#how are you only gonna point out how Blitz's actions fuck with people and not acknowledge how Stolas's action also fuck with people

[phasesofpencils]

Honestly the more i see of HB, and the more i see of Blitz blaming, the more i become team Blitz. Fuck pretty much everyone else in this show tbh.

[thesupernaturalhouse]

So I cant.....I can't anymore, Stolas fucking sucks

Season 2 as a whole sucks and gets rid of a lot of character depth that characters had in s1. But this post isn't about that-

I was recording clips for an edit, and you know in ep9 s2 when Stolas tells Blitz about "you couldn't be bothered to come save me"

Yeah.....Blitz TOLD him why he was unable to go and save him. He was even genuinely concerned and sent milly and moxxie in his place

You wanna know what Blitz said??

"Ah shit Stolas I can't today- I'm sorry I am literally on my way to take loona in for her very important hellvis S-H-O-T" and "it takes years to book it, it took 5 for me to get this one"

Aka, a rabies shot, which, racist will immediately kill you. You DON'T survive that once you get it and symptoms start showing up, it's a death sentence, and considering Loona is basically a sentient/anthropomorphic dog, if she catches it her survival rate is probably 0 percent

And you know what? Stolas gets it, and then in ep9, "the one who tried to kill em and you couldn't be BOTHERED to come help me"

Bitch he told you?? He sent people in his place?? He was getting his kid a really important shot?? Yiu selfish motherfu-

I hate this bird

I hate this fucking bird so much more now

This is just the finale straw for me that breaks the camels back tbh like......

Apology tour is just, Stolas and the narritive/writing basically gaslighting Blitz and its gross

I liked Stolitz and Stolas in s1, it wasnt a healthy relationship. The circumstances for both characters weren't super good, but it understood that and actually showed those flaws, It set up these characters future arcs

Season 2 is, frankly, a shit show. It has its moments, but ep1 ruined Stolas and Stolitz for me, and it just keeps on getting worse and it isn't even in a way of "Oh its rough, but they can bounce back

This is gaslighting. This is hypocrisy. This is guilt tripping. This is abuse.

Instead of building off of season 1 it is retconning it, it is destroying the continuity and timeline, it's making these characters so much worse then what they were

Instead of having Stolas face actual consequences for his actions the narritive is backtracking and going "Oh actually its not his fault" over and over again

Oh he cheated in the marriage? No worries Stella is a bitch so it's okay

Oh, he's neglecting his daughter despite them already having this arc? Oh, it's fine she just needs to cut him some slack

Oh he constantly belittled Blitz and made him uncomfortable in season 1? Actually it was all of Blitzs fault for misreading the signs of love!

He is constantly shown looking down and abusing other imps like his butler? Oh its fine, they aren't the main characters so what he does to them isn't important!!

Another thing is that Blitz tells Stolas how he feels. He points out his shitty actions. And what does Stolas do? He fucking cries like Blitz is being a big ol means for no reason

This trial is just going to further victimize him and make him seem in the right. The fact the sins might even be brought into it is also so fucking stupid.

The writing went from a 8 to a 1 with the characters. And it's only a 1 here because there are some good ideas in s2.

Their basically trying to cover up, retcon, Stolas's actions instead of having him deal with consequences and go through real development

Honestly the best ending for Stolitz would be Blitz realizing Stolas is toxic as fuck to him and just, not contacting him again. Stolas could get some real consequences in that trial and move on and become better in his own right

Butttt of course since Viv likes them so much it's gonna be dragged on for fucking seasons and then their gonna get together.

If I were to rewrite the season, I wouldn't even try to rewrite Stolitz.

[jinxed-sinner]

Sometimes I completely forget that TikTok is where most Stella defenders congregate so imagine my absolute shock and horror when a post came across my FYP comparing Stella to Moxxie and Angel Dust of all characters

Actually, you know what, I'm gonna just say it here: Stella's written to be a villain because she's supposed to be a villain, not because Viv can't write women. Women can be villains and women can be perpetrators of abuse. Acting like Stella's badly written just because she's abusive takes away the reality that women like that actually exist. My mom was (allegedly) like that. Additionally, Stella takes out her anger about her and Stolas's situation out on Stolas. That's inexcusable and since it's one of her defining traits and something that's continuously shown throughout the entire show (and it's indicated that she's been like that her entire life by the way), it makes her incredibly hateable.

Let's also discuss a few of the characters that this person was comparing Stella to.

Valentino - Val is meant to be at least somewhat likeable, because it's realistic for people like him. I absolutely hate him, but I still find myself drawn to him because I love his design and he was very purposely characterized to be charismatic, which is why he has fans.

Alastor - Alastor has morals. If he didn't, Husk wouldn't be in the show. He'd be wherever souls go after Alastor tears them apart. I firmly believe there can be nuance to murder (for example, self-defense), and I genuinely think that there's more nuance to Alastor's killings than just "he killed just because" because Alastor doesn't even attack people without reason. Additionally, even if he was outright abusive (which he's not, fight me), he's incredibly charismatic and likable. Alastor is far from the worst person in the Hellaverse.

Angel Dust - Angel’s an addict who was born into a mafia family and is a victim of trafficking and uses drugs and sex to cope with his situation, and he's prone to lashing out because of it. There's an entire episode breaking this down. If you genuinely think Angel’s a piece of shit please go rewatch Masquerade, I'm begging you

Moxxie - Moxxie was also born into a mafia family. He got into trouble, ended up in jail, and met Blitz, and they started IMP. It's worth noting that it's implied that IMP started as a freelance assassin business that did business exclusively in Hell; Blitz mentions that they don't do jobs in Hell anymore, only in the human world. These jobs are entirely vengeance based (sinner gets to Hell and hires IMP to take care of whoever killed them).

Adam and Lute - Adam and Lute are just a fun duo to watch, and Adam's funny to watch on his own. I absolutely adore their dynamic. That doesn't mean I don't acknowledge their role in a literal genocide; I can like them without condoning their actions.

Something Vivziepop does incredibly well is create characters that make you feel incredibly torn (and I know for me personally, both Val and Vox are good examples of this; I absolutely despise them both, but they're an absolute joy to watch. As a result I'm constantly flipping between "God I hate them" and "god I love them" because I hate them as people but love them as villains). That's the whole point of pretty much every character brought into the "Stella's so universally hated but there are these characters in both Helluva AND Hazbin who are so much worse!" argument.

Stella is written to be a hateable character. She has no redeeming qualities. Val at least has charisma and a funny dynamic with Vox and Velvette. Stella just makes you hate it when she shows up on screen. It doesn't make her any worse-written of a villain and it doesn't mean Viv can't write women. It shows, if anything, that Viv has a lot of range in how she writes villains.

This isn't to say people don't make fair points about Stella. She's a victim of an unfair system who was put into an unfair situation, but so was Stolas. Stella has absolutely no fucking reason to be taking her anger about her situation out on Stolas to the point of hiring an assassin to kill him.

Stella isn't defendable. Comparing her to characters like Val isn't fair because Val is written to be likeable, Stella isn't. Stop excusing Stella's abuse of Stolas (and some of that is implied to be sexual by the way) with "Viv can't write women" lol

[starryy-leo]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR APOLOGY TOUR UNDER THE CUT, GOTTA YAP GUYS

I very strongly feel for Blitz throughout this entire episode, although I of course still sympathize for Stolas as well. It is an extremely complex, and well written miscommunication trope, where both are in the wrong and in the right for different reasons. Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore my boy Stolas, but I want to talk about Blitz :3

All jokes aside, you can see throughout the episode how badly Blitz felt about what he did to Stolas the previous night, it’s clear in his face and expressions and desperations. I’m not good at examining characters and talking about their actions in depth, but when it’s this obvious, it’s easy to explain.

One, the beginning of the episode, Blitz was trying to get through to Stolas in his own way (now don’t get me wrong, it was very brash and unconsensual, I am not defending his actions here), and he even says in a flare of built up emotions that he is sorry, and for why he’s sorry. But of course, the moment he realized the feelings are too complicated and he’s being vulnerable, he goes back to being a huge dick to Stolas (props to him by the way, he has all right to be acting this way to Blitz and be hurt).

Then to make himself feel better, he goes on “an apology tour” (yippie episode name spotted!!!), apologizing to everyone he wronged. Little side note so funny that the two women from the first episode ended up gayass lovers/flings, good for them. Anyways, after all of his halfassed, meaningless apologies, and two trips to the human for for the Bishops and Ceurubs (I have no idea how that is gonna play out), he finally makes it to the “I Hate Blitzø” party.

There is so much to unpack during the second half, but I do want to point out that Stolas has been completely decent to Blitz’s name this whole time at that party. He never spoke ill of him, arguably not even that bad in the song (WHICH WAS AMAZING BY THE WAY, ABSOLUTELY STUNNING)! Stolas is just genuinely trying to cope with all the complicated feelings and situations Blitz has put him in.

Back to Blitz, as he’s wandering the party throwing out even worse halfassed apologies to people he passes, he hides his looks and tries to watch Stolas when he sees him, and. Man. During that song, you can see the pain in his eyes and face, the complete guilt washing over him as he realizes truly all he’s done to him, and everyone else he fucked with romantically. He genuinely feels guilt, remorse, and seems to want to make it better, even. Maybe, wishful thinking. But then he follows Stolas, who is very drunk by the way, and tries to actually talk to him, have a genuine conversation. Stolas doesn’t even seem mad to see him! More shocked and a bit appalled if anything, but not upset. He only gets upset when Blitz accidentally acts like a dick again, but he still listens. And Blitz may have been as open as he may ever get until who knows when, openly saying out loud that he doesn’t understand how a prince like Stolas could ever love an imp, like Blitz. And I feel like that’s so much growth from him in the rest of the episode from this point, you can tell he is now genuinely trying to make amends, comfort Stolas. During the part where Stolas is explaining that all he’s ever wanted is to just feel wanted, romantically, “to be someone’s someone”, Blitz reaches out! He tries to comfort him, but something stops him, makes him hesitate for too long and panic, giving off the impression that he still doesn’t genuinely care. But he does, and it’s so obvious that he cares for Stolas.

When that succubus asks Stolas to dance, Blitz lets it happen, because he was listening, and he wants Stolas to feel good. He lets him be happy without him, as he wants him to be happy at his own side. Even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet, I think he may want Stolas the same way he does him.

Then there’s the Verosika scene, which was amazingly put through. We get insight onto her thoughts and feeling about Blitz, and even a small slip up that may indicate that she still loves Blitz after everything. And that they’re more similar then as it seemed originally. I’m glad they could sort of make up, even if not on horrible terms, and that whole conversation they had definitely made Blitz realize he doesn’t want to be the way he is. He doesn’t want to be that way forever, and seeing Stolas so happy with that Succubus on the dance floor, and how everyone is so hurt by his actions and finding companionship and comfort from it? It gives him such a huge reality check, and I can’t wait for the next episode in October. I have a feeling things are only going to get better.

Hoping and praying that things turn out well for Blitz and Stolas, even if they don’t end up together, they just deserve someone that understands them. And yes I would love if they could be that for eachother, they’re still at this point toxic for eachother. They need to figure themselves out and sort through their problems and traumas before they try and get back together.

(A little note, sorry if my mumble jumble rambling doesn’t make sense or follow any path, I tired, and I’m no good at analysis’s like this lol. I know I missed a lot of important quotes and stuff but I’ve been typing forever and just want to send it out, hopefully you enjoyed reading ^^)

[ec2003]

The Reason Why Vivziepop Should Owe Up To Her Mistakes And Reasons Why I'm Defending Her

Viv' makes characters have ongoing insecurities and Blitz (one of the few) has been trying to connect to those he hurt, so why can't Viv do the same if she doesn't want anybody attacking her? I believe she's the same as Blitz. NO matter how much she tried to make herself feel better she still makes things worse by coping and, to me, is afraid of being alone and wrong. She was bullied when she was 17. I do feel sad for her, but still doesn't excuse her from being an asshole at times and I believe she was being taken advantage of. You don't have to agree with me, and it's understandable since everyone has different opinions, but despite her own flaws as a human being, I support her projects and yes, I'm a Vivziepop fan, but doesn't mean I can't criticize her. I don't think she came from a "rich white Latina girl" background either since she's known to criticize rich folks in Helluva Boss (despite having celebs), I believe she doesn't know how to socialize with people and change because she's too caught up in her own problems. Now, I respect people for their own shapes and sizes 100%, but I believe the reason why Viv's a bit fat in recent years is because she puts so much stress over herself. She should just have someone take over Twitter for her. As much as she frustrates me, I can't help it but feel sad for her. I've been in the same situation where I pushed people away with my own problems. As for being racist, I don't think that Viv was racist with the voodoo thing and was just being arrogant just because it seemed "edgy" and "cooler". As for being transphobic, I'm not gonna defend her on that one, yeah, she was being an asshole. I'm straight and have friends that are LGBTQ. Another thing I wanna point out is that she also has ADHD and before everyone argues, it's not an excuse for her actions, but I believe it's also part of the reason why she can't write at times and she has a hard time listening. As for CP on Zoophobia when it came to Addison and the teacher (since Addison is 17 and Gustav is 19), I'm gonna defend Viv on this one. Viv was born in Maryland and the age of consent in Maryland is 16 if you did your research. So, Viv was obeying the law, even if it doesn't feel right. As for ep 4, I at first thought they weren't gonna treat SA as a serious subject because at times, it's used for comedy and Viv does have this problem where it's only serious because she likes to pick favorites. Despite her hiring a fetish artist to be a storyboard artist in which I don't see a problem with that but she should still fire Raph for harassing a 15 year old, it was actually good. Here is the reason why I'm defending it. It's not perfect, but when watching this episode, I don't see it as Husk trying to tell Angel that his abuse doesn't matter and that he should suck it up. He called him a loser because Angel is coping with his feelings and made up a persona to hide from the fact that he is being abused in order to save himself considering that Valentino took advantage of him. Now, yeah, that did sounded fucked up for calling him a loser, but I believe that Husk wasn't comparing his situation to Angel which is way worse than Husk's, he doesn't want Angel to end up in a situation Husk was in because they both have been taking advantage of. The rape scenes are meant to be graphic and as for Viv adding a warning screen, in Amazon Prime, it will say Rated 18+ for drug use, sexual abuse, and so on. Only one episode was for 18 and up. You guys don't have to like Viv and I'm very sorry for those that were hurt, and obviously she deserves some of it, but I still don't want her to go down this path because I still see her as a human being. If I did encounter her in real life, I would really want to help her when the cameras are not rolling in hopes that she'll become a better person. It worked well with my friends, so maybe I can do the same with her. She inspired me to be an independent animator so in return, I make her feel better.

[bugwolfsstuff]

Alright i've met Loki again in the book, and this time he has been named and eating poptarts.

I am still not retracting my statement. Loki is a fucking delight and i love how he's attempting to teach Magnus how to pronounce....Odin's throne that i am not gonna spell.

