#she said it's just to see something positive too

[multimilfs]

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Poking The Bear

Summary: Agnes has the misfortune of being called in to work a murder case on Christmas Eve. When she leaves you frustrated, you decide to do what you do best; poke the bear.

AO3

A/N: I said "is anyone going to humiliate this woman in this ultra-specific way?" and didn't wait for an answer. Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals <3

Words: 8k

Included: Established relationship, Christmas, Porn with plot; g!p, teasing, somnophilia (implied), dacryphilia, phone sex, accidental orgasm, semi-public sex, humiliation, jealousy, blowjobs, dom/sub, sub space, throatfucking, unprotected sex, masturbation, light breeding kink, light degradation, praise, orgasm denial.

Tag List: @vii-v @absolute-memegarbage @crazycatladycaceta @hannah-0730 @shinysuitcloud @bubbly-moonwarrior @emilynissangtr @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @thelesbianapollokid4 @dmtrxie @notice-shy @vintagegoddess12 @rosie6reyes @softfruity @tragicsapphic34 @msharkness @setsuna1415 @kermidd5 @snickerdoodles-stuff @women-are-so-ethereal @imlike-so-gaydude @lotus-ignis @n0body-is-perfect @goblinscum420 @d-z20 @borntodieedition28 @autbot @ee-bah-sims @kathrynscontroversiallyyounggf @renravens @theothersideofthescreen @sp3c-tr0 @sapphicharknesss @coffeelover245 @madamslaytan @heady-pomegranate @ragnarockz @escapetodreamworld @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @imtrashinflames @goforgreat @welmelsblog @igoturmoney @mol2311 @obnoxiouslycontemplating @bellatrix-black8 @deathly777 @emmasaviorqueen-blog @greatygreatgreat @chlizets @latedawnearlysunsets92

Through the peaceful, warm silence of the morning, an alarm clock blares.

Agnes growls under her breath as she does every morning, lumbering from the comfort of the bed and over to the windowsill where the alarm clock sits. A particularly rough blow shuts it up.

God, why did she let Vidal insist on this shift?

Her routine is simple enough she could do it with her eyes closed; and does, for most of it. It isn’t until she turns the shower to a cooler temperature that she feels anywhere close to awake. She needs coffee—bad.

Halfway through said cup of coffee and one of the donuts you picked up, she realizes she hasn’t kissed you good morning yet.

You grumble a bit when she turns you over, untucking your head from the blankets, but you don’t wake. You look heavenly, painted in the warm glow of the Christmas tree you insist on keeping plugged in all night. Agnes smiles.

Pressing her lips to your forehead, she murmurs, barely a whisper, “Be good, baby.”

A hand wraps around her wrist and she startles. Pulling back, your eyes haven’t opened.

“Agnes, come back to bed.” You say, voice gravely from sleep.

“Vidal will be on my case if I don’t show.”

“I can make your morning better than Vidal can.”

You stretch, curling back into the blankets, but hold her wrist just tight enough to indicate you’re still half awake. It’s good your eyes are closed; she doesn’t need you seeing all the kinds of fond you’re making her.

Agnes really shouldn’t get you started, but curiosity kills cats, not bears, “Oh yeah? How would you do that, baby?”

“You’d come back to bed and sleep until I say.”

“And then what?” She prods, trying not to laugh.

“Then we’ll have a really nice breakfast. Donuts for you.”

“What would you have?”

“You.” You answer, casual and so matter-of-fact, “I’ll even swallow, out of Christmas spirit or something.”

Agnes jolts at the change. Though true to form, she can feel the familiar coil of arousal between her legs. She really shouldn’t have gotten you started.

She’s half awake, she won’t remember this, Agnes tells herself as she tries to move from her kneeling position on the bed. Your grip on her wrist remains.

“Sleep. We’ll have fun when I get home.”

“It’s Christmas Eve.” You whine.

“I’ll be home before you know it, I swear.”

“Fine. ‘Love you.” You murmur.

You rescind your hand and turn over, pacified as you burrow back under the covers. Agnes shakes her head.

“Love you too.” She whispers.

With one last parting kiss to your forehead, she’s gone, with you none-the-wiser.

—

You wake up a mess.

There’s a half-remembered conversation with Agnes lingering in your mind, but it’s hazy enough to feel like a dream; an unsatisfying one, the persistent throbbing between your legs says. You offered to blow her, you remember that much—it’s all pretty blank after that.

No, there was something about having fun when she got home, too.

You can’t wait that long.

It isn’t until two of your fingers are knuckle-deep and you’re missing the fullness Agnes offers that the idea strikes you. You scramble blindly for the phone on your night-stand. The movements change the angle of your fingers and you whine, rolling your hips, even as the blind grabs for your phone grow more frustrated.

Once found, it is ripped viciously off the charger, and you open it, going through your messages for the quickest access to her number. You grin at the contrast between your long-winded messages and Agnes’ one word responses.

An infinitesimal movement of your hips reminds you of your intention.

The phone is brought to your ear and it rings… and rings… and rings…

…and rings…

“O’Connor.” Her gruff voice comes down the line.

Your breath hitches in your throat. You squeeze around your own fingers at the sound.

“Yes, Detective, I’d like to report a crime.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end.

“Go on.”

“Well, my wife woke me up this morning and got me turned on, and she didn’t even have the decency to fuck me before she left. What kind of woman does that, Detective?”

You can hear the curve of her grin, “A lousy one. That’s a pretty serious crime.”

Maybe it’s the low, lilting drawl of her voice down the line. Maybe it’s the way you can see how she’s sitting in your mind; shoulders back against the seat but hips forward, legs splayed with careless confidence, one hand toying with her belt. Maybe it’s the easy humor she slips into with you that she’s never had with anyone else.

Whatever it is, two sentences from her brings you closer to finishing than thirty minutes with your hand has.

You whimper, “Keep talking.”

Another pause. Then the faint rustle of fabric.

“What are you doing?”

Her tone is utterly serious. Unforgiving. And god if it isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

Finally showing your clit some attention, you moan shamelessly. It’s nice to feel full, but your fingers never quite reach the right spots, and you can’t get off on penetration alone—with Agnes or otherwise. It’s fun to work yourself up though; pushing to the heights you can reach there before really giving yourself the stimulation you want.

If she keeps talking, that—combined with the circling motions on your clit—will send you straight over the edge.

The anticipation builds over the line. For a moment, you pull the phone away to make sure she hasn’t hung up. She’s likely weighing the best thing to say to both turn you on and strike the fear of punishment into you.

Instead, her tone is almost pleading, “Don’t do this now.”

An image strikes you of making Agnes beg, of driving her to a point where the easy dominance falls away, and she’s reduced to chasing whatever kindness you give. It brings you so much pleasure it hurts. You need it. But how to get it?

“Is Agent Vidal in the room with you?” You ask.

The idea of Vidal witnessing what you’re doing to Agnes makes your toes curl.

“No.”

“I thought you were stuck with her today.”

“Leave Vidal out of this.” She demands, but it’s strangled.

She’s clawing for control over the situation, scrambling for a foothold. Normally, you’d give it to her. Normally.

“I don’t think I ask for much…��� A lie. You make many requests in the sanctity of your bedroom, “all I wanted was for you to fix what you started.”

“Baby.”

You have to pull your fingers away from your clit, desperate to come but not ready yet.

“There are so many ways you could have done it, too. You could have woken me up with your head between my legs… or with you inside me. It could have been nice, right?”

Only the sound of her breathing comes down the line. Heavy, uneven, like when she’s holding herself over you, hips driving her deeper—

God, you’re so close.

You whisper, needing to know that she’s as affected as you, needing to hear her say it, “Are you hard, Agnes?”

“Yes.”

Even though you haven’t moved any part of your hand, the mental image nearly sends you tumbling over the edge.

“Will you come with me?”

“I…I can’t.”

You know. With the shades open, her office is basically an observation room; meaning if she were to do what you ask, there’s almost a guarantee she’d be caught. A sick part of you wants it. Wants to know that you have enough power over her to make her take the risk.

Gently, you begin to toy with your clit again. You can make her do what you ask. All you need is for her to say it—the confirmation that you’ve undone her so thoroughly that she can’t help but fist her cock under the desk where anyone could see.

“Please.” You beg.

You hear her inhale, the sound sharp in your ear. The words are on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes are no doubt shifting around the office, searching for the perfect way to hide what she’s about to do.

You’re standing on the precipice.

The harsh beeping of a disconnected call blares in your ear. Yanking it away, orgasm thoroughly ruined, you yell in frustration.

—

An officer pulls open the door before you can reach for it, nodding, “Ma’am.”

The precinct is busy for it being a holiday. Uniformed officers sit around desks, either on the phone or talking with others. You spy the Chief talking animatedly to a few toward the back.

They’ve really done up the place this year. Last year it’d been sad, grey. Now there are a few little trees spread around, some personal decorations here and there, a menorah on the front desk with candles waiting to be lit. It livens up the place.

In the back sits the partial vision of Agnes’ office. The blinds are somewhat closed, but she’s left the door open, allowing you enough of a glimpse to know she’s in there. You can imagine her without having to see; her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, hunched over the desk, hand toying with strands of her hair as she frowns over evidence.

Gazes follow as you cut through the center of it all. You do your best to ignore the heat working its way up your neck. Once upon a time, a few of the other officers had tried to catch your attention. You’d entertained a few of them. But they were minnows, and you wanted the shark.

You wanted the unapproachable, stone-faced Detective O’Connor.

And you had been the one to catch Agnes, but her fellow officers couldn’t imagine their illustrious Detective not being the one to do the catching. If only they knew how you could have her eating from the palm of your hand.

A swift knock on the open door and you lean against it. She’s exactly as you imagined. Though there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead and her fingers tap on the desk like she can’t sit still.

She doesn’t look up, barking, “I’m busy.”

“I’ll pass this off to one of the other officers then.”

Her head snaps up and you grin. Hanging from one of your fingers is a white takeout bag. The scent of orange chicken and rice permeates the air, but it isn’t what you’re hungry for.

Work forgotten, she looks you up and down, licking her lips. Her fingers twitch on the desk. You clear your throat and she snaps out of whatever daze she’s in. Clearing her own throat, she sits up, tugging on the bottom of her flannel shirt. Your smile widens.

“Close the door behind you.”

Stepping in, you kick it closed with a low, “Yes, Detective.”

“What are you doing here?”

“My job.” You cross to her desk, dropping the takeout bag on top. You’re perched on the edge closest to her. She looks up at you from her chair, lips pursed, tugging on her shirt again, “What kind of wife would I be if I let you go hungry?”

“None of the other guys get lunch delivered personally.”

“None of the other guys are married to me. Do I get a kiss for my troubles?”

Briefly, she looks out into the precinct—not that she can see much with the shades drawn—then back to your lips. Agnes shifts, licking her own, before nodding.

You lean forward and hold onto the chair by one arm, capturing her lips in a rough kiss. Your other hand palms the length you know pulsates between her legs. Upon contact she grunts into your mouth, hips bucking.

Her hand fumbles blindly for your wrist. Catching it in a firm grip, you can feel the tension in her frame as she decides whether to press you closer or shove you away.

Pulling back just enough to smile, “Poor baby. Have you been like this all day?”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Detective?” You murmur.

Her breath hitches. Blue eyes so blown out they’re nearly black regard you, her chest rising and falling as she struggles for an even rhythm of breath. You test her grip and find its slackened. The palm of your hand caresses the entire outline of her through her jeans.

Agnes doesn’t push you away, but she doesn’t pull you closer, either. The hand on your wrist allows you enough movement to stroke slowly from base to tip. Every inch of her seems to jump at the whisper of your touch.

Looking into her eyes, you can see how she’s fighting for control. She just can’t find the path to it. Good. You want her like this—panting and desperate. It makes you clench around nothing.

“What have you been imagining all this time?”

She swallows. Clears her throat, “Vidal will be back soon.”

“I can be quick.”

“Anyone… could see.”

“We have a few options. Your favorite is off the table, though.”

The favorite in question being Agnes bending you over the desk and fucking you hard and fast. It’s efficient, allowing her drive in deep while having the benefit of spanking you as she chases her reward. Her cock twitches at the reminder.

She’s tense, taut with energy like she’s only a few strokes from finishing right here. The thought is hot and you want it, bad—but not all dreams can be reality.

“What do we have?” Agnes asks, finally.

“If I crawl under the desk no one would see what I’m doing.” You offer.

Your hand keeps moving. It’s more for yourself than anything; you like feeling her, hard and wanting, yet so restricted, jumping at the slightest bit of attention. A thumb swipes over where you know the head is and she chokes, hips stuttering from what had been a slow roll into your hand.

“Do it.” She demands.

The subtle authority returning to her voice sends a shiver down your spine. One more swipe of your thumb and she keens, before clamping her mouth shut.

You laugh. Waking up this morning, this is the last thing you expected for yourself from the day; but you can’t deny you’re enjoying every second.

“That’s my girl.” You praise.

Bracing to slide off the desk, there’s a knock on Agnes’ closed office door, and disaster strikes.

The knock startles you. You try to turn and look toward the door, but forget just how precarious your seating situation is on the edge of the desk. You lose your balance. You’re able to get your foot under you just enough to fall into Agnes’ lap, rather than onto the cold tile of the office.

Agnes lets out a cross between a harsh breath and a moan as you fall into her. Your back presses firmly to her front.

“Don’t—god, I’m gonna—”

Strong hands settle on your hips to shove you off, but it’s too late. Agnes grunts. Nails dig into your sides as she ruts helplessly against your backside, unloading spurts of cum with every press of her hips.

You freeze in shock.

Then out of habit your hands find hers. With one, you lace your fingers together. With the other you caress her wrist, brushing gently as you turn your head to meet her eyes, careful to keep every inch of your body where she needs you. Her hips tense, stuttering, whimpering as she fights the orgasm that’s ravaging her.

“It’s okay. Let it happen.” You encourage, brushing a finger against her inner wrist. A war is waging over her face as she’s caught between desire and shame. Desire must win out. Agnes movements pick up speed as she furiously grinds up against you, and you can’t help the praise that falls from your lips, “That’s it.”

Now that she’s given in, she can’t stop, the hands on your hips clenching as she presses closer, harder with every thrust, powerless to the desire she can’t stop shooting. A wounded noise leaves her throat. You empathize; you know well how getting what you want can quickly move into pained-pleasure, when your body just keeps giving and giving.

Agnes’ expression is pained, laced with helplessness to her pleasure. Her eyes don’t leave your own as she rides out the waves. You try to sit still, letting her take what she needs. She allows you to watch every twitch of her expression, hear every noise she lets slip—it’s an act of trust that overwhelms. Lifting a hand to her cheek, you wipe at the perspiration there.

Eventually, she relaxes into the seat, her hips stopping in their frantic search for friction. Her eyes slip closed and you watch her breathe.

You’re eternally grateful that whoever knocked didn’t barge in right after; there is no way you’d have been able to talk your way around what was happening. It’s a mercy that Agnes rarely shuts her office door—now that she has, everyone understands something important is going on.

Running a finger along her cheekbone, you whisper, “Are you okay?”

“What do you think?” She growls.

“Given the mess you just made, I’d say you’re on cloud nine.” You tease.

With a sudden show of strength, you’re shoved into a standing position. You turn to take in the weight of Agnes’ glare.

Agnes snarls, “Fuck you.”

“You could have… if you had a little self control.”

Your eyes fall to her lap for emphasis, the evidence of her desire stark against the front of her jeans. Her hands clench on the arm-rests. Blood has rushed to her face, painting her features in red hues that betray her forced calm.

The sight of her so humiliated is doing it for you; and you can see that she sees, regarding you with a loaded, wary look. It will take no shortage of negotiation, but you will be revisiting this again.

You open the take out bag and pluck out the napkins near the bottom. Carefully, you wipe them over the planes of her face, soaking up the sweat that had been clinging to her skin. Agnes doesn’t meet your eye.

“Agnes.” Waiting until she locks eyes with you, “It’s okay.”

She scoffs, “I came in my pants like a fucking teenager.”

“And it was hot.”

“You’re really something else, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m well aware. I also know that you love me for it.”

Agnes rolls her eyes.

“Unfortunately.”

“Careful, O’Connor, I can still give this lunch away to one of your coworkers.”

The bag is promptly snatched from your reach. You laugh.

Now that she’s standing, you breathe a sigh of relief; her flannel is long, perfectly hiding the evidence of your activities from the world. You just hope no one outside was looking in too closely.

Desire rears its head at the thought. You need to get out of here before you do something that’ll get you both caught.

You lean up and steal a kiss, “Enjoy your lunch, baby.”

When you open the door to leave, you come face-to-face with Agent Rio Vidal holding two cups of coffee in her hands. You startle and she raises her brows at seeing you.

“Agent Vidal.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here, sweetheart, or I would’ve bought an extra coffee.”

“That’s okay, I was just bringing Agnes something to eat.”

“Take mine.” The coffee cup is held between the two of you. You can see the faint mark of her lipstick on the lid as she leans in, “I don’t need the extra caffeine anyway.”

“Keep it, Vidal. She can have mine.”

You turn so you can take in both of them. Vidal is relaxed, posture brimming with a quiet confidence while Agnes is tense, staring at the two of you like she could throw something—and she would, if she didn’t think it’d encourage the former somehow.

Agnes has always been… odd around Vidal; moreso than the normal awkwardness between two exes. And Vidal has never been subtle with her interest in poking Agnes’ nerves.

Whatever it is, you’re going to use it and see where it takes you.

You accept the offered cup of coffee, making deliberate eye contact with Agnes as you take a long sip. A latte—thank god, Agnes’ black drip would’ve made you gag.

“Thanks for the coffee.” You murmur low. Then you throw your wife a smile, ignoring the promise of pain in her eyes, “See you at home, Agnes.”

—

Coming home you’re delighted to find a few last-minute packages on the porch. Carrying them in, one shifts heavily in your arms, and you know immediately what it is; one of the speakers in Agnes’ car crapped out on her a few months back, so the passenger-side only spits out static where there should be music—or the sports broadcasts, in your wife’s case; you bought her a new stereo system so she wouldn’t have to ‘make do’ anymore.

There’s also a few new shirts, a nice leather belt, and a watch she’d been eyeing but wasn’t willing to buy for herself. You wrap all of them with a smile on your face and slide them under the tree.

