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the-psychopathist · 17 days ago

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Is Agatha Harkness a sociopath?

I wanted to make this post ever since I finished Agatha All Along, specifically after Agatha was referred to as a “sociopath” in the series. Now, “sociopath” is not an actual diagnosis and most of the time, what people refer to when it comes to sociopathy and psychopathy is actually anti-social personality disorder (ASPD). In this post, I’ll attempt to “diagnose” Agatha with ASPD and see if she fits the criteria for a diagnosis.

Disclaimer: I am not a professional, I’m only “diagnosing” Agatha because she’s a fictional character. Do not attempt to do the same for any real person. This post isn’t meant to stigmatize any real person with that condition, this is simply a character study. None of what I’m writing should be used in a real-life context.

1) Failure to obey laws and norms by engaging in behavior which results in criminal arrest, or would warrant criminal arrest

Agatha is quite literally a serial killer. She has been luring witches to their early graves for centuries. We don't know exactly how many people she has killed, but her body count is definitely quite large. I don't think she was ever arrested for her crimes but it definitely warrants a criminal arrest. If it wasn't for Wanda trapping her in the Agnes persona at the end of WandaVision, she would have most likely been arrested, especially since she attempted to kill multiple S.W.O.R.D. soldiers.

2) Deceitfulness, indicated by continuously lying, using aliases, or conning others for personal gain and pleasure.

This one is a given. Her primary means to steal magic was through a con. She deceived and manipulated unsuspecting witches who trusted her with the intent of stealing their magic and killing them. And even before that, she used her own son to lure witches and do the same. She does it primarily for profit, to get more magic, but she does seem to genuinely enjoy deceiving others and gaining pleasure out of it.

In both WV and AAA she was lying, deceiving and manipulating the rest of the cast from the very beginning for her own benefit. She infiltrated Wanda’s hex and posed as her nosy neighbour “Agnes”, graining Wanda's trust with the intent of stealing her magic from the start. She did it primarily for profit but there was also some enjoyment for her when she revealed the truth to Wanda, so much so that she created her own intro song. She was enjoying putting up a show almost as much as getting Wanda's magic.

This pattern of behaviors is seen throughout AAA too, especially upon rewatch. On your first watch, you might not notice but after rewatching a second time fully knowing the end, you can notice how much Agatha has been lying the entire time. Not only did she lie about the road and always intended to murder the cover in her basement, but when the hex road appeared she kept the lie that she went to the road before going. One could say that she had to keep the lie going because she never intended for the road to appear, so those weren’t lies she intended to tell, but at the same time, we can see how easily she can lie and deceive others. She knew all along that Billy created the road and that said road was deadly, yet made no attempt at stopping him. She knew people would die but she kept the lie going because she hoped that she could get back her powers at the end. So she lied, deceived and manipulated the group the entire time for her own gain.

3) Exhibiting impulsivity or failing to plan ahead.

Agatha is someone who likes to be in control, and does give off the illusion of being in control. But the truth is, she isn’t as much in control as she thinks she is, and is quite impulsive. Lots of her shortcomings are a direct consequence of an impulsive decision (fuck around and find out). Being impulsive doesn’t mean she can’t make elaborate schemes, because she sure does. But a lot of those are made impulsively. She sensed Wanda’s magic and decided to join her hex without knowing exactly how Wanda’s magic worked. She even started messing with her without knowing how Wanda’s magic would respond. Then in AAA we see more of her impulsive nature. She doesn’t think through whenever she makes a decision and ends up needing to improvise in order to compensate for her reckless decisions. She told Lilia about how her ability to steal magic worked, she picked a bound witch to be part of her coven, as well as a non-magical woman. The only one in the group that seemed to have the ability to blast was Alice. Not the greatest group if she needed to steal as much magic as possible. On the road, she made a lot of impulsive decisions that were quite reckless, like attempting to break the window and throwing her wine glass during the first trial, suggesting to summon another green witch, pretending to be possessed by Sharon, or messing with the tarot cards. There’s also the way she provoked Billy right after he nearly killed her. Those were all decisions she took without thinking about the consequences, out of impulsivity. But she’s not only impulsive when it comes to being reckless with others’ safety. She was also shown to be impulsive when it comes to helping some of her coven members. When Rio first emerged from Sharon’s grave, Agatha’s first instinct was to get in front of the coven as if she wanted to protect them. When Billy got thrown into the window, Agatha rushed to go check on him, or when Lilia was about to get impaled she jumped to push her out of the sword’s trajectory.

4) Irritability and aggressiveness, indicated by repeatedly getting into fights or physically assaulting others.

Once again, this one is a given. Agatha is easily irritated and very aggressive, she’s quick to anger, losing her patience and snapping at people. She had no issue hurting Wanda when she had her captive in her basement, slamming her against the wall when she got irritated with her. I’d argue that the mass murdering she did over centuries also count as frequent assaults. She’s also quick to engage in physical fights with Rio (although those are mutual on both sides), and there was a moment at the end of episode 3 where Agatha randomly kicked Jen when she was already down after they all went through the water slide.

5) Reckless behaviors that disregard the safety of others.

Agatha did not care how her actions affected the resident of Westview when she was purposefully messing around with the hex. She did not care either on the road. She knew from the beginning that it was a hex and even after seeing they could actually die in the trials, she made no attempt to try telling the others the road was fake. She could have tried to let Billy know he made the road but she didn’t. Because she didn’t care if some of them might die. She had no concern for their safety. She endangered the coven in the first trial by trying to break the window and by refusing to drink the wine. She did so too in the third trial by pretending to be possessed, making the group lose precious time. Same with the fourth trial by messing with the tarot cards and not stopping even when the swords were dangerous dropping on both her and Billy.

6) A pattern of irresponsibility

This is probably the only criteria I’m not sure would apply. There are instances of Agatha being irresponsible, but I don’t think we have seen enough of her personal life to establish a pattern. So until further notice, I’ll consider this criteria doesn’t particularly fit.

7) Lack of remorse after hurting or mistreating another person.

Agatha does not seem to have any remorse for all the people she murdered. She may have some remorse regarding her original coven, including her mother, but that was a much younger Agatha. The Agatha we know now does not seem to feel bad for the people she had killed for centuries. It’s even something she will be really flippant about whenever she talks about how many people she has killed.

She didn’t feel remorse when Sharon died either. Agatha might not have directly killed her, she is still responsible for her death by recruiting her into the coven. And it’s not like Agatha didn’t intend from the start to put Sharon in harm’s way. If her initial intention was to kill the coven, it’s very likely she would have killed Sharon too, or Sharon would have been killed by the Salem Seven. Billy may be indirectly responsible for Sharon’s death because he created the road, he was not aware of that nor did he intend for this to happen. Agatha on the other hand always intended for Sharon to die and did not feel bad when she actually did die. She acted extremely callous after Sharon’s death and never bothered to learn her name, even forgetting who she was later on.

And it’s not just about murder. She didn’t feel bad when she got Alice fired, nor did she feel bad when she learned she was the person who got Jen bound for a hundred years. She didn’t feel bad either about attempting to kill the coven from the beginning and had no qualms about using them to get to the end of the road even if it meant sacrificing them.

The coven’s members aren’t the only people who suffer because of Agatha’s actions. If we go back to WandaVision, Agatha orchestrated Sparky’s death. And she seemed pretty proud about causing a dog to die. It may have been revealed in AAA that Ralph poisoned the dog, but it was under Agatha’s order. He was under her magical control, so the blame is entirely on her. She did not feel bad at all for killing a dog. Speaking of Ralph, as much as his character is played for laughs, what she did to him was also pretty atrocious. She took control of his life, stole his house, and forced him to commit awful acts, causing psychological damage to him to the point he is completely paranoid now. It’s unlikely Agatha knows how Ralph ended up after what she did to him, I highly doubt she’d feel an ounce of remorse for that.

Now, lack of remorse does not mean lack of regrets. Agatha does not feel bad for hurting others and how her actions affected them, but she does have regrets. She does feel bad if her actions negatively affect her, like personal loss or missed opportunity. She did seem to feel regret about killing Alice, but I don’t think she felt remorse. She did not feel bad for Alice, she felt bad because of the consequences she had to face after. She did not intend to kill Alice at that time, and now she has lost any potential trust she could gain from the coven. Not only that, we know Agatha became a ghost because she couldn’t face Nicky in the afterlife, so the regret might also be that she thought her son had seen her kill Alice. I don’t think she felt remorse for what she did to Jen either. When Jen did the unbinding ritual, getting told over and over that she “holds nothing” worked on Agatha possibly because deep down, Agatha knew it was true. She no longer has her son, she has no magic, and she has driven away Rio. She did hold nothing anymore.

Having ASPD does not mean Agatha is incapable of love, or caring about others. She undoubtedly loved and cared about her son. So much so that she developed a soft spot for Billy because he reminded her of Nicky. She loved Rio too. Same for her pet rabbit. Unlike popular belief, lack of empathy is not a criteria for ASPD. It does usually result in low empathy, and that can vary from person to person. Agatha probably has little to no empathy for most people except the rare people she does manage to bond with. You can see it as a selective empathy for those she did love and care about, which included Nicky, Rio, Señor Scratchy and later possibly Billy.

If Agatha does have ASPD, how did it start? Even if sometimes genetics can play a role in developing that personality disorder, you aren’t born with it. Most of the time, it’s caused by the environment, mostly trauma experienced as a child. We know Agatha’s mother hated her. She thought she was born evil. She, with her coven, attempted to have her executed when Agatha was only 18. I do believe the accusations made at her were mostly true. She probably did steal knowledge and practiced dark magic. But Agatha did beg her coven to teach her, so I think it’s very likely that since her mother thought she was born evil, she didn’t allow Agatha to properly learn magic. If Agatha wasn’t taught magic and had this power she couldn’t control (siphoning), it’s not surprising that she would have to steal knowledge in order to learn. Agatha learned from a young age to break the rules in order to get what she wants or needs. And without proper guidance, it’s reasonable to think she might have practiced dark magic.

So yes, even if the accusations were true, her coven and mother are not blameless. Agatha is the way she is because of how she was raised, how she was treated as a child and growing up, and what she had to do in order to learn magic. She never had a healthy support system growing up, there was no possibility for therapy at that time, she was a witch living in the worst era for her kind, and she couldn’t even rely on her fellow witches to protect herself. After accidentally killing her original coven (including her own mother), which was definitely a traumatic event for her regardless if it was self-defence, she kept doing what she did so far to survive; steal, lie, deceive, kill. All the antisocial traits she exhibits as an adult are learned behaviours. Of course, it does not justify her crimes and horrific actions she later committed, but it does explain why she is that way. She wasn’t born evil, she became evil. She’s the product of her environment, experiences, circumstances and era.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #marvel #mcu #analysis #theory #armchair psychology #antisocial personality disorder #anti-social personality disorder #aspd #sociopath #sociopathy

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licorice-and-rum · 4 months ago

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My response to some "critics" about Babel

Okay, I'm gonna start by saying this: English is not my first language so I may commit some spelling and grammar mistakes here but I felt like I just had to write this down, especially because of the negative reviews this book has that just… didn't get it.

Don't get me wrong, of course you're allowed to not like this book, I recognize that it's most certainly not gonna be everyone's cup of tea but some of the people here just didn't get what this book was all about. Babel isn't a fantasy like ACOTAR, or HP, or whatever (in the sense that, for those, the story guides the message while Babel is the contrary): like many classical books, Babel was written to make a point, it's a romance, sure, but it was written to argue for something - the necessity of violence.

So, first of all: Babel is a historical fantasy, it talks about colonialism, racism, sexism, and other matters with no qualms, no embellishing to make it digestible, no allegories or metaphors because this isn't the point. Kuang's "lack of nuance" as someone here pointed out is very deliberate and extremely important for the story because the points she wants to make are always lost in nuance (just think how many people go on misinterpreting Star Wars, Hunger Games, or even anti-system songs like The Wall ffs), and the message is too important to get lost in allegories.

Second, as to the story, many people seem to think what she's pointing out is obvious "ur dur colonialism is bad, we get it". No, you clearly don't. There's a profound difference between getting it and actually comprehending it to an elemental level. Robin's travel to Canton illustrates that perfectly: he knew that colonialism was bad, he knew it was violent but he didn't comprehend it until he was forced to face it happening in front of him - to people who could've been easily him. More than that, because that was when he finally connected the theory with the reality, it became palpable to him.

It's not enough to get it, you have to actually stay attuned to it, to feel the flow of its violence throughout the world because then, and only then, I'll realize you can't be complacent, you can't turn your head from it. And Babel is an attempt, however tiny, of showing this to you. Of telling you "Look, you're ignoring it, the discomfort you felt reading this is your conscience telling you you relate to that". So no, I refuse to accept that Kuang should have been more nuanced: she was as clear as she could because she knows people say they get it but they don't, not really.

Third, the magical system is just chef's kiss. I've seen many people complaining about it but the thing is: the silver working is not about having magic in the world, it's about creating a palpable, material place where Kuang could center her attention as she talked about the economic aspect of colonialism. That's because colonial power is not centered in one place or thing, it is scattered all around but you can't hardly make a point like Babel's if you have your characters fighting off colonialism in all corners of the world. Like the Capital in the Hunger Games, Babel is a material place that symbolizes something.

Moreover, the silver working symbolizes the Industrial Revolution and its need for the advance of colonialism. More than that, silver-working is about capital, it's about technology to generate more profit, quicker, for a specific class that doesn't care who they have to kill to continue, doesn't care whether it is good or bad for the common folk.