I would have a poptart if Loki offered! And I don't even like Poptarts

Huh i find it interesting how his smile fades when Samirah getting kicked out and he compliments her.

Also is it just me or does the tone of the scene shift slightly here? Loki gets slightly less jokey. He gets into explaining whats going on.

The only thing that i really care about on this page is this line:

"Yes, but that was the gods' choice, not mine."

There's an emphasis on the gods for that part and i know that Loki is apparently the big bad in this series (god dam it Rick, you did this with Gaia, stop villanising gods that could be really good symphathetic characters) but that line makes me think.

Does he —or did he, like at this point i feel like they have it coming— not want to kill the gods? Was it a self fufilling prophecy like i think in the actual mythos?

One part of me is hopeful he ends up like Luke in Pjo and is a...slightly sympathetic villain who you could understand his motives but not excuse the actions (well i can excuse Loki wanting to kill these gods)

But on one hand its Rick Riordian.

Gods i hope they address just what—or more who the ropes/chains are made of.

Also again Loki is giving him a choice here? Seriously how is that dude evil? Loki has genuine reasons that he'd want Ragnorok to come because in Ragnorok most if not all of his children are free (except Nafi/Nari, it seems him and Loki are very close right now lol)

Also SAM'S MOM!

--------

And skip to page 192 with my girl Sam and Blitz and Hearth.

Also i kinda wanna know what jokes people tell her about that lol

I am on page 192 currently so we shall see if my thoughts on Loki will persist by the end of this book.

[bonetownresident]

Bone, whatre your thoughts in apology tour? I don't know if it's ever been brought up but I'd like to know and wonder whether that'll be brought up in the fic

Good episode. Nice to see Stolas take some independence for himself.

I do think on a personal level its almost comical the level to which Blitz keeps fumbling, even if I think he's got a couple valid points.

The man manages to go the distance if only to say the wrong damn thing and the worst damn time.

Stolas meanwhile is figuring himself out, and he fucking NEEDS THAT. I think him meeting people and making mistakes, this late in life, is kinda just the "I found out I was gay late in life" experience.

Like he's gotta learn all the 'rules' of dating and get into that sappy love that most people get to spend their teens doing, but this man has a child at home and a full-on mansion.

Blitz needs to take a step back and make some assessments of how he does things, and rather than spend all his time moping he needs to make real discernible action to not push people away so damn much. Even if he DOESN'T end up with Stolas (which let's be real, Viv is gonna make that shit happen no matter what), Blitz needs to do that for his own sake.

Like he's not a bad guy (by hell standards), just an impulsive and insufferable one at times.

But if you want to know how I'm going to use it personally, well I'm using Blitz' tendencies and general approach to handling adversity to inform myself of how to write him.

Which means if you expect him and Cosmo to come to some kinda menage a trois agreement with Stolas, well I wouldn't count on it.

[whenrockwasyoung19]

As a historian, I really want to do a piece on how 9/11 has been commemorated and how it’s been remembered by the people who lived through it and the generation that came up after. So I need to see 9/11 memes so I can determine what jokes about 9/11 are deemed acceptable by society, if any, and which ones are purely tasteless.

Having lived through that time, and remember the South Park era of comedy, I saw a lot of 9/11 jokes in the years after the attacks. They were tasteless then but laughing at them felt cathartic in a way. We’d all been through this collective trauma, and laughing at some shitty jokes was a way of coping with that trauma. But were these jokes tasteless? Probably.

I feel like as we get further away from the event, our memory of it gets more and more distorted. I think for a lot of people who weren’t there and don’t share that collective trauma they can be more cynical about it than the people that were. What do I mean by cynicism? This refers to a couple of trends I see in 9/11 discourse. The first is tasteless jokes, usually in the form of memes. The second is discourse that usually makes a lot of (false) comparisons between 9/11 and some other tragedy. This can be a comparison between some military mission performed by the US military or a natural disaster and most recently the pandemic. The emphasis in these comparisons is that 9/11 wasn’t that bad actually OR what America has done in retribution for 9/11 is worse than the original act itself. The latter point isn’t necessarily wrong but using a tragic event in which thousands of people lost their lives to do it, while an effective rhetorical strategy, can also come off as cynical and disrespectful to the people who survived it or lost family members. I feel like the best way to make that argument is to emphasize how horrible 9/11 was but explain that what the military did in response was perhaps even more destructive and cost more lives. I think deemphasizing how bad 9/11 was or just using it to make a political argument can read as disrespectful and not enough people find that tricky balance between political argument and disrespect.

As for the but such and such was worse, those people can shut up. Like I can entertain conversations about the actions of the US government and military in response to 9/11 because those are conversations worth having. This sort of cynical worldview doesn’t actually yield effective discourse. It essentially posits that because more people died in say a hurricane or an Earthquake that that event was a bigger tragedy. But as a historian, I can tell you that historians don’t claim that something is more significant or even more tragic or less tragic just because at some point in history a worse thing happened. Like as a historians were more aware than most how many bad things have happened in history, so there is no point in comparing all the tragic things to all of the other tragic things like some kind of mad web. Like there is no point in comparing a natural disaster to a terrorist attack because they are in no way similar other than the fact that innocent people died. They are far more dissimilar than similar, and comparing to disparate events that may not have even happened around the same time doesn’t make any sense. What points of comparison are we drawing and to what end? What does that really tell us about the society we’re living in or were living in during the time of these events? So just the business of comparing tragedies is a pointless endeavor but it also posits that the only thing that measures how tragic something is is it’s death toll and that’s not true. 9/11 is a tragedy not just because innocent people died but because of how meaningless their deaths were. They were caught in the crossfires of a conflict that these random office workers, flight attendants, flight passengers, and first responders had nothing to do with. An ongoing struggle between the East and the West, the dynamics between the most powerful nation on Earth and tiny subsections of a massive global religion has nothing to do with these people who died and yet they lost their lives anyway. Now that is true of any civilian attacks. But that’s the thing: there have been far worse civilian attacks in history, even some conducted by the US military (the Dresden bombings come to mind) but that’s kind of the problem with drawing comparisons. I can’t really say if the Dresden bombings and the Blitz were worse than 9/11. It simply doesn’t feel like my place to say to someone that suffered that your tragedy is actually smaller or less significant than this other tragedy that happened some other time. They are all hugely significant in their own ways, they are all tragedies, and they should all be remembered and discussed with reverence.

I do feel that a lot of the comparisons between 9/11 and some other tragedy come from this place of “why does the US make such a big deal about 9/11 and not xyz tragedy?” And this is a valid question but not all of the answers come down to “the US doesn’t care about xyz tragedy” or “the US only cares about itself!” So let’s go through some reasons why the anniversary of 9/11 is so widely covered. Firstly, it happened on our soil. Countries are always going to honor things that happened to them. It’s just a thing. If it affected the people in that country, then yeah they’re gonna go on and on about it. Secondly, it happened 20 years ago so it’s still in very recent living memory. Most people alive on the planet have vivid memories of that day, so most people still remember what that day felt like and want to honor the victims and commemorate it. Thirdly, all the cynical reasons. Yes the US is less concerned about anything else that’s happened outside of our borders. What happened to us matters more to anyone else. No this isn’t great but I’m just reporting the state of things. And yes, the US is selective about what it remembers and what it doesn’t, and the government has a history of struggling to acknowledge the bad things America has done. And lastly, America never really stopped being overly nationalistic like a lot of other countries did after the rise of fascism scared them out of ever doing that shit again. America just maintains its nationalism. Maybe one day it’ll have a more nuanced perspective of itself like other countries do but we’ll see. So yeah there are a lot of reasons why the US makes a big fucking deal about this day and will forever and not all of them are bad or reason to criticize.

Ok now to acknowledge the memes. God any time I tell kids not to make memes about 9/11 I feel like a grandma. I mean I could go on and on about how it’s disrespectful but the people making them know this and don’t care. I guess I’m more interested in understanding why people make memes about a national tragedy. I think it has to do with how 9/11 has been remembered which is largely clouded by all of the political and military stuff that happened as a result of it. For people who learned about 9/11 years after it happened, they didn’t experience these events in real time. For those of us who lived through it, we didn’t know all that was going to transpire because of it. On that day, all we really knew was that thousands of people were dead and more were going to die in the conflicts that would result from it. We didn’t know that the wars would last decades or how pointless it would all be in the end. We had no idea how shitty George Bush was or how incompetent his administration was. We definitely had no idea that Trump was coming. So for a lot of us, we can separate the mess that happened because of the attacks from our memories of the attacks. It’s so much easier for us to think only about the events of that day because we were there. We have specific memories of it which we can latch onto rather than just thinking about news footage or events that came later.

And the cynicism that people feel is somewhat earned. The attacks obviously spurned two decades of Islamaphobia as well as countless military attacks in the Middle East. For a lot of young people, they feel like they’re supporting Muslims or standing against Islamaphobia by disrespecting an event that prompted so much Islamaphobia. And I get that. But also that’s not the way to do show your support or take a stand. Keep in mind that the people who died that day had no idea what they were dying for. Most in their last moments probably didn’t even know it was a terrorist attack. The American people didn’t even realize the first plane was an attack. So it doesn’t really make sense to disrespect their memory when it’s not their fault that their deaths resulted in so much pain and suffering for the Muslim diaspora. Disrespect the people who were openly Islamaphobic after the attacks, criticize the American government for their actions in the Middle East. But not the people who had no control how their deaths were remembered or used by politicians, military leaders, white nationalists, and other racists to attack Muslim people.

As a historian, it’s my job to try to apply a historical context to people’s actions. A lot of people have done this to observe why people responded to the attacks the way they did. Now I want to use it to understand why so many young people feel at best indifferent to the events of that day and at worst resentful and disrespectful towards ur

[g-on-ef]

Hey I was wondering if you're still a fan of Helluva Boss and what you thought of the latest episode?

@megashadowdragon asked: have you watched helluva boss episode 6 which came out today ( if you were unaware) what are your thoughts

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It warms my heart to know you guys ask for my opinion ^^ now let's get down to business

WARNING THIS REVIEW WILL BE A NEGATIVE ONE WIT A HINT OF POSITIVITY THESE ARE MY THOUGHTS AND OPINIONS ON THE EPISODE YOU DONT HAVE TO AGREE WIT THEM BUT DONT WASTE MY TIME WIT YOUR NEED TO ATTACK ME FOR HAVING THOUGHTS OF MY OWN YOU HAVE BEEN WARN

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To answer both questions yes I still watch Helluva Boss however after their latest episode I think I will just stick to writing fanfiction about Blitz and Striker as well as stick to whatever content the fandom creates.

This episode if Imma be honest with you guys was not worth the wait, hell I was literally tempted to leave the episode as it just didn’t have my attention as the others.

The episode had some decent moments where I was chuckling a little but other than that I wasn’t that into it, to be honest the bad out weigh the good. 

Also I wanna add that a while ago I wrote how Vivzipop and her crew did not know how to handle complex characters or complex scenes and I was right, this show and their crew do not know how to handle mature topics without reducing them into a joke but we are getting ahead of ourselves so let’s start with the pros, the cons, and everything in between.

Let’s start of with the pros,

Loona knowing when Blitz was being serious was a nice touch, it showed that even if Loona acts like she doesn’t care about Blitz she actually pays attention to him and knows when he is being serious and when he is joking around.

Moxxie was the true MVP his interaction with the agents had me smiling as well enjoying his moments.

Blitz protecting Moxxie

STRIKER !!!! I am a simp for this imp and I’ll take whatever crumbs I can get to see him ^^

Verosika, Fitzorallia, love them, love them 

And that’s it...to be honest that’s it...like other than that that’s basically all that I like from that episode...

Now let’s get into the rest of this episode...

Okay was anyone other than me confused as to why they decided now was a good time to introduce the agents so late in the game?

Like at this point I am convinced that Vivizie and her crew are just winging it.

The agents were literally thrown in the show and it felt outta the blue, like I said it feels like Vivizie and her crew don’t know what they are doing and are just throwing things together like they could’ve given us hints that the agents were watching them, or give us a hint that they were being spied on, it didn’t even have to be big it could have just been small.

An example would be from my favorite book series Cirque Du Freak, in the first book Mr. Crepsely (a main character in the book) mentions something small that will become huge in later books, it was small but allowed the reader to be curious it gave the reader that something big was coming and we should be prepared.

Like I said it was a small hint but I left me curious and wanting to read more to find out more about what is going on.

Helluva boss didn’t do that it just threw this new idea and new characters without giving the others to grow.

If they gave us a hint that they were being watched it wouldn’t have felt like that idea came outta nowhere.

Also was I the only one that was uncomfortable with the way Blitz kept making jokes about the agent’s dead mom? I’m sorry but that was just wrong on soooo many levels.

Also with the truth serum thing...why did they use it if they weren’t even gonna get answers like again this came outta nowhere because the truth serum was supposed to make them speak the truth not look like they were tripping on acid. On less I missed something please let me now if I did.

Also to be honest the whole confession thing was once again treated like a joke, especially when Blitz asked Moxxie why he let Millie peg him, ummm...an emotional scene like that shouldn’t have jokes of any kind surrounding it, especially when it was supposed to be a heartfull moment.

Now Blitz ... okay Blitz and his vision was a little decent but I also didn’t like it.  A lot of people had their speculation especially with the Stolas scene but the more I look at it the more I see it as a bittersweet moment.

Revealing that he was afraid of intamacy wasn’t that big of a surprised since we already knew that like it was nice for conformation.

Okay now onto the Sto*itz moment in the song ... like I said this was bittersweet moment,

People interpet the scene as how Blitz is afraid to love Stolas others saw it as Blitz was still chained to Stolas and would only be free if he and Stolas talk it out and another mentioned how he was forever chained to Stolas and how toxic the relationship between the two is.

Honestly I viewed it as how Blitz will be forever trapped in situations like this were he is to afraid to love someone or love himself and unless he comes to terms with his own demons he’ll forever be trapped in an endless cycle of pain and misery.

Now onto why I think that that Vivizie and her crew can’t handle mature themes.

Two characters have just had a revelation about their relationship with one another and instead of being honest with each other it gets turned into a joke...again...

Moxxie told Blitz what he felt and Blitz told him he treats him like shit cause its tough love...da freak ??? You just had a moment where you realized you pushed everyone away because you were afraid to be alone so you rather push everyone away so you have an excuse to let them leave and instead of admitting to that you just tell Moxxie it was all tough love.

Not to mentioned that you’re giving compliments and than tell him your done because your out of compliments...again you had a huge revelation and instead of giving the characters time to digest what they went through you just toss it to the side. 

Another thing that pissed me off was how right after a huge moment you throw in a fight scene...I...why...just why ???

You had an emotional scene (that had no build up) but than throw it to the side for a fight scene that shouldn’t have been added at all.