The busy work of it all eases the tension in your shoulders and some of the arousal between your legs. There’s a lingering peace in every corner of your home. It’s quiet, barring the music playing from the kitchen, casting a nostalgic glow over you where the lights seem just a little warmer.

You sit down on the couch and take it all in. Ornaments wobble on branches, glittering and winking at you as they twist. There’s a garland draped over the fireplace with dancing lights; you feel warmer inside when you remember how Agnes helped you set it up, shaking her head at your excitement.

With the bustle of the season, you’ve forgotten to take time like this to stop and let it sink in. So many spend Christmas alone, hungry, without a place to go. You don’t have to. You have a wife who will spend every second with you in the warmth of your home. Tears prick your eyes.

You fall asleep on the couch with that warm feeling in your chest.

—

The scent of garlic and butter tickles your nose. You snap awake.

Did you leave the stove on?

You shoot up from the couch and throw off the blanket you don’t remember grabbing. It falls to your feet, twisting in your ankles, and you do all you can not to fall face-first onto the floor. How long have you been asleep?

Wait. Did you even put anything on to cook?

Agnes’ flannel-clad back greets you when you round the corner. A sigh leaves you. One hand settles over your chest, willing your heartbeat to slow to a normal pattern. It all comes back to you; wrapping gifts, sitting down to enjoy the quiet, intending to get up and start dinner afterward.

You step into the kitchen and wrap your arms around her waist from behind, forehead resting between her shoulder blades. A hand lifts your own so she can press a kiss on the back.

“How was work?” You ask, voice muffled by her shirt.

“A waste of time.” She answers. Her form shifts, one shoulder tensing as she stirs what sits on the stove, “It could’ve waited until after Christmas.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Vidal’s a workaholic and fails to realize the rest of us aren’t.”

“You are most of the year.”

Agnes grunts noncommittally, “What trouble did you get into?”

“Wrapped a few gifts, took a nap. I’m surprised some of your guys weren’t beating down my door with how rowdy I was being.”

“Chief would’ve just sent me to handle you.”

“I’d like that… you, handling me…” You murmur, hand moving down her front with intent.

A strong, veined hand grabs your own. She forces it back to its former resting place. You keep your hand where it is directed. The haven you’ve found nuzzled against her back—surrounded by the scent of her cologne and the heat of her—is just as inviting as anything more salacious could be.

Something bubbles and pops on the stove. Agnes jolts, before relaxing. You drag yourself from your haven to look over her shoulder; a pan of sauce is stirred on one burner, boiling pasta churning away on another. Simple, but hearty.

You press a kiss to the skin you can reach, just behind her ear, “You’re getting better.”

Before, her dinner of choice would’ve been a canister of peanuts, maybe a microwave dinner.

“Don’t say anything until you’ve tasted it.”

“I’ll do what I want.” You answer.

“Don’t I know it.”

Jabbing her side with a finger until she cracks a grin, “Let me taste, so I can tell you how amazing it is.”

The wooden spoon is lifted from the sauce and over her shoulder to your mouth. You wrap your lips around it, immediately lulled further into bliss by the combination of onion, garlic, and tomato.

“Agnes, that is delicious.”

Her brows raise. With a flourish, she allows herself a taste.

“You love to stroke my ego.” She says in that self-deprecating tone you know well.

Your hand and mouth move before you think, “That’s not the only part of you I like to stroke.”

Whether by a lapse in understanding or simply because she lets you, your hand finds its mark before Agnes can stop it. The full width of your hand presses at the apex of her thighs. Your mouth drops open.

Agnes is painfully erect for the second time today with little work on your part.

She drops the spoon against the pan and removes your hand again, blunt nails biting into your skin in the way you like. You don’t react, still reeling from the information you’ve gleaned. Agnes libido isn’t what it once was—a reality of age—even if she’s like a well kept oldsmobile; capable of going the distance and then some once you get her properly started. But you’ve done very little in the way of actually getting her started since visiting the office.

“What on earth have you been up to today?” You ask, breathless.

“Don’t start.”

“I’d say you’re well past the starting point, given what I just felt.” A laugh escapes, then you pause, “You didn’t…”

Agnes curious gaze meets yours over her shoulder. Understanding dawns, along with indignation, “Of course not.”

“Needing a little extra help is normal.”

“This is all your doing.” She snaps, “Go sit down.”

“If it’s all my doing, you should let me fix it.” You coo.

In a sudden burst of movement, Agnes is out of your arms, sauce and pasta left behind on the stove. You blink. Did something happen at work? Have you hit a nerve?

She crosses the space to the kitchen table. The chair at the head of the table, facing the stove, is yanked from its resting place. You wince as it shrieks against the floor. But she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, turning the chair and meeting your eyes with a hard look, pointing.

“Sit.”

You move without thinking. There’s a subtle note of steel beneath the command that sends you into submission on instinct, like a pet might jump to obey their owner. The thought doesn’t chafe today; you want to be good, you want to obey.

Plopping down into the seat, hands settle on your shoulders. Agnes growls in your ear, “Stay.”

And you do.

As she finishes dinner, moving the pasta into the sauce with an unsure—but successful—flourish. As she nearly burns herself cutting the garlic bread fresh out of the oven. As she casts quick, dark glances your way every few minutes, as if having to make sure you’re where she left you.

You are the picture of poise and obedience, fighting every desperate urge for nearness to follow her command. But the longer she takes the harder it becomes. Hands settled on your thighs, your fingers scratch anxiously at the fabric of your pants, helpless and without any other way to expel this building energy.

“Agnes.” You whine.

“Quiet.”

It takes ages before she approaches you. She takes her sweet time putting dinner on plates, making it pretty in a way you know is just to drive you crazy; she doesn’t give two fucks about whether or not something looks nice as long as it tastes good.

Dinner is brought over to the table, but you tilt your head. Agnes only brought one plate.

“Up.” She commands, “You’re in my seat.”

You stand. Reaching for the chair next to hers, a hand on the back stops you from pulling it out. There’s the deep sound of porcelain meeting the wood of the table. As she leans around you, the scent of her cologne makes you dizzy.

Agnes snaps her fingers. You jolt, snapping back into your own mind. She points to the floor and your brows furrow. Then, it clicks, and your face grows warm.

You sink to your knees in front of Agnes’ chair as she sits in it.

“I can guess what a perp is going to do just by the way they sit in interrogation.” Agnes drawls, idly tapping her knee as her mind works, “But you… I can never guess how you’re going to act. Look at you now, all good and obedient for me, when you were acting like a whore in my office today.”

So caught up in the dizzying feeling of submission, you’ve been oblivious to the weight of your own desire. Agnes’ words change that in an instant. There’s a needy, pulsing beat between your legs, and you clench your thighs together in an attempt to help yourself. It doesn’t work.

“You started it.” You say, breathless.

You can’t breathe around your desire for her. Oxygen is a secondary need to the feel of her, whether she’s buried deep inside or grazing her fingers over your flesh; you want her and it hurts. But you keep your hands on the tops of your thighs.

Agnes chuckles. It’s a low, rolling thing. Agnes’ usual response to amusement is to grin, maybe even shake her head and scoff—laughter is a rare thing, aged and cultivated until it’s amber laced with smoke over your senses. You feel the heat of it. The intoxication it brings is warm, a weight settling comfortingly over the shoulders.

“I’m collecting on your offer from earlier.”

And with that, her thighs part, and you surge forward without being told. Her belt is unbuckled in one fell swoop. You moan, unable to help yourself, needy for the feel of her skin, to taste.

A testament to the overwhelm of your desire that the concept of toying with her again does not cross your mind. Your hand finds the desperate length of her cock, exposing it to the cool air.

It stands proud, tip flushed and leaking, veins stark against the fair skin. You pant. With single-focus, you lean forward.

An equally fair hand grips your jaw, forcing your eyes to Agnes’, “How many taps?”

You blink. You’re buried beneath desire, mind clawing its way to the surface.

“T-Three.”

Agnes nods and you’re free.

The first thing you do with your newfound freedom is flatten your tongue and lick a broad stripe up the length of her. The hand on your jaw goes slack in surprise, Agnes’ hips jumping. A groan echoes through the room.

You circle your tongue over the tip, drinking in her taste and the sounds falling from her lips. It’s heady, making the room fuzzy around the edges.

Submission brings with it a strange feeling of power. You’re doing as she bids, being good, but every sound and reaction coming from her is real; the truest manifestation of how well you’re doing to please her.

The world falls away. Your head feels floaty, strangely empty despite the manuevers you’re employing with your mouth. You don’t need words, you don’t need thoughts, you just need to offer Agnes whatever she wants.

Which you do by taking her cock in your mouth until she hits the back of your throat.

A thud sounds from her hand slamming on the tabletop, scrambling for something to grip as she chokes out, “Fuck!”

You do all you can to repress your gag reflex, forcing yourself to just relax everytime she hits the back of your throat. Agnes has her head thrown back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as she pants, whimpering with every movement of your tongue and mouth.

Through it all, her hand remains on the side of your face, a careful guide. You can’t help the hand that sneaks under your skirt; Agnes is shaking with tension, begging to let go and chase her pleasure at your expense, but she’s holding herself back and guiding you through taking her in the way that would do the least harm.

You moan. Agnes’ cock twitches in your mouth and she matches your moan, a semblance of that control slipping with a particularly rough thrust. You gag, tears forming in your eyes.

The hand between your thighs shakes, fumbling for your clit while focusing on what really matters. You’re so wet there’s barely any friction.

You want Agnes to make you gag again. You want her to push into you and take what she wants until you’re crying.

Looking up, you try to will all of that thought and intent into your eyes, but Agnes’ are closed.

You whine.

Blue eyes regard you from beneath drooping lids. You will one thought into your mind and one thought only; use me.

Agnes swallows. The pad of a thumb runs under your eye, collecting some of the wetness there as if to say are you sure? In answer, you take as much of her as you can physically manage, eyes meeting her own the whole time.

Her restraint snaps.

Agnes’ hand travels to the back of your head, her hips moving faster and firmer than you can comprehend. She takes over completely; driving into you for what she needs, making you gag obscenely, without a thought in the world for if it is too much.

Not having to make choices allows you to focus on obtaining your own pleasure. With every tear she forces from your eyes, you swipe over the pulsating bud of your clit. You can feel your own orgasm building low in your gut.

“I’m going to cum.” Agnes groans.

Delight shoots through you. She’s going to cum and it’s because of you; because you were good and gave her everything she needs. It feels amazing.

Why, then, do you pull off and out of reach?

Agnes growls. You blink.

Words. There are words to go with the desire you feel. You close your eyes, searching for them, mentally scrambling at the edges until you can wrap your hands around them and their meaning.

“Can I…” You start, voice rough from the beating your throat has taken, “Can I ride you?”

Agnes makes quite the scene; splayed open on the dining room chair, hair a mess and eyes blown out, cock twitching and needy through the fly of the jeans she ruined only a few hours ago. You clench.

Agnes licks her lips, “Yeah, alright.”

You stand on shaking legs and Agnes holds up a hand, stopping you as she lifts her hips and fumbles in her back pocket. She obtains her wallet and rifles through until she locates a small foil wrapper.

It’s safer, you know. You’ve used one almost every other time for the duration of your marriage.

“Agnes.”

The woman in question pauses before opening the condom. Her brow pops up in an unspoken question.

The words are instinct, comprehensive thought still far away, “I want you to cum inside me.”

Outside, the world rages on. Westview residents race down the street, returning home from last minute errands, gifts in tow that they’ll have to sneak inside. The wind is kicking up and through the trees as snow grows closer with every second.

And then there is you and Agnes, tucked in the warmth of your home, caught in the weight of your words. Stopped in the face of the potential consequences.

Agnes throws the unopened condom on the kitchen table.

“Then come here.”

You stand with your legs on either side of her own, steadying yourself on her shoulders. One steady hand settles on your hip. The other pushes your panties aside and aligns her to your entrance as you lower into her lap.

You could take her in one motion with how wet you are. Yet, Agnes keeps your descent slow, careful. She watches your face with every inch you take—same as you watch hers.

Agnes’ chest is heaving, eyes dark and stormy, face pinched in concentration. She’s the most handsome person you’ve ever seen. You clench around her and her hands tighten on your waist.

“Sorry.” You murmur, out of habit.

Agnes raises a brow, but doesn’t respond, helping you down the last few inches. When you settle fully in her lap you let out the breath you’d been holding.

One hand sneaks under your skirt to trace shapes on the bare flesh of your hip.

“You pulled an interesting stunt with Vidal today.” Agnes says. The hand on your hip tightens, “I’m not so sure I should reward your behavior.”

“Then why let me…”

“Why deny myself just because you’re acting like a brat?”

There’s a small testing thrust of her hips. You clench. She groans, head falling back against the chair. You whimper. Trying to move your own hips, eager for what you’ve been denied, you find yourself held in place.

That’s not fair. All day she’s been teasing you, driving you to the edge of what you want—what you need, just to deny you.

“You started it.” You whine, trying to move your hips again, still finding yourself held stationary as she leisurely thrusts up, “You woke me up and got me all bothered, it’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair, baby.”

“Please.” You whine, “It’s not my fault, please.”

Muscles in her arms tremble as she lifts you slightly before sinking you back down onto her. The fullness makes your toes curl but it isn’t enough.

“Calling me at work and getting me worked up wasn’t your fault?”

“…No.”

Agnes laughs, “If you’re going to lie, you could at least be convincing.”

You won’t win this fight by playing fair, not when Agnes is clearly uninterested in fairness.

“You… You feel so good. Can’t think properly.” You breathe, moaning a bit more than comes naturally, “I’m so full of you.”

The thrust of her is uneven. She stops moving you completely and you fight down a grin.

You press a hand between your bodies, applying pressure to your lower stomach as she continues to thrust, subtly picking up speed. Her pants are growing louder, a wheeze leaving her mouth when you press.

“That’s you.” You murmur, leaning forward and ghosting over her lips, tracing the bridge of her nose with the tip of your own. You press harder and enjoy the way she groans, “Nobody has ever been as deep inside me as you.”

“Fuck.” She snarls.

You’re pushed up again, suddenly empty, and whine, blinking at the change. But then her strong hands are on your hips and spinning you around.

Your front is pressed against the table, bent so your cheek rests on the top of it. The texture of her jeans is rough against the back of your thighs as she lines herself and fills you in one thrust.

“Oh, fuck!” You cry.

Agnes sets a brutal pace, chasing that which only you can offer. Every thrust has her cock brushing that perfect spot inside you and you lose control of whatever sounds you’re making.

“Is this what you wanted?” Agnes snarls in your ear, “For me to leave work and fuck you like some bitch in heat?”

“Yes!”

“You haven’t earned it.”

“No, Agnes, please!”

“Hold it.” She orders.

With every move she makes, you do all you can to ignore the pleasure, to pretend it doesn’t exist. It’s somewhat possible when it’s only her cock. But then she leans down and starts toying with your clit and you cry out, fighting not to roll your hips against them.

You want what you’ve been chasing all day, but you still want to be good. You’re her good girl, aren’t you? You have to keep being good even if it hurts.

So, you hold your orgasm at bay, while Agnes chases her own. Judging by the uneven rhythm of her hips it won’t take long.

“Please let me come, Agnes. Please.” You beg.

“Why should I?”

“I’ll give you anything—anything! Please, my love!”

“Anything, huh?”

The tone of her voice is low, dangerous. Layered with a rasp that nearly undoes you.

If she doesn’t let up, it doesn’t matter how good you are; you’re going to cum.

“Anything!”

Agnes phone is slammed down on the table right beside your head. It isn’t on, but you have the sinking feeling that you’ve just landed yourself into something far worse than expected.

Her thrusts stop, but she keeps a light, teasing pressure that grazes your clit just enough to keep you engaged without getting you off.

It is torture. And the silence building as you stare down the upturned cell phone is only making it worse.

“I’m going to make a call and turn on the speaker. Then, I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to let whoever is on the phone hear you as I make you cum.”

The weight of it is like a lead weight of nerves in your stomach, “But—“

“If you want to act like a whore you’re going to be treated like one.” She snarls, then her tone grows softer, “Yes or no, angel?”

Whoever she calls and puts on the line, you’ll never be able to look in the eye again. But you’re so full and eager that you don’t truly care at this point.

Besides, it’s Christmas Eve, maybe everyone will be too busy to pick up.

“Yes.”

A harsh thrust that forces the air from your lungs, then her lips are next to your ear, breath hot, “That’s my girl.”

The echo of your own words from earlier make your toes curl. Her phone is snatched from the table and she continues to toy with your clit as she makes the call.

It rings… and rings… and rings…

Faintly, you hear the line connect, and you gasp.

You can’t make out who the voice belongs to, but you hear a faint, “Yeah?”

Agnes barks down the line, “Don’t say a word.”

The bang! as her phone hits the table again makes you jump, a small shriek leaving your lips. It wobbles. Faintly, you’re impressed she hasn’t broken the thing with how she abuses it.

A long finger slams down on the speaker button and as the phone tilts slightly, you read the name on the screen, and your eyes widen.

Vidal.

Before you can say a word, though, Agnes is back to work. Something in the action of being heard has made her more aggressive. You swear you can feel the bruises forming on your hips where she grabs, leveraging you for every single thrust.

You try to choke down your moans and whimpers, not wanting Agent Vidal to hear you like this, but Agnes won’t stand for it; one hand grabs your jaw and pries your mouth open.

She pushes in to the hilt and you let out a shrieking moan.

“You were so talkative before. Have you lost your nerve?”

“I—please—“

“Calling me this morning and getting me worked up, teasing me in the office, in the kitchen… and incapable of handling your punishment.”

“I’m sorry, Agnes. Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Use me. I want—I need you to fuck me until I can’t remember being without you—I need you to fuck me until you cum inside and make me yours forever—please!”

The knowledge that every word from your mouth is being heard by someone else is not forgotten, but you’ve been pushed beyond caring. Agnes is intent on making you beg for what you want and you want it bad.

Agnes’ fingers and cock alternate stimulating you. If her fingers are working, her hips aren’t—and vice versa. You’re frankly astonished she’s been able to last so long because you’re teetering on the edge of pleasure at the barest contact.

But her will has always been steel. And she wants to see you humiliated.

The hand on your clit slides to your lower stomach and presses, mimicking your own actions only minutes before, “When I knock you up, you’re going to feel it right here.”

