#was the culmination of extensive

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[bestworstcase]

Anything from Volumes 1-3 that is setup that you don't think is given enough attention or respect for good setup?

Sidenote to this:

Open seat with no person in it + Salem having someone looking for the Choice Relic was hinting at Summer Rose. Did we have anything hinting at her pre Beacon's Fall or just things that she fits given additional context?

regarding summer specifically, while i wouldn’t call them hints per se, there are a handful of beats in v1-3 that smell like foreshadowing to me:

the first is “she was right about you; such arrogance.” – cinder might well be referring to salem here, of course. however. what strikes me about this remark is that arrogance is not a characteristic that salem seems to perceive in ozma; rather she describes him, in her soliloquies and songs, as a self-destructive, deceitful, manipulative fool blinded and trapped by his faith in the old gods. cowardly. fallen from grace. think of what she says to oz in 8.9—look how you’ve diminished, how you’ve lessened yourself—she sees him groveling at the feet of tyrannical monsters and sees debasement.

does it follow for salem to characterize ozpin to cinder as, primarily, arrogant? i’m not convinced it does. but summer rose? well… hm. consider, also, that the full line is “this whole time, right beneath our feet… she was right about you; such arrogance…” <- i think it is more likely than not that “she” is someone inside the brackets of “our,” and in context “our” is either [cinder + ozpin] or [cinder + her associates physically present at beacon].

in the event that “she” is not part of “our” the more naturalistic phrasing is “beneath our feet… salem was right about you” – because “she” otherwise has no antecedent. of course, some allowance here for this to be a narrative choice not to name salem yet, but we’re one (1) episode off from revealing her face and by this point we’ve known for a while that cinder works for someone else, so the choice to drop the name here or in the volume credits is of fairly trivial importance. unless of course cinder isn’t talking about salem.

second: “Oh! We've also stopped some bad guys, too! I guess it's like they say: "like mother, like daughter"! I still wonder why Ozpin let me into the school early…” [laugh track] – obv this part of ruby’s address to summer’s memorial headstone foreshadows ozpin’s conspiracy and team strq’s involvement therein. but it also foreshadows this exchange:

RUBY: We don’t have to kill you to stop you, and we will stop you. SALEM: Your mother said those words to me… she was wrong, too.

and i think it bears pointing out that ruby is wrong here, and later in the volume qrow specifically calls attention to this and lays out why she’s wrong. team rwby didn’t stop the bad guys; they cut off one avenue of attack and cinder circled around from a new direction that took advantage of torchwick’s imprisonment, and this also resulted in the public break between ozpin and ironwood which eroded the cohesion of the inner circle. ergo, ruby thinks she stopped the bad guys but in the long run the consequences of the breach all benefited salem.

looks into the camera like im on the office.

like mother, like daughter!!!

further, that sequence of events ultimately leads to the final confrontation between her and torchwick – wherein he declares “if you can’t beat them, join ’em,” and shortly gets eaten by a grimm right after making it clear that he intends to kill her. torchwick’s death is thematically motivated – a narrative rejection of his cynical every-man-for-himself, dog-eats-dog outlook – but consider that:

summer rose, if she is indeed salem’s willing agent, is certainly at beacon tonight – because she’d be the one who stayed behind to hold the fort.

summer is thus the one salem instructs to “reinforce our numbers at beacon,” meaning the grimm; that instruction only makes sense if the person receiving it can communicate with or command grimm. ergo, summer must have some degree of control over grimm.

ruby is disarmed and on the ground getting beaten by a man who fully intends to kill her, and a grimm swoops down out of nowhere to eliminate him faster than he can blinks. and then… the grimm rears up, roaring at her, and comes down with a sweep of its wings that creates a blast of air that pushes her away. that isn’t aggression!! that’s a defensive threat display!! (the feilong in v4 does the exact same thing – trying to push the boat away). it’s ruby who charges the gryphon, and while it lunges forward in reaction to her charge, all that happens is she gets her feet on its head and pushes off to leap over it, and the grimm goes fucking flying so hard it crashes into the ship’s interior and never emerges. the point being,

math.