Like the minute Millie and Loona saved them they should’ve opened up a portal and take them away not waste time on fighting only for them to get caught in the end.

Like I literally feel like they wasted all that time on animation than on writing and planning what they wanted from this.

Like again they had an emotional connection/scene and threw it to the side for some fight scenes which was a disappointment because had Loona and Millie saved them  and take them home Blitz could’ve had some major character development and the four of them could have a heartfelt scene admitting everything that bothers them and help them get closer. 

Nope, they decided to just throw a fight scene why I don’t know but it bothers me how they just tossed an emotional scene for some action scenes.

So yeah I am not happy with how that was handle at all.

Let’s also get to the Loona and Millie scenes...Millie crying for Moxxie once again made no sense as we never seen Millie care for Moxxie, hell she cares more for Blitz than Moxxie which is fucked up.

Hell when Moxxie was being critizied by her parents she didn’t do much to defend him hell Sally Mae was more honest with him than Millie.

Honestly Millie feels like she is being written by twenty different people who don’t know what they want from her.

And Loona, Loona could seriously be written outta the episode and nothing would changed.

Also they truly refused to let their characters grow seriously Moxxie was still treated like shit by Blitz in the end so yeah no character growth at all.

And now onto the last scene with Stolas and Blitz ... holy shit man Imma be honest with you guys Stolas asking for sex after saving them feels fucked up, to me it felt like the only reasons he saved the imps is so that he doesn’t get in trouble and for Blitz to reward him for saving them.

Again they could’ve had Stolas saving them and they could have had a heart to heart moment nope we had to toss all that emotional build up (if one can call it that) and toss it to the side for cheap jokes and a horny owl.

needless to say I was beyond disappointed with this episode and with the way they handle the “saddest” scene in the episode I am scared to see how they will handle the other scenes.

AGAIN I honestly don’t see why this episode took so long and I feel like Vivzie and her crew are more focus on the animation than anything else which sucks because this show has so much potential and it is being thrown to the side for pretty designs and shipping moments. 

Anywhore that’s my thought on this show let me know what you guys think ^^

~GoNEF out ^^

[argylemnwrites]

Unbelievable

Pairing: Seth Levine x MC (Jessica Parker)

Book: Red Carpet Diaries (around Chapter 11 of Book 2)

Word Count: ~2900

Rating: PG-13 (language, innuendo)

Summary: Watching football for the first time with Jessica during the playoffs is an interesting experience for Seth

Author’s Note: As some of you may know, I don’t really self-insert with my MCs, but I usually share one or two traits with them. Well, Jessica Parker and I share a love of football passed down from our fathers. Since she comes from Iowa, and they don’t have a NFL team there, she had three real options for her team pulling from the surrounding area - the Green Bay Packers, the Chicago Bears, and the Minnesota Vikings. Naturally, I selected my own love, the Vikings, for her.

This is written for my Choices Big Game Blitz event. It doesn’t feature the Superbowl, but it does feature one of the more exciting playoff games in recent history.

Seth had known Jessica was a Minnesota Vikings fan, at least in theory. On Sundays this fall, he’d seen her in a Vikings t-shirt or an Adrian Peterson jersey. But he’d never watched a game with her, at least until today.

Truth be told, he never really cared about football. Maybe it was a side effect of growing up just outside of Cincinnati and therefore having to root for the Bengals, but Caleb was a pretty avid OSU fan, so there went that theory. At the end of the day, sports weren’t really Seth’s thing. With what he knew about Jessica, he’d assumed they weren’t really hers either.

But it turned out, football was very much Jessica’s thing. He had thought it was a little strange when she said she couldn’t go to the movies with him because of the playoffs. Seth had wanted to actually go out together, now that her faux-mance with Chadley was over and she wouldn’t get chewed out if they were spotted together too often. Jessica instead invited him over to her new penthouse to watch the game. Seth had figured the game would kind of be on in the background while they talked, or maybe even fooled around a bit. That theory went out the window when she didn’t even get off the couch to great him, just threw up a hand in a vague wave as she kept her eyes glued on her television.

“You missed kickoff. The Saints went three and out, but it’s still the Vike’s opening drive,” she said, barely acknowledging him when he kissed her on the cheek as he sat next to her on the couch. From that point on, Seth wasn’t even sure that she remembered he was there half the time. Basically anything she said was directed at the people on the TV, whether it be the coaches, the players, or the announcers, all of whom she referred to by name, like they were her close personal friends or her mortal enemies. It didn’t take long for Seth to learn that Mike Zimmer was a genius, Sean Payton was a smug asshole, and Joe Buck and Troy Aikmen were just the worst. It was only during the commercials that she would chat with him, but she mainly seemed to want to discuss the most recent plays, and as soon as the game was back on, her head snapped back to the TV, her attention completely focused on her favorite team.

Seth understood the basics of the game, run versus pass, how downs worked, turnovers, most of the penalties, that sort of thing, but after the first couple of drives, it was clear that he had almost nothing he could add to the conversation. Jessica was naming both offensive and defensive schemes, talking about things like “the slant” or a “double A gap” like those words were supposed to mean something to Seth. Meanwhile, the only player on the field he had heard of before today was Drew Brees, and he certainly wasn’t going to try to talk to her about the man she had just referred to as a “little punk ass ponzi scheme shill.” And that description was polite compared to the way she talked about the Saints coach, dropping more swear words in one description of him than he had heard her say the entire rest of the time he’d known her. So instead of saying something that would put him in the hot seat, he just watched along with her, going to grab them new beers or some more snacks from her kitchen every so often. 

If was kind of fun, seeing this completely different side of her. She was loud, energized, and vibrant. Normally he was the one who would geek out about things, whether it be old-school B-movies, obscure video games, or TV shows with a niche cult following. But after the first quarter, it was clear that Jessica was a football nerd. The only thing he’d ever seen her close to this passionate about before was film, and that was her line of work. She was yelling at the Saints players whenever they committed penalties and dancing when the Vikings scored, and even Seth found himself cheering and exchanging high fives with her, her energy infectious. He quickly learned to keep his beer in his right hand, far away from Jessica, after she nearly knocked it to the ground when she went wild after one of the Vikings players picked off Brees.

She was in a great mood going into halftime. The Vikings were up 17 to 0 and their defense, which Jessica seemed to love way more than the offense, had two interceptions and a couple of sacks already. But after halftime, Seth felt the energy in the room start to shift. The Vikings offense stalled, the Saints scored a touchdown, and then Case Keenum, the Vikings’ quarterback threw a bad interception. Jessica’s good mood was quickly evaporating with the Viking’s lead. By the start of the fourth quarter, she was twisting her hands around each other in her lap and chewing on her lip.

“Damn it,” she muttered, when one of the Viking’s players got pulled for an injury evaluation in that goofy looking blue tent on the sideline. “Not Rhodes. Shit.” Seth was going to ask her why losing that particular player was such a bad thing, but then the Saints scored again, bringing the score to 14-17, and Jessica let off a string of curses, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Hey, they still have the lead,” said Seth, placing a hand on her back, trying to be reassuring, but Jessica just shook her head, rolling her shoulders slightly. She clearly didn’t want him touching her right now.

“You don’t understand. The Vikings always choke. Always. They are gonna piss this away. We have a chance at a home Superbowl, and we’re gonna choke away a three score lead at home.”

Jessica’s prediction turned out to be right. The Vikings added a field goal, but then the Saints blocked a punt, something Seth didn’t even know a team could do, and turned that good field position into another touchdown. The Saints had the lead by one, and he thought Jessica was going to lose her mind. Her hands kept clutching at her cheeks and temples between plays, fingers twining together during the action. All the fun and joy of the first half was gone, replaced by pure anxiety and frustration. It was uncomfortable even sitting next to her. Seth wanted to tell her that it was just a game, but he was pretty sure that would get him kicked out of her apartment, if not straight up dumped on the spot, so he kept his mouth shut, praying that the Vikings might still pull off the win. He didn’t know how bad Jessica would be after a loss, but he was pretty sure it would ruin their entire night. 

Just when Seth thought it couldn’t get worse, the one announcer said, “I know Vikings fans don’t wanna see this, and they’ll blame me,” before showing a highlight package of Vikings missed field goal attempts from playoff games in years past.

“And those are just the kicks,” added the other announcer, “I mean, they’ve had some other devastating losses over the years in other ways.” 

“Oh just rub it in, you fuckers. Fucking Joe Buck and Troy Aikmen,” she growled. Before Seth could think of anything to say to her that would have any chance of calming her down, one of the wide receivers for the Vikings, Seth thought it might be Adam Thielen, made an impressive catch, and Jessica swung from annoyed anger to pure joy in a nanosecond, jumping off the couch and letting out a massive cheer. She stayed on her feet for the rest of the drive, holding her breath as she watched the Vikings kicker make a pretty long field goal to take a two point lead.

Seth thought Jessica would be overjoyed that her team was back on top, but she seemed stressed as ever when she sat back down.

“Uhh, not to bother you, but shouldn’t you be happier that your team has the lead?” Seth asked during the commercial break.

Jessica shook her head, “There’s too much time left on the clock and all they have to do is get to the 35 yard line or so. A field goal wins it.”

“But the announcers keep talking about how the Vikings are the best defense in the league.”

“Not this half, they aren’t.”

All Seth could do was sit there and watch as Jessica became more and more agitated as her prediction proved eerily accurate. When the Saints kicker drilled a field goal through with 25 seconds left on the clock, he dropped his hand to her knee.

“I knew it, I just knew it,” she moaned, dropping her face into her hands. “It’s over. One and done again.”

Seth knew better than to point out there was still time left on the clock. Even he knew that 25 seconds was not a lot of time to score.

The drive was off to a bad start when the Vikings got a penalty right away, but then they picked up about 20 yards on one play. Before Seth could even mention that maybe her team had a chance, Jessica was talking.

“Fuck, over the center of the field. Damn it, now we don’t have a time out left for the field goal even if we can manage to get into range. The Saints are just gonna cover the damn sidelines.”

The next play was an incomplete pass that left 14 seconds on the clock. As the Saints called a timeout, Seth’s mind started racing, trying to come up with the right thing to say when that clock ticked down to zero.

“Offer to get drunk with her. Or curse out the Saints and call them cheaters, she seems to do that often. No, just hug her. Don’t say anything. There’s not going to be anything she wants to hear from you.”

“And now ten seconds remain,” called out the announcer after another incomplete pass, “in what could be a heartbreaking loss for the Vikings, and a thrilling come-from-behind win from the Saints. Winner goes to Philly.”

Seth could tell Jessica’s heart was racing. As much as she claimed this was over, he knew part of her was still hoping for a miracle. Hell, even he felt nervous, and prior to today, he didn’t think he’d ever even seen a Vikings game. As the Vikings lined up and snapped the ball, he braced himself for the next play or two which would inevitably seal this as a loss. Case Keenum launched the ball into the air.

“Keenum steps into it,” said the announcer, “pass is CAUGHT! DIGGS! SIDELINE! TOUCHDOWN! UNBELIEVABLE! VIKINGS WIN IT!”

Seth watched in awe as a Vikings player not only came down with the ball, but somehow wasn’t tackled by any Saints player. Instead, he sprinted down the sideline and into the endzone as the clock hit zero, throwing his helmet off and holding his arms out in celebration to the crowd. It’s how he would have written the ending in a sports movie, but it was happening in real life. 

Jessica had somehow vaulted over her coffee table and was shrieking almost inhuman noises as she fell to her knees in front of her television. Seth, meanwhile felt glued to his spot on the couch, his jaw hung open in absolute shock as he watched the stadium turn to absolute pandemonium on the screen, fans going wild, players running all over the field, and the player who made that spectacular catch, Stefon Diggs, being completely mobbed in the endzone. He was pretty sure Prince’s Let’s Go Crazy was playing at the stadium, but it was hard to make out between the cheers from the television and the insane shrieks coming from Jessica.

A loud buzzing noise attracted Seth’s attention. He glanced down and saw Jessica’s phone, lit up with “Dad” glowing across the screen.

“Jessica?” he said, standing up and holding out her phone, “It’s your dad.”

Jessica climbed across her coffee table, knocking over a bowl a tortilla chips in the process, grabbing her phone with one hand and flinging herself at Seth with the other, nearly tackling him to the couch with her enthusiasm. She clung to him as she swiped to answer her phone, her hand visibly shaking.

“Ahh, Dad!” she screamed into her phone, nearly painful for Seth as she was dangerously close to his ear, “I know!... I KNOW!... I thought so, too!... YES!...Yeah, I know!...Skol!”

As she began to recount the game with her dad, she unglued herself from Seth, sitting on the floor in front of her TV and watching the chaos and excitement unfold at the stadium. Seth couldn’t help it, the whole thing was so surreal that he just started laughing lightly. Things like this just didn’t happen outside of movies. Figuring that Jessica was going to be caught up in this excitement for a while, Seth grabbed the trash can from the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess of chips that Jessica had knocked everywhere. 

He had just about cleaned up all the scattered chips when he heard Jessica say “Oh, wow,” before she went silent. Seth glanced up he saw Case Keenum, a hero of a quarterback now, leading the entire stadium in the Vikings’ “Skol” chant. He sank onto the couch, watching in awe as the camera pulled back. He got chills, and it wasn’t even his team.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll let you go, Dad.... Yeah, I love you, too.” Jessica said before setting down her phone and joining Seth on the couch, curling her legs up underneath her body. “Can you believe it?” she asked, shaking his shoulder lightly.

“No,” he replied with a chuckle, “Why did they have another play there?” he asked, gesturing to the TV. After the cheer, Keenum had lined up and taken one more snap before kneeling down. Seth would have thought the game was over with the insane touchdown.

“They still had to either attempt an extra point or and two-point conversion after the touchdown,” she explained, “Diggs scored at the end of regulation, so it wasn’t sudden death or anything.”

“Why didn’t they just kick the extra point? Why kneel it?”

“Don’t want to risk a blocked kick that the Saints could try and run back or any injuries.”

“Interesting,” he said, nodding slightly. It was a lot more enjoyable watching the game with someone who would actually explain the little details to him

“Thanks for cleaning up, by the way,” she said, gesturing to the coffee table.

“Of course, Iowa.”

“So, I’m gonna need you here next Sunday evening. You are clearly some sort of good luck charm.”

“Oh, I see how it is. All I am is some human prop your football team,” Seth said dramatically, flinging his head back against the top of her couch in mock indignation.

Jessica grinned down at him, “Why else would I want you around? Seriously, though. You should come over next week.”

“Sure, why not? I managed to survive this game with you; I can probably handle another.”

“Oh no,” said Jessica, drawing her hand to her mouth, “Was I really that bad?”

Seth laughed, “Come on, you have to know what you’re like when you watch football.”

“I don’t know, I always watched with my dad growing up. I didn’t think we were too crazy.”