Something inside you snaps. You wail.

Agnes’ hips are moving at a clip, every inch of her rubbing where you need, setting you alight from within. Her hand doesn’t move. The faster she goes, the deeper she drives, her hips begin to lose their rhythm.

Any words devolve into animalistic grunts as she ruts into you, mouth alternating between kissing and biting at your neck from behind.

You’re so fucking close. If she denies you now, you think you might die.

“Let me cum, Agnes, please—pretty please—I’ll be your good girl, please, I’ll be so good. Let me cum and fill me up, it’s all I want—“

Through gritted teeth, “Go on then.”

Something inside you snaps.

The command is exactly what you need. Your entire body clenches so tight you fear you may never relax again. You lose track of what noises leave your mouth, you think you may even lose consciousness for a few moments.

All you know when you come to is that your throat is raw and Agnes is driving into you, choking out in your ear, “Gonna cum—“

Her hips meet your own at full force and don’t pull back, remaining, pulsing forward as if she can’t get close enough. Every spasm of her cock paints your insides with her desire, marking you as hers. Agnes holds your hips as she presses in with every twitch, struggling to breathe.

Weakly, you reach a hand back to tangle in her hair. Your throat aches, “That’s it, baby. Fill me.”

A groan. Another rough twitch.

It reaches a point where the pressure ebbs. She remains, but she’s not twitching anymore, nor is she fighting to become one with you. There’s only the sound of your breathing in the room.

Agnes moves to straighten and pull out, but you whine, reaching back to grab whatever part of her you can reach.

“Stay.” You whisper.

She pauses.

A hand gently caresses along your spine, “You can’t stay like this, angel.”

“Just let me feel you a little longer.”

There’s a comfort in the fullness; in the knowledge that Agnes is the only woman who can provide this for you. That she even wants to.

It’s all a blur beyond that.

Eventually, you can’t stand being bent over on the table anymore, even if you never want to be without the feeling of Agnes inside you. The call with Vidal is disconnected at some point. You and your wife move slowly, hand in hand, up to your bedroom.

You gently shove her onto the bed while grabbing damp washcloths. Neither of you can stand a shower at this point.

The two of you take your time, being careful to mind the sore spots. You lean slightly into Agnes as you wipe some of the sweat from her flesh.

“You’re so good to me.” You murmur, kissing the underside of her jaw, “Thank you, my love.”

“Consider it an early Christmas gift, angel.”

You tamp down on the urge to say something sappy for her to scoff at. Instead, you guide her down and kiss her, soft and slow.

[wonderjanga]

Little Billy the Assistant

Zatanna was looking for the Champion. She’d wanted to ask for his help procuring an ingredient for a potion. All she expected was a short trip and maybe adventure. What she didn’t expect was running into a magically gifted orphan homeless looking kid.

Zatanna: *takes a detour a cramped street with a bunch of stalls selling stuff*

Billy: *ahead of her, heads to a gate leading to an alley, looks around for a bit before literally melting the lock off*

Zatanna: *sees this and stares*

Billy: *casts one more glance back before nearly feeling his soul leave his body at the sight of her looking at him*

He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. Zatanna thought he was scared because he got caught by someone using magic in public. Billy was actually scared because she saw his civilian form do magic. Because what if she connected it back to Cap or something?!

Anyways, they made an uncomfortable amount of eye contact from across the street before Billy bolted into the alley. She tried to follow, but the crowd of the cramped street kept getting in her way, and by the time she got to the alley he was gone. Having lost him, she decided to ask Cap about the little boy about a week later when they were both at the Watchtower after he’d helped her find the ingredient she’d wanted. As for why it took a week for her to find him and ask for help? Billy had been avoiding her. Anyways…

Zatanna: “Cap, have you seen this little kid running around?”

Marvel: *immediately knew she was probably talking about him* “You’re going to have to be more specific than that Zatanna.”

Zatanna: “Okay… this little blue eyed black haired short little thing, maybe nine or 10-”

Marvel: *a little offended because he’s 12*

Zatanna: “-I saw him do magic the other day so he’s magical too. You know anything about him?”

Marvel: “Maybe? Why do you care about him?”

Zatanna: “Because recently I’ve had this idea of maybe having a little stage assistant.”

Marvel: “I thought you said you never wanted to share the spotlight or something?”

Zatanna: “That is true, but he was adorable! And I’m pretty sure he was also homeless.”

Marvel: *doesn’t know how to feel about being called adorable* “So…?”

Zatanna: “So he’d become my assistant and learn how to do his magic better since I doubt he has a teacher if I’m right about him being homeless. There’s also the added bonus of earning money which will benefit whether or not he actually is homeless.”

Marvel: *was prepared to say yes as soon as he heard money* “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Zatanna: “Oh? So you do know him.”

Marvel: “Maybe.”

Zatanna: “Maybe?”

Marvel: “Maybe. By the way, I’m pretty sure that kid you’re talking about has a job as a radio show host so he might not accept your offer if it conflicts with his schedule.”

Zatanna: “Radio show host? That’s a little retro, no? Buuuuuut… if he’s a show host, that at least means he has some pizzazz, so he could probably be good on stage too! As for the schedule thing, I mostly do night shows so he should be good.”

Billy mulled over this decision for many(two) days before deciding he’d accept her offer. As Cap, he told her to meet Billy at a popular street.

Billy: *waiting near a fountain and contemplating every decision he made up until his*

Zatanna: “Ah, it’s you! I assume Cap told you about my offer?”

Billy: “Yes? Could we uh… talk more about what the job would be like?”

Zatanna: “Of course! But first, let’s get some food in you.”

Billy: “What? Why?”

Zatanna: “Bud, you’re practically skin and bones.”

Billy: “Oh.” *sounds upset*

Zatanna: “Hey, hey, hey! No need to get upset! Try to think of the positives! I’m getting you food!”

They went to a little diner and ate while discussing all the things. What his job as an assistant would be, his pay, and so on.

Zatanna: “You sure know how to talk business, little guy.”

Billy: “Thank you…?” *sounds confused*

Zatanna: “I meant that in a good way.”

Billy: “Oh. Thanks then.” *smiles*

Zatanna: *just barely resists the urge to pinch his cheeks*

Zatanna stand by the fact that this kid was, in fact, incredibly adorable. Such a cutie honestly. And he’s such a sweetheart, too. After this meeting, they met up a couple more times, so Billy could rehearse being her assistant before he actually went on stage. Then the day came that he finally had to do his job…

Billy and Zatanna: *standing behind a curtain on stage*

Billy: “Uhm… Ms. Zatanna?”

Zatanna: “Yes?”

Billy: “What happens if I’m not good at being an assistant?”

Zatanna: *pauses to think* “Well, you’d stop, but I’d still continue trying to help you with your magic.”

Billy: “You mean that?” *just happy she wouldn’t immediately kick him to the curb*

Zatanna: “Of course.” *again has to resist pinching his cheeks*

The curtains soon opened after that conversation. The show must go on!

I’ll leave it up to you guys on whether he did good or not.

[nqueso-emergency]

Merry Christmas!

So much love to @alliwantforchristmasislou for joining the ranks in positivity within the bucktommy community. ❤️

As most know, I began watching 911 with my mother during her first round of chemo treatments. She absolutely adored Bathena.

Before season 7 could start, she passed away, and suddenly, this silly little procedural that once brought us both joy and an escape from the world within four walls that housed chemicals pumping into my mother's body for hours, became something I wasn't sure I could love anymore.

But then I gave it a chance and watched season 7, and not only did it continue to bring me happiness, it struck a cord within me.

You see, like both Buck and Tommy, I too came out late in life. A lot of queer media tells us that we'll figure out who we are or what we're supposed to like by High School or even College... but that's just a condensed Hollywood example.

I didn't come out to my mother until a month before she died, and as I sat next to her bed, holding her hand, I was terrified she'd be disappointed. Not that I was coming out but that I had waited so long to let her know me as my true self.

But you know what she did? (And I swear I am not exaggerating this)

She squeezed my hand, smiled, and said: "It's about damn time you told me."

So when I tell you how hard the hospital scene hit me, it's almost unbelievable. I felt the relief shown on Buck's face in that moment. It's so beautiful, and I'm proud something like that is on Network television.

I have had some friends who weren't lucky enough to come out with love from their family, which is why the bucktommy breakup, although devastating, felt so real to me.

One man who came out later in life because he was terrified to be his true self vs another who has never had to navigate homophobic waters is something very real that most people don't shine a light on.

This is why I'm sure we will see Tommy Kinard again and it's why #alliwantforchristmasislou

Donation to the Trevor Project below. I donated $217.00 with fees.

[hurtblossom]

On thin ice ln4

Pairing : Lando Norris x Female Iceskater!Reader

Summary : Lando is jealous of his girlfriend's iceskating partner.

Warnings : Angst, established relationship

The sharp scrape of skates against ice filled the cavernous rink, the sound bouncing off the empty seats and high ceilings. (Y/N) exhaled deeply, her breath clouding the chilly air as she steadied herself. Ethan skated toward her, his movements effortless, his presence as comforting as ever.

“You’re thinking too hard again,” Ethan teased lightly, stopping in front of her.

She gave him a weak smile. “I can’t help it.”

“You don’t need to. You’ve got this.”

He held out his hand, and she took it, their fingers locking with the ease of years spent practicing together. They moved into the opening position of their routine, the soft strains of music echoing through the rink as they began.

Every spin, every lift, every glide was a testament to their hard work, their connection honed over countless hours of practice. Ethan’s hand on her back, his voice low and steady as he guided her through a lift, was nothing new to her. It was simply a part of the dance.

But to Lando, it was something else entirely.

Lando had been her biggest supporter in the beginning. When they first started dating, he’d been captivated by her passion for skating. He admired her dedication, often comparing it to his own drive for Formula 1. They bonded over their shared understanding of sacrifice and ambition, and for a while, it felt like they were unstoppable.

But as their lives grew busier, the cracks began to form.

(Y/N) had always made time for Lando, traveling to his races whenever her schedule allowed. She’d spent hours in the paddock, enduring the chaos and noise just to be there for him. She cheered the loudest when he stood on the podium, comforted him when he didn’t, and never once complained about the toll it took on her own life.

Lando, however, struggled to do the same.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He did—deeply. But his jealousy over her partnership with Ethan was a wound that festered, growing more painful with each passing day. He hated the way Ethan’s name was always on her lips, the way she spent more time on the ice with him than she did at home with Lando.

He hated that Ethan got to see her in her element—the part of her life Lando could never truly understand.

The tension between them came to a head one evening when (Y/N) returned from practice later than usual. Lando was waiting for her, his arms crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth.

“Practice ran over,” she replied, setting her bag down.

“With Ethan, I assume,” he added, his tone sharp.

(Y/N) sighed, already bracing herself for the argument she knew was coming. “Yes, Lando. With Ethan. Who else would it be?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” he snapped, pushing off the counter. “It’s always Ethan. You spend more time with him than you do with me.”

Her jaw tightened. “Lando, we’ve been over this. He’s my skating partner. That’s all.”

“And I’m supposed to just be okay with that?” he demanded. “You don’t see how weird this is? How it looks?”

She crossed her arms, frustration bubbling to the surface. “How it looks? Lando, this is my career. I’ve been skating with Ethan for years—long before I met you. Why is this suddenly a problem?”

“Because I see the way he looks at you,” Lando shot back. “Like you’re more than just his partner.”

(Y/N)’s heart sank at the accusation, her chest tightening. “That’s not fair. Ethan and I are teammates, nothing more. You’re my boyfriend. Why can’t you trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” he admitted, his voice quieter but no less pained.

She stared at him, her tears threatening to spill. “Do you even realize how much I’ve sacrificed for you? How many races I’ve been to, how many times I’ve put you first? And now, when I need your support, all you can do is accuse me of things that aren’t even true?”

His expression faltered, guilt flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he said, “Maybe I’m just tired of feeling like I’m coming second.”

The words hit her like a slap, leaving her speechless. She turned away, unable to look at him. “If you can’t handle my life, then maybe you shouldn’t be in it.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Then Lando grabbed his jacket, his movements abrupt.

“Fine,” he said coldly. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

The sound of the door slamming behind him echoed in the empty apartment, leaving her standing alone, her chest heaving as silent tears streamed down her face.

—

The day of the competition arrived, but (Y/N) felt hollow. The weight of Lando’s absence pressed heavily on her chest as she laced up her skates backstage. Ethan sat beside her, his presence steady and comforting.

“You ready?” he asked, his voice calm.

She nodded, though her hands trembled as she tied the final knot. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The arena was packed, the cheers of the crowd echoing off the high ceilings as they stepped onto the ice. She scanned the stands instinctively, half-hoping to see Lando’s familiar face. But he wasn’t there.

The music began, and she forced herself to focus, moving through the opening steps with precision. But her mind betrayed her, Lando’s words echoing in her head. “Maybe I’m just tired of feeling like I’m coming second.”

Her foot slipped slightly during a turn, the mistake small but glaring to her trained eye. Ethan caught her immediately, his grip firm as he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

They continued, but the mistakes kept coming—hesitant steps, uneven spins, moments of faltering confidence. Each one felt like another crack in her resolve, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill.

By the time the routine ended, her face was damp with tears. Ethan kept her close as they bowed, his hand squeezing hers in silent reassurance.

Backstage, (Y/N) sank onto a bench, her head in her hands as the adrenaline faded. Ethan sat beside her, his voice soft as he said, “You did great.”

She shook her head, her voice breaking. “I messed up.”

“No one noticed,” he said firmly. “You were incredible.”

But his words did little to soothe the ache in her chest.

When she returned home that night, she found Lando sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked up as she walked in, his eyes heavy with guilt.

“I saw your routine,” he said quietly. “You looked beautiful out there.”

Her chest tightened as she dropped her bag by the door. “But you weren’t there.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there after the fight,” he admitted, his voice breaking.

Her tears spilled over as she stepped closer. “I always want you there, Lando. Even when we fight, even when I’m angry, I need you to be there. But tonight, you weren’t. And it broke me.”

He stood, reaching for her hands. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I let my jealousy get in the way, and I should have been there. You deserved better.”

She shook her head, her voice trembling. “Do you even realize how much I’ve given for you? And the one time I needed you, you weren’t there.”

His voice was thick with emotion as he said, “I know. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right.”

She stepped back, the pain in her chest unbearable. “I don’t know if you can, Lando.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and final, as she turned away, leaving him standing alone in the quiet apartment.

⁴

an : leave comments please 😞😞 i love to read them, i feel important

[na0koz]

thoughts on strap hcs for jinx 😞🗣️💜

I know damn well she’d be using something thick and textured or something she designed herself-

MDNI. cw: strap (duh), bondage mention, mention of jinx being sadistic

toxic!jinx masterlist

oh hell yeah she made that shit herself.

something that can vibrate or do something a lil extra just to add to her thrusts whenever she uses it on you. maybe somehow uses shimmer in it, if it would make it feel even better idk how shimmer works.. (but like have u guys seen that timebomb hc where ekko gets a little high whenever he kisses her cus she’s like 50% shimmer…yea that’s what i’m going for.)

i’m pretty sure i said this in another post but she could fuck you with her strap for hours and be satisfied just from making you cum over and over. you try to return the favor and she’s like insistent that she’s okay just making you cum. she does like receiving, but more often prefers to give when it comes to strap.

likes missionary the most. kinda boring but she likes to see your face and exactly how you react to what she gives you. also your tits bouncing in time with her thrusts are a bonus.

she’ll tie your wrists up every now and then, either to the headboard of your bed or just above your head. no particular reason she just likes being the one in control.

she’s obviously a little sadistic, so she does have you cockwarm her sometimes. you on her lap, whimpering as she keeps tutting at you, coaxing you to stay still with a loose hand on your waist while she does whatever is so important.

then she’ll have you ride her and bounce on her dick until you cum at least twice. she won’t do anything though she’ll just sit there, leaning back in her seat while she watches you desperately try to get yourself off.

i don’t think she’s big on sucking strap, she’d rather have you suck her fingers or vice versa. likes fucking you with her strap but doesn’t see any point in sucking it cus at the end of the day it’s a not a real dick lmao..

when she receives strap though ohhh she is crying thrashing around on the bed. she loves you taking control of her and fucking her.

she favors positions that are generally seen to be uncomfortable i guess would be the word? like stretching her legs so wide open with her knees next to her ears. she says it makes it feel better that way.

like i mentioned, i honestly think she cries when she cums. the feeling is just so intense she can’t handle it, but she loves it. she loves it even more when you lick her tears from her cheeks and coo at her for doing so well.

i think she’s a squirter too ngl guys. nothing really more to add on that one.

overall she is a sensational strap user and uses her genius for good to make the best strap she can for you :P

[drewdoa]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ arcane goes gardening <3 • hcs/scenarios !

ˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n: hello :)) this is so me coded it’s scary LMAO but i had to since i also enjoy gardening <3 hopefully this is something i can write about more cause omg i can’t get enough of this

ˋ°•*⁀➷ extra info: suggestive moments while intoxicated, cnc touching, no gender specific reader, a whole lot of flirting ;)

jinx

would be such a lady and always light you up. it’s her favorite thing honestly, she usually carries a lighter around you now because of it. you found out she started smoking cause you found her box un covered on her desk, not that she had a problem with you seeing it of course, but more of just “hey you kinda wouldn’t expect that from me!”. but you did, which is the funniest part.

making her way down the stairs as the sound of metal pieces clank together, she turned her head to see you standing there by her chair. as jinx made her way down the last few steps she greeted you with a kiss, a passionate one at that. she noticed one of your hands was holding the half finished joint, beautifully wrapped with purple rolling paper.

she looked back at you with an innocent face. “could ya blame me? i even made some for you too darlin’” she said softly, moving the box and pulling the few untouched ones behind her books. “i couldn’t keep it alll to myself”

this ended up with you guys seshing every evening, especially on nights where it’s foggy. less likely to get caught since you’ve got vi and caitlyn to worry about. they can’t let the council know you two have “drugs” around enforcers.

because of that fact though, she picked up baking and learned to make infused pastries! you came back to her place as the scent of trees and cookies followed immediately. it took you a lot of power to not steal one while jinx was icing them <3

i feel like this ties to her growing in the undercity but when she was younger with silco he taught her how to roll. as bad as that sounds..i would say she learned by watching more than him actually teaching her. she would take papers and filters here and there and just practice all the time. making comments about how the colors of the paper were pretty every time he got a new pack.

ugh she’s so a good kisser when stoned it’s un real. you’ve told her about it once and she laughed at you, but you were serious. “i think maybe YOU were a little too high, i kiss you like that all the time!”. she would protest every time until one night both of you got extremely touchy, and one thing led to another. safe to say, you were not too high <3

viktor

my man absolutely loves weed. even attempted (and successfully managed) to grow his own. knowing viktor, lets be honest, he’s gotta have some secret rooms or spaces to do his own shit. like he genuinely lives in the lab how could he resist. so, one late night he told you to come by, which is pretty rare for him since he really is a workaholic. by the time you got there viktor had everything set up, pretty lights everywhere, he looked handsome, and it was just the two of you<3

time goes by and both of you are sitting near a window, he pulls out a small book and gives it to you. as you examine the cool old leather, he opens the book with his fingertips, to the pages on the inside carved out. it would hold a lighter and 3 joints perfectly wrapped in pink rolling paper.

viktor smirked at you, “i thought you’d get a kick out of the pink, dítě (baby)”. he motioned for you to take one as he grabbed the lighter out the book. as you pressed the paper against your lips, the crack of the lighter followed as you took the first hit . or two, or three.

you passed it to him not long after, his gaze fixed on your face and your eyes as you became more and more intoxicated. as he took a few pulls himself he put it out on the windowsill. both of you sitting there relaxed as ever, in the most vulnerable position.

since then, he would leave you joints in the pocket of your jackets. always with a little note on the side. he would also throw in pieces of candy with it too incase you craved something sweet.

one night you came into the lab after taking an edible jayce and jinx gave you. they of course didn’t mention they were infused, but your first instinct was to find viktor before it really hit you. he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek wrapping his hand around your waist. you then explain to him why you’re really there and he lets out a low giggle. “they really played you huh?” he followed with as his hand slid up your side. his cold hands made it even worse to ignore the feeling. skin to skin, he wasn’t joking when he said he was into it.

usually when you’re stoned and all up on him, he takes such advantage of it in the best way possible. his hands are almost always touching you, teasing and making you feel good without overwhelming you. sometimes you don’t even notice hickeys on your body until you’re fully sober. of course when you went to ask viktor about it he tries to play it off, but the blush on his cheeks and the smile he can’t hide say otherwise<3

silco

a guy who favors cigars but weed just for you. i feel like his hands are shakey sometimes now so he has trouble rolling, especially all those years of teaching jinx he’s earned a break. hence why he surprised you one day with a bong. see through red glass and shaped like two cherries. he thought you wouldn’t mind it, especially since you’ve been talking about getting a new one.

at first you were nervous to open the box once he told you it was glass (..shocked he didn’t break it himself) but it was totally worth being careful cause it’s the coolest thing you’ve ever received. he even got you a cute lighter that matches.

during nights where he’s up and can’t sleep he’ll pull you over so cuddle and sesh together. having your back against his chest as the sound of his cigar popping and burning fills your ears. you would be using the bong here, practically hotboxing his office and laughing when people walk in to you both higher than the sky.

i feel like he would also have a special drawer dedicated to all his trees. and then have a special compartment for all your stuff <3 refilling things when you run out so you never go a moment without, it’s the father tendency in him.

i think his favorite saying is “you need a break, mon cherie” as he drags you into his office for a sesh. he never really cares if you have “one more thing to finish”, he doesn’t want you overworking yourself, that’s his job really!

if you both had to go somewhere around people (after seshing) he would totally just give you his clothes. next thing you know both of you are matching, you smell like him, and honestly you look great in his coat. he’s also definitely the type to check on you often incase you smoked a little too much and can’t handle it. “mon amor are you feeling alright?” ��do you feel okay, love?” “is this too much for you, sweetie?”

sevika

she’s so mama ugh. nothing but the best from sevika honestly. she’s always prepared for you with anything you ask for. she always has her cigars and such but there’s a special part just for you.

since you’re with her almost all the time, you’ve grown to find comfort in the scent of cigars. even the clothes you wear end up smelling like it, but you don’t mind, all you think about is her. it took her some time to get used to you though, but what caught her the most is that you..weren’t afraid of her?

she hasn’t met many people that match her freak, so it was a big refresher when you came along. but her favorite moment will always be when she caught you smoking in her room. sevika’s huge frame leaned on the doorway as she watched the smoke leave your body. you put your arm out with a j in your hand and motioning her to come sit with you. immediately the door closed as sevika sat on the bed and pulled you into her lap.

“how often do you do this without me?” sevika questioned, looking down at your red hazy eyes. “high eyes have always been gorgeous, yours especially, sweetheart”. sevika thought of these moments as core memories, since she doesn’t usually have time alone with you.

when munchies kick in it’s wraps for you guys. kitchen dates are what mainly pull you two together. i feel like cooking is such a good love language and it doesn’t get talked about enough. (i saw someone point out the fact sevika is obviously an indian queen so that also is gonna apply here <3). she’s very much a fan of cooking dishes from her country and having you try each and every one of them.

totally the type to baby you when you’re bedrotting while high. definitely pulls you on top of her when sleeping to feel your warmth. or you both end up wrapped so tight in blankets you can’t move off eachother ;)). speaking of, in the winter time her room gets extremely cold so both of you guys end up making robes out of her blankets (take viktor styling jayce’s blanket for example<3). she hangs every one of them in her closet during the warmer weather <3

˚₊ · »-♡→ heyy ;)) i hope this fic was enjoyable <3 more of my content will have themes surrounding cannabis/smoking so that’s just a heads up ^_^ if you liked this please reblog & like! it would be very appreciated <3 - drew

[pintrestgrl]

hear me outtt!!!! it's christmas dinner & being the two oldest cousins of the family ofc dawn & jj r gonna be anti-social with the rest of the family n jj is in a room upstairs by himself playing video games & dawn, suffering of visible boredom— her phone dies, she goes to her dad who tells her the only charger that is specifically for iphones is upstairs, where jj is. she declines at first out of embarrassment from past encounters with jj at past family events , after sitting alone in a corner for a bit she finally decides to give in, and where jj is sitting in a gaming chair with a controller in hand and dawn sets her phone down to charge, one thing leads to another and here dawn is sat on jj's lap givin kisses to each other & feeling each other up!!!! ( sorry if this was too long... )

- 🩰

this is cute omg they both feel so gross too

XMAS DINNER WITH DAWN ‘ND JJ.

cw incest n kinda forced sexual material

dawn really didn’t wanna be there. she would much rather be at home, sitting in her bed, watching christmas movies instead of living in one. she was sat on the couch, legs crossed and on her phone.

she probably should’ve been hanging out with her cousins, but she couldn’t find the energy to do so. they would just talk for hours, and bore her.

she was fine, she guessed. that was, until her phone died. she rolled her eyes, scoffing. she got up from her comfy seat and made her way to the back patio where her daddy was sat with her uncle.

“daddy? my phone died. i needa charger.” she spoke, watching them share a beer. she heard her uncle speak up. “yeah, dawnie— jayj got a charger for you up in his room.” she tensed nervously at the name, all the memories she had worked so hard to push down flooding back.

she didn’t want them to question why she was bein so nervous, so she spoke. “oh okay. it’s alright— i’ll just wait for supper.” her uncle nd daddy werent really paying her any care, so they just nodded and shooed her away.

she went back inside, shutting the screen door behind her. she went back to her original position, trying to entertain herself. she sat down a few more minutes, before sighing to herself when she realized truly how bored she was.

she gave it a second thought, and decided maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. she just had to get the charger, nd go back downstairs. she could do that. it was easy— is what she repeatedly said to herself as she made her way up the stairs.

she got to the top of the stairs, staring into the crack of the door. jj was on the game his daddy— her uncle, bought for him a couple christmas’s back. she pressed on the door, quietly walking over to him.

he didn’t hear her coming over his headphones, before he felt her presence in the room. almost smelled her. but in the most non coincidental way. he looked up, waiting for her. “hi. needa— uh, borrow. the charger. for my phone, please.” she spoke, basically stammering.

he smirked, looking her up and down as he inspected every detail of her. he nodded, pointing with his chin where his charger was as to not lose focus in his game. however, he did stop looking at it to watch her bend over to pick the charger up.

he watched the way he could see a peek of the white lace under her skirt, grinning as she stood back up. he watched as she now moved to leave, before he spoke. “nuh uh— you’re not leavin’ with my shit, dawn. stay in here.” she froze.

this was exactly what she had been fearing would happen. she knew him. she knew he would try this. and she didn’t wanna start something. she nodded slowly, and took a deep breath.

she moved to sit down on the corner edge of his bed, his chair sat in front of her. she put her phone on the charger, sighing. he looked over at her, looking her up and down. “you like what i get you for christmas, dawnie?” she smiled faintly, nodding.

he grinned, staring at her. she felt uncomfortable, per usual. she knew what his thoughts were. he slowly turned off the console, shoving his controller on the stand. he looked back up at her eyes. “c’mere.” she furrowed her brows.

he pulled her up by her wrist, laughing at the way she tried to writhe away from him. he grabbed her by her bottom half, forcing her body down on top of him. she straddled his sat figure. she tried to get up, but he didn’t let up. he forced her down, laughing at her struggles.

“jj— quit, i wanna get up.” he tsked, watching her tits in his face. “nah. i think you like it— ain’t that right, dawnie?” you shook your head, giving up on trying to get away from his gross movements. he nodded, giving her a look of approval.

“you lookin’ pretty tonight. real pretty.” you sighed, trying to avert his gaze. “thank you.” you muttered, rather quietly. he subtly moved his hand downwards, lifting up the front of her skirt. looking at the familiar damp white lace. “see? knew you like it. fuckin’ wet from it.”

she frowned, looking at the wall to the side of her in embarrassment. he saw she wasn’t looking at his movements, and subtly palmed the mound below her skirt. she sucked in a tiny gasp, looking down.

she attempted to push his hand away, but it only made him press harder on it. she let out a moan, trying to writhe his hand away that kept rubbing on her clit. “jj— stop doin’ that. oohh— fuck.” she let out a breathy moan.

he smiled, as he watched her reactions. he knew how to do this. exactly what to say and do to embarrass her and make her uncomfortable. “you want me to make you cum, dawn?” she shook her head furiously, her movements contradictory as she rode his hand.

“no— i want you to stop— hmph— please stop it, jayj.” he laughed at her, looking down at the way her clit would nudge against the pads of his fingers. “if i stop, then im gonna go tell your daddy you let me rub on your pussy. deal?” she shook her head furiously, her breathing quickening. “no— okay, okay. i’m sorry. don’t tell him, please.”

he pulled his hand away, slipping her panties to the side and harshly shoving two fingers in her. she groaned, at the burn. it slowly eased into pleasure, as he fucked into her with his fingers. his thumb went to go rub her clit, her head dropping to his shoulder.

she still felt so gross. this was gross. she shouldn’t be doing this. but he knew how to use his fucking fingers, she was sure of it. he forced her head up off his shoulder, pressing a kiss to her lips. it was sloppy. messy. tongues moving, teeth bumping. “jay— it’s, i’m gonna— ooohh, my fucking god.” he smiled.

“tell me you like it. tell me that you wanted it.” she let out a breathy scoff. she didn’t wanna say that. she didn’t wanna admit it. because then he would know that this spurred her on just as much as it did with him. “fuck— okay. i like it, i want it, i swear— just let me cum. please, jay.”

he nodded, giving her his permission. she focused on the way his fingers felt, moving inside of her. he nudged her clit with his thumb, putting her over the edge. she moaned, biting down on to his shoulder. the liquid oozed onto his hand, before he rode her through it and then pulled out.

he brought his fingers to her mouth, shoving them past her lips as she choked. she tried her best to lick them clean, knowing that’s what he wanted. he released them from her mouth with a pop, watching a line of spit keep them connected. she swallowed, nervously. it went silent. she was embarrassed.

he eyed her, noticing this. “you’re fine. quit fuckin’ overreacting, dawnie. did good, kid.” he spoke, hand going to pat her cheek. she nodded. he moved, his lips attaching back to her mouth. she whimpered, ashamedly kissing back. she felt his tongue graze against hers.

he continued kissing her, before pulling away and placing wet kisses down her neck. she moaned, feeling gross with his actions. his hands went up to her tits, squeezing the flesh. he pulled down the hem of her top, her bare tits falling from the fabric.

he moved his kisses to her tits, biting down on the fat of them. she moaned, mostly from pain. he took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking. he palmed the other one, hand running over her nipple. he released from her with a pop, going to her other tit.

she could feel the cold air against the wet of her nipple, making her shiver. he sucked, hands kneading the fat of her hips. he let go of her breast, traveling his kisses up again. he was about to press another wet kiss on her mouth, before they both heard her daddy call her down.

he groaned, her tensing up. she wiped her glossy lips, pulling the hem of her dress back up over her tits. she stood up, flattening out her dress and hair. “you gonna leave me with blue balls?” he spoke. she sighed, going to grab her phone. she looked down at the tent in his jeans, almost feeling bad.

that was, till she realized this was her fucking cousin. who just fingered her. and the bad feeling slowly went away, shame filling her up. she gave him an apologetic look, as if he didn’t just force her to do that.

she moved to turn the door, stopping when she heard him speak. “you’re gonna suck my dick whether you want too or not. you owe me it.” she grimaced, but she knew she would lose that argument if tried.

she left, the guilt washing over her again at the sticky feeling of her panties.

[tumblingxelian]

Just woke up, but I am going to throw my hat into the ring on this one and address the claims of one @rwbyuser24

I will start saying, well, isn't what the Wiki presents of her, truth? "Even then, his flaws are folded in to his (alleged) positive traits; he is not afraid, extremely loyal, and has genuinely good intentions, despite the fact that the show has now proven that Ironwood’s flaws greatly outweigh these."

Truth is a rather loaded term in this context, @faunusrights was highlighting that the framing of every trait and action Robyn has or takes is steeped in negative, hostile or inflammatory language. While in contrast, all of Ironwood's negative traits, which far and away are worse than anything Robyn displayed are downplayed to the point of nonexistence.

Hence opening the post by highlighting bias.

Let's consider that Ironwood have been for most of the part of show a hero. I guess that can influence. That and, isn't it truth what the wiki says about Ironwood? And even when his flaws end up outweighing his good traits, that was at the end of his life.

Robyn Hill was also a heroic figure from the moment of her introduction, this does not stop the steep bias against her.

I would also contest how much of a hero he was. Certainly he fought at the Fall of Beacon and that was heroic.

But he also used back-door politics to have Ozpin dismissed from his position. He was an ally to the already well established as villainous SDC. He then pulled out of Vale as soon as possible and when getting word of potential attacks on his allies (Mistral) withdrew all of his military support. & that's before we get into his blatant neglect and oppression, and exploitation of Mantle. All of which was on full display within the first episode of volume 7.

All compounded by the fact that Ironwood was a dictator the entire time.

"These writers love Robyn, and have explored and extrapolated on her character to marvellous degree. Yet, at no singular point have any of these flaws ever been written quite as strongly as the wiki implies they are, nor have I seen much evidence of them myself in the show." Well, I can think some works of fiction where Robyn shows negative traits. There was a rewrite by The-tired-bisexual-agenda who seems to be queer too. Anyway, the point is that since are fans, they probably are biased too. And about not seeing evidence of those traits in the show... Well, let's see about it!

You do a lot to remove the original post from its initial context, which makes hunting for what context surrounded these little snippets vexing. But to put it buntly, Faunusrights highlighted that the majority of creators in RWBY FNDM are women, or queer, or trans, and that she is by and large extremely popular in these circles.

Which is all true. One outlier doesn't actually amount to anything as a response and given "Rewrites" are easily the most creatively bereft, lifeless spittle of the HTDM, such a thing means even less.

As fuanusrights initially highlighted, there is a neutral voice that could be utilized to at least not blatantly misrepresent Robyn Hull while codding the dictator Ironwood, but they chose not to use it.

Now let's address the meat and potatoes of your post:

"Her brashness is blamed for the outcome, but in reality, this outcome could have been avoided together if Clover had not chosen to follow his orders and bring in an innocent man. " Well, Clover didn't initiate the fight. Clover said peacefully to Qrow that he was under arrest. And even Qrow said that they should wait till they arrive to Atlas to talk with Ironwood. Robyn initiated a fight in the manta. The problem isn't initiate the fight, the problem is the place. Is a closed space flying in the air. What if something end up happening and the ship falls? And even when it wasn't her fault, the fight end up resulting in the liberation of Tyrian. Again, she should have assumed that bad things were a risk. She could have wait till arriving to Atlas to talk to Ironwood or initiate the fight there instead of do that in a dangerous place.

You are blatantly and perhaps intentionally missing the point here that Clover is the most responsible for the fight by following a blatantly illegal and or immoral to arrest an innocent man.

Frankly, regardless of who "Started" the fight physically, by choosing to enact state violence on Qrow, Clover was 100% the person responsible for making things a fight.

He didn't need to obey a blatantly unreasonable or immoral order, he chose to, making a fight inevitable. & Qrow being willing to go along with it does not actually change that because, even if we ignore the fact letting someone walk themselves to the gallows on the assumption the judge will see reason is dumb.

The fact of the matter is Ironwood had just abandoned Robyn's city to die and was now arresting all opposition to his tyrannical and immoral reign. & Robyn is now trapped in an airship being flown to his fortress. This entire scenario is one of Ironwood and Clover's making, Robyn's not at fault for being stuck in a shit situation & trying to get out.

Talking to someone who just declared himself officially super dictator of Atlas, left her city to die, is arresting all opposition is an absurd stance. & beginning a fight on his island fortress surrounded by his military is somehow just as absurdly stupid.

I'm going to aside a little here with some insights from another essayist about this matter because there is something subtly sinister in your argument that you may not realize & I hope by outlining it, I will help:

How is arresting someone is somehow not a form of violence?

The answer is, it is a form of violence.

It’s merely considered an acceptable one because of the way it serves the state.

Whereas resisting arrest is considered an unacceptable form of violence, regardless of innocence.

In fact, overall, there is an acceptance in your post that state violence is natural and acceptable, regardless of circumstance or context.