it’s plausible that the grimm was drawn to torchwick’s murderous rage. but the way it behaves immediately after it swallows him – that very clear “get away from me please” body language, and ruby -apparently- kicking a grimm the size of a goddamned clydesdale dozens of feet and then through the hull of a literal warship? ruby is strong, but she’s not… that strong. but if the grimm didn’t want to engage her and propelled itself under and past her at the same time as she vaulted off its head? that would explain what happens perfectly – ruby’s kick altered its launch trajectory just enough that it crashed.

minutes later, someone loyal to salem scraped a very badly injured cinder off the top of beacon tower and left ruby alive where qrow would find her. salem’s vested interest in keeping ruby alive is VISIBLE throughout the battle for beacon, and notably include a perfect opportunity to capture her while she’s in a coma atop beacon tower that isn’t taken – suggesting that salem makes her singular attempt to capture ruby solely to reassure cinder that Something is being Done.

and if summer rose has command over grimm and was at beacon that night… the gryphon’s behavior is exactly what i’d expect if all the grimm had marching orders to insure this one girl in particular – the spitting image of their commander – doesn’t come to serious harm. there’s a nonzero chance that gryphon did in fact save ruby On Purpose!

…and that happens in the context of a fight between ruby and the bad guy she thought she stopped (but she was wrong), who joined salem because “if you can’t beat em, join em.” (salem voice) she was wrong, too…

also

<- like mother like daughter. summer had a nevermore’s eye view of the battle for beacon, in this essay i will –

third: this one is something i didn’t really Think About until v9 and specifically the v9 ost dropping, but some of the things cinder says in v2-3 strike me as like – she got that from summer im sure of it. for example, in midnight, cinder’s view of huntsmen is that they’re free, they have power, they can go anywhere and do whatever they want, and rhodes never contradicts this. where did she get “huntsmen and huntresses should conduct themselves with honor and mercy”? who taught her the aspirational moral ideal?

summer rose, maybe.

but in the deeper sense,

where did cinder get the ‘destiny’ conceit? her underlying beliefs about how the world is are a product of her childhood, but the overt framing of fate/destiny isn’t present in midnight; nor has salem ever spoken of destiny and her philosophical views are in many ways a rejection of destiny – salem does not believe in fate, she is the woman who dedicated her life to toppling the gods.

and on close examination this looks like yet another suspiciously summer rose shaped hole!! “you’re special, ruby […] special the way your mom was special […] it was said that those born with silver eyes were destined to lead the life of a warrior.” – in after the fall, ozpin gives coco an entire pep talk whose central conceit is embracing and submitting to the turns of fate – sacrifice “show them gods and deities/blind and keep the people on their knees” & guide my way “you were born to hypnotize them all/they all said their prayers/can you hear me up there?”

cinder, of pyrrha: “people assume she’s fated for victory, when she's really taking fate into her own hands. interesting. add her to the list.” & “it’s not about overpowering the enemy; it’s about taking away what power they have.”

<- that second statement is salem’s strategic doctrine, through and through. but the ‘power’ cinder is talking about here is derived through manipulating the perception of destiny; the self-fulfilling prophecy. the invincible girl cannot be touched because she makes subtle adjustments to insure that no one is able to try. it is pyrrha’s belief in destiny that destroys her, as it destroys ozma. ozpin invokes fate to justify and explain his choices. those born with silver eyes are destined to lead the lives of warriors.

summer rose was destined to live and die fighting the grimm – so the world promised her. maybe she believed, maybe she felt like she had no choice but to accept her prescribed fate. until she met salem, and took fate into her own hands. made a choice. broke the chains. it’s about taking away what power they have, like salem did when she tore the scales from summer’s eyes, like summer did when she refused her destiny and joined hands with the grimm instead.

what does summer rose look like through cinder’s eyes? she was a huntress. she was literally destined to be one of the greatest huntresses in history, a hero, the shining pillar upholding the world order that chose the enslavement of children as a fair price for peace. fate dictated that she be the icon, the idol, the embodiment of the system that brutalized and subjugated cinder – she had every privilege cinder could ever dream of, freedom and security and a home, a loving family – and she chose to walk away.

