago gives us more trustworthy information than my blathering:

"many prisoners "believe that unless an inmate can convincingly project an image that conveys the potential for violence, he is likely to be dominated and exploited throughout the duration of his sentence."

"prisoners may come to think of themselves as "the kind of person" who deserves only the degradation and stigma to which they have been subjected while incarcerated."

"For some prisoners, incarceration is so stark and psychologically painful that it represents a form of traumatic stress severe enough to produce post-traumatic stress reactions once released."

The need to keep up walls and hide their vulnerability, the hidden inner belief they are not worth any better, and deep seated trauma even manifesting as PTSD. Sound familiar? Not to mention the fact that is all started for her when she was fifteen and in the wake of a terrible loss.

I have seen many people lambasting Vi over her inability to cope with change or see that her sister has changed. Let me ask you folks a question. You see your entire family die in front of you, you are almost killed, you get thrown in a horrific and violent prison for no reason holding on to the hope of your last surviving family member, and then you get out and the sweet little girl you were ripped away from is a MURDERING. MENTALLY ILL. TERRORIST (Don't yell at me Jinx fans I'm just proving a point). How well do you think your going to cope?

This is just a drop in the bucket and absolutely a layman trying to learn a-little about how something so terrible would impact someone's emotional and mental health. But it was worth exploring. Like the grouchy broken record I am I have continued to proselytize to all of you regarding the humanity at the core of Arcane being its true heart. So the misunderstanding of perhaps the most human character in the show, someone who wants so badly to love, be loved, and to stand for those she cares for, well... Suffice it to say, I will keep playing this song for as long as I need to.

As always thank you for reading! Keep standing up for stories that matter. See ya next time.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Hello! Not a request, I just needed to get this Lilith related thought out, hope you guys don't mind! Alright, so in NB we learn Lilith believed demons, angels, etc. shouldn't interfere with humans, that she believed it to be arrogant. But then the whole catalyst for the war is because Lilith went and interfered with a human life, the life of her beloved. I thought about it, and I think I have a way for these to coexist! To put it bluntly, the angels trying to guide humans down certain paths is the angels robbing the humans of agency, but what Lilith did—or at least thought she was doing—was returning that agency to her beloved. Because the human fell ill, they were going to die from this illness, their choices have effectively been stolen from them. They were fated to die, and then Lilith returned their agency by saving their life. They're able to continue living, making their own choices, shaping their own destiny because their story is able to continue. Trying to guide humans down certain paths, convincing them to make certain decisions, manipulating them in a way, is arrogance in Lilith's eyes. Its robbing the humans of their agency, of their right to make their own choices, its forcefully shaping their lives which is something only that human should be allowed to do. But Lilith doesn't do this! I think, at least from Lilith's perspective, she not only didn't want to see her beloved one die but also she could have viewed this as returning their agency which was, in a way, stolen from them by their illness. Angels will shape a humans life as they see fit, arrogantly believing they know best, but Lilith was willing to face any consequences to return her loved ones agency to them.

Oh god we're so sorry, it's been so long since the post this was originally responding to but we're getting to it now!!

Agency is certainly an interesting point, and that could very well have been a way for Lilith to justify it to herself. It's true that humans are basically seen as the least powerful, and at least in terms of how Solomon describes it, the issue is that humans are looked down upon as not having the right to make their own choices.

Counter-point to Lilith, though: did she ask?

From what we know, Lilith had actually kept her true identity as an angel secret from her human lover. She stole the fruit from the Celestial Realm as an act of desperation to save him when he became deathly ill. And while it's true that this kind of death doesn't apply to demons and angels, that illness didn't come from them -- death is very much just part of human existence. So, to say that their choices were "stolen" isn't exactly accurate in that context, because it's not either side taking anything from him but simply humans' own natural limitations.

Lilith, as an angel who had never experienced that, couldn't bear the thought of his death and decided to take drastic action to save him. But stealing the fruit for him without telling him about herself, the Celestial Realm, the fruit, and the consequences? If he had no idea about any of that and she just gave it to him, which is what it seems like happened, that is actually her making the choice for him. She might have tried to justify it to herself, and it's not even to say she was "wrong" for it, but it's still hypocritical.