That it is a neutral force, and not one enacted by choices.

I think this is the fundamental issue at play. It’s not necessarily about Robyn or Ironwood. It’s about whether the status quo is acceptable.

"Also, she didn’t crash the Manta! That was all Tyrian!" The article didn't say that she crashed the manta, it says that the fight initiated by her lead to that outcome.

Let's look at what the article said:

Her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

Yeah no, I side with faunusrights here, this line treats Tyrian like some environmental factor, a force of nature, the culpability for the crash and its harm to Robyn is laid at her feet, despite her not being the one to crash the ship. Its rather like how left leaning people always get blamed for the actions of the right wing, evil is treated as a force of nature, rather than a personal choice these people make.

"Yet, the people who enjoy her and the Happy Huntresses often perceive those same flaws to a significantly lesser extent, or even see those flaws as actually being boons of her character; for instance, reading her alleged arrogance as passion." Again, also the fans are biased. About the arrogance, it's for celebrating her victory before time for example. She was so sure of her victory that she made a party, even Weiss and Ren point out how strange that was. There is also her saying: "Looks like he underestimated me. Again."

See, you acknowledge fan bias, but only in regards to Robyn while largely treating the far more baseless support for Ironwood's villainous actions as the reasonable stance across your essay.

Also you do know how elections work right? Like, literally, that is how they are always set up, all political parties in America and many other countries (My own included) do this. That's not arrogance, that's just how elections work. Add in that Jac had to cheat to win and she was right to be cocky.

... Ironwood chose to neglect Robyn in his arrest order, either forgetting her entirely, or assuming she'd obediently follow orders. So yes, he underestimated her.

"I have a suspicion it’s to do with her character at large; she’s a bold socialist politician who believes in equality and fairness for all, who refuses to stand for incompetence and obedience towards evil causes." Is she a socialist though? I mean, she believes in equality but I doubt she ever declared socialists ideals. I'm not sure either that the CRWBY is socialist, so I doubt that they wanted to present a socialist in such good focus.

Robyn Hills's exact political beliefs are admittedly not overtly stated. However she is very much presented as a counter culture, rebellious force against Atlas's hyper militaristic and capitalist system.

"Likely, I’d rephrase a lot of it to be less damaging to her character; she isn’t hostile, she holds people accountable." Except that she was willing to steal from the military truck even BEFORE losing the elections and Ironwood supposedly trying to kill her:

I like how you neglect the fact Ironwood was literally robbing Mantle. Those supplies were specifically for Mantle, as discussed by Robyn and confirmed by Clover in their discussion.

Robyn: Clover, I'm so glad you're here. Maybe you can help me understand why this truck that's supposed to be taking construction materials to fix Mantle's outer wall, is on its way to the middle of nowhere? Are you lost? Clover: (laughs) It's pretty easy to get turned around out here in the tundra, everything looks the same. Thanks for checking up on us though. We'll be on our way now.

If one wants to act like legality is the sum total of morality, then Robyn was actually in the right by trying to secure stolen goods and return them to their proper place, >:3c

"I think you've misjudged the situation. One way or another, these supplies are going to get where they're supposed to go - Mantle." And again, initiating a fight in the wrong place.

This is hardly the wrong place, the stolen supplies are right there and Mantle is in desperate need of them given Grimm are busting through the hole in the wall at all hours of the day and Ironwood has made it illegal for Mantle citizens to even own weapons to or defend themselves. As established in the opening of V7, even being an official Huntsmen does not allow one leniency in this.

"She isn’t quick to jump to conflict, she is familiar with how Atlas responds to anti-authority with violence. " That still doesn't mean that she isn't quick to jump to conflict. And how exactly was Atlas dealing to anti-authority with violence in the past? I mean, Atlas let opposition appear in both Atlas (Jacques) and Mantle (Robyn). All the people that were arrested were people responsible for crimes: Stealing a manta, throwing a brick to a military ship, initiating riots. It just now that Ironwood was arresting people who oppose him.

If Robyn were actually quick to jump to violence, then she'd have attacked despite Penny's presence, she'd have been outright hostile to Marrow, rather than mildly chiding, and she'd have started violent rebellion before the election even happened, which was something she explicitly discouraged her supporters from doing.

How is Atlas at responding to opposition? Oh right, makes it illegal for Mantle citizens to defend themselves, stomps all over democratic norms, steal private property and public goods, while leaving those same citizens out in the cold to be exposed to Grimm, while arresting them for defending themselves.

The Ace-Ops had zero idea RWBY and co stole the Manta because if they had actually known anything they'd have arrested Maria as well. They didn't it was just an excuse they came up with.

"She isn’t arrogant, she believes in the power of the people as being the right thing to fight for." Again, party and overestimating her capacities.

Again, that's how political parties & elections work, & Jac had to cheat to win. Its funny how you keep neglecting that second fact in particular. Almost like you believe it was a legitimate loss despite it being literally and canonically a stolen election.

"not a fan of Robyn not a fan of a new female character not a fan of a new female character in a position of power not a fan of a character with socialist/communist/antifa ideals all of the above and then some???" I guess that the first one. I mean, assume that someone doesn't like female characters due to the dislike to ONE female character... And again, when it was said that she is socialist/communist? And Antifa... maybe? I mean, Atlas was never fascist. Well, that would be all!

faunusrights was talking about the people who edit the wiki, the same people who slathered Ironwood's page in no end of debasing praise and re-framing of events to make them look good.

Their post was very specifically and explicitly talking about a blatant bias in the people who were in charge of the Wiki. People who had demonstrably been extremely biased against against Robyn, women, authority figures who were women that didn't genuflect to a male superior, and otherwise praised conservative and violent men like Ironwood.

So yeah, the opening line of faunusright's post remains apt:

what is going on with all the bias on robyn hill’s wiki page, anyway?

what is going on with all the bias on robyn hill’s wiki page, anyway? - an aside

As someone who uses the RWBY wiki with some degree of frequency - often because I’m looking for art references, or Semblance and weapon names - I’m used to… some amount of bias in the articles for different characters? Like, let’s be real, it’s not a perfect wiki! Community-maintained stuff isn’t easy to all keep on the same track! But, generally, it gives the facts well enough and doesn’t do too bad a job keeping all the balls in the air when it comes to new information from all four corners of this franchise.

Well, until you open the article for Robyn Hill, and realise it’s an absolute disaster. Like, really; the impartial voice just plain doesn’t exist for her, and almost all of her wiki is written in such a way that she reads as being an absolutely insufferable, hostile, hard-to-like character. Even if you aren’t a fan of Robyn personally, you have to admit that if you hadn’t seen the show yourself, you might very well come away from her article presuming she’s a major antagonist of Volumes 7 and 8.

Like, for instance, let’s take a look at the first paragraph of her Personality section:

Robyn has a direct and confident personality, having no trouble being confrontational with Atlas personnel, including the Ace Operatives. Robyn also seems to suffer from overconfidence and arrogance, shown in her encounters with Ruby and celebrating her election victory before it was verified. She is aggressive and hostile in nature, quickly jumping to conflict without thinking through consequences. However, she is also shown to be reasonable when the situation calls for it.

And, for good measure, here’s another paragraph from the same section:

In “With Friends Like These” Robyn displayed a rather impulsive side of her personality, when upon hearing that James Ironwood’s plan to abandon Mantle and arrest those against him, she started a fight between herself, Clover Ebi, and Qrow Branwen onboard a Manta with Tyrian Callows in custody. Despite the fact, there was no order or her arrest. Her brashness led to Tyrian breaking free and crashing the Manta as well as her becoming unconscious.

(Taken from Robyn’s RWBY Wiki page. Bolding is mine.)

Seguir leyendo

[marcell-arts]

Hey, little songbird

Viago de Riva & Rook, Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook | T | Fluff/Drama/Comedy

When it comes to poisons, Rook trusts no one more than Viago de Riva. Surely he can find out what's wrong with her, before its too late.

---

Or, Rook is pregnant, and Viago is the first to find out.

"Maybe we should just give up," Rook said hopelessly, about a week into their strict regime. She was sitting by the balcony, where Viago insisted she get some fresh air. It was a balmy Summer day, and the sea breeze was lovely, but she was wishing she were anywhere but here. It was getting lonely without her friends, and only an increasingly frustrating Viago for company.

"No, Rook, we are not giving up," he said flatly, not even looking up from where he was annotating her reaction to the last antidote. Thankfully, it was mild this time, but still showed little improvement to her health. "You did not kill Elven gods, vanquish the Blight and save the world, only to die to this bizarre poison." 

She sighed and rocked backwards. "It's been a week already though! How can a poison's symptoms last for this long without killing me?" 

He hummed. "Some effects can last weeks from point of contact," he replied, "Although admittedly, it is strange you are seeing no improvement at all, and no deterioration. One of these ought to have done something." He looked up. "Are you sure you don't have any more symptoms? Anything different?"

"No," she said sullenly, with the petulance of a child, "I still feel nauseous and light-headed every morning. And I still have no energy most of the day." She flung the book she had on her lap across the room. It bounced sadly on the bed.

He sighed and put down his quill. "Rook. You know I am just trying to help." 

"...I know that," she said quietly. She turned to face him fully, suddenly emotional. "Of course I know that. I trust you. I know you're doing everything you can. But I just wanted…" She exhaled in frustration. "I wanted everything to be normal again! I just wanted a break from it all. From saving the world! And now I'm stuck here, and I can't even enjoy a holiday with my friends in the sun! It's just not—" 

"Not fair," Viago finished understandingly, "I know. It's not. You deserve it more than anyone." 

To both their horror, she started crying. Fat tears filled her eyes and spilled uncontrollably down her face. She sniffled loudly and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand angrily. "Maker!" she huffed, "Why am I—I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm getting emotional." 

Viago got up to lend her his handkerchief. While he had never been good at handling women in hysterics, his ongoing relationship with Teia had made him generally more sensitive to their moods. He patted her shoulder a little awkwardly. 

"It's fine," he said quietly, "I know. It's a frustrating situation." But the miserable sight of her had something stirred uncomfortable in his gut.

It wasn't surprising she was frustrated—but it was surprising that she showed it, he thought. Even as a child, she had been good at putting up a positive front. Of course, she trusted him enough to not hide her emotions, but she never liked to worry him if she could help it. To not be able to handle her feelings now… was this also a symptom?

He racked his brain to think of a poison that could cause increased emotional outbursts. It was a bizarre side-effect, but not out of the realm of possibility. Though what would the poisoner be trying to attempt with this? Unless… was it not poison at all?

He glanced at her, blowing her nose loudly into silk he would probably never touch again. If it wasn't poison, then perhaps this was an ailment of some kind. A sickness of the mind? Or a disease of the body? A condition that caused nausea, dizziness, lethargy, and proneness to emotional—

His face went white. His fingers on her shoulder tightened uncontrollably. 

"Ow! Viago, what are you doing?" she winced, shaking herself from his grip. She looked up to see his head bowed, and a fine sheen of sweat on his neck. "...Viago? Are you alright?" 

He wasn't sure what he was going to say. 

"Viago?" There was concern in her voice. 

Viago shakily moved to sit on the armchair opposite her. His hair had fallen forward, shielding his eyes.

"Viago, you're scaring me. What is it?" she whispered. "Am I… dying?" 

"Rook…" his voice was unnervingly calm, but the wild eyes that met hers were not. Piercing blue and wide with fear. "Are you… could you possibly be…" He wet his lips nervously. "...Are you with child?" 

Read the rest on ao3

[aspoonofsugar]

Merry Sinsmas!

It's Christmas, so here come some quick and unorganized thoughts on the Helluva Boss season 2's finale :''') (yes, I am late to this)

First of all, I loved the episode and I thought it worked very well as the season's finale!

MY FAVORITE CALLBACKS

The episode is full of callbacks, which show how much the characters have grown. Everybody already listed them, so here are some of my favorites:

The Circus: The beginning and the end of the episode mirror The Circus, with Stolas waking up surrounded by plushies and Stolas being on a balcony looking up at the sky. This is perfect considering this was mostly Stolas's season. It starts with him in a gilded cage:

Prince, all alone Upon your throne Your power is so frail You raise your voice You have no choice Inside your gilded jail

It ends with him dealing with the responsibility of choosing freely:

Stolas: You don't need to feel any guilt for my situation, it was my choice. It was all my choice. I caused all of this.

Murder Family: I.M.P.'s mission mirrors their first mission ever, as they are asked once again to kill a cheater, even if it destroys a family. The difference is that this time the group and Blitz especially does not follow through. This is clever because 1) It ties into the Christmas spirit :P (one good deed for Christmas LOL) 2) It shows Blitz's growth. He has grown enough that he can now imagine a new family for himself and Stolas in the future. Something he could have never done in episode 1, where his business and colleagues were the only family he could conceive. Blitz has now matured enough he is more in tune with his deepest wishes and can slowly start working towards them. It showcases how an important part of the story (half of it really) is over and how next season is gonna change the game and introduce new objectives and struggles.

Spring Broken: The fight against Andrealphus's dragon parallels the fight against the sea monster in Spring Broken. Both times an imp saves their romantic partner from being eaten by a monster, slays said monster from the inside and there is a "high five" played for laughs. In Spring Broken, the couple in focus is Moxxie and Millie, whereas in Sinsmas it's Blitz and Stolas. This is lovely, as it shows Stolitz have the potential to share a full fledged romantic relationship, just like M&M. Considering Blitz sees Moxxie and Millie's bond as perfect to the point he has tried to live it by proxy, this is a pretty important implication. It shows how much Blitz is now open to a true love story with Stolas.

This is a nice moment for Moxxie, as well. In Spring Broken he was drunk and was useless during the fight, leaving it all to Millie. This time he supports Blitz and gains a high five and some appreciation from his Boss (which he deeply craves). Him and Loona's team-up is pretty awesome too <3. Finally, it is interesting that during the fight Moxxie and Millie exchange roles. Moxxie tries the melee, by using a sword, whereas Millie tries the firepower. This is a direct inversion of how they are fighting in their skirmish at the beginning of the episode, where Millie uses a sword and Moxxie a giant gun:

I wonder if it foreshadows a deeper integration Moxxie and Millie will have to undergo next season, especially because the pregnancy plotline will definately arise some conflict.

Queen Bee: Loona gets some nice moments, which show how much more open she is with others compared to the previous season. She now refers to Blitz as dad more often and she is even eager to have him spend time with her friends. Speaking of whom, I love we are seeing more Hellounds. It is so great Loona has managed to build some positive bonds from the Queen Bee's episode and she is now better integrated with the people of Gluttony, her birth sin :''') I guess next season these bonds are gonna have some focus, especially considering Loona keeps mentioning Vicky, a hellhound she hates. I wonder if it's her:

On another note, I LOVE that the Hellounds are all dressed as foods to celebrate gluttony, that is so creative!

Ice cream and Hamburger

Pop corn

Their costumes are also all yellow (or different shades of yellow), aka Bee's color! Loona's outfit even loosely resembles Bee's. I am curious if Loona and Bee's foiling will come up again tbh.

Loo Loo Land and Seeing Stars: Obviously Sinmas heavily references the two other Octavia-centered episodes. This storyline would probably need a meta all for itself, but here are some thoughts. Octavia's "I Will Be Okay" parallels "You Will Be Okay". There Stolas tells Octavia he will always be in her heart, even when he can't be physically there. He also assures Octavia she will be okay even if the universe gets destroyed (because Stolas himself will make sure of it). Here, Octavia sings that even if Stolas left her, she will be okay, but she is cutting ties with her dad. She also sings so as her world (her family) is symbolically falling apart. The space symbolism is interesting because it ties with Seeing Stars, as there is a meteor shower exploding like a giant firework, just like the ones Stolas and Octavia watched together.

In general, Octavia says she is never forgiving her dad and that Stolas will only know her by her name, but she does so by:

Playing a guitar Stolas gave her

Singing a reprise of Stolas's song

Singing a song with a lot of references to space and stars

Well, let's just say Octavia will never be a stranger to Stolas because Stolas is too deeply intertwined with who Octavia is already <3<3<3

This is made clear in the climax of the episode, where Octavia goes to look for her dad because she is worried about his mental health without the Happy Pills and saves him from Andrealphus. This is once again a reference to Seeing Stars. There Octavia is shown to still be inexperienced with her powers and Stolas tells her he has yet to teach her powerful spells. Here Octavia gets a hold of her powers on her own and uses them to defeat her uncle. So, Octavia might learn to fend for herself more, but she is never truly hating her dad, no matter how angry she is.

I also like that the previous two episodes dedicated to Octavia make clear her outburst is not coming out of nowhere. Stolas has been failing her a lot since the beginning of his affair with Blitz:

In Loo Loo Land he still treats Via as the child she isn't anymore and fails to address the issue that is truly and clearly bothering Via until she forces him to. And even there, although he reassures her, Stolas fails to address the matter effectively. (Not that it is simple).

In Seeing Stars he is so caught up in his divorce, he fails to listen to Via and forgets their past promise. The fact it is Loona to find Via and not Stolas himself really ties into this. It is not that Stolas isn't trying, but at the end of the day he spends the majority of the episode with Blitz, laughing at his jokes and getting horny for him. Sure, Blitz was forced into the sit-com, but Stolas could have left Blitz and kept looking for Via. This shows how much Stolas was already struggling between his love for Via and his desire to build a romantic relationship with Blitz.

In short, Via calling Stolas out on prioritizing his relationships with Blitz over their father-daughter one is correct:

Stella: Sorry, sweetie. No talking to that deadbeat. Andrealphus, look who's finally calling! Andrealphus: Oooh! Took him this long? That's hilarious.

Stella and Andrealphus aren't exactly wrong here either. Stolas waited a lot to call Via. That is because he was shocked and needed a long sleep, but Via can't know it. From her point of view her dad took responsibility for a crime in order to save Blitz, was banished and then ghosted her for a whole night/day.

At the same time, it is obvious Via is gonna to slowly discover more and more about her dad and his pain. Finding the Happy Pills was just a first step into a process of maturation, which will lead her to become an adult. Still Stolas's daughter, but not Stolas's helpless little girl anymore.

As two sides note:

I like that season 1 ends with Loona and Blitz's bond in focus, whereas season 2 ends with Stolas and Via's. It is obvious their two girls are key for Blitz and Stolas.