He just continued to chuckle, watching Jessica clearly attempt to remember her actions over the past three hours, “Let’s just say that I’m pretty sure this afternoon was the equivalent of about 32 major life events. There was joy, despair, worry, frustration, anger, excitement-” he listed, holding up his fingers as he started counting off emotions in jest, but Jessica cut him off with a kiss.

“I’m sorry I was so nutty,” she said as she pulled away.

“Nah. It’s fine, Iowa. Like I said, it was like going through a bunch of life’s ups and downs all back to back. It’s kind of nice getting a little preview of what the hell I’m apparently getting myself into.”

Jessica swatted him playfully, swinging her leg over his lap and straddling him. “There was one emotion I notice you didn’t list,” she said into his ear, grinding down against him.

“Seriously? Football turns you on?”

“No, the Vikings winning turns me on,” she replied, working her lips across his jaw, “Come on, Seth. Don’t you want to celebrate with me?”

Groaning, Seth turned his head, capturing Jessica’s lips in a heated kiss, sliding his hands under her jersey and tugging it over her head. “I think I can definitely get on board with this whole football thing,” he said between kisses. Jessica laughed, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he stood up and made his way toward her bedroom, ready to start their own private victory celebration.

Permatag: @speedyoperarascalparty​  @mfackenthal​  @lilyofchoices​  @thequeenofcronuts​  @jamesashtonisbae​  

Red Carpet Diaries: @octobereighth​  

Seth x MC only: @choicesarehard​​

[texanredrose]

Hey there ! Apparently you like video-games (or at least Smash), so what's your favourite one ?

Hookay, so… I know this is going to get long, so adding a Read More, but the short answer is: I don’t have a clear cut favorite, but some of my favorites include such well known properties as Mass Effect and lesser known ones like Sudeki. I’m not some gaming guru but I definitely have some Opinions™ about video games.

Favorite First Person Shooter: Halo: Reach. Generally, I don’t ask for much in my FPS; let me kill shit and the less I have to reload, the better. However, Halo: Reach, being at the time the 4th game in the franchise that served as the prequel to the entire series, provided an excellent story with great characters and an underlying message about the indomitable human soul.

Favorite Real Time Strategy: Halo Wars. Okay, yes, another entry from the same franchise, but!!! This one also has some fantastic characters and a great storyline, even if it’s… somewhat confusing when considering the bigger narrative (Halo in general is just messy af and retconned-but-not all to hell anyway). Still, it’s a fun, mostly intuitive RTS, which is notoriously difficult on consoles.

Favorite Horror Game: Resident Evil. Listen, this game came out when I was seven, and my Uncle let me play it to fuck with me. Nothing will be scary than those early PS1 graphics, the loading screen a constant tease of ‘what’s behind this door? Is it death? It’s probably death!’ that got me good. Fear Factor comes a close second, as though it wasn’t much of a horror game, the game mechanic of your character’s rising stress level kept me on the fucking edge.

Favorite Final Fantasy: Final Fantasy X. Listen. I don’t care how awkward Tidus’ laugh was. I don’t even mind how passive Yuna was. Blitzball was amazing and I have forgiven all sins. No, seriously, I loved the cast in FFX, much like other FF games, and Seymour was a villain I enjoyed hating with every fiber of my being, and even some of the mini games were fun, too. But Blitzball could’ve been a standalone game and I would’ve bought it. Still would.

Favorite JRPG: Sudeki. If you didn’t get a chance to play this on the original XBOX, you missed out. The characters were fun, if a bit goofy, and the high fantasy mixed with science fiction was a nice touch. What really sold me, though, was the AI. Not only could you switch between different available characters in the middle of a fight- very easily and very intuitively- but the AI actually behaved very well, saving my ass more than a time or two. In most games, AI are either cannon fodder, immortal, or require close attention/precise manipulation of their preset actions. Not in Sudeki; some fights, I could actually stand back and let my party do their work, and that was immensely gratifying. Yeah, the ending was a bit of a let down, but it didn’t erase how much fun I had with the rest of the game.

Favorite Super Smash Brothers: Super Smash Brothers Melee. Don’t get me wrong, I love a lot of the elements in the sequels but SSBM was the version I played most heavily with friends, so I have the most fond memories of it. Plus, it was before they changed Link’s moveset, which I’m still high key upset about. (I don’t like the new bombs or his new down attack.)

Favorite Series: Mass Effect. Now, one might expect Halo to be my favorite series, seeing as two of the games are some of my all time favorites, but… nah. When you take out the multiplayer element, the Halo games didn’t have much left. Yes, they had a galaxy spanning conflict with twists and turns but, honestly, Mass Effect did it better, with better world building and exploration, and a lot of interactive features that I enjoyed. From what I played of Andromeda, (long after it released, so no weird bugs yet), it continued to build on the foundation of the original trilogy, though I would’ve preferred to stay in the Milky Way, and Ryder can’t hold a candle to Shepard. Still, even what issues I have with the series (LET ME ROMANCE KROGANS, DAMNIT) don’t detract from the excellent story, fun gameplay, and intriguing mystery.

Favorite Elder Scrolls: … okay, I actually don’t like any of them, tbh. And??? I’m not sure why??? I actively can’t stand Skyrim.

Favorite Soulsborne: There is only Dark Souls, and it’s the pinnacle of ‘I don’t need my brain for this’ for me. It’s just… run around and kill things. Nothing matters. I think the main difference between this and Skyrim is the way the player character moves. ES games look so… silly. At least Dark Souls looks silly for a reason.

Favorite Sports Game: NCAA 2007. I’d rather play as a college team than a professional one. Although, NFL Blitz comes a very close second, purely because it gave no fucks and only barely qualifies as a sports game.

Favorite ‘Oh Fuck’ Game: It’s a tie between Minecraft and ARK: Survival Evolved. And you’re asking ‘how are those two in the same category’ and the answer is ‘because the only difference between the two for me is, which is going to kill me, lava or a raptor?’ and don’t ask how I die to these two things with equal frequency. More to the point, I usually play these games with friends, and thus my ‘oh fuck’ moments are witnessed by others, or I witness their ‘oh fuck’ moments. Sometimes they’re funny, sometimes they’re sad, but they leave an impact and, hey, that’s fucking impressive.

Favorite Pokemon Game: Blue Version. Yeah, it’s a bit of a cop out, but the original game I got back when Pokemon first came over to the States actually taught me a life lesson: that it is possible to play a game wrong, which is what I was doing. So, I started over, and I was much happier for it! No matter what features are added to the franchise, I don’t think I’ll ever gain such an important life lesson from one again, so it’s gonna stay at the top of the list.

Favorite Chill Game: Any Harvest Moon. Let me tend my farm. (I haven’t had a chance to play Stardew Valley, which is basically Harvest Moon but gay, so that’ll probably take the top spot once I get a chance to play it.)

Favorite Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Although there are some aspects of Majora’s Mask I liked better, OoT had fishing. Yes, that’s honestly my favorite part of the game. I love fishing in video games. Don’t judge me.

Favorite Team Game: Overwatch. Love the character designs and gameplay. Witch!Mercy still owns my soul.

Favorite Battle Royale: Apex Legends. For some reason, one of the few ‘competitive’ games that doesn’t spark my frustration when I lose. Dunno why, it’s just fun. Lightning rounds are great, too!

Favorite Hack-n-Slash: Brutal Legends. Heavy metal, axes, and guitars- everything from the aesthetic to the gameplay is fun and the story is interesting as well. The RTS portion can get a bit annoying but, other than that, no complaints here.

Favorite Fable: Fable III. I endorse any game that allows me to woo as many people as I can find who are attracted to me. Let me have as many spouses as I want, one in each city. I will marry half the kingdom, damnit, just watch me. 

Those are the ones I can think of off the top of my head. I know I’m missing some but I’ve sunk perhaps hundreds of hours into the games listed, so, yeah.

[alleywraith]

Don’t You Say It!

It was nearby footsteps, not the knock on the cabin door or the voice that woke him up. "Vash, we are almost to the area, the captain asked for you topside".

The red haired Miqo'te sighed as he quickly wiped sleep from his eyes. Jobs like this were such a pain in the ass, and he had hoped to keep clear of them. After all he had a job working at the Red Lantern now, and he rather enjoyed things there. For a brief moment a smell hit him, familiar perfume that made him actually long to be back home. Green eyes narrowed slightly, nostalgia was not a usual feeling for him, nor was longing like this. Another sigh escaped his lips as he stood up and grabbed his weapon's belt and his jacket. Ahh…yeah the same jacket he had used to cover her up the other night when she fell asleep downstairs at the Lantern, that was where the smell came from.

In short order he was up on the deck of the airship, cool wind whipped by as they made good time to their destination in the Sea of Clouds, carefully hugging the floating islands to keep a low profile. Limsan born, but Vash was not fond of the ocean, but he did enjoy being up in the sky, the freedom was just as exhilarating as the dangers. "Yo, V'shen, how much longer?"

The shorter Seeker gave him a look like she was going to kick him, and she might very well do that because it was just her usual attitude. "It's 'Captain' out here Vash. And it won't be long now, our lookout spotted contrails already so we are certain to be in position to strike. And thankfully there are not Ishgardian ships in the area either."

"That's good, I dunno how well they would take us hunting a stolen ship instead of reporting it."

She flashed the taller Seeker a grin. "Not just a stolen ship, a stolen Imperial ship. Gotta admit, that makes this a helluva lot more fun."

Vash snorted and crossed his arms as he flashed her a smirk. "Oh and I am certain it is the thrill of the hunt, and not the prospect of getting all that loot that you are enjoying more."

V'shen opened her mouth to make a retort when over her ship's pearl she heard the lookout call that they had sighted the Imperial vessel to the northwest. "Damn they added some speed." Scowling now she broadcast ship wide. "Bring us into the ambush point, cannons and ballista make ready! Boarding teams prepare for action!"

It was controlled chaos now and Vash stayed back out of the way as he waited for things to really cook off. And cook off they did, the medium sized Garlean transport entered a narrow pass between two of the floating islands and soon found itself raked by cannon fire before heavy thuds announced the arrival of massive ballista bolts attached to chains which were in turn attached to winches on V'shen's ship. At least they could thank the Ishgardians for that idea.

Of course the other ship returned fire, to include two reapers that had been posted on the top deck of the transport. The ships shelled each other as the winches whined and began working their magic, slowly bringing the ships closer together. V'shen was not out to destroy the pilfered Garlean vessel, no profit in that, instead she had instructed her gunners to take out the weapons aboard their prey. A salvo blasted one of the reapers so hard that the magitek armor just vanished in a cloud of fire, smoke, and shrapnel. Already the pirates aboard the transport were forming ranks to repel boarders, they knew what was coming their way.

And they were not disappointed as the gap between the vessels closed to mere fulms and V'shen's men began to grapple aboard. Vash was in motion now, leaping aboard with the rest and drawing his long knives as soon as his feet touched the deck. What ensued was a bloody affair as the transport crew became overwhelmed and lost the upper deck in mere moments. Vash moved separate from the other boarders now, taking to what shadows he could find and heading down to the engine room.

The enemy crew was no push-overs despite being outnumbered and Vash learned that the hard way as soon as he set foot in his goal. BANG! A shot rang out, the round just barely missing him, and sending the Seeker diving for cover as more shots followed suit. Someone had been watching the entry very carefully.

"You'll never get our prize!"

"Uh… yeah we will!" Honestly, why did try to banter in the middle of a fight? Even more so when it gave them away. Vash smiled as he palmed two metal orbs depressing a button on each one before rolling them toward the voice. Right away he covered his ears.

A shrill whistle lashed out from those devices and it almost covered up the sudden sound of someone hurling up everything in their stomach. A less lethal device, courtesy of a buddy of Vash's. Vash had been prepared all along and as soon as the shrill died down he uncovered his ears and pulled the wool he had stuff in them on the way here.

A quick peek revealed that the other man was still retching up everything and Vash moved in to strike. Was it madness, or determination that decided Puke Boy's next actions? Regardless he thought the best reaction the approaching Miqo'te was to discharge his gun again…into a very important looking part of the engine. "She's not gonna be yours now!"

Vash wanted to facepalm over the man's defiance, but there was little time now as already alarms were going off. Instead he kicked the man's face as hard as one would a blitz ball, sending the fellow sprawling onto his back. From there it was a simple matter for Vash to plunge a blade into the man's heart to end his interference. And then it was back into a full sprint to the top deck, yelling as he went along, "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"

Now it was true chaos as both V'shen's crew and the transport crew all tried to get to the boarding lines. Vash knew that he had to try and change the outcome of this increasingly poor situation, and so against his better judgement, or the thought process of most sane people, he altered course for the control room. Thankfully there were no pirates in the room so he could get to work without being interrupted, except for the yelling in his ear as V'shen tried to get her men clear.

Vash knew only a little of piloting an airship, having secretly taken one of the Lantern's vessels out with Kylar to learn. It would be a good way to impress someone one day. And of course Garleans had to make things so damn complicated! Still he worked furiously at the controls, to try and save the vessel from smashing down into what was far below the Sea of Clouds. Not smashing into an island would be nice too. The sound of twisting metal and ripping wood drew his attention next, out the viewport he saw the ballista bolts starting to tear up the deck of the ship, thankfully at that moment V'shen had her crew release the chains, her vessel would not get dragged down.

"Vash, where are you?!"

"I'm earning my Captaincy!"

"Wha…you idiot that is not how this works!"

He could not help but smirk to himself as he tried to pilot the vessel. "Look we all need this sorta intact! Now stop yelling at me, it is distracting."

Aboard her ship the small woman paced, her tail lashing. "This is not entitle you to a larger cut. And if you die I am not hunting down the owner of that perfume to tell her you were a hero or something."

Of course she would notice it…price of doing business with other Miqo'te. "You better not call me something like that. I have a reputation to uphold." Gritting his teeth he worked the controls hard to adjust the attitude of the falling vessel and steer toward port just a bit. He could not totally save the ship, even he knew that. The only thing that was left was to crash it as "softly" as possible.

The shuddering impact came, metal screeching along stone as the airship cut a swath along the large floating island that Vash had chosen as a landing site, it was sorta a landing. He held on with all he had and applied what little reverse thrust the wounded beast could muster. Out the window he saw the deck of the ship flexing and starting to buckle, sheets of metal peeling back and leaving a trail behind the transport. Thankfully there was a very large spire of rock sticking up and the prow of the ship smashed into it, finally halting the forward momentum. Unfortunately that sent Vash flying forward to smash into that viewport hard enough that it cracked.

V'shen had her ship down near the transport in moments, just in time to see a grease covered Seeker man emerge from the wreck, blood trickling down from a cut in his scalp. "Vash…you look like shit."

"Yeah ya know, any crash you can walk away from and all that." He jerked his thumb back toward the wreck. “And by the way, I get dibs on what is in the captain’s cabin, it’s on fair since I rode a fucking crashing airship down to safety.”

“Yeah yeah, okay that is fair enough.”