and if they talked about that like, ever, and specifically if summer talked about that warrior’s destiny as a cage, a curse she had to escape – is it any wonder that cinder would adopt that framing to make sense of what happened to her? if summer rose was fated to stand at the pinnacle, then does it not follow that cinder fall was fated to be ground into the foundations? and likewise, if summer rose can shatter her pedestal and fall from grace, then cinder fall can shatter her chains and rise. summer proves that the idea of destiny is powerful but not inviolate. and it is hollow, it is a lie, a fiction, and that means it can be taken away. revealed as a deception. destroyed.

anyway

to the broader question

i think people really, really do not give the jaundice arc enough credit for the long-term set up it’s doing.

(or the very overt textual statement from THE HISTORY PROFESSOR! placing the blame for the violent radicalization of the white fang squarely on human bigotry and persecution of faunus in general; the white fang arc is clunky and hamstrung by the inadequacy of its vocabulary, but the fandom talking point that the narrative perspective on this subject has “evolved” or “improved” is just. not true. v1 is very emphatically clear that 1. terroristic violence is not activism, 2. ascribing the terroristic violence of a few to an entire minority group to rationalize bigotry is bigoted in and of itself and completely unacceptable, and 3. violent radicalization is created through relentless discrimination and hate, which creates a self-reinforcing circle wherein the justifiable outrage of the persecuted outgroup and the extreme violent reactions provoked by the persecution are distorted into a justification for further persecution by those of the in-group who materially benefit from perpetuating this cycle!!! all of this is explained in an almost afterschool special manner by the main character faunus rights activist and the history professor!!! in volume one!!! what changed is that the writers developed the skill and vocabulary necessary to weave these ideas into their storytelling in a more effective and more cogent way!!! literally begging the rwby fandom to start listening to the actual words the characters say)

ahem. the jaundice arc lays so much of the groundwork for jaune’s and ruby’s character arcs reaching all the way to v9 and undoubtedly beyond; it sets up the first pieces of the ozlem fractal; it foreshadows the white fang arc and sets up blake’s character arc of self-reclamation and figuring out how she wants to use her voice as an activist; it draws attention to the misogynistic cultural norms that define and are defined by the history between ozma and salem; it lays the foundation for the scene in v2 where ozpin questions blake, which hits the way it does because we have the context of anti-faunus harassment occurring openly at ozpin’s school and nobody doing anything about it, and by extension is the first stroke of the salem-faunus connection that is almost certainly the keystone holding the entire narrative together because it is her relation to the faunus that provides the key to decipher the lost fable.

the jaundice arc is a crucial load-bearing pillar that supports the entire narrative and people revile it because nobody in this fandom can be fucking normal about jaune. lmao

[t-u-i-t-c]

sometimes characters will say something that just completely throws me for a loop

[essektheylyss]

I understand the impulse to clown on Essek for walking around in Vasselheim with his recognizable voice with the Bright Queen's spearhead commander, and of course we could turn to the metatextual elements (the necessity of signposting the world for players on the part of the GM, the ease of using a familiar ally to introduce a relevant NPC and new point of contact) to dismiss this if we wanted, but I think it's more interesting—and funnier, as you'll see—to imagine this as simply an extension of the laws and logic that dictate the Mighty Nein as a narrative entity.

Fundamentally, the Mighty Nein within their campaign pursue personal and collective agency, often at the expense or in denial of political power. Where they do interact with more political forms of power, they evade its grasp upon them, most notably in their interactions with the war, but also while they engage with the Cerberus Assembly, the Cobalt Soul, and even the Revelry. The way they pursue agency, on the other hand, has far more to do with their own support of one another and their own individual power, especially where there is magic involved, and manifests in having the freedom to move and act as they wish in the world.