I like how Stolas's home is now completely frozen. It is a great metaphor for the kind of cold and abusive environment Via is now in. It is kind of telling the only parts of the house, which are not frozen are Via's room (filled with her and Stolas's shared interests) and the closet with Stolas's stuff.

STOLITZ I loved the Stolitz's development this episode! It was the perfect wrap up of their relationship this season. It is especially interesting how their dynamic is now inverted compared to the beginning. Right now the one more openly affective and open to an official love story is Blitz. Stolas is instead too heartbroken and jaded to fully jump into it, despite how much he clearly loves Blitz. Also, as other people noticed:

Stolas: Go enjoy your Sinsmas, Blitzo. I'm fine. You don't have to stay here with me.

This is a call back to Full Moon, as Blitz is now choosing to stay by Stolas's side.

Stolas becoming Blitz's secretary is instead another callback to The Circus:

Blitzo: Yeah! A big office! Circus business with clowns and horses! and the horses will all have good names like Stapler and Biscuit Queen. Stolas: I'm sure you will. That sounds like a good business. Blitzo: Yeah! And, if you want to apply, I'll hire you. Maybe. Stolas: You'll hire me? Blitzo: Yeah, if I feel like it. Stolas: Well, I hope I qualify! You'd be a good boss.

In general, it is gonna be interesting to see Stolas struggle with his newfound situation and self-reflect on his previous privilege.

However, the part I loved the most about Stolitz is the fight against Andrealphus:

First of all, I loved the princess and knight's symbolism because it is so extra and it fits them so well! It is also Stolas's dream come true:

Stolas: You wanna know what I want? I want to know what it's like, to not be alone. I want to be someone's someone. I want to feel wanted. But like, in a romantic way, like I'm standing out in the rain at a train station and someone is shouting: “Harriet! Don't get on that train, it's going to London and I cannot be without you!”

Secondly, I loved all the Disney references:

Blitzo: Hey Elsa! Get your icy hands off my bottom, bitch!

Frozen

Sleeping Beauty

Hercules

They are truly hellbent on turning Stolas into a Disney Princess!

OTHER THINGS I LIKED

Via vs Andre

I loved Via easily defeating Andrealphus. First of all, she is awesome and I adored her star-themed powers! Secondly, it ties very well with the classism commentary of the series.

Andrealphus is a Marquis, while Stolas is a Prince. Via is Stolas's heir, which means she is more powerful than Andrealphus, even if her powers are still raw. The short fight makes the difference clear as day.

Why is this important?

Thematically, it makes Andrealphus an interesting foil to Stolas. As a matter of fact he is clearly meant to be seen as Stolas's negative parallel. Both are homosexual nobles forced to repress their sexuality to fit the role they were given by society. However, they clearly both resent said role.

Stolas tries to evade it by starting an affair with Blitx, the first thing that truly makes him happy in years. He acts outside what is expected from Goetias, ignores protocols and eventually helps I.M.P. at a great personal cost. He is slowly going to face and unlearn his unconscious classism in the next season, as he works with Blitz and the others.

Andre tries to climb the hierarchy because he thinks that if he were more powerful and richer he will be happier. Hence he makes use of Hell's rules to dethrone Stolas and steal his assets. However, no matter how much he tries.

First of all, Hell's hierarchy isn't as easily destroyed, especially if you play by its rules:

Satan: STOLAS! I hereby strip you of your status, your power, and your title; Andrealphus: Yeees! Yeeesss! YEEESSSS!! Satan: For the next hundred years. Andrealphus: Oh motherfuck! Seriously?!

Secondly, no matter how much Andrealphus tries, there will always be someone higher than him. Stolas is gone, but Via is already able to kick his ass. He will always be a Marquis and never a Prince.

Thirdly, Andrealphus associates value to social status, but his short fight against I.M.P. makes very clear there is more than powers to a person's abilities. He is immensely more powerful than imps and hellhounds, but he sucks at fighting and it shows. Blitz and the others are able to hold their own easily.

Last, but not least there is no amount of social status that can buy true happiness. Andre being linked to Elsa is funny, but it is also meaningful when we remember Elsa is a lonely girl, who represses her emotions to fit into a system. Well, Andre does the same. He probably represses who he is (his sexuality) and is left cold and unhappy.

In short, just like Striker, Andre too is probably deep down unhappy with the current state of society. However, our protagonists' dark foils try to change their state by hurting others and crushing them under their feet. The protagonists instead more genuinely oppose the system by trying to help others.

Plot-wise, this might lead to some interesting developments.

First of all, this might tie into the Stella-centered episode. It is probable she was forced to marry Stolas, so that her family could social climb. This might explain why she was so angry about Stolas's divorce and why it was so important for her and Andre to get some retribution from Stolas. Their family is on a lower level than Stolas's one.

Secondly, Andre might at one point decide to kill Via, so that he can keep Stolas's assets for himself. This might become true especially if Via keeps rebelling against him. In this case, I have a pretty good idea of who Andre is gonna call:

Striker: Well, this has been fun, but every good thing has to come to an end. Shame you won't see your kid, again. Stolas: Don't you dare breathe a word about my daughter. Striker: Oh. Finally hit a nerve, huh? Stolas: I swear, if you go near her, I will destroy you.

Striker threatened Octavia in Western Energy, so this checkov gun might fire. If so, it will be a chance for Stolas to help Via, for Blitz to face his dark foil once again and for Via to discover the truth about her father's attempted murder.

The pregnancy plotline

This season we have a little conflict between Moxxie and Millie in Happy Campers and I was wondering if they were gonna have a bigger one later on. Well, it seems they will because the pregnancy plotline is going to bring some drama in the relationship.

As for now, to me it seems Millie is not convinced about the pregnancy and might contemplate an abortion:

Millie: What? Didn't he cheat or s-s-something? Come on, this is fun! We've done this kind of t-t-thing before. Blitzo: Just… not this one, Mils. Not today. Millie: I can do this one, I can do this! Blitzo: Millie! Moxxie: We'll do it next time! It's just not worth it. Millie: Don't start, Moxxie! Just because you aren't demon enough to do this job, doesn't mean…

Her being the most insensitive while watching the happy human family seems as foreshadowing that Millie doesn't really want kids. At least not now. This might change of course and I might be wrong. Still, the fact she hasn't told Moxxie about it yet is pretty indicative of how confused she is at the moment.

In general, to me it seems Moxxie and Millie are partly subverting feminine and masculine tropes, as Moxxie is more feminine (musicals) and Millie is more masculine (fighting). At the same time, I think they are also meant to deconstruct these ideas.

Moxxie exhibits some traits of toxic masculinity that clearly come from his father. For example, in Happy Campers he is obsessed by the fact he and not Millie must complete the mission, because he must prove himself to the boss. Or in The Harvest Moon Festival he tries to show he is as strong as Striker, even if his talents lie elsewhere.

Millie might soon reveal she herself might feel pressured to conform to some traditional feminine roles. For example, she might fear that becoming a mother might mean she has to give up her career. Or she is scared of how others (like her family and husband) will see her if she gives up the baby. All in all, she comes from a rather traditional environment and I am curious to see if this inspiration will be used to explore her pregnancy.

SINSMAS

I LOVED the idea of Sinsmas for several reasons.

Thematically, Sinsmas is really about self-expression:

Blitzo: Uh, it's Sinsmas! You know, the day every Hellborn celebrates and acts on their birth sin? Or any sin, whichever ones they want, honestly!

It is about giving in to your vices for one whole day (it is really similar to Carnival), so that you can indulge in what makes you happy, even if it is considered strange or wrong.

This is very important for the theme of classism:

Stolas: I cannot say I'm familiar with this holiday. Blitzo: Really? Wow, rich people don't have any fun, do they? Stolas: No, fun is free, but we can afford nice things.

Stolas is a noble and nobles do not celebrate Sinsmas. That is because the Goetias can never truly express themselves:

Stolas: Yaaaay! Birthday, birthday! WOOHOO! Birthday tiiiiime! Mister Butler: Calm yourself, young prince. You know excitement is unbecoming of a Goetia.

They have to repress repress repress.

So, it is telling Stolas slowly embraces the spirit of wrath throughout the episode.

He starts by trashing Blitz's office (luckily it is insured :P):

Stolas: Augh! Come on, you suck! You fucking suck! You fucking piece of shit, move you fucking face, you goddamn sucking motherfucker— GAH! WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT I AM! THIS WAS SO STUPID! I CANNOT BELIEVE I COULD BE! THIS FUCKING STUPID! I RUINED EVERYTHING! MOVE!!! YOU SHITTY DESK!!!

And he ends by trashing Andrealphus:

He has left the Goetia for one month in universe and he is already fitting in :''')

World-building wise, Sinsmas is very interesting because it is mostly celebrated by Hellborn Demons. Karen, who is a Sinner knows nothing of it and is uninterested in it. For her it's just Christmas.

As a result, I wonder if Pride as a sin is less celebrated than others during this Holiday. We see decorations for Greed, Wrath and Gluttony mostly. But I am sure people from Lust, Envy, Sloth will mostly celebrate these sins. However, the Demons typical of Pride are Sinners or Goetias, both of which do not celebrate.

So, I am wondering:

Do some Sinners who have been in Hell for a while celebrate Sinsmas? Do they stick to Christmas? Do they fuse the two holidays?

Was Pride more celebrated as a Sin before Lucifer decided not to get involved in Hell's affairs anymore?

Do the people of Pride have some specific festivities? Or to better say, do different Rings have different festivities?

I love holidays in different cultures and I would honestly just love a series dedicated to the different holidays in the Hellaverse :''')

MY FAVORITE EPISODES OF THE SEASONS

So, since this was the season's finale, I think I can now say which episodes were my favorite this time around! It is difficult because I thought this season was pretty strong overall, but if I must choose:

Ooops!

Mammon's Magnificent Musical

Ghostfuckers

Mastermind

Sinsmas

These are my favorites! In particular, Mammon's Magnificent Musical and Mastermind are my two pick choice, in no order.

This is all! Merry Christmas to who celebrates and Happy Holiday to everybody!

[bunnybuunn]

Holiday spirit.

Summary: Agatha hates Christmas, but she loves little!reader too much to refuse celebrating it with her.

Warnings: Age regression, none!

Agatha was sitting on the couch while you were busy putting up Christmas decorations. It wasn’t a secret that Agatha hated Christmas. She had never celebrated it, since it wasn’t a common thing for witches to do. However, it wasn’t the exact reason for her hatred. The Christmas holiday was bringing too many positive emotions to some people, and Agatha had gotten sick every time, seeing those assholes with happy faces. 

So when you came up to her, offering to celebrate Christmas with you, Agatha meant to say no. 

She really wanted to say no. 

But when she saw your beautiful puppy eyes, she knew that she just wouldn't be able to refuse. 

And that is exactly how she found herself on the couch, unpacking new decorations that she had bought to see you happy. When you finished decorating the Christmas tree with the beautiful purple wreath, you turned around to look at the Agatha. 

 

„Do you like it, Mama?”

 

You asked, hoping that she was enjoying it just as much as you did. Agatha let out a sigh, raising her eyes from the box that she was opening. Her gaze softened when she saw a big smile and the proud expression on your face. It wasn’t a very hard task to do, but you did it perfectly. 

Agatha got up from the couch and approached you, leaving all those boxes and decorations behind. It wasn’t the main part of celebrating the Christmas for her, and it most definitely wasn’t the reason why she accepted your offer. The main part was you, and your happiness was all that mattered to her. Agatha crouched down in front of you, looking at you for a second before leaning closer to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. 

 

„It’s perfect, bunny. You’re such an artist.”

 

You giggled at her words and kissed your mama back, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. Agatha smiled, petting your head before getting up and giving your work a last admiring look. 

Agatha looked down once again when she felt you tugging on her arm. You were looking up, holding a left piece of wreath in your hands. 

 

„What’s wrong, little one?”

 

She asked, raising an eyebrow. You pointed your finger at the top of the tree that wasn’t decorated. Agatha smirked and took decorations from your hands. It was obvious to her that you just couldn’t reach the top of the tree, therefore you couldn’t decorate it.

 

„Mama, I’m too small!”

 

She chuckled at your complaints, easily putting Wreath where it has to be by using her magic. It was funny watching you pout every time. Agatha liked to sometimes remind you how small you exactly were. 

However, your pouty face turned happy when you saw a fully decorated Christmas tree. 

 

„I know. It’s okay to be little, bunny.”

 

Agatha said, waiting for you to say something back or maybe argue a little. Her eyes widened when instead of doing that, you just reached out your hands, asking to be picked up. The witch nodded, instantly picking your small body up from the floor. 

You put your head on her shoulder, resting against Agatha’s body. The smell of her perfume and gingerbread cookies that she had baked earlier made you relax. A minute later, your eyes were closed, and you were slowly falling asleep while Agatha sat down on the couch, putting you on her lap and making sure that you were in a comfortable position for a little nap.

She caressed your back with her fingernails slowly, listening to the sound of your calm breathing. You were putting Christmas decorations on for a couple of hours, running around the room. No wonder why you fell asleep so quickly. 

After the hundreds of years of her long life, Agatha lost her faith in miracles, but she had to admit that your appearance in her life was a true Christmas wonder. 

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove @hikyiwid

[thewistlingbadger]

Man OP you hit so many nails on their heads. The Warwick plotline absolutely was something that would have been better with Vi, you saying that has opened new doors in my brain. Like, yeah that actually makes a lot of sense. For the most part Vi has nothing to do this season and Jinx's story is all over the fucking place. First she wants to kill off Vi or have Vi kill her off, then she's seen as this revolutionary figure by the people of zaun and she frees those people from Stillwater. Then she's dealing with Warwick shit and then she's back and forth between living and dying. There is no cohesion in her story really. She starts the season feeling unworthy of life and that's how she ends the season.

What really bothers me about the bunker segment of ep5 is that Silco is never mentioned, even though it feels like it's the perfect time to. Silco being flat out denied any recalling is so bizarre and straight up just fucking weird, because he was such an integral part to s1. He impacted jinx's story, Vi's story, and zaun as a whole. To not refer to him just makes things so awkward. We know from the mini game Jinx Fixes Everything that the only reason Jinx knew to check the mines was because of a map Silco kept of the place. The most important part of that segment happens in the room that Vander shared with Silco. We see Vander's jacket next to Silco's. We see Vander wrote a note to Silco. Silco is all over this scene but he's not discussed at all. This scene was disappointing because it was the perfect opportunity for them to discuss him and his importance. He still is clearly impacting Jinx's life and Vi proves in this scene that she still holds resentment towards him. Imagine if instead of saying "he's your father too" jinx said "he was your father." This would be curious because it would clearly outline a distinction between Jinx and Vi, as not having the same father figure. Another moment that was a good time to bring up silco was with the jackets. Jinx found an old jacket of silco's back when he was younger nestled next to an old jacket of Vander's. However, instead of reacting to the sight of silco's old belonging, or even the fact that his jacket was folded inside vander's, she just smells vander's jacket. We know that she's been grieving silco, so realistically imo it would make more sense if she reacted to silco's jacket, perhaps started crying. Any sort of reaction would have made sense considering what we were shown earlier in the season. To me, jinx and vi can't reconcile until vi realizes that Jinx's change was her own, until she realizes that silco was a positive force in Jinx's life and they had a familial relationship with each other. So this really was the right moment for them to talk about Silco. Especially since Vi is unaware of silco's history with Vander and the letter is about the betrayal. To vi, that whole sequence of events shouldn't make much sense. This was the opportunity for Jinx to explain the betrayal. Then we could have seen how Vi would have reacted to her black and white world view being challenged

Jinx just never really liked Vander that much.

One of the things that, to me, seemed like a main theme in Jinx's arc in season 1 was the contrast between her two families, and how her switch from Vander's daughter to Silco's drastically changes the way her personality takes shape.

And I hate that the fandom, and now the show, too, has reduced Silco to an unhealthy influence in Jinx's life, pushing her towards her "bad" side (being Jinx) when, for all his flaws... he gives her a better childhood than she ever had with Vander. The first three episodes of the first season, to me, when I watched them, illustrate quite clearly that Powder feels unhappy in her family life. She is the most mal-adjusted of Vander's kids. Her older brother constantly berates her, and it's quite clearly having a big effect on her self-image. She later takes up the Jinx name and persona once she feels like she has become irredeemable as a person. Her other brother never defends her. Vi is the only one who is there for her, and they care for each other, but at the same time you can see there's still a little insecurity in their relationship. Vi is worried that maybe Powder is indeed too weak, and Powder worries that maybe Vi does indeed see her as a Jinx like her brother does.

And when it comes to Vander... he's just not really all that present in her life. And I don't blame him, the man has four kids to take care of, on top of keeping things running in the Undercity. It's clearly not his intention. But it doesn't change the fact that he's not there for Powder, not as much as she needs. To me, when I watched the first season, it seemed like Vander was a figure that felt far away to Powder, someone that she admired but also feared being completely herself around, and someone that she ultimately wished to be closer to than she actually was. It's worth mentioning that Jinx never says his name post time skip, and he is not a hallucination for her, not until Vi brings him up in the finale. Hell, Claggor is somehow a hallucination for her and he never even speaks. Vander was just not an influential figure in Jinx's life.

I always found the scene at the end of ep3 of s1 fascinating, because Powder never once mourns Vander. She never once cries for him and never once says his name. When she sees his dead body, she becomes shocked and starts crying, but it's not actually what breaks her. What breaks her is Vi's rejection. Had it just been that she accidentally caused the deaths of her brothers and adoptive father, she would not have crumbled mentally. It's Vi's rejection that destroys her. Now, of course, a little girl that cares more about her sister's affection towards her than the lives of her family members is kinda messed up, but that's what makes her character interesting. And we can see that that little girl doesn't go anywhere, as Jinx displays the exact same one-mindness about her sister. Because Jinx and Powder were never really that different, after all.

She is quite clearly placed with her back to Vander's body, that she never turns to, barely looks at, only enough to recognize him and see he's dead, and never says the name of. She's turned towards Vi, calling for Vi, crying because of Vi, and no one else. Heck, Vi had just been crying over his body a few moment ago. Vi is clearly distraught over his death. Vi is devastated, she literally punches her sister and curses her in the exact worst possible way she can, in the way she know it will hurt her sister the most. But Powder... she just honestly dgaf.

So to then hear Jinx say this line in season 2...