Fourth, many people pointed out how academic Kuang's writing style felt during Babel and they're right, it is indeed very identifiable. I'm sure I even commented something along the lines of "it feels like I'm having the best History lesson of all time". But I'm going to challenge people who say things against the notion that the historical description of Kuang was unnecessary: every time Kuang chose to give the readers historical context has served somehow to the narrative.

I remember early on in the book when Robin was still a teen walking through London and reading anything he could put his hands on, and then we get two paragraphs of historical and political context for the time, then Robin comments that he didn't understand why this mattered so much. That paragraph served so much, both because it made us know a little more about Robin and because it served to make us understand the profound environmental change England was going through at the time.

And every time she did this, it served for something. Again, Babel is a historical fantasy, it is supposed to make you think about the point Kuang is trying to make but you won't understand it if you don't know the context of which Robin and the other characters in the book are coming from. It was a time of decision: either England would consolidate itself as an almost all-powerful oppressor, or it could go down… if the oppressed people - who share a common enemy - understood their responsibility to do something.

The strikes of the English working class, the violent acts of rioters, the advancement in technology, the possibility of the Opium War, the colonialism… it's all important. It's important because it allows us to understand the deep connection between it all. It allows us to understand who profits off of it, and who doesn't; who is able to understand and who isn't. It's why Letty is upper-class. It's why Abel isn't.

It's not as simple as some people think to understand colonialism, the flows through which one thing is tied to another. Why do people ask "How does this affect me?" when we point out deeply unfair things like unpaid maternity leave (I actually saw an American once saying she "wouldn't want her tax money to go to someone who didn't plan through"), like the fact people starve when we have the ability to feed a world and a half, of that Palestine is going through ethnic cleansing? Because they are unable to understand how closely their lives are tied to other peoples they have never met and probably never will.

Kuang's message is not "colonialism is bad", she's saying "These are all the forms through which colonialism is bad to everyone but a few, do something about it", she's saying "Every single one of your struggles is tied together in more ways than you even understand. A person in Haiti, in China, in India, in the other side of the world, has more to do with you than these white rich people, fight with them, stand with them."

Fifth, I can't believe I gotta say this but I'm not going to even bother with you if you think this book is somehow "anti-white": just get over your main character syndrome. We're talking about a historical fantasy set in England in the epitome of colonialism through the eyes of a person of color. Of course, most white people are gonna be bad, get over yourself ffs!

The actual entitlement to the protagonism white people have is maddening. As a white woman (in Brazil, at least), I'm ashamed of some comments here. It's not because white people in this book are majorly racist (which, according to the setting is 100% accurate) that Kuang is talking about you (although, if you're so bothered by it, it's probably about you anyway). This is a book about the experience of people of color under the oppression of colonialism: white people are the problem!

You can't just expect someone to write about colonialism and not talk majorly about race. White people reap all the privileges of this system and not just that, they are responsible for it, and all the crying about being the bad guys is just insufferable (they're actually so right about having to console Letty once she learns about the racism they suffer).

Be f*ing accountable for your privileges, take responsibility for your internalized racism, and be accountable for the system that privileges you. It doesn't matter that it wasn't your fault, that you didn't set up the system, you still benefit from it anyway so get a grip. This story isn't about you at all, it isn't about how some white people fought against slavery or oppression, it isn't about you.

Let's be very clear about this: most white people who fought against slavery did so to serve their own interests, exactly as Kuang points out. This doesn't mean none of them were good people who actually believed slavery was bad but we're talking of a time when racism and racial discrimination weren't even discussed seriously. Most white people, even the ones against slavery would have a deeply ingrained racism in them, so get real.

More than that, though: if those people who actually have no shame in saying Babel is "anti-white" had actually read the book through, they would know that some white people actually help and are good people in the story.

Anyway, Babel is so good, it's so painfully real and so passionately well-written. You can feel Kuang's love for her people, the struggles of what it means to love something but still not be a part of it, the deep understanding of how the world works, and how intricately every single thing in our lives is.

I just felt so heard (as a person from a third-world country) reading Babel, like someone was telling me all this rage and indignation I feel is justified, it's valid. I just treasured it so much, how I identified with Robin's need for security contrasting with his indignation for the price of it; with the rage Griffin carried around him, sharpened and well-directed even in its volition; with the love Victoire had to learn to have for her country and its story; with all the pain I was able to share with someone who understood it.

It's an honor to allow words to change me so fundamentally. It's humbling to realize I'm not alone, that my actions and my feelings are shared by other people. It is really precious, you know, to be able to become a better person than I was before because of a book.

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autistic-ben-tennyson · 7 months ago

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Ben and Gwen: lonely kid and gifted child

I’ve thought a lot about these two and their family dynamic. Both are relatable to me but in different ways. Like Gwen, I’ve always been the “mature” one who was good at school and loved by the adults in my life, but I also don’t have any friends and have a desire for fame and attention like Ben. At first glance, they seem to have little to complain about, being white kids with stable homes and two parents, compared to someone like Kevin, but there’s more to a character than just the surface and I think both have a lot of emotional issues relating to their self worth.

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With Gwen, we get glimpses into her life and how everyone views her as perfect. Sunny envied how she was adored by her parents and Verdona and Gwen wished her mother would stop thinking of her as the “good influence”. All the adults in her family loved her and expected her to be the role model for the other kids which is a double edged sword. Yes you get praise and love but also pressure and high expectations. You’re expected to babysit the other kids and often have to bury your true feelings to please everyone and people will envy the love you get. And that love is often conditional and based around living up to their standards, remember how Natalie told her “normal people don’t glow” and how she doesn’t like her daughter or nephew using their powers around her.

As a kid, she was constantly doing extracurriculars like cotillion and judo before earning a scholarship to go to college early in Omniverse. We got a glimpse into her daily life in “It’s not Easy Being Gwen” where everyone expects her to fulfill certain obligations. Gwen seems like a child prodigy who feels she has to be the best and is always filling her schedule with activities and is always trying to get into the top schools. I think that’s why she fell for Kevin. He was the only one who loved her without putting her on a pedestal or because she’s family. The only person she could be herself around and doesn’t force her to act like a perfectionist. People complain about her outfit change in OV and I agree with some of the criticisms, but with all the pressure in her life, I get why she would want a change from the expectations in her life.

Ben strikes me as someone with a deep inferiority complex. It’s implied that he’s a bit of a loner who doesn’t have many friends with JT ditching him for Cash. He did get along better with Sunny which makes me wonder if he can relate to being in Gwen’s shadow. Fans talk about how great Carl and Sandra are as parents and while they are nice people, their free range approach can seem negligent. They only seemed concerned about Ben’s heroics once they witnessed it. By that time, Ben had been on late night road trips with Kevin, who punched holes in their doors, for weeks and didn’t even come home one night in “Save the Last Dance”. Ben may have acted the way he did in the OS as a cry for help as he feels neglected and the favoritism everyone has towards Gwen may rub off on him. It reminds me a bit of how Steven from SU acted the way he did in the early episodes because he was constantly being left alone without the gems or Greg while being compared to Rose. Kids who don’t have friends nor get much attention while living in a family member’s shadow can and do develop inferiority complexes.

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Ben’s desire for fame seems to stem from wanting to be loved and wanting to feel special. He becomes so full of himself because people finally love him as opposed to viewing him as some average kid. Fans have dismissed the bullying he faced as cliche or unnecessary but it adds to his character. A lonely, bullied kid who’s in the shadow of his overachieving cousin will want something that makes him feel special, like the Omnitrix. Ben has to learn throughout the 4 shows that he is the hero, not the watch. I think that’s why he loved using transformations like Four-arms, Humungousaur and Feedback so much even if they were inadequate for the situation as they made him feel confident. The way he fights is reminiscent of standing up to a bully too, picking an intimidating form, offering a chance to back off and then doing what he can to stop the threat. It’s easy to write him off as just a spoiled brat or narcissistic but I think 1, that’s ableist and 2, is a rather shallow way of looking at his character. While he can be insufferable at times, is it wrong to want acknowledgement or praise when there’s people like Will Harangue or the Rooters who hate you just for existing? I think he deserves a break from fans who hate him and he acts a lot better than most kids would in his situation. Compare him to Shinji Ikari from Evangelion, who I also love as a character, who would break down after seeing what Ben has to deal with every day.

I think both may envy each other at times. Gwen has been shown to be jealous of Ben getting all the glory as well as how Ben was given a car by her boyfriend despite her parents being wealthier. Like Sunny, Ben may have viewed Gwen as a stuck-up overachiever who got all the respect from their parents. That was until they bonded and became friends in the OS but it occasionally came back like when Ben lashed out at her for telling him he couldn’t use Feedback, believing she was trying to take the only thing he had. Because they have it easier than Kevin, it’s easy to expect them to just get over it but I think both Tennyson cousins need a lot of therapy and need to talk about their issues with each other. Both characters mean a lot to me and remind me of my own struggles.

#ben 10 #ben 10 alien force #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben tennyson #gwen tennyson #ben 10 uaf #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 analysis #Youtube #fandom essay #essay #gwevin #Natalie Tennyson #Sunny Tennyson #Verdona Tennyson

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love-takes-work · 11 months ago

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WHAT WAS THIS SHOW ABOUT?

One thing I really love about Steven Universe is that each of the four major characters kind of got a chance to be What The Show Was About. I would have LOVED spending more time with all of them and delving into who they were and who they became beyond what we got, but what we got was . . . actually pretty special.

STEVEN

As the ACTUAL main character and the show's literal namesake, it's obvious he's the protagonist. Our man has been through a lot and I don't suppose anyone would say he never got his moment considering he was there for the whole show. But except for some pretty important identity stuff that depended on his choices in the last episode of the OG show, a LOT of Steven Universe is stuff that happened to and around Steven. There was so much history and so much baggage that a lot of the story was about how he fended it off, dealt with it, fought it, reasoned with it, and managed everyone's emotions in the process.

Steven is set apart from the others in extraordinary ways: being half human, being extremely young, being Rose Quartz's son, and having Diamond-level powers and a claim to the Pink Diamond throne.

We had to wait for Steven Universe Future before the show was entirely focused on him, his development, his trauma, and his healing.

Some episodes from the original show focused on Steven's mental health and growth as a person--most notably "Mindful Education"--but we just didn't get to linger very long with his development until the epilogue show because plot stuff was always happening, other people's feelings were taking center stage, and worlds needed saving. I'm really glad we got Steven Universe Future for that reason. Some people disagreed, but I felt like it was a long overdue look into the soul of who he is--how his central defining character trait was his selflessness, and how desperately he needed to address that without having it manifest in a toxic way in the tradition of Jasper, White Diamond, or Pink Diamond.

AMETHYST

It could be argued that Amethyst had the most careful, nuanced, significant character growth of the three supporting Gems in the show. And it started immediately in the first season, when she constantly squabbled with Pearl and revealed that she felt judged and stifled and treated like a misbehaving child as early as "Tiger Millionaire."

Amethyst is set apart from the others in extraordinary ways: She's the clear outsider as the one who didn't fight in the war, the only full Gem from Earth in the group, the only Gem who grew up with no Homeworld dogma but also no roots, the only Gem who'd never met another one of her own and longed on some level for that connection.

The show continues to check in with Amethyst's self-worth issues throughout, giving us "An Indirect Kiss," "On the Run," "Maximum Capacity," "Reformed," and even "Cry For Help" (which seemed like an Amethyst episode until Pearl did her thing). We get "Onion Friend" when Amethyst shows us she thinks she's boring and that nobody values her. And we get "Too Far" when Amethyst really starts to internalize her inferiority based on Peridot's assessment of her and revelations of her origin.

With her cooking on that, we end up spending a string of episodes with Amethyst as the focus character. She's still shaking off dust about not doing what she's supposedly made for when a fight with Jasper twists the knife. She's beaten and insulted and almost physically destroyed, having to be rescued by Stevonnie. Steven misguidedly tries to cheer her up by letting her win at video games and she reveals that she thinks she's "the worst Crystal Gem." She finds an ally in him but still wrestles with her inferiority to Jasper. And when she still can't beat her in a rematch, she breaks down and realizes her strength is in togetherness. From there, she begins the process of healing, helped along by additional support from her family and finding some connection with meeting the Famethyst. When "Tiger Philanthropist" comes along and reveals that Amethyst doesn't need the outlet of wrestling anymore because she DOES feel she's good enough, we can reflect on what she's been through and how far she's come, and how that leads to her being the one who doesn't fall apart on Steven in the face of huge revelations about his mother.

GARNET

Garnet kind of peaked early, which is not to say it wasn't great. The final episode of Season 1 revealed her identity as a Fusion and further that she was "made of love," and then everyone was on the "Garnet is awesome" train.

Garnet is set apart from the others in extraordinary ways: being a Fusion all the time, leading the team and generally holding the others at an emotional distance, never asking questions, offering resources to the others for stability and balance, being the only Gem with Future Vision and a massive responsibility to use it well.

"Jailbreak" was a huge defining moment for Garnet, and as the "stable" character whose worst problems were mostly other people's problems, she did not seem to need a character arc. She was the culmination of a love story, always awesome and strong and dependable and everyone leaned on her, and in "Jailbreak" we found out why she has such an amazing foundation. But the show was not done with Garnet. Not by a long shot.

Pearl hurt her badly in "Cry For Help." Garnet's breakdown and subsequent focus on building Pearl back up was a significant look into how Ruby and Sapphire operate as a couple. Garnet is amazing partly because she is the result of all that work, but who is she as a person? As an individual who isn't an individual?