The culmination of this, as we know, is the mechanical ability in their final battle against Lucien and the Somnovem to manipulate the terrain of the battle map to their advantage with only imagination. At the same time, Jester and Caduceus can both call in free favors from their gods, one of whom is unlimited by the Divine Gate and in fact is far more governed by fey logic. Fjord has made three different divine pacts and is virtually unrestricted by any of them. Caleb's hallmark is an almost infinitely malleable home that almost literally seems to operate as a hammerspace, with a pinnacle dedicated to the potentiality of the universe, the application of which is one of his signature spells—against all odds successful in his initial goal, no longer fueled by guilt and grief, of bending reality to his will. It's narratively and thematically cogent that this be the calling card of the party as a whole.

The Mighty Nein are, in effect, dictated by Looney Tunes logic, and nothing else. They have been so successful in their pursuit of their own freedom that they no longer abide by the cosmic laws of Exandria, let alone the laws of physics or sense. So yes, from an external point of view, it does look exceedingly foolish for Essek to be traipsing around in Vasselheim under the Bright Queen's nose, but it's far more entertaining to argue that being a member of the Mighty Nein in fact simply confers the capability of ignoring the laws of reality without consequence when it's narratively convenient, characteristically interesting—or just really fucking funny.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Heyyy saw ur request were open what about dark!rafe catches you talking shit about him to your friends over text???

How a Girlfriend is Supposed to Act

Warnings: noncon, forced sex, domestic violence, choking, slapping, oral (m!recieving), toxic relationship, gaslighting

Despite being with Rafe for almost a year, you had learned all of the quirks that he had when it came to his possessiveness very early on.

The first time you caught him reading your texts, you were surprised by just how nonchalant he was about the entire situation.

He was sitting on your bed after you returned from grabbing the two of you a snack, scrolling through your phone, not even bothering to look up at you until you asked him what he was doing.

“You’re my girlfriend, Y/N.” He said it slowly, like he was reminding you of something you yourself couldn’t possibly forgot. The accusing fire in his gaze made you squirm. “Of course I have the right to look through your phone.”

At first you were too surprised to react. You had never really had a reason to look through Rafe’s phone, but you imagined he wouldn’t be too happy if you did.

“Why the fuck do you look so nervous, huh?” He was starting to sound annoyed, and his eyes were flicking between meeting yours and scanning your phone. “Got something you’re trying to hide from me?”

“What? No, Rafe! I just didn’t expect to find you going through my phone, that’s all.” You explained breathlessly. You didn’t know why he was accusing you of trying to keep secrets from him.

Unfortunately, the last thing that you should have done in that moment was try to snatch your phone away from Rafe.

His hand shot out, tightly gripping your wrist as he dug his fingers into the bone beneath your skin. You cried out in pain and watched as your phone fell onto the bed, before bouncing to the floor.

Your boyfriend was furious now, easily pulling you onto the bed by your wrist and onto your back at a painful angle before straddling you. You struggled beneath him, trying hopelessly to stop him from putting his hands on you

When Rafe slapped you across the face the first time, your ears rang and you swore that your vision went white for a moment.

Every sound became muffled but you could hear Rafe angrily chastising you from above, “dumb bitch. I mean, I pay for your fucking phone, so yeah, you’re not gonna talk back to me when I go through it.”

That was months ago, and you later learned that that wasn’t even the first time that Rafe had gone through your phone.

You weren’t cheating on Rafe, that much was 100% true. The problem was that Rafe’s definition of cheating included behaviors that you knew were not cheating.

Texting your classmate a question about homework turned into a two hour long fight that culminated in Rafe giving you a black eye.

After Rafe saw you had and Topper had sent each other a couple funny posts in instagram dm’s, he choked you so hard you passed out, leaving you to cover up the extensive bruising on your neck around your friends and family to avoid explaining what had happened.

Ever since then you had learned to be careful about who you texted, and if you ever texted anyone Rafe wouldn’t approve or said something that he wouldn’t like, you made sure to delete the conversations.

You were always so diligent in covering your tracks.

Except for the one time you really needed to.