...is just straight up jarring. I was pulled out of the story when I heard this. This is Jinx saying this to Vi. This kinda makes it seem like it was Jinx who was most attached to Vander, or at least that she was just as attached to him as Vi was. Which is just not how things seemed in the story at literally any point until this one. And then season 2 continues this way, and somehow makes Jinx seem like the closest daughter to Vander. Flipping Warwick literally acts more attached to Jinx than Vander ever did to Powder. Like literally. Season 1 clearly sets up that Vi is the favorite daughter, and then they just... flip it?? Warwick cares more for Jinx and responds better to her than to Vi. It's actually insane. It's true they sanitized Jinx's character to hell and back this season, but this is a straight-up rewrite. I can't wrap my mind around why they did this. Plus, the entirety of act 2 they set up this weird and pointless arc of Jinx rekindling her relationship with Vander or something... and like literally her story was genuinely never about that.

(This COULD have been Vi's story. And that might have actually been cool, and made sense. Maybe Vi is the one who finds him, and she is the one who helps him calm down. And then she brings Jinx, and maybe Jinx is terrified because she was never that close to Vander, and then she literally killed him, so seeing him again is the last thing she wants. Maybe VI is the one who tells Jinx that "he was your dad, too", which would make A LOT more sense, and maybe that's the first time that Jinx thinks that oh, yeah, he was... And then maybe they have a cute moment where Vander forgives her. Or maybe she sees the state he's in right now and loses it completely. Or maybe they look at each other and they both see the monster each of them has become. And then maybe Vi looks down at the enforcer uniform she's wearing, and, privately, sees it too. Idk. The things we could have had.)

Silco was actually a good dad to Jinx, in all the ways that Vander wasn't. He gives her all the attention that she never had before. He not only listens to her, but actively asks for her side of the story. He never insults her, and he defends her against Sevika. He trusts her and gives her opportunities to prove she's capable. She goes from being one of four siblings, and getting lost in the shuffle and often ending up feeling forgotten and alone, to being the most important child, always taken into consideration and almost put on a pedestal by her dad (this, like, has to have cured some inner wounds, i think).

Silco understands Jinx better than any other character in the show, and I'm genuinely sad that we didn't get to see any flashback of Jinx growing up with him. Because their relationship was so unique, and so integral to Jinx's character and to the rest of the story, that the fact that we never get to see any other glimpse into their bond is just...

As a final note, I'd also like to add that I dislike when people say that Silco "groomed" Jinx. I think a much more realistic analysis is that he enabled her. And as for all the times he tells Jinx that Vi "betrayed her", that's just a reflection of his own trauma, and also because he fears that if Jinx knew Vi was alive, she would go back to her and leave him (which, considering what goes down in the s1 finale, not an unfounded fear). It's wrong that he does that, but it's not out of malicious intent (also tbh Jinx never really seems to believe him anyway).

And for all the people who say that Silco "turned Jinx into a terrorist" (dumbest people in this fandom fr, im sorry), that's just straight up not true. Powder was already like that. That is quite literally why Silco adopts her. Because he sees that she's like him. Silco would not have taken Powder in if he thought she was just a cute, innocent kid who was orphaned (to, what, raise her for years so that, MAYBE when she's older, she MIGHT be useful to him? when they meet he doesn't know she's the one that caused the explosion, he just knows that she's been abandoned by Vi). This is the kid who thought playing around with explosives was a fun hobby. This is the kid who giggled at the thought of hurting others. This is the kid who already suffered from explosive emotions. This is the kid who saw her father and her brothers dead, because of her, and all she cared about was whether her sister was mad at her because of it. This is the kid who throws herself at the first person she sees, someone who her sister hates, who is the cause of all this destruction, and with an anger that shocks most viewers, declares that Vi is not her sister anymore. She is livid in that one moment.

Powder already had it in her from the beginning. And it's also ok to like a character (and to write one) even if they are not 100% morally pure in every single way under the sun, cause that is quite literally what stories are for.

[fizzie-frog]

Blitzø: core self, trauma and healing (part two)

This is a continuation of my previous post. Thanks to Tumblr limitations, I had to split it into different parts (trust me, I wish I could've made it just one big post).

PART ONE

This might be long...

He tried to waddle through the trauma of existing as someone as self-loathing as himself.

He denied;

“I didn’t do anything, it was an accident!”

He isolated;

He minimized, often with humour;

“Uh-oh, looks like it sucked all the fun outta you!”

He avoided being vulnerable;

“I DID CARE!”

And felt awkward/uncomfortable when he did end up spilling out his emotions;

“Weeeeeeeell, fuck you!”

Suppressed his emotions;

… Cause they’re blinding and suffocating, and it’s easier to avoid them.

He hated himself and didn’t believe there is anything good about him, despite having changed lives for the better;

And he dipped if he got too close (everything literally burnt down when he tried getting closer, didn’t it);

He often didn’t believe others would hold any endearment for him, even taking it as a joke;

“I destroy everything, everyo— I make everyone’s lives worse!”

And that’s it, really. He believes he’s a pest, a virus, something that can only do harm. While his core self still showed itself from time to time, he was blinded with the trauma of all his wrongdoings. All the people he’s hurt and that, in a self-fulfilling prophecy, made him hurt even more.

Everything he couldn’t look straight in the eye. The death of his mother, caused by him. The hurt of his friend, caused by him. The hurt he’s caused around himself. He couldn’t bear see it, knowing it would break him down. That’s why he avoided it. Thinking about what happened, what he did is suffocating. But that also blinded him from seeing his good deeds too. As usual, we’re more likely to see the negative over the positive.

Blitz picked himself up by the bootstraps as they say, but it didn’t help him, not within himself. So what did help?

I think it started in Oops…

He didn’t wanna be vulnerable, but after so much hurt and things left unsaid, it spilled. It all spilled out and made him into a crying mess right in front of Fizz, cause as much as he tried to act unbothered, he did care (as he said in the episode). He was vulnerable, he explained to Fizz exactly what happened instead of holding it in anymore, he apologized to Fizz. They both learnt what happened.

And the kicker? It paid off! Blitz was finally vulnerable to someone, his former best friend, and Fizz forgave him. He got his dear friend back for this. Not only did he win someone he loves back, but also this came as a punch to those unhealthy beliefs, cause he was vulnerable and it didn’t turn out bad.

We have Ghostfuckers.

After being plagued by his memories, Millie came to his aid. She not only reminded him of a time he actually changed her life for the better, but also confirmed that he indeed cares for Blitz.

Then the moment of truth…

Can’t get anymore raw than the moment when his death was imminent. It’s often in times like this that we people’s raw emotions.

In a moment when even Loona was tearing up at the thought of losing Blitz. When all his friends were already mourning him, crying for him as he was about to lose his life.

And in that moment, when he was sure he was gonna die, he could finally say it…

“I love you, guys”

There was nothing to be lost. He was gonna die and the last thing he knew was that his friends were crying for him, but were safe. He could die happy.

Of course though, he didn’t, as we know. Once he was outside the court room, he was pulled in a sobbing hug by his friends and daughter that were relieved he was okay. Even further proof of being loved. Despite the horrible circumstances, it must be so healing to his heart to have that.

True, unfiltered confirmation of being loved. He is loved. The possibility of someone you love dying shakes you. Loona realized it wasn’t worth pretending anymore - life is so short, especially for low class hellborns.

And probably so did Blitz. He was finally in a happy place. His daughter loved him, his friends loved him. Stolas loved him.

He is loved.

So in the Sinsmas episode, we started seeing so much more of who he once was.

He was goofy,

Attentive,

Listening,

Supportive,

Cheerful,

Encouraging,

Patient,

He looked at potential future,

He was selfless,

Protective,

Kind,

Even romantic.

And he was happy…

That’s not to say he’s completely healed. I think you can never truly heal from something like this, especially the magnitude of what Blitz went through in his life, and his issues can resurface.

But at this point in time, he’s finally in a happy place. He was affirmed, comforted and reassured. He’s content, and that’s the most healed he can be.

His core self is finally seeing the light of day. He is more himself than he’s ever been since that day.

So that was it. I’m sorry if I was a bit messy some places; as mentioned, life is kind of a struggle. Sometimes I feel like my brain is deteriorating or something, lmao, but I wanted to put this together cause I feel like Blitz has such a good, painfully relatable (to me anyway) arc and he’s such a complex character.

My love for Fizz remains the biggest, but I couldn’t deny the love I have for Blitz. He’s just such a good character with such good development. Selfish yet selfless, careful yet careless… So many dimensions.

If you made it this far, thank you! <3

[fireheartpages]

terrible idea | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader one. part two. three. summary: everyone has their demons, you just chose to run from yours. straight to basgiath war college. and definitely not towards the grinning tall, dark, and handsome marked rider that seemed too kind to be in a hardened place like the rider's quadrant. leave it to you to catch his attention word count: almost 2.5k notes: second person pov with she/her pronouns. reader has a last name and a dirty dancing esque nickname. questionable geographic knowledge of the continent and use of modern fairy tales & fables for metaphors and allegories. if rebecca yarros can put her chronic illness in her story so can i. enjoy the second part of whatever my brain has been brewing for the past few days! there will be two ish more parts :DD half of this was written while wine tipsy and all of it was proofread while wine drunk and very sleepy, so we die like men

You take a deep breath in, and push it out, suppressing a shiver. It was cold in September. What the hell.

Being from the coast of Tyrrendor means you thought you were prepared for cold weather. The coast is cold. It's always windy. You would go swimming in cold water. And then you came to Morraine in the fall. Fuck, it was cold. It made everything hurt.

You ball your hands into fists, ignoring the way the skin on your hands protests. The Gauntlet seems to taunt you as you stare up at it, like a looming, overbearing giant ready to knock you down the minute you try to climb the beanstalk. You and Violet have been the only ones not to complete the course thus far.

She came up next to you, handing you a healing slave that you accept gratefully. You tug off the gloves, smothering the place where your palm met the knuckle in it. It makes the joint pain a bit more bearable, but you're still trying to find something that relieved the dry, cracked, and flaking skin there, or the welts that materialize and wake you up with how badly they hurt.

The freezing cold wind and rain in September certainly doesn't help. Fucking Morraine weather. Why does the north have to be so cold?

You slip the black leather back over your hands, fastening your gloved as tight as they could go to avoid slipping and handed the salve back to Violet.

"It's not as windy today," she remarks.

"I don't think wind is our biggest operative here," you say in response, and she laughs.

She nods at you, a twinkle in her eye telling you she has a new plan. She murmurs something under her breath before turning her attention to the hall that leads to the course, and you wipe the gloves against the flight leathers you'd donned that morning, as if that would rough up the palms and keep you from slipping.

It happened every time. Anything balance or footwork related was easy. In fact, you were the fastest in most areas, by a long shot. Impressively fast on the granite columns and rotating timbers, but you struggle with the iron rails. Sometimes, if you picked out the wrong gloves, you would slip right off. You were lucky your reflexes were fast, able to wrap a rope around your hand until you could tug a glove off. You ended nearly every session with rope burns cracking the skin of your hands.

Someone brushes past you, and as you turn to see who they were, Ridoc invades your space, his hands cupping your shoulders. He spins you back around, and shoves you another step down the hallway.

"Stop being nervous. You've got this."

"I haven't made it all the way up once," you remark, brow furrowing.

"Violet's gonna do it," he said firmly, casting a glance back to where her and Dain are having a heated conversation in whispers.

"She is, and so are you," Rhiannon chimes in. "We all are. It's going to be fine."

"The Gauntlet isn't even the hardest part about today," Sawyer grumbles, and all three of you shoot him a look. He shrugs. "I'm just saying."

The light is growing bigger now at the end of the hallway, and you're about to take up positions to start. Dain is gone, leaving Violet sucking down deep breaths behind you. And you feel like you're going to crawl out of your own skin.

"Ridoc," You say, spinning towards him. "I need a favor."

"Yeah?"

"Let me climb you."

Ridoc lets out a surprised laugh that's more akin to a yelp. "If you wanna take me to bed, Baby, all you had to do was ask. I just don't think this is the best place to--"

"Put your arm up," you snap. "I need to check the traction on these gloves. I think it's why I can't get past the rails, or the chimney."

Ridoc does as he's asked, and you jump up, grabbing for his arm. You grunt as your hand slides right off, and he wraps an arm around you to keep you from tipping both of you over. Frustrated, you rip the gloves off, wiping the salve off on your pants. Sawyer extends a handkerchief.

This is a terrible idea.

"Professor," you saw, as the rest of your squad files onto the landing. "Can I go last?"

Emetterio looks at you like you've grown a second head, bushy dark brows raising, but he relents. "Sure."

You nod, staring at the line of cadets in front of you, slotting into the back behind Tynan and Luca. Make sure your squad gets up all the way. You don't care if anyone else slips on the leftover lotion on your hands.

Because after Violet makes it up both the chimney and the vertical incline, you dare to let yourself hope. And then the last two are down, and then it's your turn.

This is a terrible idea.

The buoy balls had given you grief before, but with the amount of adrenaline in your body, you danced across them like the columns and timbers and logs. It was easy, and then you were standing in front of the iron rails. You were going to die--

An idea comes to you, and it takes half a second before you decide it's worth the time you waste. You rip the gloves from your pocket, knotting the fingers together, and hold them to each hand, gripping the rail.

You palm the rail as you swing your body across, using the traction of the iron and your skin to hand on, while the leather guards your skin from the ramifications. The sky is darkening, and you can tell it's about to rain, making you hurry along, one hand at a time, adjusting the grip of the gloved underneath your hands. Being able to use your nails to dig into the gloves, and the tension of the gloves to support your weight. You're maybe three feet from the edge before you feel it--a stitch snaps, and the leather begins to wrap.

You slip. It's an incremental fall, but it's there, and it jacks up your heart rate. It makes your palms sweat. It makes you lose your grip on the gloves.

You lose one hand, and scramble to grab the glove again as the other hand slips.

"Swing!" It's Violet's voice. She sounds frantic. "Swing yourself over. You're close!"

The distance between you and the edge looks insurmountable right now. But you listen. And you swing.

And Violet was right. You were closer than you'd thought, and you land on the edge.

You make it up the rest of the course without an issue.

"Holy shit," Violet breathes as you scramble onto the landing. "Your hands."

Holy shit. Your hands is right.

"I thought mine were bad." She rips free a piece of your shirt and goes to soak up the blood coating your hands, and you immediately yelp when the fabric makes contact.

"I'm sorry!" Violet gasps. "I'm sorry--"

"No," you insist. "It was bad before I went--"

"Put your gloves on."

The voice sends a shiver down your spine.

You turn and--it's him. Bodhi. You freeze, reset, check functions--

"What did you just say to me?"

"Put your gloves back on," Bodhi says, and his voice holds and urgency you make a note not to underplay, on that has you obeying without protest.

Not without question, though. "Why?"

"You're about to walk in front of a shit ton of dragons that have no loyalty to you. And you have a gaping, open wound that was troubling you even before it was inflicted." His eyes are soft, even with his harsh words.

Right. Weakness.

You wince as you slide on each glove, holding his gaze. "No more leaking," you say, holding your hands up.

Presentation passes in a flurry, and it's as you're walking through the quad later that you spin around at the sound of your name being called. You're tired, the adrenaline having drained out of your body until you're left a shell of energy--okay with the idea of somthing, less inclined to be able to follow through.

You'd made it through presentation, though. Not all of you had, but your friends had. That had to count for something. A Green had taken an interest in you, as well as a Blue. You had a preference for the Greens--you wanted a warrior mind--but the blue had looked at you with such keen eyes.

All of this to say you'd even be chosen. It was all up in the air at this point.

Bodhi--the boy from the challenge, and from the Gauntlet-- is jogging up to you. He has something in his hand, and you furrow your brow. You were making your way back from the infirmary, the healers not bothering to do much with your hands. The skin would never heal completely, anyway.

"Hi," Bodhi says, and you can't help but crack a smile.

"Hi," you say in return.

"Hi," he says again, and then shakes his head. "Your hands. Are they okay?"

"Oh," you say, honestly taken aback. Smart. Okay. You can do better than this, he's just a boy--

"Here," he says, extending something to you.

"Oh, no," you say. Okay. Maybe try for multiple syllables this time. "Please don't." Or not.

The way his face falls is comparable to buildings crumbling. To cities being leveled. It was Rome after Tiberius.

This is a terrible idea.

"It's not joint pain," you say quickly. "I mean, it is, but it's mostly my skin. It splits and gets really dry. That's why it hurts and bleeds."

"I figured," Bodhi says, with equal enthusiasm. "The blood, I--"

He takes a sharp, deep, and sudden breath, gaze meeting yours with an intensity that makes you falter. He opens the salve, and a soft, oaty scent floats to you. It's unlike the cool mint of Violet's salve. It's a balm, a lotion.

"You didn't use the ropes. I was watching your squad, and Violet did, which is why her hands were bleeding. But you didn't. And you wear the gloves all the time, so I just kind of figured..."

You swallow past the tightness in your throat. He motions to the bench next to you, underneath the wilting tree, and a few leaves make for their descent as you sit, side by side.

"Xaden mentioned something about Violet's salve, and I've seen you flinch when you put it on before," he says, eyes on the little round tin, and you're suddenly hit with the fact that this man has paid any attention to you.

"It's for joint pain," you explain. "Which can help, but the skin is my issue. When it's cold, or wet, or too dry, or I touch something--kind of all the time, but it gets worse with certain triggers. And the cold is one, and it is so much colder here than home."

Bodhi offers you the balm. "Where's home?"

"Tyrrandor."

He sucks in a breath.

"Near Lewellen. About as far south as you can go. Warm," you laugh. "Much warmer than anywhere in Morraine."

"I can imagine," Bodhi says, and he grins at you, and your world stops moving with the force of his focus on you. You were entranced. Holy shit, he was gorgeous. "Is that where your balance comes from?"

"I'd think so," you say. "We surf a lot down there. and I took dance classes as a kid. Well, before my mom died, so not too many--"

Idiot. Fuck, here's a marked one, a rebellion kid, and you're trying to talk about your damn mom--

'It's okay," Bodhi says. "You don't have to mince your words with me."

You nod. "My mom was apart of the rebellion."

You feel his gaze as it scans you from top to bottom. A question there--why you were from Lewellen, and not Aretia, and where your Mark was. The Mark you deserved, that he would never find.