One of V'shen's men stopped to look at the guy that had just crashed an airship in a way to leave it mostly intact, and to walk out mostly unharmed. "That got to be the best pir…"

"Don't you fucking say it!" Vash already had a throwing knife in hand.

[kiruuuuu]

More Montagne/Bandit in which Monty discovers he actually enjoys being Bandit’s rope bunny. (Rating E, nothing but explicit sex, ~6k words) - written for @kapcan because I love you 💖 and also for Bandit himself seeing as it’s his birthday today!

The other parts can be found in my Masterpost! (Mobile version here)

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“We can start light”, Bandit suggests, out of breath, in between toe-curling kisses. They’re more intense than usual because it’s the first time they’re alone since Montagne came back and so he treasures every little touch, commits each detail to memory. After welcoming him with entirely too few kisses and hugs at the airport and refusing to let go of his hand while he was greeted warmly by teammates and colleagues alike, both of them sighed happily once they finally arrived back in Montagne’s room, alone and undisturbed. A short glance later, Bandit jumped into his arms, Montagne stumbled to the bed with him, fell on top of it – and making out is pretty much all they’ve done since then, Montagne covering Bandit with his large body and pressing him into the mattress but neither of them is complaining.

“What does that mean?”, Montagne murmurs against his lips. They’re like teenagers who finally confessed to each other, frantically snogging and yet hesitating to go a step further. No clothes have been discarded so far, they’re dry humping and pawing at each other but apart from that it’s surprisingly chaste. Hands card through hair, lips find their counterpart again and again and tongues wrestle now and then, leaving behind an almost electrical feeling in Bandit’s limbs.

“I can just start out by -” He trails off when teeth pull on his earlobe. It’s getting harder and harder to think, especially because he’s been waiting so long to finally hold this man in his arms that all the things he wanted to do to him are wiped off his brain. A moan escapes him upon Montagne sucking a bruise onto his skin right above his collarbone and he loses his train of thought completely, wonders why he’d ever suggest anything other than just letting this happen, having Montagne wash over him and carry him away to mind-numbing pleasure, writhe on his cock and groan into his mouth.

“Yes?”

The request for him to keep talking is decidedly mischievous and he can feel the smirk against his own mouth. Montagne is getting cheeky and with how much power he holds over Bandit he’ll probably end up allowing him anything. Still, he scrapes together the last of his countenance and picks up again: “I can just tie part of your arms.” He’s interrupted by another scorching kiss and chases soft lips when they withdraw to allow him to keep talking. “And if you like it, we can keep going. If not, we’ll stop. Start easy. No commitment.”

His lover considers it a while, pushing one of his hands into Bandit’s clothes, strokes over his chest and hipbones and finally nods. “Alright. We can try.” And though he seems hesitant, he adds a sincere: “I trust you.”

Bandit is smitten. When they discussed the topic, Montagne mentioned not being comfortable handing over that much control so Bandit had largely given up hope, and yet he now apparently feels safe enough with him of all people to give it a shot nonetheless. For a few seconds, he just blinks and stares up at the source of all these emotions inside him, devotedly and like an idiot, until the quiet resolve in Montagne’s face gives way to amusement.

“I don’t have any rope here”, he states and no, of course he doesn’t. But the hand splayed over his ribs is weighing Bandit down, leaving his only option to not move a muscle and continue gazing lovingly into blue eyes. Montagne chuckles and rearranges their bodies, seemingly satisfied with how pliant Bandit is, before he rises, lifting the other man with him. Bandit ends up pressed against the door by a large body around which his limbs are wrapped, snogged breathless and thinking we should try this position sometime. “How about you go and get some?”

As usual, his mouth is faster than his brain: “I’ve been trying to get some this entire time.” To his relief, Montagne just laughs good-naturedly and puts him down, which is a solid move as Bandit probably would’ve clung to him forever if allowed. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” Despite his words, he lingers, eyes locked with Montagne’s, and a few seconds later his tongue is down his lover’s throat once more and hands are kneading his ass while his own stray to the front of Montagne’s trousers. He’s so primed he fears he could come literally just from blowing him and thinking about it certainly doesn’t help, holy hell, his desire is like static in his head, all-encompassing and drowning out everything else.

Without even noticing, he’s undressed Montagne to the point where he can easily pull his erection out – so of course he does. His eyes are closed in bliss, preventing him from marvelling at the sight, but the heavy weight of it in his palm is enough to make his head spin already. “If you’re too impatient, we can postpone it”, Montagne suggests softly and looks like he wants to add something but his breath hitches when fingers encircle his shaft. He’s unusually receptive to Bandit’s touches as well, courtesy of the prolonged absence, and therefore reacts with small thrusts into the tight fist, each robbing Bandit further of his sanity. His only option is to break the kiss yet even this doesn’t save him as Montagne latches onto his neck immediately and reciprocates the touch, rubs over the bulge in Bandit’s jeans. Now they’re both straining towards the delicious friction, desperate moans clawing their way out of Bandit’s throat as he basically humps Montagne’s hand and dear God he won’t be table to take this much longer.

“Stop, stop”, he whispers, panicked, “no, stop, I’m gonna come, I’m -” A whimper escapes him when the stimulation ceases and he loosens his grip around the hot flesh before he actually ends up hurting Montagne. He’s panting and shuddering, his abdomen tensing up with the spikes of pleasure threatening to push him over the edge entirely too quickly. His lover gives a last nip to his jaw and straightens up with a curious, inquisitive expression. “Remember the time we – you know, on the phone?” He feels the need to explain himself because even the embarrassing first time Montagne got him off, he didn’t have a hair-trigger quite like this. A nod. “I didn’t – I haven’t jerked off since then.”

Montagne’s eyebrows rise, visibly intrigued. Experimentally, he pushes the heel of his hand against the head of Bandit’s extremely sensitive erection, making him mewl, hold his wrist in place and grind against him before any of his actions have even registered in his mind. “Are you sure I can’t just… take my time a little?”

“No. I’ll literally die”, Bandit protests breathlessly and sways unsteadily as soon as the hand disappears again. “Fuck. I’ll go get the rope. You can undress already if you want.”

“Why don’t you help me with it instead?”

Fucking cheeky. Bandit throws him a dark look and escapes out into the hallway, where it’s safe and where there are no ridiculously attractive Frenchmen who make him question his entire existence. He probably looks as dishevelled as he feels, his hair sticking up in all directions, clothes rumpled and askew, not to mention the tent in his jeans.

Which is probably why Blitz is studying him with a shit eating grin on his face. Why does he have to be creeping around here right now? “Forgot something?”, he asks innocently.

Under normal circumstances, Bandit would reply with something along the lines of yeah, the reason why I shouldn’t beat you up, but all his muddled brain can muster up is: “Fuck off.”

Blitz just laughs and keeps walking without further comment which probably also stems from his wish to not hear anything more about Bandit’s love life. He should use this in the future, maybe disclose a few details and watch him squirm in discomfort. Still – right now, he’d rather watch someone else squirm, and so he quickly dashes to his room, thankfully not meeting anyone else on the way, and hurries back as soon as he got what he came for. Hastily, he slips back into Montagne’s room, shuts out the rest of the world once more and stops in his tracks as soon as he throws a glance at the bed.

Because the sight is delectable. Montagne did, in fact, rid himself of all his clothes, and is now stretched out on the mattress, perfectly on display: the one hand behind his head shows off his muscles, the other is lazily toying with his dick, and the knowing smile on his face is merely the cherry on top. He looks magnificent. Bandit swoons and wonders when this happened, when Montagne became this confident in his own appearance around him where he was almost skittish in the beginning, clearly worrying about the physical aspect of their relationship – whereas Bandit admired him straightaway, worshipped his body whenever possible, dipped his hand into every valley, splayed it over each ridge and wondered how he’d come to deserve touching this man at all.

“That’s a lot of rope”, Montagne states and yes, it is, in his enthusiasm Bandit basically just grabbed his entire stash, in his head preparing a long list of excuses should he have run into another colleague on the way. I’ll have to go discipline a bunny was the first thing coming to mind and he’s extremely glad he didn’t meet anyone else.

“Well yeah. You’re -”, his eyes glide further down, attracted by the slow movement centred on Montagne’s lower half, “… big.”

“Come here, Dom.” As asked, he walks over, drops the various restraints next to the enticing naked body and straddles his lover, humming into another deep kiss as he’s greeted by Montagne sitting up and embracing him. His arousal which had calmed a little returns full force – Montagne’s warm skin is just as addicting as his clever tongue and by the time they finally take a break to pull his t-shirt off, his heart is desperately trying to beat its way out of his ribcage. Montagne is just so fucking captivating. “So how does this work?”, the Frenchman wants to know and quite unfairly doesn’t look like the act of not drooling all over his partner required any effort from him. As opposed to Bandit.

“Huh?” He’s too busy covering the side of Montagne’s neck with impressively dark lovebites to even pay any attention to the repeated clarification but once his brain catches up, he remembers he’s meant to be doing something else entirely. “Oh. Oh. Yes. I’ll explain, but you need to stop – stop it. Don’t touch me. No -” And the next thing coming from his lips is a whine as the tip of a tongue swirls around one of his nipples, wiping his brain once again. For a time span which is decidedly too long, Montagne just sucks and laps at it, guiding the aimless movements of Bandit’s hips with his hands so he finds no friction and smiles at the frustrated noises Bandit produces endlessly.

Eventually, Bandit is fed up with the teasing and pries Montagne off of him with herculean effort while his weeping erection mourns the lost contact. “Okay. If you -” He takes a deep breath and swats his lover’s hands away decisively. “No. If you feel uneasy or start hurting, let me know and I’ll untie you immediately. If you want to stop, tell me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Montagne’s smile is unwavering and shines at him with the light of a thousand suns. “I never am around you”, he says and if Bandit wasn’t so amazingly horny, his heart would melt. It still does, but his cock twitches as well and since when are compliments a turn-on for him?

Wait. Are they?

“Really?”, he prompts just to test his theory – he doesn’t like fishing for compliments normally but in this case, it’s necessary.

“Yes. You’re either very attentive or extremely responsive when we have sex. It’s lovely. I’m not used to it to this extent.”

A convincingly large part of Bandit simply wants him to curl up on Montagne’s chest, purr and let him shower him with praise whereas another part – just as big – demands for him to roll over, have Montagne dick him down and keep whispering compliments into his ear as he moans and holds on for dear life. It’s just… neither of those options are part of the plan, a plan which apparently includes him discovering he has a praise kink. “I’m – I’m just going to tie your wrists now”, he mumbles and reaches for a short, soft cotton rope without much give. He stretches Montagne’s arms out above his head and has to lean over him to reach his wrists, meaning Montagne gets the chance to leave butterfly kisses all over his neck and shoulder. Absence certainly made both their hearts grow fonder seeing as how desperate both of them are for any kind of caress. They’re aware of it, too, smiling into the exaggerated gestures of affection but neither of them is complaining.

Once he’s done, Bandit sits back up and lets his fingertips trail over his lover’s chest distractedly while asking: “How is it?”

Montagne tests the restraints curiously before a strange look flits over his face. He fights the rope once more, wiggles the rest of his body a bit and then fixes Bandit with a determined gaze. “Do more.”

He feels his eyebrows rise in disbelief. “D-do – are you sure?” Montagne just nods but he seems serious, so Bandit doesn’t question him. “Alright. Just your ankles?” He senses hesitation and forces his voice to stay even: “Or do you want me to go all the way?”

They look at each other, Montagne thoughtful and Bandit holding his breath in anticipation. He’s always been partial to rope, likes the feel of it gliding through his fingers, learned as many different types of knots as he could and amassed a collection not currently with him but well cared for regardless – whether it’s him or someone else getting tied up normally doesn’t matter to him too much though he did develop a strong preference to being in control over the past few years. With Montagne, however, he’d gladly let him string him up, suspend him, anything.

Still, getting the chance to do all this to the large man below him instead is more than enticing. So when he eventually nods, Bandit feels a rush of desire sweep him up and carry him away. Wordlessly, he chooses a relatively elastic cord, slides off of Montagne’s lap and motions for him to sit up. Once he’s done so, shaking hands begin to deftly wrap the pristine white material around his broad chest, forming a pattern and looping through the wrist restraints, forcing Montagne to bend his arms backwards and keep his immobile hands behind the back of his neck. No more rope is added to his arms but plenty makes its way down his ribs and even below his navel, which is when Bandit gently pushes him back into a flat position.

He works quickly and practised, his nervousness vanishing after a while due to the familiarity and because Montagne is quietly accepting all he’s doing. He’s watching raptly, eyes focused on Bandit’s fingers and threatening to undo his confidence despite him being in the zone now, solely concentrating on keeping the rope tight enough so it doesn’t slip but loose enough as to not restrict breathing or cut into skin.

But now he’s stopped. And instead of continuing, he’s staring at Montagne’s cock, thick and hard, leaking impressively and jumping under his gaze. It’s unbelievably inviting and Bandit can feel his mouth watering, fingers twitching towards it and the urge to do something, anything to it is overwhelming for a second. What he told Montagne was the truth, he didn’t wank himself to completion for a week but that doesn’t mean he didn’t touch himself at all – and right now he’s regretting all of it fiercely since it comes crashing down at once, all the times he stopped just before, all the times he used his fingers without laying a single one on his dick, all of it makes him want viciously.

Normally – especially if it’s the first time tying someone up – he goes slow, maybe just brings his partner off after teasing them a little; normally, he’d take his time with Montagne, test whether he’s ticklish anywhere, let him get used to the feeling of being completely at his mercy and reassure him a bit. But right now, all he wants is this magnificent huge cock to be inside him.

Impatiently, he finishes his task, ties Montagne’s ankles to the respective thigh so his legs are bent as much as possible and then parts his knees, pushes them out of the way until his lover is spread-eagled before him. It’s a view for the Gods, oddly tasteful and yet so enthralling and sinful that Bandit’s head is starting to feel encased in honey again. Almost elegant. Definitely more than fucking hot though. For a brief moment, the vision of taking his lover in this position, making him writhe crosses his mind and punches all the air out of his lungs.

He catches Montagne staring at him with wide, excited eyes and registers something he’s noticed yet not fully understood before: he’s enjoying this. Immensely so, if his rock hard erection and blissful expression are anything to go by and the realisation of what it means hits him out of nowhere. They’ll probably do this again.

“I have to blindfold you”, his mouth informs Montagne before his brain is even aware of this necessity but it’s as if all his inner workings are being openly displayed on his face and he’s not used to feeling this vulnerable when he’s the one who can still move freely.

“But I like looking at you.” He’s pouting a little, utilising the only weapon he has left, and Bandit can’t bring himself to explain that it’s exactly why he has to make eye contact impossible. He’s so weak for this man and thus it pains him to dig up one of his ties and wrap it around his head, hide his piercing gaze. Now he’s free to ogle him, in all his glory, powerless, at Bandit’s mercy. It’s titillating.