Plus, if the idea was that it would return agency to humans by not letting death take away their options -- why only him and not all of humanity?

Ultimately, humans do have some level of agency. While angels and demons try to influence and manipulate them, it's sort of the whole point that humans don't actually have to listen. Solomon's thing, and it seemed like maybe Lilith's as well, was that humans should not only have the ability to follow one or the other, but to freely forge their own path as well. The kind of freedom that Lilith and Solomon sought for humans isn't really about mortality vs immortality -- it's about respecting humans as equals capable of making their own choices. And if she indeed never asked and didn't allow her lover to make his own decision about the fruit, then it was hypocritical of her to interfere.

[truearchangel]

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ"It also requires death." Michael stated, raising his gaze up to the man beside him. "And I don't mean that figuratively, if there is such a way to take it as such. Literally, if one wishes for a new afterlife, they have to die." Perhaps that sounds a bit dramatic, perhaps it seems silly to think of it so simply, but the fact is still there and it appears to be one the Princess of Hell has not considered. But one she should very much sooner rather than later. Michael has been tip toeing around the subject with her, fearful of bringing it up.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ"It makes sense, doesn't it? Once you really consider what she's doing, Alastor? Changing the place in which a soul has fallen once it has has experienced death." He took a few steps forward and crossed in front of the demon's path, getting him to stop walking so Michael could better have this conversation.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤHis legs are so long and Michael is very short.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ"Your soul is weighed upon your death and that is what dictates where you go when you die. Every action you've taken, every choice you've made, the virtues and the sins. Each action leaves a mark on your soul. And when that soul is judged it's place in the Heavenly order is decided. And all of this happens, as I said, when you die."

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤMichael doesn't have any say in that, it's all a system already in place. It's a system they've adhered to since Lucifer granted the world free will. Since death became a possibility. All souls have to have a place to go, and Hell was just where those unworthy ended up. Doomed to a fate of eternal suffering with the Fallen Angel.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ"To get an afterlife, a soul has to experience death. As long as the soul itself isn't shattered by angelic steel." Since that would be a permanent death, eradicated entirely. "Charlie's dream is ambitious, but I don't believe she's considered the ramifications and the exact nature of what she wishes to do will cost. After all, who would willingly risk a second death just to see if they could get into Heaven?" How desperate would someone have to be? Especially since recovering from death isn't an instant thing. Regeneration like that takes time.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤYou lose hundreds of years possibly all for a chance at something that might not even work.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤThere are always consequences to what sounds to good to be true.

If he understood, Alastor reasoned, then it would not be so easy to ask him to simply permit the guard to drop. No, he would be opening himself up to a brand new litany of issues, his attachment to Michael notwithstanding. But so too did he know that the angel was simply looking to breach a divide between them that seemed, perhaps at the moment, a bit insurmountable. As was always the way when one made an attempt to get in close to the radio demon.

So complex a process.

When Michael caught up once more, lamenting about the 'mood', Alastor shook his head.

"You did nothing of the sort. I am simply giving you my perspective," he said, though he did not slow his steady pace any. Michael had wanted to continue to spend time together, had he not? And once they were out of the immediate throng of cannibals wandering about in the markets, he was able to speak a bit more freely.

"Here, we are all punished. To have a belief that there will ever be anything good to be found in the act of letting someone in is to be woefully naïve. Or, at least, that is the prevailing attitude. Perhaps that is to change, now that the princess has an endeavor to teach Sinners that there is an alternative. But to change minds and hearts so quickly is impossible. It takes time, dedication, and patience."

But he did not want Michael to believe that he was immediately chastising him for the ideals he held - so he added:

"But I think you are capable of those things."

[theflagscene]

My Top 10 Fave QL Characters of 2024 🤩

More end of the years lists from me, because clearly I have nothing to do for the rest of the week... I wish I was joking. Much like my pervious lists, my only rule for this is that at least some of the series needed to air this year. It can have started in 2023 or will be ending in 2025, as long as some—or all—of the series aired this year, then it's fair game.