We see some of her struggle with leadership as the show moves on--most notably "Pool Hopping," and some of the last episodes when she can't make decisions in the Diamonds' shadow because everything's become about Steven's choices. But Garnet gets a spotlight again when Ruby and Sapphire feel differently about the Pink Diamond revelations and they worry Garnet only exists because of a lie. Digging into the real answers of who they are together through finally asking "The Question," and defining their fusion in their own image, was a move toward more authentic stability for Garnet. Her wedding made headlines, and watching her spearhead the immediate fight against the Diamonds on the beach was awe-inspiring.

PEARL

Pearl is initially presented as "the perfect one"--she's persnickety, she's organized, she's hyper-competent, and she's all about rules. But something else is going on with her not far beneath the surface. The first Gem to die onscreen--because of overconfidence and a silly mistake. The first (full) Gem to cry onscreen (and then over and over and over), the first to have a breakdown (and then over and over and over), the only one of the four to have faced an impossible choice, a relationship that nearly destroyed her, and a secret that ate her up from the inside. She was the only one who had (nearly) the whole story. All along.

Pearl is set apart from the others in extraordinary ways: the oldest Gem of the group by far, the one who served a Diamond and kept Rose Quartz's secret against her own will, the one who doesn't eat, sleep, or shapeshift. The one who both sat at royalty's right hand and existed as the lowest form of Gem life--created to be a servant, with programming no other type of Gem must live with. Her anxiety, grief, and desperate loneliness makes her one of the most multifaceted and interesting characters in animation history.

We see some minor wigging out from Pearl in "An Indirect Kiss" and a more intense version of it in "Space Race," but we get a much clearer picture that Pearl is Not Okay in "Rose's Scabbard." At that point we assume she thought she was closer to Rose than she really was--that she thought herself special and partial to secrets no one else knew, but that it wasn't true. "Rose's Scabbard" is a different episode on rewatch. Pearl is right that she alone was the one Rose "told everything." She did have a special relationship with her that the others did not.

Pearl's insecurity continues to bite us in the face as the show goes on. She tries to mold Connie into a self-sacrificial super-soldier after her own image in "Sworn to the Sword." Her deep need for someone strong to tell her what to do leads her to betray Garnet in "Cry For Help." Her inability to appropriately make it up to Garnet further complicates our understanding of how she can be so lost. Her jealousy, inertia, and angst frustrate her relationships, with some nice resolution in "Mr. Greg." Peridot's lore drop about Pearls' slave status sheds light on this, and seeing her get underestimated and bossed around by other Homeworld Gems is disheartening as we move on, but when we finally find out that she was Rose's secret accomplice in a false murder that poisoned thousands of their own citizens and led to massive waves of death, and that Pearl's free will to speak about it was also ripped away from her, we finally know, we know why she's been so brittle she could snap all along. She's been trapped inside herself all this time--in an almost literal way--and it's a wonder she's managed to carry on. Pearl's arcs have often been deemed the most emotionally fraught and tinged with gray morality.

These characters all got some very important story arcs focused on them in the midst of moving the plot along. I think the show did a phenomenal job with not only emotional development but with fallout for the other characters. We got to see the Gems' (and other loved ones') reactions when Steven's mental health took a nosedive, and watched them learn more about how to be there for him. We got to see Steven's initially misguided attempts to hype Amethyst up when she was spiraling, leading to him offering her what she actually did need, along with Garnet and Pearl (as Sardonyx) misfiring a bit when they wanted to celebrate Smoky Quartz. We got to see Steven's curiosities and misgivings about Garnet's life as a Fusion, and how Garnet affects others when she does crack under the strain, and how Steven must step up to leadership when Ruby and Sapphire are separated and how Amethyst tries to take care of him while Pearl has a guilt spiral. And we see how Pearl's choices led to Garnet's silent treatment, Amethyst's sulky helplessness, and Steven's attempt to hold the family together; we see how Pearl's confession reformats everyone's understanding of who the Crystal Gems are and why they're even here.

And even when the show is taking careful turns with each character to paint their nuanced feelings and troubles on the screen, it still managed to give us such a worthwhile overall story, with action and backstory and worldbuilding and everything. What's different about it is that the center was always its people--their relationships, their psyches, their evolution and education. I truly love the balance these creators chose, and I remain grateful that we got to experience this story.

#steven universe #my su analysis #character analysis #myblog

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athena-xiii · 4 months ago

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Current Agatha All Along Theories based on the events of episodes 1-5, my sparse comic knowledge, funko pop leaks, and my wack ass speculations.

So first I wanna get my theories about Teen out of the way. Obviously that boy is Wiccan, but despite the mention of Mephisto, I think that they’re straying from the comics here. So based on the “near death in Westview” headline behind Joe Locke’s credit, the confirmed casting of Rebecca and Jeff Kaplan, and Agnes’ mention of seeing a car crash in the first episode; I believe that in the same day that Wanda released the Hex, there was a car accident in Westview that resulted in the death of 13-year-old Billy Kaplan. Billy Maximoff’s soul latched onto this now vacant body before Death had a chance to do her thing.

Now, speaking of Death with a capital D, let’s talk about Rio. It’s no secret that Rio is very likely Lady Death, but I’d like to propose the idea that she is also the marvel character gaea. Gaea is derived from the Greek goddess Gaia (aka Mother Earth) and is attributed as a sort of goddess of life. First of all, Rio has said herself that she is “The Green Witch” and fully healed the cut on Agatha’s hand by licking it? But most interestingly is the name Rio Vidal. Rio and Vidal mean river and life/vitality respectively in Spanish— which Rio speaks often. I think that Rio will be named as Lady death but her domain will extend to the whole cycle. A body decomposes and becomes one with the earth, thus giving life to the plants.

Anyways back to Teen. That’s right, I’ve got more. This time let’s talk about the sigil. So the fact that the sigil is described as clumsy, Agatha stating that the sigil works on the caster, and Teen’s sharp behaviour changes both before breaking Agatha out of the Hex and in episode 5 lead me to believe that Teen placed the sigil on himself. I think that Billy, knowing he needed Agatha’s help to open the witches’ road, broke Agatha free of her spell. After all, it’s like Wanda said, “If I need you, I’ll know where to find you.”

He then placed a sigil on himself to hide his true identity of Billy Maximoff from even himself. Billy chats happily about his life in eastview and about his parents throughout the show, and I believe that these are the memories of Billy Kaplan. Billy mentions going to a concert with his mom in episode 2, but is unsurprised by the comment “you’re so much like your mother” in episode 5. I believe this is because there are 2 mothers: Rebecca and Wanda. His sigil is broken sometime in episode 5 which causes Agatha to realize who he is and for him to have the powers he claimed that he wanted to gain on the road.

Because Billy isn’t looking for power on the road. I think he’s trying to get his brother back. Tommy Maximoff didn’t have a convenient body to hop into. His twin, the person who his mom told him would always be there, has been separated from him and he— like his mother was— is missing his other half.

Anyway, that’s all I got for now. I have no clue what’s goin on with Lilia and her premonitions

#agatha all along spoilers #agatha all along #agatha harkness #agatha and teen #marvel wiccan #wiccan #billy kaplan #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #rio vidal #lady death #athena rambles

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fivesmannequinwife · 5 months ago

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I hate how reggie was so easily left out the hook. His last escene is him peacefully accepting death along with his wife, as they watch together the destruction around them and he calmly accepts he was wrong, and that's it. He dies after living many happy years with his wife in a big nice house and being filthy rich. He got to have his love interest the whole damn season even if the show didn't make much emphasis on jt. And sure, Abigail had her issues with Reggie, but Reggie didn't know this so we can assume he thought he was having a perfect marriage. He lived HAPPILY in this universe, no struggle at all, no difficulties at all, with his love interest, and calmly accepted death by her side.

How could he have a better ending than the Brellies?

Five and Diego died hating each other.

Diego died after just finding out he had been cheated on by his wife with his 18-yo-looking brother that's actually a fucking senior citizen. He had just had to say goodbye to his children forever.

Luther had to die never having found his wife, being stuck as a mediocre stripper, with his body disfigured, and being the butt of the joke the whole season. He never got the family he evidently wanted to have with Sloane.

Klaus died a drug addict after bekng sober for so long. He was trafficked as SAed, buried alive, and all for a plot that had basically no impact on the main story. He never got to see Dave again.

Ben died a monster, even though we knew that Ben, at least Og timeline Ben, felt like a monster because of his powers and always hated using them. He died having separated from the Brellies, and being a crypto criminal for some fucking reason.

Five died never achiving his only goal of stopping the apocalypse, hating Diego, (who btw was the ONE sinling he shook and tried to wake up when he found his body in S1), and heartbroken. He never got to save his family.

Lila died with unresolved issues with Diego and Five, torn between the two, away from her children.

Allison never got to be happy with her whole family and died with a stranded career and away from her child that she missed for 3 whole seasons.

Viktor died with commitment issues, never having seen Sissy again, still pretty away from his siblings.

And they all died thinking that they were a mistake and everything would be better without them. They all died with so much tension still. They all died full of sadness and missing people.

EXCEPT REGINALD FUCKING HARGREEVES. The man who, oh, you know, MESSED THE BRELLIES UP?

And sure, it's not HIM, really, but the fact that he admits throughout the season that he would have done the same things don't help at all.

I hate it so much. Why should he have the best ending? Why...?

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #umbrella academy #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy spoilers #five tua #lila pitts #lila hargreeves #allison tua #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #viktor tua #luther tua #luther hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua klaus

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aimfor-theheart · 8 months ago

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on the death of skirt chasers

a small think piece on how media has been stripped of romance, sex appeal, and charm over the last 20 years using trigun and trigun stampede as an example—specifically looking at this through wolfwood and vash as a tangible way to track this evolution.

it’s interesting and also unsurprising to me that trigun stampede stripped vash and wolfwood of some of their biggest personality traits from the 98 anime, which were their love of women. to be frank— they were both dogs lol

but vash was this sort of forlorn man who, meryl, upon meeting him, adequately describes him by asking, “are you the type of man to fall in love right away and get your heart broken?” or something to that effect. and he says what, no way! and then proceeds to fall in love with the next beautiful woman he sees and gets his heart broken by the end of the episode. and we were seeing this constantly throughout the show, then even in the later movie of the early 2010s badlands rumble.

and the 2000s are notorious for dubious, sexist comments from men who are women-obsessed. our action movies are packed with sexy female characters only existing for romance, etc. etc. we’re sort of at the tail end of it in 2010. so arguably, vash is almost worse here to me? he’s really pushy and borderline inappropriate with how stubborn he is. in a way that, while persistent in the 98 anime, he had a little more boyish charm to him and they never made him so forceful.

and then the middle and later 2010s happen where marvel takes over our action movies and romance and sex and womanizers are all but killed—originally, in reaction to the sexism. it’s important to note that the me too movement picks up in the middle and later 2010s too and becomes well-known by the end of this decade. and in response, i think we nosedive into puritanical ideas and sentiments by the end of the decade.

now we must always remember when a movement (ie feminism in this case) has a critique or reaction that catches on (the me too movement, men being pushy and overly flirtatious in our media, treating women in action movies only as sexy romance options, or showcasing toxic dynamics that subconsciously tell men to keep chasing her, even if she’s not interested) then the oppressive force (patriarchy in this case) will always transform as a way to take control again (bringing puritanical ideals back—we shouldn’t be showing sex or romance in our movies. we should not be consuming any dark content, ever. etc etc.)

i believe we killed romance and sex in the later 2010s because of an over correction of our sex-obsessed media of the 2000s—or rather, the patriarchy over corrected in order to maintain control. there were critiques of the 2000s that were valid, but like i said, the oppressive force will always transform to maintain power, so we hit puritanical beliefs again. “political correctness” if you will.

(capitalism surely has something to do with this too and it’s definitely along the lines of—be more beautiful and even hotter, but your body is not a sexual one, but a visual or capitalistic one. etc. etc. another topic, another time.)

and so here we are and we don’t really have any flirty or womanizing characters like we used to. and we see this very plainly in 2023s trigun stampede, where they have completely stripped vash and wolfwood of any of those traits.

and i sort of miss them? i think a 2023 forlorn vash who loves great and hard and gets his heartbroken would not be a bad thing—one who is effected and charmed by women, maybe rather than nearly stalking them like in the 2010 movie. i think it shows another piece of vash and that is quite literally that he wears his heart on his sleeve. and he gets hurt for it, endlessly. more than that there is a little more whimsy to him? and aching. he’s this lonely man who wants love so, so badly.

now, wolfwood in 98 version was less this forlorn chaser and more this suave womanizer. many jokes are made where vash is chasing a girl that wolfwood sorta already has if he wants her. but he’s this lone wolf who leaves everyone a little high and dry. (of course until the end—with milly —where, in a very classic lone-man way, he dies after leaving a woman with his child. the tragedy being that when he was ready to stop roaming and settle down with her and meryl and vash, he dies, thus still leaving everyone). and i mean even his appearance in the 98 version—big chested with low-buttoned shirt, shaggy hair and stubble. he looks like a 90s rockstar. he looks like your lone cowboy. he’s reminiscent of spike from cowboy bebop who has a similar charming air to him that never leads anywhere because he’s destined to be solo. the unintentional, intentional womanizer.

then the later 2010s hit and we kill the charming womanizer. (tony stark kills the womanizer. another topic, another time.)

and now in 2023, wolfwood is completely stripped of any of his sex appeal and suave personality that the 98 and even 2010 version of him oozed naturally. gone is the cool, tough, lone wolf. replaced with a sort of boy-bandish, squeaky-clean, semi villain, semi hero. he’s crass and he’s snarky and he’s supposed to be rough around the edges. but he doesn’t look it? and he lacks the charm that 98 wolfwood naturally had. which aided him when he talked to kids—he was softer. charming. people liked wolfwood, even when he was being crass. he knew how to talk to people, maybe even how to con them when he wanted.