After another argument with Rafe had become physical, once you finally got some space away from him you had texted a friend, vaguely venting your frustrations with him, without revealing too many details to make her suspicious that Rafe was hurting you.

As you shakily typed out the texts you couldn’t help but think back on the fight you had had. After catching a guy staring at you in the club, the moment you returned home, Rafe had been quick to grab you by the throat, pushing you up against the wall before hurling insults at you.

“I mean you dress like such a fucking slut, no wonder I have to chase these guys off. I bet you wanted his attention, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you with disgust.

You were so shocked by his outburst you had barely registered the fingers crushed your throat, and you finally gasped for air against his strong hand. “N-no, Rafe!”

His grip tightened as he regarded your fearful eyes, “nah, you always think you can fool me sweetheart but you never can.” His chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his eyes, “I saw you looking at him when we first walked in.”

You shook your head against him, tears gathering in your eyes as you begged with him, “I wasn’t baby-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N.” He spat at you, squeezing so hard you were sure you would have deep purple bruises on your neck tomorrow.

“I never should have let you outta the house wearing that dress. You were looking for trouble walking around like that.” Rafe growled, his eyes were ice cold. You knew that he was itching for a fight, and you didn’t want to give him what he wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you struggled to force the words out with such little breath and Rafe finally gave you a respite when he loosened his grip on your throat. “You okayed it before we went out, I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I knew every guy at that bar would be trying to fuck you with their eyes, but I didn’t think you’d be doing the same to them!” The more he spoke, the more pissed off he seemed to be making himself. You knew that he was just convincing himself that his actions were justified.

When he tossed you to the floor, you yelped in pain when your shoulder hit the hard wood. You barely had time to reach for your tender neck before Rafe grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.

“I mean, do you even love me anymore, Y/N?” His voice sounded hurt, and even though this wasn’t the first time he had used this card on you in the middle of putting his hands on you, you couldn’t deny the tug on your heartstrings you had when you looked into your boyfriend’s eyes.

“Of course I do, Rafe!” You insisted, knowing that your enthusiasm was expected and there would be consequences if you didn’t play along.

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and after being with him for so long, you were aware of the ways to deescalate a tense situation. In moments like these you would have said anything to protect yourself.

“Nah, you don’t mean that. You haven’t been yourself lately baby. Always too busy with work to spend time with me and now you’re talking back to me?” He shook his head, tsk-ing as he glared at you disgustedly. “Not to mention, you haven’t been fulfilling all of your duties as my girlfriend.”

You stared at him, puzzled and not understanding his meaning, “what are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?” He repeated back to you in a mocking tone, like he couldn’t believe how dumb you were to not get it. “I mean, it’s been, what, five days since you last let me have sex with you? I have needs, Y/N. And when you can’t just lay on your back and spread your legs for me, you’re being a bad girlfriend.”

His words stung, and you couldn’t tell if the tears in your eyes were because of the large hand tangled into your hair, or because your boyfriend was acting like you owed him sex, like you were in the wrong right now.

“Now you’re gonna make it up to me, because you are really pissing me off right now, and I don’t want to hear any fucking complaints, do you understand?”

Your body was screaming in resistance, but you numbly realized that you were nodding your head. Rafe’s hand left your hair, finding your chin and gripping your jaw hard.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” the sick grin that was spread across his lips told you exactly how much Rafe was getting off on your humiliation right now and you wanted to be sick.

“I understand.” You forced the words past your gritted teeth, swallowing down the bile that threatened to come up.

Rafe unbuttoned his pants before sliding the zipper down and pushing them down his legs before pulling off his boxers as well.

His dick was hard, a bead of precum already pearled at the tip of his intimidating length.

You swallowed nervously, already afraid of how rough your boyfriend was going to be. You felt like you weren’t ready at all, but the sharp pain the bloomed on your cheek after Rafe slapped you told you that you must have hesitated for too long.

“Quit your damn procrastinating, Y/N,” he hissed, tangling his fingers into your hair again and pulling you to his dick, forcing the tip past your plump lips.