"I'm not marked," you explain. "My dad ran off with me, basically, mid-rebellion. I never saw her again, only read her name on a death roll once I was enrolled here."

"So, he..."

"Was against the rebellion. Yes."

"And you.."

"Are. Not. No, I--" You suck in a deep breath, shifting where you sat, and trying to ignore the way his gaze bore into you. "I came to get away from him. I came to... see the death roll."

You hear a sharp breath in from beside you.

"I had to know for sure," you say quickly. "This was about the only place I could find out. And my town, after the rebellion, they would sponsor you, send you to school, but only you were enlisted in the Rider's Quadrant."

Bodhi nods, averting his gaze and seeming to chew on the information you had given him.

"I did what I needed to. And I'm here. If i can survive Threshing, I might jut make it out." You smile at him, but he doesn't return it. Instead, the furrow in his bow only deepens. "That's the idea, at least."

"So, you didn't want to be a rider?" Bodhi asks.

"Gods, no," you say, under your breath, like it's a swear. "Surviving is a gift. And I won' take it for granted. But I'm fighting to do so."

"And your hands--"

"Wounds that never heal, yeah." You turn them palm-up, staring down at them and wondering how you two had gotten so off track. "They're worse up here. The cold, I think, and the gloves make it hurt less upon contact, but I think it makes the skin worse when I take them off." You shake your head. "Some dragon rider I'll be, when I can't use my hands to do anything. If I had known how bad they would be up here, I would have gone to the Scribes or something, at least."

"Here." He extends the open tin, the soft smell of the balm wafting up to you, and something in your chest stirs. "I figured it was a skin thing, so this may help. I know a healer."

"You do?"

"Yeah!" he nearly chirps the word out. "She and her girlfriend helped make it for me."

"Oh," you say, swallowing. "That's really kind. Of all three of you. Thank you."

"Of course." Ne nods. "And for the record, you're going to make an amazing dragon rider."

It looks like it caused him pain to stand up, as his hands curled into fists. You knew the feeling well.

"I'll see you," he says.

"Yes," you return. "I will see you."

He walks away, and you watch him go, attempting to puzzle out where that had come from.

And just what it had cost him to make this balm.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 63

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 60, part 61, part 62

this takes place after part 44

The water is cold around his calves. On that stretch of skin that keeps dipping in and out of the water. Not deciding whether or not it’s just best to jump in or stay on the land.

This is probably the deepest Steve’s been in pool since Barb died. Every time he tried before, he never made it past his ankles. The water stung too much with regret. The feeling that he failed, the wrongness of knowing that this was someone’s final resting place.

He let the kids use it. Took care of it. Made it look like everything else in this house, perfect. But to Steve, to Nancy, this water would be better off drained. That way it wouldn’t be a reminder of that night.

When he came outside, he didn’t know why. Just that the moonlight reflecting off the water was taunting him. Danced across his bedroom ceiling. Reminded him of the truth that rested within him. The truth that everyone can see.

Eddie saw it. Read him like a book and threw it back to him. It hurt more than Steve thought it would when Eddie figured it out, the rotten secret of him. That when the crown got ripped from his skull, there’s nothing else of worth left to keep. It’s something Steve’s known all his life. If the crown were still in his grasp, he’d cling to it like his last lifeline.

The water was a fitting reminder of that. No matter how hard Steve tried, he couldn’t find someone that he was enough for. They all eventually ran from him, turned on him. Left him alone. It was here, in this water, that the most meaningful romantic relationship in his life broke before it ever properly began. Nancy never forgave them for abandoning Barb that night. Steve was too busy trying to forget enough to be able to sleep at night to be there for her. He loved her, she didn’t love him. He was bullshit.

Love was bullshit. It was stupid, and reckless, and just left him hurt in the end. And for the first time, it really felt like Steve was building something again. Eddie was hurting, and he knew that. It’s why he didn’t stop him. Just let him keep yelling, saying insults that Steve’s heard before. None of it stung, because he knew the reason.

But then the house was put up for sale, his paycheck was eaten up by the rent his dad was still making him pay, and he was left vulnerable.

Those words left Eddie’s lips and proved Steve right. This was going to end just like the others.

The door slides open and shut behind him, the sound of crutches approaching him.

“Would I be too much of an asshole to ask you to help me sit down?” Eddie joked, but it came out wrong. The levity refusing breaking through.

Steve stayed quiet, looking down at his hands. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. Give me a second.”

Eddie backs up, setting down one of his crutches behind Steve, using the other one for stability as he bends to the ground. Getting into a sitting position before scooting forward to the edge of the pool. He takes off his shoes, and dips his feet into the water, and waits.

If he thinks Steve is going to say something, he’s wrong. Steve said what he needed to, more would come in time. He’s angry at himself more than anything. For letting himself open up to someone and give them just the right ammo to kill him. For thinking it would be different this time.

After a few minutes of silence, just the sounds of the bugs and the water, Eddie starts to speak.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what I can do to make what I said go away, and I can’t. Normal apologies won’t cut it, not with you. Not with how I just hurt you. And I’m not sure if you’ll believe me when I tell you I didn’t mean it. That I think it’s wrong. But it is, and I believe that. What I said was out of pain so bad it clouded any solid train of thought I had, it doesn’t mean I believe it.”

What’s worse, is Steve does believe him. The small spark that he holds tight in his chest ignites. Hope rippling through his body. Foolish hope. He believes that Eddie didn’t mean it. Simply because he wants to believe it too.

“You just,” Eddie continues. Steve glances over at him, seeing how Eddie stares off in the distance. The water reflecting in his eyes. “You keep surprising me, Steve. You haven’t stopped. I had this image of you in my mind, and every time I rewrite it, you do something that makes me rewrite it again. And each version is so much better than the last. You are so much more than anyone ever gives you credit for, and I hate that I made you think that you’re not.”

Eddie looks at Steve, and for the first time, the words aren’t betrayed by the look in someone’s eyes. For the first time, Steve believes them.

He turns. “Barb Holland died right over there,” he points to the diving board. “While me and Nancy were in my room. I had thrown this party that night, invited her. It was really just Tommy and Carol, but I wanted to impress her. She brought Barb, her best friend, and we were too wrapped up in each other to make sure she got home.”

Eddie is listening to him closely, looking at Steve with something he can’t comprehend. That look in his eyes, that affection, it isn’t earned. It feels so wrong to try to keep but so right to have.

“Right before we broke up, Nancy told me that our whole relationship was bullshit. That she didn’t love me. She was drunk, but I think she meant it, even if she didn’t realize it. She never forgave herself for what happened to Barb, never forgave me. It was going to end eventually; I just didn’t think it was going to like that. I was bullshit.”

It’s what kept ringing through his mind when Eddie said that he was never good enough for anyone to stay. Bullshit. That damned word swirling around every example his mind pulled to prove Eddie right.

Now that the pain starts to subside, he can see the ways that people show him it’s not true. How Robin, even when she had every chance to leave, stayed around. Trusted him enough to tell him her secret, and trusted him enough to know that it didn’t matter to him. He loved her for her. She was the best friend he’s ever had.

Dustin looked up to him for a reason he didn’t understand. He worked a shitty retail jobs while trying to figure out what to do with his life. Didn’t go to college, probably never will. When Dustin had so much promise it was crazy. But he still looked up to Steve. Cared more about him than he ever knew.

Then there was Eddie. Who looked at him like he had nothing to prove. Didn’t make Steve justify why he was different, why he changed. Saw it and accepted it as truth. He didn’t make Steve feel stupid for not getting references, or for taking an extra step to get to the conclusion.

“I’m scared someone’s going to look at me again and tell me that she was right,” he finishes.

“You’re not bullshit, Steve. You’re like the furthest thing from it.”

Even now, he’s trying to make Steve feel better. He’s in pain and is trying to make Steve feel better. He can disguise it as an apology for what he said, but this was deeper than that. It was so much deeper than that to Steve.

What Steve felt for Eddie, without even trying, was deeper than anything he’s felt in a long time. He hasn’t felt like this since Nancy, but it was totally different this time. He wanted to run from it, wanted to pretend it didn’t exist, but he couldn’t.

It was the most terrified Steve had been in a long time.

“You’re like,” Eddie smiles, “one of the most caring people I’ve ever met. And you’re brave as hell, strong, courageous. Kinda really funny and fun to be around.” He gets really close to Steve, practically leaning on him.

Steve pushes him away with his shoulder, the tension leaving his shoulders. A smile coming back. “Shut up, man.”

“What,” Eddie exclaims. “It’s true. I see it, Robin sees it, the kids see it. I’m sure if you asked Nancy now, she’ll tell you that.”

“Yeah, ok, sure.”

Eddie leans close again. The warmth making Steve’s heart beat loud in his chest. “I’m right and you know it. You’re a total catch, man. Anyone would be lucky to get to date you.”

“Ok, I’m not that great of a boyfriend, you haven’t seen that.”

“Don’t need to, I just know. I’m not sure why you’re so terrified, someone has to see that. Hell, I’m not sure how anyone ever let you get away. I know if I ever got the chance, I’d—"

Eddie lets the sentence trail off, his tongue traveling faster than his brain, but Steve doesn’t let him regret it. Instead, Steve does something reckless. Reaching out his hand and pulls him closer before he has the thought to back away.

He didn’t have to do much, they were practically this close anyway. Still, his muscles tense with that anticipation he knows so well. That feeling that rushes through his veins only encourages him. The motions he’s done so many times before.

But really, if someone were to ask him later, he had no idea what he was doing.

Eddie stills when their lips meet, taken by surprise. Steve almost pulls away before he feels him press back. Hand coming up to grip his arm, keeping him still. Keeping them in that moment, just a bit longer.

“That’s why I’m terrified,” Steve says when they break. Eyes flicking up to meet Eddie’s. The intensity held in them burning right through him. “When you said that in the kitchen, I thought it was the same thing again.”

Eddie blinks. Keeping Steve’s gaze. “It wasn’t. It was the opposite really. I was trying to push you away before you got the chance to leave.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to burden you.”

Steve shakes his head. “You can’t burden me. You’re not burdening me. We all have our own baggage, the things we have to deal with. I know that. I care about it because I care about you, but not because it’s burdening me.”

Silence fills again. The two of them trapped in this moment, in this gaze. It’s so heavy, meaningful, real. Steve wants to drown in it. Fall so far deep into it he can never get back out.

“Eddie,” his voice breaks off. The intensity of what he’s about to say makes the words get lodged in his throat. He breaks the gaze, just so he can be brave enough to say it. “I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this way about someone before,” Eddie adds his confession. He can hear the hesitancy to say it. Just as afraid as Steve is.

Eddie’s hand comes up and rests on his neck, slides back into his hair. So easily bringing him in again. Kissing him like it will all break the moment it’s over. With such care and delicacy, it makes Steve feel like he’s worth it. That his fears, his hope, are mirrored back at him.

It doesn’t feel risky anymore. It feels carefully curated the way a famous painting is. Meticulously planned and cared for. Loved. Everything falling into place that as it should, nothing standing out to take perfection away. The ending exactly as it was meant to.

It feels right. The voices in Steve’s head silenced, letting the excited hum take over. Because, despite all the nervous fear, in this moment, Steve was excited.

i can't believe there's only one more part of this fic, what am I supposed to do when this is done?

tag list (closed): @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

@papergrenade, @waelkyring, @sweetheartprincess28, @katouasobj, @astercomoasflores

[kamechan98]

Octavia is a seventeen year old girl who has little to no connection to the outside world that we know of. Stolas is the one positive relationship she has and that has become more and more strained over the years and especially since he slept with Blitzø that first time. And so she's been caught in the middle of her parents' drama, her mother's abuse hitting a new peak, her father finally standing up for himself which changes the dynamic as well, her mother moving out and also trying to pursue a relationship with Blitzø, which definately is a lot to deal with for anyone, especially a kid.

But, let's face it, Octavia does come across as pretty self-absorbed in a lot of ways. Which I do not blame her for at all, btw, we are all self-absorbed when we're young and especially in this awkward teen years. And dealing with a divorce is going to be rough on the kids, it's common for kids to feel like their parents not loving each other and staying together is somehow their fault.

But with that said, that immediate jump from "my dad's taking anti-depressants" to "is it MY fault that he needed these? Was he only staying with us and keeping himself miserable because of me?" Which, while mostly true, is a bit of a oversimplification of the situation. Yes, Stolas stayed with Stella and put up with her abuse so Octavia could have a normal, happy life, but if he had not met up with Blitzø again, him wanting a divorce and finally standing up for himself probably wouldn't have happened. Blitzø made him realize that he could choose for himself and find happiness, but if he hadn't, he'd probably would have just stayed in that relationship until he died if it meant keeping Octavia happy. And Stolas is a big People Pleaser so he probably wouldn't have rocked the boat too much if he hadn't found that strength in Blitzø.

People in bad, unhappy or abusive relationships have often been convinced that things can't get better, that this is all you're gonna get so it's better than nothing, and part of escaping is learning that things can indeed get better. And once you realize that, it's very hard being okay in those bad relationships or situations, which is shown as Stolas stands up to Stella, goes through with the divorce and tries to pursue his own happiness.

But back to Octavia, this of course is hard for her as her whole life and world is crumbling around her and as Stolas is her only positive relationship, she's terrified of losing him. As well as, while her life may not have been 100% happy or good, it was one she was used to and grew to either love or tolerate. And since Stolas is the one who pulled the plug on it, it is easy to point the finger at him saying he ruined everything. Kind of like how it's easy to blame anyone who blows the whistle for disrupting the status quo that everyone has grown used to because now they have to settle to something new, rather than happy someone finally did something to try and fix a problem and in the long run could make things better.

And since teenagers are a bit self-absorbed and dramatic, it makes sense for her to feel like Stolas has ruined her life and that he chose Blitzø over her, and not as Stolas trying to find a healthy relationship with someone else that can make him happy in ways she can't. That it isn't as black-and-white as she makes it out to be, that loving Blitzø doesn't make him love her any less or him being miserable and needing anti-depressants is because of her and him taking the first out of their family that he could find because he was just that unhappy. That in her mind it makes sense that Stolas just stayed with her because of obligation and the second he could leave her and Stella behind for Blitzø and can't see the whole picture yet.

That Stolas isn't choosing Blitzø over her, but rather choosing Blitzø over Stella and her abuse. That Blitzø isn't trying to steal her dad from her but maybe give her a happier, healthier family dynamic than the one she has. Right now she can't see thatm she only sees her father choosing to die for his affair partner and was willing to leave her alone with her mother. And more or less saying he should have let Blitzø die so Stolas wouldnt' have left her behind. Which is unfair and cruel to say, especially to someone who's already depressed and broken, but I'm willing to bet you money that if someone sat her down and had a calm, gentle conversation with her about it, asking if she really thinks her father should have let Blitzø die, she'd probably say no, if a bit reluctantly. But these are the kind of emotions you go through during tough times and we all say things we don't mean when we're upset, hurt and angry but once we start unpacking them we're able to deal with them better and see them in black and white.

After all, hurt people hurt people

And the sad thing is, all it would take is one long, probably painful but long overdue conversation between Stolas and Octavia for her to understand, or at least understand his perspective better. Maybe not the whole thing, as she's right in the middle of abuse and growing up around it has made her grow used to it. It would probably help to talk to an outsider who's able to see the abuse for what it is. But once Octavia realizes this, sees how truly terrible and evil her mother is and how she tried to have him killed, she will turn on her, no doubt about that. And once she's also given some love and compassion from others, the way Stolas has started to, she will go through the same kind of journey her father is currently going through.

Both Stolas and Octavia have hurt each other and both have good reasons for why they did what they did or feel what they feel, but I 1000% believe they'll find their way back to each other.

As much as i can understand where Via is coming from, and her feelings are valid, she doesn’t see her dad as a living person outside of just being her father. And that isn’t right. It’s especially not right seeing just how many people feel absolutely no empathy for him.

“She was just a child having to endure all that!!” Okay, and how old was Stolas when he had to marry an abusive girl and have a kid of his own, exactly? At least he gave Via a chance to have a good childhood, he didn’t have one. He didn’t have anything except for his duties to carry out.

And while it’s heartbreaking that Via sees herself as an obligation, that’s literally what she was supposed to be. Though that doesn’t mean that was how he saw her. She was what saved him, what made him endure all the abuse, what kept him going.

But sometimes that’s not enough, he had NO ONE to confide in and couldn’t put his frustrations on his own kid (because he’s a good father, despite what some of you would like to believe, clearly you didn’t grow up with a parent trying to guilt you by traumadumping when you can barely understand it), so he also NEEDED the pills.

The thing is, i also had that mentality towards my mom for dealing with depression UNTIL i started experiencing it myself. Because it’s so hard to realize that your parents are also human beings, since they’re supposed to protect you, they’re supposed to have everything figured out, to be the shoulder you cry on.

But if i see another dumbass claim that he CHOSE to leave and made the wrong decision in Mastermind, i need you out of this fandom. The whole point of that was that he had no choice, was he supposed to throw away the man he fell in love with, his first friend, his first time that wasn’t for procreation, and the one who liberated him? Stolas is allowed to care for more than one person, and he deserves to be loved romantically by someone.

You’re being too harsh on Stolas because for whatever reason you hate an abuse victim finally having a say in how to live for once in their lives, adding on top of that the weird, underlying homophobia in some of your criticisms for him.

Also i have a bad taste in my mouth from Via only seemingly hating Stolas, despite having SEEN how shitty Stella is. Sure, she doesn’t know the full extent of the abuse, but she’s heard the yelling, she’s seen the throwing, the ridiculing, the insensitivity. And most likely that woman neglected Via as much as possible, because she also didn’t choose to have her, but unlike Stolas she didn’t give a fuck to take responsibility regardless. (Reminding you of the “You get up” comment from Loo Loo Land). This was all happening before the cheating, so that’s not an excuse for her behavior (not that the cheating was, but at least Via would have been able to reason with her reaction to it).

It’s a complicated situation and it’s so shitty to put all the blame on Stolas, he tried so much for his family, but it was never going to be enough, because he’s gay. I’m glad he got out of that marriage.

Honestly, had i been given all those responsibilities at his age in a loveless marriage, i would’ve gone insane. I wouldn’t have been kind to my child, the cause of my shit life. But he never saw her as a weight on his shoulders, he has so much love for Via.