2023’s wolfwood is tough to get along with. and while fun sometimes, i think it does lose this…romanticism to him? there is a softness in wolfwood that is sorta lost in 2023s version. while we get a fuller and better written backstory, we sort of lose this other aspect of him. we’re supposed to infer from his backstory and his relationship to his brother that he is a good man, just one put in a horrible situation, always had bad luck. whereas the 98 version, we saw that wolfwood was good with kids. gentle. women loved him—he charmed rowdy men, even swindled when he needed to. we saw that there was something good in wolfwood, even if he remained mysterious.

all this to say i do miss the romanticism? i do miss these men being…romantic? flirty? charming? and not even in a fangirl way but in a…humans are romantic creatures way? we are sexual beings? and romance and sex can tell us a lot about characters and their personalities.

and i think looking at vash and wolfwood in particular is a good way to track how we lost this romanticism in our media over the last 20 years—we literally see it in them, in their remaking in 2023, where they are stripped of it.

i think the mid and later 2020s will continue to return to it in some way—we already see this with the resurgence in romance novels (or these dark fantasy romance novels gaining popularity) and even fandom spaces being more “mainstream” on social media. but in late stage capitalism (and thus late stage patriarchy, racism, etc.) it looks a little like a carnival mirror of romance and sex to me.

another topic, another time. etc. etc.

#this isn’t like a critique on tristamp really it’s just using it for my analysis as a like #tangible way to track the phenomenon im talking about #if you read all of this and have thoughts id love to hear them <333 #am always open for discussion although i may be slow to reply!#cielo rambles!#cielo’s hot takes!

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lurkingshan · 1 year ago

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Cherry Magic Episode 12

MY HEART IS FO FULL. This adaptation has exceeded my wildest expectations to become one of my favorite bls of all time. They really put their backs into it and gave us everything we could want for these characters, and I will always be grateful. This show managed to be a faithful manga adaptation, a loving homage to the jbl, and a fresh take on the story all at once. An amazing feat to pull off and this creative team deserves so much love and kudos.

The way Achi and Karan have grown together over the course of this show has been fantastic to witness. I love how seriously the show took their growth, and that we got to see them put in the work to improve their communication and become a great team. Meeting the parents was a big step for them, especially because they were uncertain how their respective families would react, but I loved that they were so open with each other throughout about how they were feeling. I loved, too, that we got a contrast, with Achi's mom being so warm and loving (but still managing to get a dig in on her son, lmao) and Karan's being more avoidant and passive aggressive and needing a talking to her from her eldest child to get her shit together. I love that the drama created space for things to not go perfectly with the parents, and to show us that people can be moved to acceptance.

We got a bit of a parallel with that message in Jinta and Min's story this week, with Min's fans initially attacking Jinta, but backing off once Min named him as his faen and asked them to respect his relationship. I like the choice to model positive fan behavior, and it felt a bit pointed from this production company. Both with Pai and now with this new group of fans, the show has said consistently that being a fan should be about love and support, not control. That you can admire your idols but you also need to give them privacy. That it's not your place to judge who they love. I just love that message.

Of course, I have to talk about the mutual proposal and the wedding. I am pretty sure Karan has been carrying that ring around in his pocket since the second day of dating, but it was such a welcome surprise to see that Achi had already made his own plans, too. The show really succeeded in taking this relationship from something that felt a little one-sided to a very mutual partnership I can believe in. I teared up when right along with Karan when Achi followed Karan's proposal with his own, and you could see how much it meant to him to know that Achi is really truly on the same page. Getting to see their wedding and the love surrounding them on their special day was the cherry (lol) on top of this fantastic love story. I also absolutely loved the wink to the jbl elevator non-kiss in the way they framed their final married couple kiss and then cut away from the bed.

Continuing the love fest, I also love the changes this version made to the side couple's story. Min getting to fulfill his dream, Jinta being an excellent supportive partner, their agreement that they will marry someday when they're ready--it was all just lovely. The nod to the jbl pen proposal was cute, and I love that they took it a step further by drawing rings on each other. The flip in the sexual relationships was also quite welcome, with that triumphant arc reserved for the main couple in this version. Jinta ended the show with his magical powers still intact, but it didn't seem like that would be the case for long.

As for Rock and Pai, I am happy with how the show handled their story. To the end, Pai stayed true to herself, and Rock came to know her better and understand what kind of romantic relationship he could reasonably expect from her. She will always have her head more on her ships than on her own love life, and he seems okay with it. I think you can still take an aroace read on this Pai if you choose, and I appreciate that the show made space for that. I like, too, that Pai helped Rock reconnect with his own passion for dancing and find a fun outlet for his creativity. They were another reinforcement of this show's overarching themes about the importance of kindness, support, and clear communication in relationships.

This show left me with such a warm feeling. I'm so glad they stuck the landing, that episode 8 never happened, and that we can rewatch and remember this Cherry Magic so fondly. I never expected Thailand to go so above and beyond the original live action drama, but they have undoubtedly delivered my favorite version of this story.

#cherry magic th #cherry magic thailand #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

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pennyserenade · 1 year ago

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the devil hath power

part three: the victor

pairing: coriolanus snow x f!reader, coriolanus snow x you, coriolanus snow x nameless reader (no use of y/n) rating: e (explicit, 18+) tags/warnings: power imbalance, sex work/prostitution, degradation, smut, explicit sex, a little bit of violence, roughness, blood tw, hate sex, protected sex, handjobs, oral (female receiving), fingering, a general evilness for coriolanus snow is NOT a good guy. i hate to tag this as Dark Coriolanus because i think that's just who he is, but i will do so for the sake of this. word count: 7.9k+ summary: Coriolanus Snow is always the victor in his games. Or is he? a/n: this series was lots of fun to write and i can only hope that you all enjoyed reading this half as much as i enjoyed making it. i'll kiss you on the nose if you decide to leave a nice comment and/or reblog this, but if you only like it that's okay, too; i'll think of you fondly for having followed me on this journey regardless. no beta because life is hard but i did my best here.

part one | part two

The party did not conclude as much as it transferred to another location.

Tigris and her friends had begun to talk of a new nightclub some time after the conversation in the living room, and the idea whisked them away in their states of bubbly inebriation. They had kindly invited her along, with Tigris in particular trying to make a strong case, but she’d declined, citing early morning obligations. On the way out, Tigris had whispered to her that Coriolanus was too important for fun–but asked if she wouldn't try and help him have it anyway, being his old friend? She had promised she would and Tigris had kissed her cheek with warm affection before leaving. Not for the first time that night she could hardly believe that Coriolanus was related to the woman.

It was just as well for Coriolanus that they all left sooner than expected. He held the door open as they scattered out, delivering his charming goodbyes, but after they all had gone his amicable smile faded significantly and his shoulders slumped from the relief.

“Don’t you like them?” she asked, observing from the corner.

He wetted his lips, turning his head towards her. “Do you?”

“I’d say so, yes.”

“Of course you do. They’re fools.”

She wasn’t surprised by his turn of attitude. In fact, she felt more at ease when he was like this: transparently mean. It felt less frightening to know what she was up against.

“Even Tigris?” she inquired.

“Of course not Tigris,” he answered irritably. He pushed his frame off the wall and straightened himself out. “She’s just vulnerable to those types of people. It’s not her fault.”

“Those types of people?” As far as she could tell, they’d all been fairly well-rounded individuals. Their only fault had been curiosity, maybe overfamiliarity, but she considered that much better than what he gave off: Pomposity, contempt, a coldness when he did not think to mask it. Coriolanus could be charming–she observed this multiple times throughout the night, as he had conducted side conversations and finished off stories–but he never seemed to strike anyone as sincere. She could sense that, could feel it in the way they talked to him, not like an old friend, but like a teacher. He wasn’t like Tigris. She was lovely.

Coriolanus did not entertain the conversation any longer, though. He instead took the needle off the record that had been playing softly in the background for some time, stopping the music in the middle of a song. It was then that her thoughts spun back to her music box—how abruptly, almost violently, he had shut it when they were inside her room–and her stomach began to churn. It wasn’t nerves; it was far more complex than that. His eyes seemed to beckon her closer, to draw her in.

Despite what she had said, she had hoped maybe all Coriolanus had intended to do was flaunt her around the party, to show her the life she could have if she worked hard enough for it. That had been foolish; she was experienced enough to know with men like him it never stopped anywhere innocuous as that. He looked up at her like he expected a performance.

“Finally down to two,” she said, sitting her near-empty wine glass on one of his ornate bookshelves. “Anything else you’d like to do while I’m still on the clock?”

He laughed mirthlessly, working the knot in his tie. “Is that all you think about?”

She watched him as he had her that first night: intent, serious, a spectator to a life she could not quite imagine, nor one she exactly envied. “I don’t know—is there something else I should be thinking about?”

He eyed her as she moved closer, almost as if he intended for her to pounce. His grin was derisive. “I don’t know–don’t you have your own thoughts?” he answered brusquely.

“I do, but I don’t think you’d like them very much, Mr. Snow,” she retorted. She could sense that he was not entirely in a good mood now–could see it in the tense way he held his frame, see it in the hardness of his azure eyes–but she wasn’t sure he ever was. At least not in her company.

“I can leave as soon as you give me my money,” she added.

“Thought you said you weren’t an escort,” he sneered. She watched as his fingers undid his cufflinks. They fell with a clatter on the table before him, disregarded with an unfettered ease. She knew they probably cost more than most people could ever hope to make in a lifetime in the Districts. If she stole them, would he notice?

“I’m not, but you’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re well above paying for sex.”

“What? The game get too trying for you?” Coriolanus clicked his tongue. Though his words took on a more playful tone, his voice did not. “You almost had me convinced last week that you were a worthy playmate. So stubborn, so adamant. I thought to myself for a moment that I was lucky you were only a whore and not something as substantial as my classmate.”

Her eyes grew hard, despite herself. “So why are you trying to make me into something you so wholly believe I’m not?” she asked. “I don’t appreciate being left in the dark, Mr. Snow. In my line of business, it is best when all the cards are left on the table. When they are not I have the habit of leaving.”

He seemed to consider this as he opened the three buttons on his dress shirt. Already he had slung his suit jacket over the chair. “I’m not entirely fond of deception, either,” he said finally.

“I didn’t say anything about deception.”

“But I did. And you—“ he pointed a finger in her direction, “—know what you do is a bunch of thinly-veiled deception. I’ll tell you this: I think you could be an asset to me. You proved it tonight more than ever, with that charming little story about your Peacekeeper husband. You’re as quick on your feet as I’m sure you are on your back.” He quirked a mean grin. “But I’ll also say this: I also don’t like being left in the dark. If we are to work together the way I hope we will, I want to know your every thought as soon as you think it. I don’t care how banal.”

More than Coriolanus Snow liked conducting games, it seemed he liked winning them with an unfair advantage. Her lips twitched, daring to press into a grin. He didn’t find this amusing.

“You think I’m joking,” he gruffed.

“Quite the contrary.” She laughed, but it was more exasperated than mocking. “I think you’re serious. It’s just that you’re so goddamn predictable. You try to act above those men who come to me but you want what many of them do: power and control.”

The table that separated them lifted ever so slightly as he leaned his frame nearly all the way across it. “Of course I do,” his voice was rough. He was a frightening man when he wanted to be. She stumbled back. Anyone would’ve. “You do too. Don’t think I don’t notice just as much as you do.”

To make up for her temporary faltering and to show she was not intimated - though in truth she did wonder if maybe she ought to be - she leaned forward too, so close their noses nearly brushed. He smiled a wicked little grin that sent shivers down her spine. “You make me as sick as I make you. How's that for a thought?” she said.

No venom, no bitterness, just a fact. Her pulse quickened. For a flash, she considered the fact that he could very well kill her. That no one might know it. Was he capable of that?

She felt his breath fan across her cheek, warm, scented like roses. “I like you better like this. None of that doe-eyed, temptress act. Your fluttering eyelashes got you through the door, but only because I wanted to know more about what’s up here.”

She glowered. “You act high and mighty, Coriolanus, but I saw the tent in your pants last week. I know you liked it.”

Her mouth ghosted over his own, teasing, but he didn’t move; he smirked, brushing his nose against her cheek, daring her. Challenging her. A far cry from the Coriolanus of weeks past. His past words echoed in her mind, the gravity of them weighing on her for the first time: The game will be different next time.

She could not lose.

“You’re a petulant child, so afraid of what you don’t understand, contrary to what you say,” she whispered coldly, “And you want to fuck me so badly it terrifies you and you’re ashamed of yourself.”

He connected their lips; it was chaste, brief before he drew back. It surprised her, and she had to work hard to pretend it hadn’t. “You think that if I do, it’ll ruin me.” Another chaste kiss. “Maybe it might, but what of you? What if you like it? Could you live with yourself?”

Her eyes pressed close. The smell of roses was pungent but there was a heady scent mixed in with it; the sour-sweet smell of a clean sweat, of worry, of a long, long day. There too was alcohol. She had watched him consume a glass or two. She was sure she could take him on if need be. Certain that she had the willpower, the strength, to outdo him once more. “I’ve done far worse things and lived with it,” she whispered.