“Fuck”, he breathes and grabs yet another rope, unceremoniously wrapping it around the base of Montagne’s cock as well as his scrotum, careful not to trap any of the loose skin, before tying a simple knot. “Is this okay? Can you breathe? Does anything hurt?” Despite his words being directed at Montagne himself, he’s transfixed by the hard erection jutting towards the sky, jumping at every tiny touch, the head wet and even thicker than usual.

“No, it’s all good”, Montagne replies huskily and groans when Bandit experimentally runs his fingers along his shaft. “It’s – it feels strange. But not bad. I’d still prefer being able to see you.”

Bandit ignores the last comment and fetches the lube, all his patience worn thin by now. He wants him and he wants him now, and if he won’t be able to sit the next few days, then so be it. Without any further ado, he pours a large amount directly onto Montagne’s dick, making him wince from the cold, and slicks it up with a few strokes. With the blood trapped inside, it’s definitely bigger than normal. He’ll have to go slow.

However, as soon as he starts climbing on top of the other man, he’s met with protest: “Wait, Dom, what are you doing? You’re not -”

“I’m so fucking ready”, Bandit growls in response and gets comfortable straddling him before sinking down so the tip of Montagne’s cock lines up with his hole. With one hand, he steadies the shaft and uses the other to pre-emptively silence his lover by putting it over his mouth, stopping him from objecting further. Yes, he’s done this before, thank you, and he knows exactly just how much he can take. When the head touches his ring of muscle, he pauses, consciously relaxes and tentatively grinds against it, spreading the lube and turning possible friction into a smooth, promising slide.

He’s been waiting for this forever – or that’s what it feels like because two weeks might as well have been forever – so he’s impatient, rocks into the dick and feels his mouth fall open the moment it enters him. Montagne’s legs twitch and he struggles against the hand over his lips but Bandit is adamant about this, he’s going to take him without preparation and without being told off for it. Sinking lower agonisingly slowly, he notices a faint burn which only serves to heighten his pleasure, sharpens the sensations to an edge cutting into his mind. He really is here right now and so is Montagne who allowed him to string him up and is moaning into his palm with every centimetre Bandit lowers himself further.

It’s not like he hasn’t done this before though admittedly, most of his previous partners weren’t quite as large as Montagne, and so he takes his time, pauses now and then to make a feeble attempt at catching his breath but mostly focuses on the hot flesh inside him on which he’s impaling himself. The ropes dig into his own skin, especially the ones wrapped around Montagne’s thighs, very close to his crotch, and the feel of them is merely a welcome addition to all the desire pooling low in Bandit’s belly. The slide goes on endlessly, there’s still more cock to take in even though he feels so full already, so he stops for the moment, panting and suppressing the urge to just start bouncing because as enticing as the idea is, it’s also very bad. Like this, he gets to appreciate Montagne fully though, and the sensation is brilliant and elating, the flesh inside him burning hot and what he can see of Montagne’s face is twisted in pleasure.

He takes away his hand to steady himself on Montagne’s chest and smiles a bit at the big gulps of air he immediately takes. The Frenchman looks oddly lost like this, unable to see but acutely aware of what’s happening regardless, unable to move but instead able to feel keenly. “Am I hurting you?”, he gasps.

“No”, Bandit lies – he doesn’t think he could explain that the vague pain is a more than welcome addition to the pulsing pleasure inside him. “You feel great.” His own member is protesting, demanding attention but he ignores it for now, reaches back and strokes over Montagne’s balls, massages them gently and moans when the large dick inside him throbs in return. In making it twitch, he ensures it hits all the right spots which further transform the residual discomfort into white hot desire, so he brushes the fingers of his other hand over a nipple peeking out from between white strings and feels his abs flutter when the pure need in him intensifies once more.

“Does that feel good?”, Montagne wants to know and receives his answer in the form of a throaty moan after a particularly vicious twitch which undoubtedly incentivises him to do it on purpose. Because that’s what he starts doing. Bandit is seeing stars by now, eager to outlast him by pinching the nipple between his digits and beginning with tentative movements spanning no more than a few centimetres but which feel monumental nonetheless. He fails spectacularly, ending up sprawled on top of Montagne, mewing helplessly into his ear and grinding into him. The head keeps rubbing right over his prostate and pushes against it with each throb and Bandit is fucking gone, hasn’t been this braindead and utterly controlled by physical sensations in a long while and feels like he could come any second now.

Oh. Wait. He can, actually. He’s done it before, suffered profusely at Montagne’s mercy several times in which he tried to cause a hands free climax and was successful in some of them. And not only does it feel bloody amazing, Montagne gets this smug little grin afterwards which Bandit so loves.

With effort, he forces himself to sit back up and move his hips which is easier said than done, especially when he feels as high as he does now, but he manages a steady rhythm after a few initial problems of having to adjust their position, not hitting the right angle and simply being too paralysed by roaring desire. Sliding up and down Montagne’s cock is addicting by itself already, but when he switches to lifting his entire body and not just rolling his hips against him, a high-pitched whine escapes him. Oh, this is it. This is perfect.

His fingers claw at the ropes criss-crossing over Montagne’s upper body and eventually hold on to them, using them as support while he fucks himself on the thick shaft, and the way his lover’s breath hitches and his ribcage rises and falls under his palms reminds him of the latent power sleeping in the warm body below him; a power currently contained yet tangible nonetheless. He’s beautiful, sweat on his brow, upper arms tensing now and then, legs trembling the faster Bandit moves – his position probably stopped being comfortable a while ago and still he carries Bandit without complaint, remains tied up for his pleasure and allows quiet groans to leave his parted lips.

The pleasure inside is building steadily and Bandit is now slamming his hips down against Montagne’s, desperate to reach a much needed orgasm but loath to touch himself. A litany of half-curses and helpless whimpering accompanies the slap of skin on skin, of skin on rope, and he can feel it coming, approaching at a snail’s pace but approaching nonetheless, he just needs to keep going, keep up this mind-numbing rhythm as he pulls on Montagne’s restraints – and that’s when he notices the other man tensing up. And thinks oh no you won’t.

“Don’t come”, he hisses, “oh my God, don’t you dare, don’t fucking come!” The noise erupting from Montagne speaks of desperation and powerlessness and pushes Bandit even further towards the edge because he can tell his lover is also close, so incredibly close but holding back now for his sake. He grits his teeth and switches to a slower speed and deeper thrusts, allows Montagne’s cock to bottom out fully and rises until he feels the ridge of the head stretching him. Bandit is thorough, relishes the long slide and gasps whenever the tip brushes his sweet spot. At this point, he’s been at it for entirely too long, his muscles are protesting, he knows his hands are going to be numb afterwards and he might regret this the next day but he’s right there, and that’s all that counts.

Montagne is biting his lip and baring his throat, muscles flexing prettily as he forces himself away from the edge with visible exertion, he looks so fucking good and it’s all just for him. All of this is just for Bandit.

He comes with a helpless cry, the air in his lungs knocked out by the force of it. His orgasm is violent, starts as an extreme spike of pleasure in his midsection and explodes into a full body experience, curling his toes and his fingers, making him bury Montagne deep inside him just to feel him in his entirety. Bandit shudders with every small movement, riding it out gingerly because everything else would probably make him pass out and each tiny motion of his hips has him gush out semen onto Montagne’s chest, even reaching up to his collar bone. His neglected cock jumps with every spurt and is accompanied by a disbelieving moan. Warmth spreads through his body, sating the deafening need and turning it into calming relief, appeasing the desire demanding for so much.

When he’s done ejaculating, his abdomen is still contracting, still sending pleasure signals to his brain and so he sinks down onto his lover, mouths at his ear and purrs contentedly every time either of their cocks twitch. He’d love to ride Montagne to completion as well but he’s wholly and utterly spent, not to mention boneless. Besides, he should really take the ropes off now. Catching his breath is a difficult task and it takes several attempts until he finally manages – by then, Montagne is moving restlessly below him, obviously wanting to either finish or be relieved of Bandit’s weight, so he lifts his hips until Montagne’s unwaveringly hard dick slips out and climbs off with a series of decidedly unsexy groans.

“This fucking kills me”, he slurs, tongue heavy and, like the rest of his body, not really obeying him anymore. “Fuck. That was perfect. You look stunning, holy shit. Let me die.” He stretches out next to Montagne, grimacing at the way his legs feel more like pudding, and reaches out to undo the knot by his lover’s wrists. As soon as the rope is loose enough, the Frenchman pushes it off, discards the blindfold and moves to rid himself of the rest of the restraints while Bandit simply watches him, entranced by smooth movements and graceful limbs. “I love you”, he mumbles, exhausted, and returns the adoring smile directed at him.

“I love you too”, Montagne replies and presses the long line of his body against Bandit’s, kissing him sweetly. “And I suppose we can do this again. It was… interesting.”

Bandit grins and barely manages to raise his arm to wipe some of his come off Montagne’s pecs, only to lick and suck it off his fingers. The scandalised yet intrigued expression makes it more than worth it. “We’re not done, stud.”

The pet name makes Montagne’s lips curl both in embarrassment and amusement. “You can’t even move anymore.”

“But you can.” He rolls over onto his stomach and wiggles his backside invitingly. “Hop on.” His lover remains unconvinced though his gaze lingers on his ass for longer than he’d probably admit. “It won’t hurt and I want you to come like this. Come on.”

As he hoped, Montagne does give in but not without hesitation and not without adding more lube either. He kneels over Bandit, breathing heavily, and guides his cock to where it’s been mere minutes ago, inserting it cautiously and this is when Bandit realises he might’ve made a mistake. Because his hole not only took a beating already, it’s also overly sensitive and this new stimulation makes his toes twitch and eyelashes flutter; it’s intense and probably more than he bargained for. His orgasm left him loose and relaxed yet when Montagne is all the way in once more, he can feel himself tensing up again, a certain fire inside being rekindled.

It has, without a doubt, also something to do with the fact that Montagne is now spread out over him, grunting at every of Bandit’s involuntary movements and contractions around him and nibbling at his neck, biting at his shoulder. One of his arms is keeping him steady and pressing into the mattress next to Bandit’s shoulder and so he takes hold of the wrist, feels the quickening pulse in his palm and prepares for the worst. “It’s okay”, he whispers and raises his ass a little for better access, “go ahead.”

And Montagne does. He starts slow but speeds up, drives into Bandit relentlessly and shows no pity. He nails his prostate with each thrust, moans into the nape of his neck and pets him almost compulsively, creates a crass counterpoint to the hard thrusts with his gentle strokes over Bandit’s back and Bandit is so overstimulated he feels tears forming in the corners of his eyes. It’s too much and not enough simultaneously, he can’t see straight and sobs in pleasure, must sound pathetic because Montagne keeps checking in on him, asking whether he should stop, whether it’s alright, whether Bandit is hurting, and the answer to all of these questions is no.

It’s staggering. He can’t get enough of it.

There’s no doubt about it, he will regret this tomorrow but right now he’s in fucking heaven, moaning and shuddering uncontrollably while a tongue endeavours to take him apart at the seams, running over his outer ear and forcing inhuman noises out of his throat. He bites into his own arm to stop himself from screaming when Montagne reaches his climax with a sharp gasp and the sudden pain distracts him from both the frustration as well as the tremendous pleasure of feeling this thick cock unload inside him. Every single throb is distinct and he moves his hips against it, prolongs his lover’s orgasm as much as possible while he basks in the feeling of being desired to this extent, of being claimed and marked and filled.

But he’s not done. Even after Montagne has peppered his spine with kisses and withdrawn, he’s not done, turns back around and tugs on the other man’s arm, moves it to his crotch while pleading, asking for something he doesn’t know what and feels a deep seated want calming as soon as fingers enter him, push the sperm back inside and massage this special spot which makes his mind turn blank. His tender ring of muscle is sore already but he doesn’t care, he wants this, he needs this, and so he sinks into the odd mixture of aching pleasure like into a bath which is too hot. He rolls his hips against Montagne’s hand, head swimming and heart pounding, and tries to concentrate on the feeling despite the overwhelming dizziness.

When he climaxes again, a fist is encasing his dick, having taken pity on him, while the other hand is mercilessly stroking over his prostate, and his orgasm is almost dry and hurts but it hurts so good he’s moaning regardless. He’s lost in his desire, displays it openly and unashamedly, thrusts up into the slick grip and only comes down extremely slowly.

Several minutes pass during which he’s vaguely aware of being moved and cleaned, feels a warm washcloth on his skin as well as soothing touches and when he comes to himself fully, he’s wrapped in a thick blanket and sitting sideways on Montagne’s lap, him having moved them both to the sofa. He’s petting Bandit’s hair while holding him close and the motion is so reassuring he decides not to move for a bit and maybe pretend like he’s sleeping.

“Have some water”, a voice rumbles against him and well, so much for that. He untangles one of his arms from the blanket and accepts the proffered glass, empties it and notices a change for the better instantly. “We overdid it a little, hm?”

Bandit is about to protest but notices the stripes on Montagne’s chest where the rope cut into him – the rope on which Bandit pulled without fully realising. “Did I hurt you? Are you alright?”, he murmurs concernedly and looks up, only to be met with amusement dancing in deep blue eyes.

“You didn’t and yes, I am. Don’t worry.”

“In that case it was the hottest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me and we should do it again as soon as possible.”

Montagne laughs and squeezes him in appreciation, stealing a kiss and putting their foreheads together. “I really did miss you. And that reminds me, do you think we…” His tone of voice is serious and so Bandit waits patiently, gives him the time to sort his thoughts or build up courage. He can’t fault him for wanting to do so, in the past he’s had to struggle to convince Bandit of some things which ultimately benefited them both. “Ah, let’s talk about it tomorrow. You look very tired.”

Part of him wants to question him further, extract whatever is on Montagne’s mind, but a significantly larger part is entirely too exhausted to even shake his head. “Yeah. Alright.” He stuffs his arm back into the safety of the blanket before it gets cold and snuggles closer to his lover. “Do you think you can carry me back to the bed and talk some more about your mission while we cuddle?”

“Of course”, Montagne responds and kisses his temple, “I would love to.”

[clegacylabs]

A Friendship isn’t So Petty

(Post X3 (Longish Drabble))

It was late into the night as two women walked on the paths next to the busy roads of the inner city. The world was high off the success of repelling once more a major Maverick threat. The months of fighting were long, multiple engagements were made globally, but in the end, the Hunters prevailed. Because of that, tonight was a night for celebration, even if an official end just meant more work of a different kind. It was only at the badgering of her best friend and X’s, her commander, insistence, that Inessa pried herself away from the things still left to do.

Hours of bar hopping later thanks to a human with an iron liver, there the pair were. Erika could barely walk straight anymore, so the reploid woman ended up having to carry the blitzed human on her back. The life of the city thrummed around them with speeding cars, flashing signs, and the occasional obnoxious holo-ad.