1 ) God - Monster Next Door

What can I say about God that hasn't already been screamed from the rooftops by literally everyone who watched the series? He was aptly nicknamed, because this gentle giant was a gift from heaven. The greenest green flag, even when mad or upset, he was still as green as a damn emerald! The sweetest golden retriever character to have graced my screen this year, I will always love this character and this series, it's become a comfort watch for me, that's for sure.

2 ) Yai - The Sign

There aren't enough sweet himbos in QLs imo, typically whilst cute but dumb, they're also mean or bigoted or just not very likable. Yai broke all of those stereotypes, he was cutest himbo around, a perfect brother, friend, bro and husband. I knew I would adore him from the very first episode and I was not wrong, he did not disappoint. Every scene Yai was in wasn't enough, I wanted so much more of Yai (and his scary beautiful wife, Sand).

3 ) Joker - Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart

Joker and his emotional support idiots might have fumbled the ball at damn near every turn, but he was absolutely adorable whilst doing it. I think it's physically impossible for me to dislike a character War plays, so me adoring Joke was not a surprise to me. A master thief who really wasn't that great at not getting caught, a hopeless romantic, mama bear and perfect grandson-in-law? What more could I have asked for?... Possibly better fake tattoos, but we can't have it all lol.

4 ) Jeff - Pit Babe

I admit with no shame whatsoever that I found Jeff to be one of the most interesting characters on the show. His powers were the ones with the farthest reaching consequences and the most difficult to live with, he was tragic in all the ways I love a character to be tragic. I really wished I could've watched a version of the series from his pov, because I feel like I would’ve fast forwarded way less lol!

5 ) Tae Myungha - Love For Love's Sake

His depressive aura bewitched me body and soul, what can I say? The fact that he tried so hard to make everyone around him feel loved, wanted and important whilst he spent his entire life feeling none of that just broke my damn heart. He was the perfectly example of: the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it's like to feel absolutely worthless and they don't want anybody to feel like that.

6 ) JJ - This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans

Poor JJ has an idiot for a bestie and a douchebag (affection) for a love interest, this dude did not have an easy time of it lol. His forever exasperated resting bitch face and constant annoyance at literally everything that came out of both Plawan and Methas's mouths made me laugh so much, JJ had absolutely no time for any of their shit and yet he was constantly dealing with their shit. The poor guy needed a vacation away from the people in his life even though he loved them, which I totally understand lol!

7 ) Aylin - 23.5

While this wasn't my favourite series, Aylin was definitely one of my favourite characters. Her autistic coded self just spoke to me, I too dislike humans to a level that I would easily take the first alien spaceship off the planet lol. Aylin was so sweet and funny, I loved the way she spoke and her lil hats! I just wanted to squish her!

8 ) Fadel - The Heart Killers

Was I expecting to go into this series loving Fadel? No. Should I have? Absolutely. I have always loved the shrew characters when it came to adaptations of The Taming of the Shrew, which is the point of the character so ya know, duh! Lol. Any series with FirstKhao in it I always assume one of them will end up being my fave because well, it's them! But Fadel is the realest of the real when it comes to the slog of daily life, his routines, his annoyance with the general population, his need to remind himself that killing people whilst working in customer service is not worth the clean up nor the prison time. Sure, he's an assassin on the weekends, but hell, who isn't working two jobs in our current economy?

9 ) Rock - Cherry Magic TH

Rock was the perfect sunshine dope of a sidekick and I loved him for it, completely oblivious yet extremely caring at the same time. A man smitten with the idea of a woman who wants to eat fatty foods, will kidnap his Phi for a super secret mission no questions asked and respects a woman's right to say no without becoming an incel about it, he really was a joy to watch. It also helped that Sing played him, because Sing is an adorable ball of sunshine and I luff him.

10 ) Tan - We Are

The first person to get his man, and so easily. It made perfect sense why Fang fell for Tan, his hyperactive sunshine energy was like an instant 'smile' button. He was so genuine with his emotions and interests, he was a simp and made no apologies for it. He loved Fang so completely and unconditionally, he did whatever he needed to make sure that Fang felt safe and cared for. Tan really raised the bar when it came to clingy boyfriends that aren’t cringy, which is a hard thing to do.