Snow’s fingertips grazed against her jawline. His eyes bore into hers when she opened them for him. “I believe that.”

Maybe it was meant to come across as condemnatory but it landed in a cushioned awe, wrapped in the quiet reverence belonging to a man who badly wants something he shouldn’t have. And he took it, his long fingers wrapping around the tantalizing column of her neck, pressing gently, an act of possession as his lips enveloped her own. There was no hesitation, no strain; he opened his mouth and she allowed his tongue to separate her lips. He tasted of roses, of wine, earthy and decadent, his lips plush and smooth as they moved hungrily against her own.

She was the one who pulled back first, searching for air, allowing his nose to bump against the tip of hers as he lurched forward for more. His eyes were closed but he still possessed enough of himself to laugh humorlessly at the impossibility of what was happening. It did feel like victory, albeit a small one. She kissed him again, hoping he felt the drip of regret straight down to the swell of his groin. Hoped he’d feel it for decades, that he’d remember this as vividly as she would: his thighs pressed into the wooden table, his fingers in her hair, on her jaw, on her neck, his want, thick and palpable - embarrassing - as he leaned closer for more, more, more.

He tugged her closer by the lapels of her jacket. There was no protest, not even the muffled sound of self-satisfaction as she crawled her way to him across the table. He held it down with his weight and watched expectantly as she came to sit before him. It was better this way, she told herself, so close. His pupils were blown wide, his lips red and bruised, whatever lipstick she might’ve still been wearing smudged against his. Even his carefully styled hair had begun to unravel. She could feel the full heat of his desire as her legs bracketed his waist.

“When I first began asking about you—“ Coriolanus’ fingers fiddled with the buttons on her blazer. She let him, leaning back on her arms, a present to be unwrapped. “—there was this man. Let’s call him Vitus.” The first button popped open, and he moved diligently to the next one. “I go to university with Vitus. He’s a wealthy young man, and arrogant, so it’s no surprise he’s on your list. Vitus spoke highly of you, but not kindly.” The other button broke open, revealing the bit of flesh before her breasts. He could see a peak of black, of sheer lace, and she watched as he reevaluated his expectations.

“Vitus,” she reminded softly. He shifted his eyes up. They were dark and unreadable. “Vitus—” he echoed, nodding. The third button slipped free. “—said you were a whore who got down on your knees for him. You sucked his cock so well that he shook. Said that was the best head he ever got, that you swallowed it down your pretty throat and left lipstick marks on his cock.”

Coriolanus’ lips twitched, as though this fact pained him. She furrowed her eyebrows, surprised by the way the words seemed to disturb him—as if he was angry that she had been with other men. He pushed her blazer open and draped it over her shoulders. His head drooped down and he took one of her nipples, which was clothed behind the sheer cup of her bra, and scraped it between his teeth.

She shuddered, one hand coming to his hair. Before it could, he pressed it back down onto the table forcefully. Her body got progressively more rigid beneath his.

“Another man said your cunt was tight.” He stared up at her with unfeeling eyes. “Tight. He said that word exactly. He was so vapid. He said you liked him. That you came on his cock not once but twice, and that you rode him until your knees gave out. And do you want to know what I asked them to get those responses?” Coriolanus pressed his lips gently on the place before her bra began. He began kissing downwards, right over the fabric. By her belly-button, he said, “If they knew who you were. Nothing else.”

He pressed warm, open-mouthed kisses at the waist of her pants. She pushed back the fawn of hair that fell over his eyes and he let her. Looking down at him, feeling the ghost of his lips, the presence of his breath against her skin, she realized he intended for her to comment.

“That doesn’t embarrass me,” she answered mildly. “I can’t stop what people choose to say about me.”

Coriolanus rolled his eyes. “I didn’t think it would. That wasn’t the point.” He began to undo the button on her pants now, too. “The point is that I wanted you to know—“ The button came loose and he carefully undid her zipper, falling to his knees before her. It was more reverent of a move that she would have figured he’d make. He nudged her exposed skin with the cold tip of his nose, letting his tongue trace lightly at the beginning of her transparent underwear. “—however well you did it for them, I want it twenty times better. This will be your best performance yet.”

His fingers gripped the underside of her thighs and he tugged her forward so abruptly, it caught her off guard. Her head rattled against the wood of the table. “Fuck!” she hissed through her teeth, her foot pushing outward to fling him back in retaliation. It worked; he jolted, his body falling flat onto the floor.

Her breath quickened, her body adjusting to the adrenaline now coursing through it. As rose on her elbow to inspect the damage, she frowned. Coriolanus sat before her, running his thumb against the bottom of his lip. When he inspected his fingers, he was overcome with quiet astonishment. They both were. There was a red droplet smeared on his finger, the blood fresh. The sight of it thrilled her. It did. She was not sorry to admit that. She only worried how he would take it, how he would respond. If he called someone, anyone important, she could be in trouble. What she did was not exactly legal.

“Coriolanus—“ she began apologetically. He rose a hand to shut her up. It was like blood on snow, the cream white of his hand smeared with the dark red of his blood. How ironic.

He rose to his feet, laughing coldly as he tongued the spot on his lip. It wasn’t terrible, but it’d be an injury he couldn’t hide. People would ask about it. She began to cower, drawing her knees up the closer he came to her.

“There’s no reason to be scared,” he assured, though the frenzied look in his eyes didn’t put her much at ease. His bloodied finger wrapped around one of her ankles. It melted in the fabric, but would no doubt stain later when it faded to rusty brown. This suit would be ruined. She tried her best to remain calm. She had survived worse. She was always surviving.

“What’s a little blood in a good game between friends?” he spoke levelly. The blood dribbled slowly down his chin and he let it.

She swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean to—not like that. I just meant to—“ she sputtered. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No you’re not. What did I say about us not deceiving each other?”

His voice was low, angry, his eyes piercing. She carefully watched his fingers on her ankle, anticipating his next move. They remained still, loose. “Maybe I deserved it,” he went on, laughingly. “What’s the saying—an eye for an eye? Maybe that just makes us even.”

Before the blood trickled down to his white shirt, she moved forward to stop it, as if this would absolve what she’d done—helping him. It was just a dribble, barely anything at all. He flinched, though, when she lurched forth to wipe it. He pinched her wrist between his fingers.

Coriolanus inspected the spot on her finger like he had his own, his lips attempting to twitch into something resembling a smile. It was unsettling, and she was happy when she pulled back and he let her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he told her softly again. He let go of her ankle.

She stared into his eyes until they finally became penetrable again. After she nodded in quiet acquiescence, Coriolanus took her hand back. He looked her in the eyes, wrapped his warm mouth around her two blood-stained fingers and moaned. It was so lewd, so unlike anything she could’ve imagined him doing, and she couldn’t help but show her shock; she yelped as his tongue grazed between her fingers.

Her slack jawed reaction offered him the reprieve he needed to get them back on track; his lips slid off her fingers and he pulled her closer, guiding her into another kiss. She could taste cooper on his tongue more than she could his roses now. This was against her rules, anything with blood, but it felt hard earned, like a reward on her part more than his.

Coriolanus took advantage of the fact that her slacks were unbuttoned and slid his hand down between their bodies. He spread his fingers through the patch of hair she had teased him with on that ill fated night, when he had come so close to giving in to her, reveling in the fact that he had her now. And it did feel like exactly that: like he had her, like a bird in a cage. He had her beneath his touch, he had her wearing the clothes he’d picked out, in the house of his own making, wearing the very blood she’d drawn from his lip. Even the slight pulsating feeling that resided there still only added fuel to the fire that she’d awoken in him.

She was a terrible thing, and he saw it in her eyes when she’d kicked him back—that frightening jolt of excitement that came from the illicit. The fact that she hated him, that he could see it in her eyes as clearly as he had been able to derive anything else from her, did not bother him. It comforted him. She was no Lucy Gray. Not even throwing poor Lucy Gray in an arena to fight to the death could make her half as jaded as the woman beneath his touch. She had done worse and lived through it. Yes, he believed her.

The simple truth of it was that if she wasn’t a whore and destitute, he’d marry her in a heartbeat. While Livia Cardew was a wonderful choice, and one he was close to sealing the deal on, Livia wasn’t like this woman. He knew that there would never be a danger of loving either of them, that his heart could never open the way it had for Lucy Gray for anyone so cold and cynical. But he knew, unlike with Livia, he could delight in life with this one—that she could make him better, not for all her surrender, but the process of wearing her down to it. He pictured it: the Presidential Palace of his dreams, expansive and grand, and her lying in a four-poster bed waiting for him after a long day in red silk sheets, wearing nothing but this black transparent set. When he entered her it would not be a chore, or something given, but a game hard won—and he knew she’d like it too, that the defeat would fill her with comfort because she knew the depths of true exhaustion and it wouldn’t be like that. He’d seen the hollowed home of hers, knew she lived through the Dark Days just as well as the rest of them and recovered about as well as his family had. To lose his game would be nothing; he’d cloth her and feed her and fuck her full of heirs no matter what.

He wouldn’t want Livia to do this. She wouldn’t do it half as well. There was a vulnerability to this woman that Livia Cardew didn’t possess, a vulnerability she tried hard to forge into strength and almost succeeded at. It was thrilling to watch, to see her hold her head up so assuredly beneath his hard gazes, to watch the devastating power she possessed when she needed something badly enough. He hated her but she no longer disgusted him; she thrilled him. He’d be happy to play this game every day for the rest of his life—would be pleased to shed blood for something as giving as this pursuit. He’d done more for less.

Her cunt was hot and wet, and rubbing a single finger through it relieved him more than he would readily communicate. But he didn’t have to; he slumped into her, gave way. She gripped at his arms, let him swallow her breathy little moans into his mouth as he teased over her core with his fingertip. He knew that when he entered her, it would change something—ruin him, maybe, the way she’d forecasted—and he didn’t yet want to do it. A part of him would lose and would remain lost forever, and he wasn’t ready to contend with that truth yet.

He gathered her slick on his fingers and began to grind down on her clit. Slowly at first, letting her adjust to the feeling, then quickly, delighting wholly in the way she couldn’t help but tighten her grip on his arms.

Coriolanus was not a man who liked self-imposed ignorance. After returning from District 12, he’d begun to undertake his study in sexuality, with nearly as much ardor as he had his education. He and Lucy Gray never had done anything beyond kissing and heavy petting. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to—he’d wanted to wait until she seemed eager, ready, when they could be alone, away from the Covey, from Sejanus—but it never worked out. He understood it to be for the best. If they had he’d probably be tethered to the foolish notion that sex had to mean something. When he got back, Coriolanus took to the female attention that had been directed towards him for much longer than he had wished it to be. It had started with Clemensia, for he had known he could trust her for her frankness and he found her to be the prettiest.

He knew what he was doing now—had undertaken many hours in the laboratory of women’s intricate, often complex forms. Sometimes men, too, he wasn’t ashamed to admit. There was nothing he did not want to know—especially about himself. Lucy Gray had taken him by surprise because he’d made the mistake of being unknowing, of not having a strong sense of his character and a fluid purpose. He worked through that, saw himself out to the other side: he knew what he liked, who he liked, when he liked it.

Well, mostly. She surprised him, but that was perfectly fine because he was solving this too, wasn’t he?

Her nails dug crescent shaped indentations into the pale of his skin, nearly cutting enough to draw blood again, but not quite. He nuzzled against her throat with his nose, taking to the sting of it. He went faster on her clit, harder. “You can never just play nice, can you?” he husked. He nipped alongside the edge of her jaw, ignoring the ache in his lip. “You’re so fucking wet. You like this. Like my blood on your tongue and my hands down the front of your pants. Makes you feel powerful doesn’t it?”

She covered his mouth with one of her hands, her face contorting into a fine pleasure-pain expression that sent jolts right down to his cock. He could tell she was close, that she was going to come any second based on the way she was drawing her legs together—or at least trying to. Her grip was fierce on his arm and she was uncaring of the wound she had given him, pressing her palm to it. If she drew fresh blood, he wouldn’t be surprised. Wouldn’t mind. He’d lick it from her palm, too.

He finally relented when he felt she was getting too close, and he sunk a single finger into her, keeping his thumb pressed steadily onto her clit as he did. She moaned, loud and audacious, her entire body arching up into him. With his free hand, he gripped her chin hard and, shaking off her hand from his face, pushed his lips into hers. She came, her fingers tugging on his hair, her nails clawing at his arm, her tongue touching his, exploring, tasting, lingering.

And then she slumped against him, sated and out of breath. He smirked, though she could not see it. This was his victory, and a sweet victory it was. Here she was: docile, collasped in his arms, pleased because he had made her so.

When he felt she had had enough time to recuperate, he took his finger from the welcomed heat of her cunt and placed it on her tongue. It did not shock her the way he thought it might’ve—the way he would’ve liked. She wrapped her lips around it without a second thought, drawing it in deeper, her eyes latching seductively onto his. His cock twitched at the sight and at the feel of it, knowing that she was tasting of herself and without a hint of shame or remorse coloring her. Good Capital girls weren’t ever so bold. It took awhile to get them to do things like this, or to even admit that they might like the idea of it.

And she knew he liked it—that what had been plebeian before now seemed desirable as he explored and touched and undid. The state she found herself in was not an unprecedented outcome as much as it was a detour. She would still end up where she had intended to be in the beginning. Coriolanus was better than she would’ve thought he could’ve been, sure, but it did not detract from the fact that at his core he was fundamentally the same as the rest of them. That in his eyes, which burned wildly of passion, and his mind, which no doubt thought single-mindedly of success, was like that of a million others before him. Unexceptional in his perceived exceptionalism.