“Wooo yeah!! Hahaha! Urp!! Fffffff-” The red-head swayed on her friend’s back as she tried to cheer with both her arms. Erika immediately regretted that. Her stomach was poised to exit her mouth and the world spun dangerously behind her eyes. She fell forward, letting her chin rest on Inessa’s shoulder, arms coming wrap themselves around the reploid. Her friend’s low laugh rumbled through her.

“You’re lucky I don’t like to drink nearly as much as you do,” said Inessa. Erika barked a laugh.

“Man, that’d be a helluva sight. Pfftt. Human scientist and 17th’s second-in-command just stummblin’ around drunk. Can’t even make it home!” she exclaimed, words slurring some on her tongue.

“Mortifying.”

“Hilarious!” the human insisted. They lapsed into a companionable silence. In the quiet between them, the human Russian turned pensive. The glow of celebration lagged behind them as they got closer to the HQ, still undergoing repairs from this past war’s opening act.

“Ya know,” she started. Inessa’s head inclined slightly towards her. “I honestly thought I was gonna die a couple months ago.” Erika felt her friend’s body stiffen slightly, though she walked as if unaffected. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have found you sooner that day.” Ugh, regret, that won’t do. Not where she was trying to take this conversation anyway.

“It’s fine. Ya kinda had your hands full with half the unit turning... Again. Well, last time was more than that, but still. Then the rest of base was another story. Mavericks took advantage of the fact the most of HQ’s best were out on a big campaign, leavin’ secondaries ta hold down the fort ‘fore the cavalry showed up.”

“Where are you going with this, Erika?” Ah, of course. Always wanting to get to the heart of the matter. No point in beating around the bush now. Better to say, before she figures it out instead. Harder to steer the conversation that way. Plus, she’s got liquid courage in her, too, to keep her from chickening out again.

“Need ta ‘pologize to ya.” Erika was met with silence. She took that as her cue to continue. “Startin’ to think I’m just bad luck.” The human laughed, low, mirthless, hollow. Her words were considerably more sober when she stopped.

"When my husband died, we hadn’t been married long, but we’d known each other for so much time. I was already pregnant with Andrei when we filed the papers. Two short years, then a fire took him. It hurt, but I still had my boy. It was alright. I met you, worked in your lab, became friends with you and the others but...” The implication hung between them. The day of the attack and attempted kidnapping. Neither of them had seen a corpse in person before, much less the number and having known each personally...

Another bitter laugh. “And then he was gone.”

“Erika-” Inessa started, understanding her friend was heading in a dark direction.

“And then, because you’re you, and your stupid sense of duty, you follow me on my damn vendetta fueled trip. And what happens? We get split up. And you’re out there killing yourself fighting the monsters. The friends we made up until the first war die, turned traitor and die, or just fucking run off like the self-hating cowards they are!” Her voice cracks and she’s feeling heat in her face and ears.

“Eri-” The voice came at a higher pitch than her usual, sounding more like Dimitra.

“No.” She hisses, cutting the reploid off again. Erika’s hands clenched together in a white knuckled grip. “No, I watch us change into people so different from who we were and I can’t believe it took until watching Doppler’s sleeper agents getting literally frozen to the floor of R&D and cut down by you, in my face no less, to realize that. To realize I let my best friend chase after me while I turn into Captain Ahab, letting every Maverick be my Moby Dick.” The woman could barely catch her breath, vision swimming from her physically and emotionally compromised state. Inessa halts and Erika realizes distantly that they were on a park trail.

More silence. Erika wished that her friend would just put her down or something, because it’d be nice to read her face... As readable as it can be these days. An aggrieved sigh broke the quiet.

“Erika... Vengeance or not, I would have had to fight. I chose what would have made me happier.”

“... What?” Another sigh. Careful not disorient the human, Inessa walked towards a bench and set her down. The reploid slumped onto the wood next to her. Her face was angled low, bangs brushing past her eyelashes, sight, distant.

“I’m a first-gen Reploid, Erika. Everything about me was experimental. Including the lab. From the recovered footage of us fending for ourselves until the Hunters came, the Russian government would have obligated me to be drafted, or else. We were a brand new race plopped onto the world literally overnight.” Inessa turned to meet Erika’s eyes. “The science world would prefer breakthroughs in aquatic science and pollution control, but the powers that be want anything to stay as the powers that be.” She closed her eyes, shoulders drooping slightly.

“The Mavericks, especially ideological ones, weren’t completely wrong... but the ends don’t justify the means.” Erika feel could her mouth dangling open as Inessa turned to her again. “Following you gave me a choice I didn’t realize I could make. Don’t apologize, not when I feel grateful to you.” She sat up to her full height, meeting Erika eyes with a warm intensity. They stayed like that in the stillness of the park.

... ... ... ... ...

The human felt something bubble in her chest. Her shoulders shook and she started to wheeze. Before she knew it, Erika was cackling. The feeling one part hysteria, one part disbelief, one part relief.

“What the hell, all that and you go and say that of all things?” Wetness beaded at the corner of her eyes. Inessa shrugged, the lines of her face relaxing as the tension subtly left her.

“I’m not accepting an apology that’s pointless. There’s nothing to forgive. You and I’s perceptions are out of sync.” Erika scowled at her.

“Well then, I’m not accepting your gratitude then!” The human’s middle name was spite, in her mind at least.

“Okay”

“’Okay’?!”

“Yes.”

“That’s all you have to say?!”

“Yes.”

“Oh come on!” She threw her hands up. Inessa arced an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?” Erika glared before she cooled slightly. “No, I guess not, I just don’t like how you’re taking this so easily.” she grumbled. A small smile inched onto Inessa’s face.

“I’m rejecting your apology because I see it as pointless. You may have had influence, but you don’t control my actions. Even if you don’t accept my gratitude, that’s fine. I... just wanted you to know how I felt. Nothing more.” Finally, Erika slumped in her seat. “Are you even real?”

“Isn’t it too late to be discussing Plato’s “Cave” Allegory?”

“Ugh! Take us home! I’m so done with you!” The cat-like smile on the reploid’s face was all there was to say about that exchange. With that, they were back in the same position they started after they left the last bar. Calmer now, the sounds of running water from the creek and the rhythmic footsteps of her friend started to lull Erika to sleep. She let the world pass them by as her eye-lids grew heavy.

“Neshka?”

“Mnn?”

“Thanks for everything.”

“Hmn.” Erika felt the smile in the hum of acknowledgement. Her eyes closed and she knew no more.

[the--ass--in-assassin]

Oh, the brow furrowing was new, Stolas had seemed to be going right along with things until that, had Blitz hit a nerve maybe...?

"Something wrong babydoll?" he guessed, his fingers moving down to start gently combing through the feathers against Stolas's neck, subtlely encouraging him to continue looking up

"If you don't like something I call you, I'll stop- always, so if 'little one' bothers you, I'll toss that one," he promised

Going quiet, Blitz listened to Stolas's concerns intently, nodding along to every word, and making sure to leave a short pause after he had gone quiet to make sure he was done speaking- the last thing he ever wanted to do was interrupt and make Stolas feel like he couldn't speak

"Well first and foremost- I am SO unbelievably proud of you for asking questions, I knew you were a good boy, so good at listening to me and obeying instructions.... you'd be surprised how many people don't let themselves ask questions that need to be asked, especially so early on, so good on you for raising your concerns,"

Just to further express how happy he was with Stolas's willingness to ask for clarity, he leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss, nothing too intense, just something soft and chaste, a promise of how Blitz felt

"To address your concerns though, let me start by promising you that I care more about intention than action- I think that's a philosophy, I don't know, I dropped out of college, but anyway- what matters to me is that you're trying, that you're being honest to the best of your abilities, I'm NEVER going to punish you or be upset with you because you change your mind or feel unsure, ok? Not ever,"

And he punctuated that promise with a soft kiss to Stolas's head, just to further drive the point home

"That being said, let me assure you of something else- it doesn't matter how experienced you are or aren't, there is ALWAYS going to be the potential to change your mind, and that's perfectly fine, I have had a fucking TON of sex- and most of it has been pretty kinky, I probably know more kinks than you know stars, but ya' know what? I still get surprised and have to safeword sometimes too, I still change my mind sometimes too, you can't always guarantee how you're going to feel about something until it's happening, hell, even sometimes with things you normally like, you suddenly don't feel right about it- sometimes the person you're with isn't the right person to be doing this particular thing, or sometimes you're just not in the right headspace for it, I mean, look, I LOVE Domming- clearly, it's literally my job, I couldn't think of anything I'd rather be doing, but every now and then I've had to call my clients and cancel because I just.... can't... for whatever reason, sometimes I enter into a scene with a kink I'm new to and realize it's not gonna be for me and I have to call 'red', there was even once when I was fucking my boyfreind- well, ex-boyfreind now- and I was so into it and we were playing with some kinks we had played with plenty of times and I just... started dropping out of nowhere and had to stop, and ALL of that is ok, I honestly expect that to happen at some point just by law of averages, even if you were as well versed in kinks as I am, I'd still expect it, but as a newbie? You're almost definitely going to have those times- and that's fine, that's what 'yellow' and 'red' are for, that's what a safeword is for, the only time I will EVER get upset with you for consenting to something and changing your mind later, is if you change your mind but don't tell me and just.... white nuckle through something that you don't want, ok baby?"

He really hoped Stolas understood, it was one of the most common things that subs got upset about, one of the most common reasons they didn't safeword when they should, and he didn't want Stolas to fall into that trap, he didn't want him to think that it wasn't ok to change his mind

He considered Stolas's other concern for a breif moment, trying to think of the best way to respond to it, it was clear that Stolas was taking his rules seriously- thank Satan- but that meant that Blitz would have to be carefull about what he said and how he said it...

"Ok, well, first, thank you for taking my rules so seriously, and especially in regards to my own consent, I appreciate that- secondly, again, let me reassure you that I'm not going to get upset with you if you can't do something, I'll only be upset if you choose not to- wich is totally different, if you can tell me something is wrong but you don't, that's when I get upset, but if you can't tell me in the first place, then I can't blame you for that sweetie,"

Pausing, he rolled Stolas's choice of words around in his head a little, cocking his head to the side

"So when you say that you're having a hard time speaking about things, let me get some clarity from you- do you mean that you worry you won't be able to communicate verbally, or that you won't be able to communicate at all because you won't know how to express that something is wrong or that you'll... freeze up, let's say? Because I do have answers for both of those things but I need to know wich one I'm working with,"

"That's my good boy," Blitz cooed, gently running his fingers through Stolas's hair, his claws grazing carefully along Stolas's scalp in what he hoped was a calming, soothing gesture

"Listen to you, already learning so well, you're gonna be my perfect little pet, aren't ya' baby?"

Stolas seemed to be someone who needed a little extra praise and affection- and Blitz definitely didn't mind that, in fact, he quite enjoyed it, he was an affectionate person by nature after all

"Ok, rule number one- nothing matters more than consent, so we will be establishing a safeword and you will be using it ANY time you feel the need to, none of this 'pushing through' shit, ok? If you're uncomfortable at any time, if you ever feel wrong about something- you tell me, if you ever feel like you need to stop what we're doing or aren't enjoying what I'm suggesting, you tell me, failure to do so or lying to me about how you're doing is going to result in a punishment you will NOT enjoy, and that's if I don't terminate your contract all together- like I said, nothing matters more to me than consent, do you understand baby?"

He hated being so harsh with his first rule right out of the gate, especially with the gentle, soft little bundle of feathers in front of him, but this was his most often violated rule and that usually came from the softest subs so he needed to make sure that Stolas understood this rule most of all

"Second rule- my consent matters too, so if I say 'no' to something, I mean NO- pushing or being a brat to get your way isn't going to go well for you, I have limits and boundaries too and no matter what our dynamics are or who's getting paid for what, I'm owed the same respect for those limits that you are, now that being said, I'm not the kind of Dom who thinks you should just do whatever I say just because I say so, that's wrong and misguided at best but abusive at worst, you should always question things you don't feel right about, no matter who you're questioning, and I ENCOURAGE you to always ask questions when you're unsure about something, even if what you're unsure about sounds trivial or simple, it doesn't matter, you should still ask, even if all you need is to call 'yellow' for a minute and get some reassurance that certain things are or aren't going to happen, that's fine and I encourage you to do that, do you understand sweetheart?"

He really didn't think Stolas would be the type to push against his boundaries- if anything, Stolas was more the type to just blindly follow Blitz's orders even when he felt unsafe doing so, wich was part of why he combined those two instructions into one rule, it helped subs connect the "Don't do to me what you wouldn't want done to you" aspect of things- but it was always better safe than sorry

"That leads me to the third rule- we'll be using the traffic light system, in case you don't know what that is, it's really simple- 'green' means 'yes', you're giving enthusiastic consent to something, you are A-OK, 100% good with proceeding, 'yellow' means you need to slow down, take a minute and get some reassurance or clarity or maybe just literally, physically take things slower, talk things through, it's just a gentle but necessary pause, and 'red', as you may have guessed, means 'stop', whatever we're doing, if either of us say 'red'- because I can safeword too, I can use this system too, and I will if I need to- then whatever we're doing is going to stop immediately, calling 'red' is a little different from calling your safeword because 'red' just means to stop what's happening in that moment, but you might not necessarily need to end the entire scene, a safeword on the other hand is definitely a scene ender, sometimes you can use those interchangeably if one is easier for you than the other, I personally don't encourage that- some Doms do, I'm not one of them- but I'm never going to criticize you for doing it, any measure of stopping something that you're not enthusiastically consenting to is a good measure with me, so as you may have guessed, when I ask for your color, you will give me an honest answer, I don't tolerate lies about consent, as we already established, and I encourage you to call out your colors whenever you feel like it, I like knowing you're doing well so you don't have to wait for something to go wrong to let me know where you're at, just saying you're green when we're doing something is good for me to hear just as much as hearing that you need a pause, do you understand little one?"

Taking the opportunity for a pause himself, he gently tilted Stolas's head back so he could get a good look at his expression to better judge where he was at mentally

"How ya' doin' buttercup? You following ok so far?"

[thefaeriereview]

Blitz: Unsportsmanlike

https://ift.tt/2Qw2o2f

  Gods of the Gridiron, Book 1

Sports Romance, Contemporary Romance

Release Date: August 28, 2020

  They don't call him Ares for no reason!

Travis Redmond, the ram of a running back for the Atlanta Gladiators, may be a lot of things—hot-headed, arrogant, rash—but a cheater isn't one of them. Until cheating is the only option he has to save his brother, Tucker, from the clutches of a dangerous criminal mastermind.

When his impulsive actions get him an UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT penalty and he ends up suspended and back in his hometown of San Antonio, Texas, the last person he expected to see again was Skyla Larson, his former classmate from Brevidge High.