She took her mouth off of him, sucking her cheeks so hollowly around his finger that she made a sweet popping sound. Coriolanus was like a spectator. That’s the best way she could perceive him: as an audience, taken completely with her and her unpredictability, hanging onto the edge of his seat, wondering what on earth she would do next. His eyes followed her movements closely. She thought of his Games—the one with the tributes that could be bet on, and watched constantly—and she wondered how much different this was to that for him. How sick of a man was he? Where was the line, as he asked her? Did he know it?

She guided his hand down to her chest. This he seemed to understand, taking the lead, catching her pebbled nippled against his palm as he massaged one of her breasts. She shrugged off the blazer—which had scarcely been hanging on for a while now—and tugged down her bra impatiently, exposing more of herself to him. He took the opportunity to lean his head down again. Coriolanus ran the flat of his tongue against one of her nipples, while squeezing the other between his fingers. The nature of it bordered on painful but he never committed to it, edging her up to the slight sting of too much pressure and then coaxing her out of it, sucking, rubbing lightly.

His lips were glossy when he perched up to kiss her. She smiled. “You’re awful agreeable when your cock is hard—though I guess I knew it would be. I think that’s why you hate whores like me: we excite you to the state of pliability.”

He took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged at the flesh. “You’d like to think that,” He kissed over the spot, tending it with an affection that didn’t belong to him. It felt borrowed, stolen, an amusing role he was trying to fill out as not to startle her with the true depth of his cruelty. “I hate what you do but I understand it, don’t you see? I told you as much before. You whores — as you so crassly put it — are like a small stain on a good piece of fabric: some you can hide better than others.”

She yanked roughly at his hair, drawing a hiss from his lips. But his grin did not fade. “What does that make you, then?” she retorted, “With your cock hard for me? Paying to finger me?”

She palmed him through his slacks and Coriolanus let out a shuddery breath, shocked by the sudden relief of it. His next response was amused, his voice lighter. “But you’re not like other whores are you? There’s a hierarchy and you’re at the top of yours. The finest quality. If there’s ever a cunt to sink into, it’s yours—“ His eyes rolled back as she unzipped his slacks and slid her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. Her fingers gripped tightly around his base and his nose brushed against hers as he leaned into her touch, his palms flattening on the table. “—fuck.”

With her free hand she propped him up, laughing against his shoulder. “Oh, Coriolanus,” she purred against the shell of his ear. His shaft was leaking pre-cum and she rubbed some of it down his cock, taking note of his response to her grip; the way the muscles in his neck fluctuated, how his hips bounced back and forth, how his breathing labored. Her teeth tugged on his earlobe. “You ought to get a condom, before you make a mess of yourself in your slacks. I can tell you want it so bad, Coryo.”

His hand gripped her throat. “Don’t call me that,” he said, his voice low—ringing serious, desperate. She didn’t listen.

“Coryo, please,” she begged. His cock twitched in her hand and his hand tightened on her throat, threatening. It was a warning. She wanted to ruin him—wanted him to think about her forever, wanted to hate her as badly as she felt she hated him—but she couldn’t let him finish like this. She needed him inside of her, the truest defeat.

“I’ll show you how good I can be,” she coaxed, her tugs on his cock becoming more lingering. From the tip to the base, slow and teasing. He was decently sized. more girth than he was length. She was happy he knew what foreplay was. “I’ll show you how good we can be, and that’s what you really want, isn’t it? To know that I can submit to you as you’ve to me? And I can, Coryo.”

His eyes pressed closed. She kissed the side of his mouth. “You don’t want what those men want, do you? Not even in a better form. You want more from me. Something I’ve never given them. Isn’t that right?” She kissed him fully on the lips now and he let her—even opened his mouth to accept her tongue against his. A man heavily seduced. “I bet you’d like to fuck me with nothing on, wouldn’t you?”

She knew what he wanted. She needed him to say it to. To admit it for the both of them. His eyes looked so light, almost crystal, when he opened them again. He swallowed hard. “You’re such a cunt.”

“You’re not paying me to lie to you. You’re paying for my every thought, isn’t that right?” She gripped his cock tighter in her hand and he sucked in a breath through his gritted teeth. “I think you want to tell me what you’re thinking so badly it’s killing you. You shouldn’t be afraid of it, not anymore. We’ve already come so far. A little farther won’t kill you.”

“Such a dirty wh—“

“You told me, you said however banal the thought—“

“I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything. You’re just afraid of it—the depth of your want.”

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He rutted into her hand, the warmth of it beyond relieving after so much of nothing. She let him. As his hips pushed into her, into the table, she watched how the desperation took hold of him. Coriolanus' breathing became labored. She wondered how long it had been—if he denied himself this pleasure. He gripped tightly onto the edge of the table, drawing closer and closer, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

With an almost sickening amount of satisfaction, she let go of his cock. Coriolanus rutted into nothing with a harsh grunt, his head bouncing into her shoulders as he realized what she’d done and began to sag from the betrayal.

He gripped her face between his hands. “You think you’re so very clever—and you are—but you won’t win this. Not against me.” He squished up her cheeks, drew her closer to his face. His patience had thinned. “I’m not like those bastards you fool around with. Everyone knows you don’t fuck whores without a condom—even the most cunning ones. Don’t play the cards you don’t have because it’s beneath you,” he growled out before letting her go.

She watched with mild curiosity as he stalked away from her. It was an act she found equal parts amusing and hypocritical. He reminded her of a wounded animal, snapping at whatever it perceives to be a threat in blind rage.

“You like the game, don’t you, Coriolanus?” she asked him lightly.

He peered at her over his shoulder. “I have always liked the making of it more than I liked the playing of it.”

He had retreated back to his clinical tone; measured, calculated, clipped. She gathered her composure and slid off the table. He tensed beneath her when she wrapped herself around his torso, and his hands gripped onto her own. But he did not push her away. He was warm, still flushed from his desire, and she knew he did not have it in him to deny her. His cock was hard, leaking, and he allowed himself the room to want this. To imagine it. They were too far into this now.

She laid her head against his back and toyed with the buttons on his shirt. She slid her hand beneath the cool fabric. Her fingers explored the hardened expanse of his chest, dipped down to his abs teasingly. His heart hammered away in his chest—perhaps the most honest thing about him. His body began to ease, unintentionally, back into her own, and she undid the few remaining buttons on his dress shirt. He let it fly open.

Coriolanus turned around. He kissed her suddenly, and it wasn’t like before—not rough, but almost tender, all consuming. “I think we should go to my bedroom in case Tigris comes back. Sometimes she does that,” he whispered against her lips.

“Lead the way,” she responded. And he did.

Coriolanus’ room was luxurious, but sensible; it was obvious from the design it was a space meant to be slept in rather than inhabited: the four poster bed, the orange hued lamps, the heavy drawn curtains. Everything was the best quality, but it was plain, almost antiquated. Like hers, if she could have his money.

He didn't put much stock in how she felt about the room, though. When the door shut, they resumed their working relationship. He eased her out of the slacks and she relieved him of his shirt; he unlatched her diaphanous bra, and she tugged on his pants; he shimmed the underwear off her hips and he stepped out of his for her without protest, without thought. They were naked in seconds and seemed to understand each other better for it. She laid down on his bed and he stood at the foot of it.

His cock, which had begun to soften, sprung back to life now without aid. He touched his cock in lazy strokes, noncommittal but desperate. He did have a good looking cock, velvet soft and veiny. A terrible thing for a man so evil, so repressed, to be gifted with something like that. “No more tricks,” he demanded.

She opened her legs, the air of the room cool against her wet core. “No more tricks,” she echoed. Coriolanus devoured her before he touched her.

He moved methodically to the desk in the corner of his room. The condoms were stored in the second drawer, wrapped in gold. Before she could offer to help him put one on, he was already undoing the wrapper and lining himself up to the latex. She watched curiously as he did it. He was stately about it, not coltish or inelegant. In this way, he was unmatched. Men usually bowed to their desires but it seemed he led a disciplined existence. He was too important for fun.

Her stomach began to flutter with the anticipation of it. It was a betrayal, but not one she couldn’t contend with. Not one that she hadn’t before, in fact. This was how the body worked. This was work. This meant nothing.

“Are you wet enough?” he asked.

“I’d say so. I must say, you surprised me.” After a pause, she added, “You surprise me. Present tense.”

His smirk was unmistakable and predicted. “Isn’t it nice, not fucking men like Vitus? Don’t you see what a life you could have if you work for me?”

“Yes,” she cooed. Pliant, sated, prepared beautifully on his satin sheets. A dream he had long awaited and one he wanted so badly it would terrify him if he didn’t understand it throughly.

Coriolanus crawled between her thighs. He kissed her again, hard, urgent, and she responded in kind, sucking at the end of his tongue, tugging on his now unruly hair. His cock rested on the curve of her stomach, present, aching, seemingly growing harder by the minute. He worked hard not to rub against her. He refused to hump against her like some goddamn puppy who knew no better.

“Now,” she whispered. He nodded in assent. It was all done by his permission, by his standards. Her hand wrapped around his cock and she guided him to her core, but it was he who pushed in. He who teased the tip, he who slid so slowly that both of their bodies drew in a rigid sigh, he who bottomed out and he who drew up one of her legs to go a little deeper still.

He needed her and there was a certain release to being able to admit that. It was encouraging. It made him throb inside of her. They looked at one another, breathed in the scent of their sex, and it began. Coriolanus drew back his hips, then pressed forward. His movements were harsh but steady. He delighted in the way she looked up at him like that: like he was fucking her and she felt it, really felt it. And fuck, she was wet, so wet that he could hear it. His cock was a welcome entity inside of her; she clenched around him, seeming to urge him in, begging him to stay.

An unspeakable thing grew inside of him. The thing she had been right about. The thing that terrified him. His head hung and he watched the way his cock glistened with her slick, how it entered and exited out of her. “You’re mine,” he growled. It came from within and sounded frail. And it was. It belonged to a version of him he did not like. A version of him he could seldom control. He did not do this much anymore and it was for good reason. He had learned what he had needed to.

She gave a beautiful performance, though. Bleary-eyed with want, convincing as she raised her hips to meet him—like she might need this half as badly as he did. “Yes,” she answered. He hated her.

You hate her. You hate her. He repeated it like a mantra, his hips snapping into hers based on the unvaried rhythm of it. And he did hate her. She was a whore and she was a good one. His arms bracketed her head and said it. “I hate you.”

“Fuck,” was her response. Fuck. His cock pounded inside of her and she moaned. Her nails began to dig into his skin again. This he liked most of all. The nobility of having shed blood had grown on him since he had first killed a person.

He brought up the other leg. She gasped. It could not be any easier to push inside of her than it was now. God she was wet. He began to grind inside of her. She drew blood on his back. The sting of it was a relief. Penance. Fuck.

He didn’t bother with making her come. He thought about it but he felt she didn’t need to. Not again. He was paying her for this. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, not for someone like her. To come inside of her because of his own thoughts was one thing but to come because she did, because she was trembling with her own want and he liked it—

He came. His body went slack and it surprised them both. She wrapped her hands in his hair as he collapsed into her body, and he could feel the heavy thud of heart. Or maybe that was his. It was hard to tell where one began and one ended during these things. He hated that most of all.

Coriolanus drew out of her as soon as he could. He was not embarrassed. He was startled, but not embarrassed. It felt cleansing. But then he did something unforgivable. He did not leave her with her legs parted, did not watch with scorn as she laid in the filth of her occupation. Did not hate her because of what she was but rewarded her for it.

Her gasp was as genuine when his tongue parted her folds. He ate her out in earnest, his eyes watching the way his tongue made her react. When she played with her nipples, so unabashed about what she wanted, he put his mouth on her clit and sucked. He did want her to come. Because of him. For him. Her hips jerked and he followed along with the movements.

She tasted vaguely of him, but acidic, tangy, dangerous, too. Her fingers raked through his hair, and he entered two fingers inside of her. Clemmie used to like this. Livia would, too. He was good at it.

“Oh, Coriolanus,” she whined. He hummed against her and the vibration reached her core. She shook and tugged and pleaded, her hips doing their best to get away, but he wouldn’t let them. He felt her clinch around his fingers. “Coriolanus,” she gasped. She came once, twice. Three times would be too indulgent. This is where he drew the line.

He fell to her side with a heaving chest. They were both too warm, spent, surprised by the extent of what they had done to speak about it. In his mind he was building her a cage, and she was already searching for the key next to him.

After a while, he turned to her. She did not look at him but continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. “How much?” he asked her. It felt customary.

She wanted to say: More than you can give. She wanted to say: Everything you’ve got. She wanted to say: I will tell you no secrets, I won’t help you, I hate you. But she didn’t. She thought of home, what remained of it, and she said: “More than the first time.”

She was nothing like him but one did not need to be Coriolanus Snow to understand this: money was king, and he who had the most was the winner.

But she understood something far better than he did. She had taken something from him he hadn’t intended to give, and that was something money could not buy. His blood was beneath her fingernails. His cuff links were in the pocket of her blood stained suit. Tomorrow she would begin to make her house right again. Tomorrow she would tell him what she knew about the men she slept with—all of it. Turn them all against each other, hopefully, ruin the whole damn empire. Maybe she would steal something else, eat his food, fuck him again, see how far she could go before he noticed how much of his life she usurped. Would he begin to blur the line between performance and reality? She was sure he might. Already he had his hand on her wrist, tracing lightly against it.