Skyla isn't the shy girl he remembers from Biology. She's changed after a decade and man, is she scorching hot now… and with the sass to go along with it too! Sly little Sky’s got a few secrets of her own, including a particular person she's investigating as Atlanta’s assistant district attorney.

Their reunion and bar-side banter are short-lived though as these two suddenly find themselves running for their lives...and falling in love on top of that!

Love has poor timing, especially when they have everything to lose including their hearts… The “god of war” may have found something worth fighting for—the mighty Aphrodite of his.

    Excerpt

PROLOGUE

  Travis Redmond sat at the bar, beer in hand, feeling like the biggest loser in the NFL. He’d gotten formally suspended this time after he’d pulled his helmet off and gone nose to nose with a player on the field, during a game, in front of eighty-thousand plus fans.

Yeah, he’d been wrong. Yeah, he’d been angry. Yeah, he’d been throwing the game...intentionally. And Pollux Reed had called him out for it. But dammit, he had no idea what Travis was going through and why he’d done what he had. He was tired of the talk behind his back and when Reed had mumbled that bullshit under his breath, Trav had seen red and went at him before he could even think.

He’d only been playing for the Gladiators for a month now and he was being scrutinized, his motives questioned—like they’d been before he’d gotten traded from the Stallions. But no one understood what was happening, what a shit-show his little brother had gotten the two of them into. There were some dark and shady men at the center of this whole scandal, and if Travis didn’t play his cards right, Tucker’s life was at stake. He had to do what they said, had to subtly throw the games, had to keep the facade going. The alternative was unthinkable.

For now, Travis was simply biding his time and looked back over to Hank, the bartender of Gunslingers, the current bar he was in, here in his hometown of San Antonio, Texas. He’d needed a break from all the heat he was in, back in Atlanta, using the excuse to come out and visit his family and catch up with his former teammates. 

Tonight, Trav was meeting up with a friend he used to play with on the Stallions—his former QB, Judd Gilbert. He’d be heading back to Georgia in a couple days’ time.

Travis checked his phone again, all too aware of the eyes that kept coming back to him. He was as inconspicuous as a famous football player and record-breaking running back could be in his backwards ball cap and shades, despite that it was so dark in the place that he could barely see. The tight Nike t-shirt and jeans probably didn’t help. Judd hadn’t texted him back, although Travis had been at the bar for about twenty minutes now, waiting.

“Is it true? Were you throwing that game like they said?” Hank asked, leaning over the half-empty bar top, polishing a beer stein.

“What the fuck do you think?” Trav grumbled and looked around. “You know me. You know I ain’t like that!” It hurt that people had no more faith in him than they did...even if it were true.

“I know, but it sure don’t seem that way. You shouldn’t have fumbled that ball, Trav.”

“What do you do for a living?” When Hank paused, Trav buried the hatchet. “You pour fucking liquor into glasses. Why don’t you do that and stop telling me how to do my job? When you bust your ass on that field every Sunday, then we can talk. Until then, shut the hell up.” Travis looked away, his heart hurting at the acid dripping from his lips. He had to make this seem legit though or Tucker was a dead man. They’d warned him and warned him and warned him. And Tucker was in their grasp now. They could put a bullet through his head in the blink of an eye if Travis acted suspiciously. They’d already sent him a pinky toe in the mail. He assumed it was his brother’s but couldn’t verify it for a fact. They could be bluffing, but he knew them too well; they hadn’t bluffed prior to now.

Travis pulled his shades off and looked around, narrowing his eyes at the onlookers, almost growling like a cornered dog. Yeah, it’s me fuckers, Travis fuckin’ Redmond! In the flesh, he wanted to shout but took another sip of beer instead, back home and up to no good, he thought to himself.

Just then his phone beeped and he checked it, seeing a text from Judd.

Judd: Hey, man. Sorry, I’m gonna have to bail tonight. Jerica is running a fever and Gemma thinks we should take her to urgent care. FML. I really hate this. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can do lunch before you head out on Thursday?

Well, shit! Trav was on his own tonight...in a bar he didn’t even wanna be in. His night just kept getting better and better.

Travis texted back with: No worries, man. Hope she’s alright. Talk tomorrow.

He replaced his phone in his back pocket and looked at the opening door, seeing that it was raining out now as an impeccably dressed redhead with a giant umbrella stomped in, huffing.

Trav’s eyes narrowed as he tried to place her. That face, mouth, and skin tone… He could swear he’d seen them before. When she looked up, her blue eyes grazed him robotically before zeroing in on the bartender.

“Excuse me, do you have a phone I could use?” she asked and got a scoff from Hank.

“Payphone’s in the back, lady.”

She sighed heavily and closed the dripping umbrella, swiping her black heels on the giant rug at the entrance of the door. She was clad in a striped, heather-gray pant suit with a cream silk top. She rifled through the big leather bag on her shoulder before tucking her unruly, long curly hair behind her ears. He heard her grumble, “Fuck,” as she pulled out a wallet and runaway coins began to bounce onto the floor with little pings here and there.

Travis understood; his day was just as shitty.

He decided then to move off his seat and assist her. He stepped forward and bent down to retrieve the three quarters, five nickels, and four dimes that had fallen out of her wallet. As her sapphire blue eyes fell to his, the woman’s jaw literally dropped as she recognized him.

He was used to this. Being a professional athlete got a man all kinds of attention; some wanted and others not so much. He wasn’t sure of the attention here but hoped she didn’t draw too much his way. The heat of the chaos he’d already generated himself was creating steam around him and he wanted to hug a wall at this point.

The shock on her face quickly turned to scorn. Great! She not only recognizes me, she hates me. No scoring for me tonight.

“Here, you dropped this,” his voice plunged in annoyance as he thrust the fist full of change forward.

“Keep it! No one asked for your two cents anyway.”

Ouch! Feisty. Well, she was a redhead after all.

“It’s actually $1.40 to be exact,” he smarted.

“Hmm, you could probably use it more than I could right now, Mr. Redmond.”

He rolled his eyes. Maybe she was a jaded fan or the wife of an opposing player. Either way, he wasn’t taking her money, to hell with her.

He slammed it on the bar top because his temper was the shortest thing on him. “You’ll need it for the fucking payphone,” he grated out even as she turned her back to him and walked in the direction of the phone and bathrooms. “Ungrateful bitch,” he mumbled under his breath.

Travis sat back down at the bar and continued to nipple his beer, looking up at the television that hung on the back wall. It was set to SportsCenter, so he kept his eyes locked on it, listening to the play by play of past Sunday’s games. The sportscasters began arguing predictions of the coming games, evaluating the players and their stats, and then started to debate Travis’s future with the Gladiators. Again, anger seized him. What the hell did they know? His head coach, Greg Cavanaugh, and the owner of his team, Jerry Taylor, hadn’t talked about cutting him. He was only suspended for two weeks, and it’d been for taunting, not throwing the games.

Travis sighed and leaned back on the bar stool. His guilt might be enough to kill him; the team didn’t deserve to be done the way they were, nor his teammates. Travis wished things could be different, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t go to the cops, he couldn’t discuss it—with anyone—and he couldn’t allow them to fire him. He had to keep this up. Had to continue to keep his brother alive.

“Can I have a water please?” Joy! The stuck-up lady was back.

“Does this look like a Waffle House?” Hank snorted.

“C’mon, I’ll pay for a soda. I—”

“Give her a damn water, Hank, and quit bein’ a dick,” Travis scolded with yet another scowl, getting one in answer. Hank huffed but did as he was told. “You’re grumpy tonight and it’s showing.”

“Yeah, and with no damn help from you. You’re supposed to be the town hero, Travis. You’re really disappointin’ us lately.”

Yeah, that makes two of us, buddy, he thought but spoke instead to the mysterious redhead who’d sat down two stools from him. “You sure you don’t need somethin’ stronger?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Figures,” he mumbled and sipped his beer again.

“Yeah, well maybe if you didn’t drink so much, you could keep your damn hands on the football.” The redhead smirked, and Travis frowned over at her. Who did she think she was, talking to him like that? What Hell had she come from to torture him like everyone else was tonight?

“Like you’d even fuckin’ know,” he retorted back. She probably didn’t even watch football, he bet. She just went along with what the man who’d put that big rock on her finger told her to do.

Travis rolled his eyes and looked back at the TV, getting nothing else out of her for a minute. As soon as this beer was done, he was saying, “Fuck off” to all of ‘em and getting the hell out of Dodge while the gettin’ was good.

The redhead rifled through her giant bag once more and sighed at the cell phone in her hands, drawing Travis’s attention again.

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath and threw it back into her purse.

Trav’s brows went up in question, but she looked away quickly, as if his stare was abhorrent. She’d be pretty if she would stop being such a cunt. There was something about her though that, again, made him feel as if he knew who she was.

“You from around here?” he finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, and moved lithely onto the stool beside her. He was curious by nature; he couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, unfortunately I am,” she responded, running a hand through her mane of red hair.

“Unfortunately?” he sassed. “What? You too good to come from ol’ San Antonio?”

“No,” she smarted back and rounded on him. “But I certainly wasn’t hoping to run into you again.”

Again? When the hell had he run into her in the first place? He hadn’t slept with her, had he? If he had, he was certain he would’ve remembered a set of tits and a pair of legs like hers.

He grinned. “I don’t reckon I know you, darlin’.”

“Oh, yes, you do,” she retorted hotly and took a sip of her water. “You just don’t recognize me. I mean, it’s been almost ten years since we graduated.”

Holy shit! He’d gone to high school with her? Who was she?

He looked her over and tried to rack his brain. High cheekbones, great tits, curvy hips, porcelain skin... Nope, he was drawing a blank. But then again, he’d been hit one too many times in the head since high school.

“Got a name, Fireball?”

“Yes, Travis Redmond, I do. Too bad you don’t remember it.” She huffed, and he couldn’t help but laugh at this woman’s audacity. He was certain he would’ve remembered a sexy, feisty redhead; this lady was unforgettable.

“You’re gonna make me work for it... Ok, fine. Maybe it’ll be fun.” His grin was like the cat that ate the canary for a moment before he spied her engagement ring again. Damn! She was engaged, he’d forgotten. Too bad too, because he could’ve had loads of fun with this sassy, little ginger. Each one he’d ever taken to bed had truly been straight fire and tonight, he needed that kind of fire to forget all his problems.

“Oh, I—” she stammered as she went to remove the ring from her finger. “I—I’m not—”

“Sure. And I’m not one of the NFL’s leading running backs.”

“No. Actually. He—he, uh—”

“Sure, he did.” Travis went to turn, annoyed by the woman’s sudden separation from her fiancé on his account.

“He was fucking his secretary. I just found out yesterday. It’s one of the reasons I’m here. Along with work. I needed to get away.” She blushed, her face as red as her hair. Tears hit her blue eyes. “The affair is big news now. The media got wind of it this morning,” she mumbled, looking down. 

“Bummer.” He understood how the media took a story and ran with it. “So, your fiancé a politician or somethin’?”

“He’s the mayor of Atlanta.”

“No shit!” She lived in Atlanta too? “Wait, ain’t he a bit old for you?” The mayor was, indeed, an old dude.

She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter much anymore, does it?” She smirked sarcastically, and Travis’s eyes fell over her face.

She had a light dusting of freckles, which her foundation covered, rosy cheeks, an aquiline nose, and no-nonsense blue eyes. And in that moment, she looked as run-down as he did. He took pity on her and felt bad for calling her a bitch behind her back.

“Hank, get us two shots. Make ‘em lemon drops.”

“No,” the pretty woman protested, shaking her head. “I can’t. Really.

“Oh, c’mon. Have a drink with your old classmate. We’re celebrating a reunion. Just a round or two. It won’t hurt ya. Besides, there ain’t enough liquor in those things to even get you good and buzzed.”

She cocked her head, trying to get him to understand, but he persisted.

“Just one. Maybe two. I swear, I’ll get you home in one piece.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’ll try to do, if you’re anything like what you were back in high school. But my car needs a tow and the wrecker’s gonna be a while, so I’ll have one, maybe two with you. But I am not going home with you, Travis.”

“Deal!” Travis grinned and motioned for Hank to get the shots. “But I gotta ask? Have we slept together before?”

She shook her head dramatically. “I’d never sleep with you. Not in a million years.”

“Right, but you’ll sleep with the damn, old-ass, bald guy you were engaged to,” Travis snorted. The woman didn’t confirm nor deny the accusation but she sure as hell was gonna marry the asshole, so there was that.

“So, you gonna tell me your damn name so I can get reacquainted with you or continue to keep me guessing?”

She laughed, like genuinely laughed, and Travis was taken by how beautiful she was as her face lit up.

Wow! How had he forgotten a woman who looked like that?

“Skyla.”

“Skyla?” Travis was combing through every neuron to try and remember this lady, but he couldn’t place her to save his life.

“I wore glasses, had braces, was overweight,” she elaborated. “Skyla Larson from Bio.” 

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me!”

Travis was literally dumbfounded as he recalled the chubby, strawberry blonde he’d had Biology with. The girl he remembered was shy, practically mute, and tripped over her own two feet constantly.

“No way! You are not.”

“Am too.” Skyla’s brow rose.

Travis’s eyes roved over her. She’d honed that fleshy pubescent body into a slender masterpiece, taken those ugly-ass glasses and braces off, and now she was fine AF, and he told her so. “Damn! You’re smokin’ fuckin’ hot now, Skyla. What’d you discover? P90X.”

She rolled her eyes but gave him a smile. “Thanks, Travis. That means a lot coming from you. But not only did I discover P90X and clean-eating, I also grew the fuck up… unlike some of my classmates.”

Travis laughed. Damn, this was entertaining and got his mind off the fear that his life had become since his brother had come to him six months ago, pleading for five million dollars and protection. “You grew up alright.” Travis’s eyes focused on her big breasts, and he remembered that she did have those in high school—Braces, buck teeth, and big tits. It was starting to come back to him now. “You were never sarcastic though, and I can’t say I like that about you.”

“Good thing I don’t give a shit what you like.”

“Burn, baby.” He smirked. “Is the rest of you as scalding hot as that tongue of yours?” He gave her a crooked grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?” she asked and thanked Hank for the shots he placed before them.

“Yes! I would indeed,” Travis answered and raised his shot after Sky grabbed hers. “Here’s to reconnections.”

   About the Author

Shanna Swenson is an award-winning finalist in the Fiction: Romance category of the 2020 International Book Awards for her books Abundance and Return to Abundance. She's known for writing endearing adult romance novels that showcase the healing power of true love in the face of tragedy.

She's a dreamer turned author who does cardiac ultrasounds by day and creates fictional worlds every spare chance she can. Shanna started writing at the age of fourteen and has always loved dynamic characters. She's fascinated by the unknown, is a Cancer with a capital "C", and has an eclectic taste in music, movies, and books.

When she's not writing or reading, she's working out, taking photographs, or hanging out with her own "knight in shining armor."

You can find her on BookBub, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Goodreads.

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