He was the winner but now she was out for more than just a single victory. This was war and she was choosing her battles wisely.

Looking in his direction, she turned her lips up almost imperceptibly into a grin. Her eyes were soft, still teary from the sex. He seemed…at ease. Sated.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“This opportunity,” she said warmly. “I know it’s going to change things for me. I can see that.”

In his eyes it appeared: the propensity for being needed. He smiled, too. “It will,” he told her.

Yes, she was the victor and the crown had yet to feel heavy.

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #young coriolanus snow #thg #the hunger games fanfic #tbosas fanfic #tbosas fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfic

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schrijverr · 1 year ago

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Works Alone

When trying to pull the team together, Bruce’s ideas are dismissed, because he works alone. He goes home to his kids to pout about it.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

Bruce isn’t pouting. He isn’t! He’s not even a little bit miffed, because he doesn’t want the Justice League to succeed anyway. He doesn’t trust them, hell, he’s not even a full time member, he’s only playing along to keep the others in check. So why would he care?

However, attempting to convince himself doesn’t mean it is working or not clear on his face. The second he steps into the Cave, Dick comments: “Someone is pouty. Did anything happen with your new friends, B?”

He sounds a little too jovial about the whole thing for Bruce’s taste, because despite what he’s telling himself, he is pouty.

“Ridiculous. Father would never stoop so low as to pout,” Damian sticks up for him.

Damian had been sparring with Dick when Bruce arrived, but is now taking a break to drink some water. Seeing the two of them work together makes Bruce both feel better and more prissy, so he just grunts.

“He’s totally pouty,” Jason crows, from where he’d been ruffling through Bruce’s equipment. He would gladly give Jason all the stuff he needs, but Jason insists on stealing it, even if he’s stealing it in plain sight, which is more closely to just taking it.

“Take it back,” Damian frowns.

“Nah,” Jason says. “You know how he gets when y’all don’t come by enough. I mean, you shoulda seen him when Dickface first moved out. Man’s a pouter, I dunno what to tell ya.”

“What’s B pouting about now?” Steph asks, falling into the conversation since she’s only just arrived to start getting ready for patrol tonight.

“We don’t know yet, he’s still denying he’s pouting,” Tim calls out, not having looked up from where he’s working on the Batcomputer all throughout. “Though it’s likely something with the League, since he just got back from giving back up.”

Heads turn his way and Dick concernedly frowns: “Are you okay? Did they do something?”

There is a dark, yet gleeful glimmer in Damian’s eyes as he asks: “Do we need to go out there and vanquish these super powered morons, father?”

“No,” Bruce sighs, still a little miffed, though his mood has definitely been improved by his kid’s banter, as well as their worry for him.

“Then what happened, old man?” Jason demands. “Stop that vague bullshit you always do.”

“Oehhh, Jason swore!” Steph immediately chimes in. “I’m telling Alfred.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” Jason whips around to her, pointing his knife at her.

“Knock it off, I wanna hear why B is being pouty,” Tim interrupts them.

“Yes, cease this chatter,” Damian adds, a rare show of agreement with Tim. They’ve all been growing, Bruce thinks proudly.

“So what happened then?” Steph asks, rolling her eyes, though stopping her fight with Jason.

Jason luckily also lets it go for now, so Bruce can answer: “They aren’t working as a team. It’s just a group of skilled individuals now and it’s becoming a problem.”

“You’ve been observing that for a while, B. Why suddenly the long face about it?” Dick asks.

And now the embarrassing part, Bruce thinks as he admits: “John is trying to do something about it now. I offered my help, but he refused, stating that I don’t know how, since I work alone, while he has been in the army.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, the whole group bursts out in laughter.

“What?” Jason wheezes, while Dick cackles: “He actually said that? Are you for real? Oh my god.”

“I’m going to loose my shit,” Steph snorts, Tim chuckling in the background.

Even Damian is looking amused, although also slightly judgmental. He disdainfully comments: “They are not very bright and must lack observational skills, father. Are you certain you wish to proceed in sponsoring them?”

“Yes,” Bruce sighs again. He’d already had that conversation with himself. Many times. “There is a lot of potential there too. Which is what makes them dangerous. However, out there is dangerous too. They can protect like an army can. Like we can’t.”

“Tt, we can take on extraterrestrial threats and some villains,” Damian huffs, obviously displeased. Out of all his siblings, he’s been the most vocally against the Justice League.

“The brat has a point,” Jason surprises him by backing him up. “I mean, between us here and those still on the streets or running late, you basically have your own little army right here. Just recruit Wonder Woman and I’m sure we’d have a chance.”

“You just wanna work with Wonder Woman, don’t you?” Dick says, sounding a little smug as he slides up behind Jason to make a kissy face at him.

Jason just pushes his face away as he blushes and exclaims: “Shaddup, Dickhead.”

“Yeah, shut up! That’s the most sensible thing he’s said all his life,” Steph hollers.

“Kids, kids, calm down. We’re not disbanding the Justice League and adopting Wonder Woman,” Bruce interrupts, wondering how his life ends up with him saying sentences that he never thought he would be saying.

“I never said nothin’ ‘bout adopting her,” Jason scowls.

“Cuz you want to kiss her!” Dick sing-songs.

“Isn’t she like a few thousand years old or something?” Tim asks.

“Also not marrying Wonder Woman. Any of you,” Bruce says. “Why don’t we all just stay away from Wonder Woman. And the rest of the Justice League, which will continue to exist and not fall apart because they struggle at teamwork. Maybe John’s idea will work. It’s too early to say.”

All of them are giving him a judgmental look now and Bruce struggles to not react to it. It’s always harder when he agrees with them.

“But Green Lantern’s plan is hinging on esprit de corpse,” Tim says. “And that will never work, because it’s a military mentality and while you’ve been working together, there is no real interdependence outside a few emergencies.”

“Yeah, what Timmy said,” Dick agrees, gesturing towards Tim.

“I loathe to admit it, father, but Drake has a point,” Damian nods and that truly shows that it is a hopeless mission for John.

“We’ll just have to see,” Bruce says, deciding to end the conversation there. “Now get ready for pre-patrol brief. We have a few open cases to assign. Cass and Harper will soon be reporting from their early rounds, so get suited up.”

There are a few groans around him, but his kids grant him the mercy of dropping it. They probably know as he does that this won’t be the last time they discuss it.

Indeed a few days later, Bruce comes walking into the Cave again, trying not to let the thunder cloud above his head show too much. However, he knows his kids notice, some sending him a raised brow or an inquiring look. Bruce is glad that he’s come far enough as a parent that not even Dick or Jason are put off by his bad mood.

Dick is also the one to tentatively ask: “Not a good training session with the Justice League?”

“John has us running drills,” Bruce grunts. “It’s showing us each other’s moves and how to play into each other, but…”

“It’s not turning you into a team?” Dick suggest.

“Yeah,” Bruce says, sighing.

“Esprit de corpse,” Tim sing-songs, walking by with a steaming mug of coffee that he went upstairs to refill, ready to start working on the case he’s in the middle of.

Bruce ignores Tim, knowing he’s right, and pulls the cowl off to card a hand through his hair. “We don’t need to run drills, but we need to do trust exercises, talk with each other, get to know each other better, be- be-”

He doesn’t know how he wants to end that sentence, but Cass does, materializing out of the darkness in her sweats, she says one word: “Family.”

“I thought you didn’t like the Justice League,” Duke asks. Luke is covering his day shift today since the last few days have been busy for Duke, but as a true Bat, he doesn’t really know what taking a break means, so he’s in the Cave training.

“Hn,” Bruce replies, thinking. “I mean, I do like them, I just-”

“He doesn’t trust ‘em,” Jason says. He wasn’t supposed to be at the Cave, but it’s clear why he’s there when Bruce looks his way in surprise. He’s holding a box of files, likely stuff he needs for his organization, Bruce wouldn’t know. They’re at a point where Jason doesn’t kill and Bruce doesn’t ask.

“What? Why?” Duke asks. “You fund them and go on missions with them. Even share intell and use them as backup, despite the fact that there are metas and aliens among them. Why do that if you don’t trust them?”

“’Cause he’s also paranoid,” Jason answers for him. “He’s monitoring ‘em.”

“But also befriending them,” Dick says, defending Bruce. “He just needs to vet them closely first, before he does that.”

“Right, ‘cause he’s paranoid,” Jason says.

Duke looks at Bruce, who sighs: “They’re not wrong. The Justice League has a lot of potential to do good and they’re showing they want to be that goodness. But they also have the potential of mass destruction. We need to be sure they won’t be a threat and that we have the right contingencies, before we let them in.”

“Like I said, paranoid,” Jason repeats.

“But trying,” Dick adds.

“And is stepping in to help them get better teamwork going to backfire?” Duke wonders. “Like are we scared we’re going to teach them how to destroy everything as a team? Is that it?”

“No,” Bruce answers, before the peanut gallery consisting of Dick and Jason can. “I offered help to John, he didn’t want it. I don’t think they’re willing to listen to my opinion on it, since I work alone, so have no expertise.”

Duke snorts loudly at that, then suddenly says: “Wait, you’re serious?”

Bruce grunts as conformation.

“Why?” Duke asks.

“Paranoid,” Jason says, rolling his eyes, before hoisting his box up again, before walking off.

Meanwhile, Bruce actually explains: “I haven’t mentioned you, like I said I would. It’s best if they don’t know we’re connected, nor that Gotham hosts more heroes. Connections like we have could be exploited by them and Superman can do a lot more damage should he so choose than Killer Croc or Bane.”

“But they’re good guys, right?”

“For now,” Dick answers morosely. “I’m not saying I agree with B’s paranoia, I mean, I was doing team ups before him and it worked out fine for me without the layers of paranoid he has. But a lot of things can go wrong, especially when working with people that powerful. I also maintained a semblance of mystique just to be safe.”

“But you can try to tell them this isn’t working, right? They must see that it’s not,” Duke says.

“From what I’ve seen both Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman are warriors like John, so they think the same about this. Superman and Flash are office workers, they’d think of horrid team-building days. While J’onn is used to working together with people who can read minds,” Bruce answers. “Out of all of them, only J’onn might listen.”

Cass nudges him and signs: ‘You are not saying something. There is hiding in your shoulders and a bit of guilt in your jaw.’

“What are you hiding, B,” Dick prods, a little bit of genuine judgment and worry coming through the tease.

“It’s a risk to tell them,” Bruce answers sulkily, knowing it’s a little silly, but unable to stop his brain from providing pop-ups of all the ways it could backfire.

“B,” Dick whines, throwing himself to hang over him. “You can at least try.”

“I will, I will,” Bruce says, placating yet also meaning it. He wants to do right by his kids and they want him to have friends, most of them encouraging him with the Justice League.

And, he does. Tentatively he suggest doing some trust exercises among the drills they’ve been running. As expected he gets weird looks and even a scoff from Wally and a frown from Clark. But he manages to play into John’s ideas brotherhood, which means the others are forced to give it a try.

It’s not perfect, of course it isn’t. They still have to deal with the fact that they never agreed on a strategists or a leader of sorts. They still have to build an organization, a system, a proper way of working as a unit.

However, they are getting somewhere. Some prodding here and there helps and the more it helps, the more others prod.

Though it’s not until years later, when Damian is nearly outgrowing the Robin mantle, that Bruce finally allows them to meet his kids. To let them in on the inner workings of Gotham vigilantism.

Then John will point at him and exclaim: “You son of a bitch, you lied to me! You let me struggle on my own to pull these idiots together.”

And at that point, Bruce will be comfortable enough to ignore everyone’s protests and smirk: “I offered you to help, didn’t I? Too bad I work alone.” Making his kids – though they’re adults at that point – laugh like the day they first heard.

A/N:

I think the League thinking Batman works alone is hilarious, especially if they establish later than the batfam

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redbleedingrose · 1 year ago

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Girl Dad!Rhysand x Reader Headcanons

This male could pound me to town and I would say thank you.

A/N: Anyway, this Highkey sucks so I am so sorry. I feel like I have to ease back into writing, it has been so long since I have sat down and actually written something. It is all over the place and just not the best writing so I apologize for that. I just… my surgery rotation literally killed me. You can ask @augustinerose I was not in a good headspace. I feel like I am still recovering from that and idk… it just… I feel like it stole some part of me. I dunno, its hard to explain but it took out all the motivation I had towards writing. So easing back into things is gonna have to be the way to go. Again, I am so sorry, this is literally awful. I am gonna try to do some NSFW headcanons for girl dad!Rhys tomorrow if y’all would like. As always, a comment or reblog is much much appreciated. It always gives me the motivation and hope to continue writing.

Girl dad Rhysand is too good y’all I cannot.

Rhysand is one of the best girl dads out there.

He makes sure his baby girl and wife are taken care of to the fullest extent.

I am talking he wakes up in the middle of the night to take care of the babe, swaying her and humming Illyrian rhymes to her to calm her. He takes her out for flying, making sure to wrap her sensitive tiny wings in wool so that they can remain warm against the night court breeze whenever she is inconsolable, usually returning with her fast asleep, sucking on her tiny thumb with little grunts every so often.

The first month of the babe being home, he would sneak out of your bed just to lay down next to the crib so he could make sure that your darling babe was settled and comfortable.

He is a mother hen, glaring at Cassian for making too much noise when the babe is resting in his arms.

He likes to show her the constellations in the sky, pointing out each of the different stars and even using his powers to create mini galaxies above the crib. For her 5th birthday, he gifts her an actual star out of the sky, following the nickname, “my shining star.”

He adores her so much, there is nothing he wouldn’t do for her. She has him wrapped around her tiny fingers since the moment she grabbed onto his finger with her tiny fist. He loves reading stories to her, making sure that the nursery is filled with old children tales that are centuries old, first edition novels really, along with all of the new writings from the authors around each court. One sure fire way of calming down your babe whenever she is fussy is Rhys pulling out a book and resting back in the rocking chair with her in his arms, and reading to her the stories. He does all the different voices for different characters and even makes funny faces for your little girl to keep her entertained, and is the reason why your babe grows up to be an avid reader.

Rhysand always has the best clothes made for her. She is the best dressed babe in all of the courts, and grows up to be a fashion icon. Most of the clothes she wears are from Rhys’ mother who sewed them centuries before, just like she had for you.

He is the one to teach her how to fly, spending hours and hours, weeks and weeks away from his duties to spend some time with his favorite girl (besides you ofc) to teach her different skills. He teaches her self defense and different battle strategies, preparing her to become High Lady one day. He is patient and calm throughout the entire process, even when she throws tantrums or feels like giving up. He always knows exactly what to say, he knows exactly how to handle the situation by either giving her space or pushing her to keep going.

Your daughter loves to draw, and will often end up drawing on Rhysand’s arms and legs with a pink marker. He thinks it is the best artwork he has ever seen, and has gone as far as getting a drawing of a family of stars that she drew tattooed into left wrist.

At parties, he always makes sure to dance with her first. At first, he has her in his arms, twirling them both around while her little giggles and squeals resound against the music. Eventually, he has her standing on his shoes so he can guide the both of them, letting her grow with independence. Eventually, she learns the dance moves herself, and still to this day, they will be each others first dance.

Don’t even get me started on how girl dad Rhys takes care of you!!!!!

Literally the best husband and mate I am WEAK

This male screams self care. He wants to make sure that you are rested 24/7. No mate of his is going to be feeling exhausted. He has days where he schedules full body massages, facials, hair care treatments, manicures and pedicures. He has Morr meet you after so you can go browsing for new dresses, shoes, purses, jewelry. Whatever you wish for, it is already yours. You only need to stare for a second, and Morr is going inside to buy it, “Rhys told me to honey, you can talk to him, but honestly you deserve it” anytime you complain that she is spending too much on you.

When you come home, he has Az and Cass watching the babe for the night so he can take you out to dinner, or even just for an evening in. You cuddle up with the babe for a little while before he whisks you away into whatever extravagant things he has planned for you.

He loves having you in his lap during these free nights, one arm wrapped around your waist or hips while the other feeds you or plays with your hair, muttering to himself about how stunning you are, how lucky he is to have you, how much he adores you really.

I like to think you face each other in bed while he intertwines your legs and pulls you close into his chest, and you just get to talk about anything and everything. Any of his worries about the relations between other courts, any of his concerns regarding the night court, his desires to wanting to better the world for your daughter, he always feels like he can spill whatever he has on his mind to you in a way that he has never been able to before.

After your daughter is born, he often spends time telling her all of the things he thinks about while she lays on her belly and allows for her wings to flutter to build muscle strength.

Remember how I talked about your daughter being Rhys’ first dance? Well, you are his partner for every other dance, and always the last dance. Your poor babe is passed out in one of the chairs with Amren watching over her like a hawk, her hand patting the babes back (she has a soft spot for her, what can I say?) and you both dance and dance. Sometimes, he flys you up into the sky and dances with you among the stars, “they lie in witness to our love darling”

Again, this was terrible so thank you for sticking around if you actually read through this!

Edit: part 2

#rose rambles #acotar #acotar headcanons #Rhysand acotar #Rhysand x reader #girl dad #girl dad!Rhysand #Rhysand headcanons #Girl dad!Rhys x reader #Girl dad!Rhys

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thatchickwiththecamera · 9 months ago

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If I'm There

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Death, Loss, Grief.

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

Y/N groaned upon entering the hotel room and flung her body onto the crisply made king sized bed. The pelican case she had been holding was discarded somewhere along her journey. Noah, her boyfriend of two years, simply smiled at her antics as he rolled their remaining bags into the entryway.

Noah’s band, Bad Omens, had just wrapped up their latest North American tour with a four day run of shows across central and eastern Canada. Y/N was a member of the band’s visuals team and worked as the lighting and video technician alongside Matt at Front of House. Her and Noah met four years ago when she was running visuals for one of the bands supporting Bad Omens on tour.

Noah, Matt, and Nicholas liked her work and decided to extend an offer to join their growing team prior to the next tour. After two years of working with Bad Omens and two years of tip-toeing around shared feelings, Noah finally asked her on a date and as they say, the rest is history.

With this tour coming to a close, it meant that they had the next two weeks off to do whatever they wanted before the guys had to be back in Los Angeles to finish tracking the new album. Everyone was scheduled to fly back to their respective home states at various times throughout the next day. While all of the gear was to be freighted back to the LA to either be stored in the warehouse until the next tour or to be moved into the awaiting studio space for recording.

“I am so ready to sleep in my own bed,” She exclaimed, voice slightly muffled by the pillows. “I think the mattresses in the bunks are getting worse with each tour.”

“Either that or we’re just finally starting to feel older.” he said, flopping down next to her, “I mean, we are almost thirty.”

“Don’t remind me.” She groans.

Before she can raise the question of who gets first dibs at the shower, she is interrupted by the familiar sound of her sister’s ringtone chirping from the phone in the front pocket of her hoodie.

“Yellow!” She tiredly exclaims, placing the phone on speaker.

“Y/N” the serious tone of her sister's voice cuts through the speaker.

She immediately sits up and looks over at Noah, now sporting a concerned look on his face that she was sure matched her own.

Her sister rarely called her by her first name. Mainly using childhood nicknames. Never her given name.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N questions.

“Y/N…it's Olivia.” Her sister continued, voice shaky. “There’s been an accident.”

She went on to explain that Olivia, Y/N’s best friend since as long as she could remember, had been hit head on by a drunk driver on her way home from dinner with friends from work. She had been rushed to the local trauma center where the medical team had managed to stabilize her but they stated that the next 24 hours were going to be critical.

Noah was immediately on the phone with Matt, who five minutes later knocked on their door ready to drive them to the airport.

The small airport chapel was dark and empty. The smell of incense lingered in the air from a Mass held earlier in the day. Y/N sat quietly in the last pew staring up at the large crucifix hanging on the wall above the altar and tabernacle.

Despite eventually developing a vehement disinterest in organized religion as an adult, Y/N had been raised in the Bible Belt of the deep south and had grown up in and out of church as a child and young adult. She had witnessed and experienced enough over the course of her life that made her unable to completely let go of the notion that there was a greater power at play somewhere in the universe.

Her grandmother always expressed belief in the power of prayer and when her usual sage advice fell on the deaf ears of a stubborn teenager, she always told Y/N to ultimately pray about it.

“Give it up to God,” she would say, “Put it in his hands.”

There were no direct flights out of Toronto, which left them stuck at JFK in New York City for the next three hours due to a layover. Noah’s many years on the road made it possible for him to sleep pretty much anywhere despite his tall frame. But her anxiety prevented her from finding any respite of sleep on the uncomfortable metal chairs outside the gate.

Which is why she now found herself sitting in the Our Lady of the Skies chapel talking to a wooden crucifix.

“I don’t know how to talk to you or if you even are actually there and listening,” She states, eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to form, “But at this point I’m desperate.”

“If there is one person in this lifetime that deserves to live a long and fulfilling life it is her,” she continued, “she can be one of the most naive people I know, but she has only ever brought kindness and love into this world because of it.”

“You’ve already taken so many from me…,” she pleads, unable to hold back the tears as a few escape and trail down her cheeks. “Please don’t take her too.”

A moment later she felt the warmth of an arm wrap around her and turned to see Noah sit down next to her, their carry-ons bags sitting on the floor in the aisle next to the pew.

She buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, placed a tender kiss on her head and held her close as she finally let the tears pour out.

Upon landing in South Carolina, Y/N's sister met them at baggage claim. She looked as tired and spread thin as Y/N did. She knew just how much Olivia meant to her little sister, and also considered her a good friend. But her bond of friendship was no wear near as unbreakable as the one that had been built between Olivia and Y/N over the years.

She wrapped Y/N up into a tight hug and let her know that Olivia had been rushed back into emergency surgery about an hour before they had landed. They had found internal bleeding that was previously missed due to the severity of the initial trauma sustained in the crash, causing her previously stable condition to quickly deteriorate.

Upon arriving at Columbia Memorial Hospital, they quickly located Olivia’s parents in the waiting room outside the Intensive Care Unit. Olivia’s mother, Mary grabbed Y/N in a bone crushing hug the second she saw her, thanking them for coming as quickly as they did. She followed the band and knew the journey they had made to be there. Before they could speak further, a man dressed in surgical scrubs emerged from the large bay door. She felt Noah take her hand and give it a squeeze.

Mary walked over to the doctor. He grabbed her hands and shook his head. Y/N couldn’t hear the words he spoke, but Mary’s reaction to them told her all she needed to know.

Olivia was gone.

Y/N felt numb. She felt her emotions shut down. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fall to her knees but her body just remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Noah’s hand never left hers and his grip never faltered.

They briefly expressed their condolences to Mary and other member’s of their family before leaving them space to grieve. There was no reason for them to stay at the hospital while Mary began the heartbreaking task of preparing for her only child’s funeral.

The drive to her sister’s house was silent. She showed Y/N and Noah to the guest room and left them to unpack and prepare for bed.

Y/N found little sleep that night. As sunlight began to stream in through the bedroom window, she turned to peer at the clock on the nightstand.

It read 6:00am. She quietly rose so as not to disturb Noah’s sleeping form in the bed next to her. She quickly dressed, grabbed her sneakers, and headed out the front door.

Y/N ran.

She ran until her lungs felt like broken shards of glass.

She ran until her legs felt like they were made of jello.

She ran until her feet were numb and weighed heavy like cinder blocks.

In school, she ran after her first heartbreak, she ran when her father died of cancer, she ran when her mother became absent in her own grief leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves, until she would eventually pass as well.

She ran when all of life's problems seemed to pile up as high as the peaks of Mount Everest and bare down on her shoulders.

When life didn’t make sense, Y/N ran.

Olivia had always been the one to run with her. When her own body would grow tired she would remain on the bench at the trailhead of the old high school cross country course, making sure Y/N knew she wasn’t alone.

But now Olivia was gone and the bench by the trailhead sat empty save for the water bottle Y/N had discarded at the start of her run. She tried to ignore the empty spot as she set out on her second loop.

As she circled around again she spotted a second water bottle sitting next to hers on the bench. She felt the already growing agitation stir inside her further at the idea of having to interact with a stranger on the course. She prayed they would just run their route and leave her alone.

Halfway through her third loop she heard the sound of another person coming up from behind her and expected them to call out what side they would be passing her and continue their run.

Instead the person fell into stride next to her. She turned her head, ready to tell the stranger to politely fuck off, but stopped when she saw Noah running next to her.

He didn’t say anything, just kept running, never leaving her side as they continued to complete two more loops. He knew this was something she had to do, and despite his own fatigue, he wasn’t going to let her do it alone.

Toward the end of her fifth loop, she felt her legs start to give way. Her toes snagged on a root sticking up in the middle of the path and she waited for her body to hit the dirt. She thought that maybe she would just lay there for a while and let the earth swallow her whole, but the impact never came.

Instead she felt Noah wrap his arms around her. Pulling her firmly into his chest. The weight of everything she tried to hold inside started to fracture and crumble around her. The emotion she tried to run from rebounded back like a lightning bolt striking her directly in the heart. She thrashed against his hold and hit the bottom of her fists against his chest.

She screamed out in rage as the hot tears streamed down her face. But despite her best attempts at getting him to let go, his hold remained firm. Noah was sure that his chest was red by the time she finally relaxed in his arms. He took the opportunity to kneel down and scooped the sobbing figure of the woman he loved into his arms. She didn’t have the energy to protest as he carefully carried her home.

The funeral took place four days later. It was held at St. Joseph's Cathedral downtown where four generations of Olivia’s family had been baptized, confirmed, married, and eulogized. She could not deny that the Mass her family prepared had been beautiful despite Y/N not knowing much about the ways and traditions of the Catholic Church.

After the service, Mary came up to the both of them and thanked them again for traveling back like they did and for staying for the service.

“You were the closest thing Olivia had to a sister and even though it may not have seemed like it at times, you were and still are like my second child.” She stated. “Thank you for being her friend and being in our lives.”

Tears once again formed in her eyes as Mary pulled her in for one of her soul squeezing motherly hugs that Y/N learned to cherish over the years.

“I love you so much” she said, reaching up to grab either side of Y/N’s face, wiping away the tears with the pads of her thumbs. “And I am so proud of you.”

“I love you too.” Y/N replied, before hugging the woman once again.

The next day they were scheduled to fly back to LA, but not before visiting Olivia’s grave. It was covered in layers of floral arrangements and marked by a temporary placard with ‘Olivia Renee Barber” and her dates of birth and death engraved on dark metal.

Noah stayed back as Y/N paid her respects. He wished that he could take all of her grief and carry it on his own shoulders so she didn’t have to weather the burden. He knew from his own experiences that she had to go through this process at her own pace. Loss was not linear and there were no magical boxes to check as you grieve and heal.

There was one thing he knew for absolute certain. As long as he was around, she would never go through anything in this world alone. He’d be there to catch her when she’d fall and just as he knew she’d do the same for him in return.

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