You didn’t have any time to be surprised, gagging and choking on him as he pushed himself deeper towards your throat. He groaned at the feeling of your throat squeezing his cock, urging himself further into the back of your mouth.

Rafe was in heaven, basking in the sight of your teary eyes and the ruined mascara that now trailed down your cheeks. You had looked so pretty at the club tonight, but now you were a crying mess. The noises of your gagging and the steady sound of Rafe’s cock hitting the back of your throat filled the space. Nothing had ever made Rafe hornier than seeing your beautiful, tear filled eyes begging and pleading with his.

He reached out to your cheek, wiping up a bit of saliva that had been forced past your lips. Your glassy eyes were unfocused now that you had given up any thoughts of resistance, too cock drunk to try protesting against the stronger man.

You were doing all you could not to gag on him and choke, knowing full well that that would only spur him on. Every time you pushed at his thigh to get him to ease up, he would slap your hand away with an annoyed grunt.

His pace was relentless now, one hand was gripping your hair and the other was at your throat, holding you still so he could push himself deeper.

“That’s right baby, fuck,” he bit back his groans, ignoring your gagging and desperate eyes when he forced himself too far down your throat, literally choking you with his cock. “Oh fuck- god Y/N, you’re better than any sex doll, you know why?”

He knew you couldn’t answer him, especially since he had started thrusting faster past your messy lips, but he still paused to drink in the sight before him.

“Because they can’t fight back,” Rafe sneered, picking up his pace again, reaching a punishing fervor.

The blond’s dick was slamming into the back of your throat while the large hand at your throat squeezed in warning anytime you so much tried to pull back.

He sped up on final time, chasing his high by forcing you to take all of his cock. Rafe held you in place and watched you choke on him for a couple seconds before letting out a low groan and spilling his salty seed down your throat, giving you no choice but to swallow every drop of it.

When he pulled his dick out of your mouth, you took a gasping breath, but weren’t allowed much air before Rafe slapped you across the face hard.

“From now on, I expect this and more from you every night we’re together. Because that’s how my girlfriend is supposed to act. And if you think about giving me any lip about that, then I’m gonna make you wish you had just kept your pretty mouth shut, got it?”

That rest of the night was no better than the beginning, after Rafe had helped you clean up, he basically immediately led you to your bed.

He chuckled in satisfaction when you didn’t fight back against his wandering hands, and as held tight to your wrists, plunging his cock into your slick cunt, he didn’t say anything about the tears rolling down your cheeks.

The next morning you had woken up sore, your entire body ached, and you weren’t surprised when you looked in the mirror and saw the red and purple blooming around your throat.

Rafe was still asleep, his deep snores letting you know that he wouldn’t be waking up soon.

You quietly snuck into the bathroom, grabbing your phone off of the bedside table on the way. Once you had shut and locked the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, unlocking your phone to check for messages.

Your friend had texted you asking how your night had gone, and feeling perhaps a little too honest, you told her that the two of you had had an “argument.”

‘he thought i was checking out a guy at the bar and said some really rude things to me last night.’ You laughed to yourself as you stared at your own words through blurry eyes. It was both funny and sad to you how used to covering for Rafe you now were.

The bathroom felt more cramped when you remembered that Rafe was just on the other side of the door, despite being asleep.

A new notification popped up soundlessly and you read your friend’s text. She was joking about gathering all of your mutual friends to gang up on Rafe.

If only she knew the extent of what Rafe had done to you. You were sure she wouldn’t be joking then. In spite of that, you were angry with Rafe and wanted to blow off a little steam with your friend.

Which is why you felt emboldened to continue texting her.

‘he’s such an asshole sometimes. i’ve been thinking about breaking it off with him soon.’

You huffed, putting your phone down before finishing up in the bathroom and opening the door.

To your surprise, Rafe was standing on the other side, waiting for you to get out before he brushed past you without a word.

You noticed he was taking longer than he usually did to just pee, and when he finally stepped out of the bathroom, you realized with a horrible chill why he had been in there for so long.

Clutched in his hand was your cellphone, and you could see that it was open to the messages you had just sent.

“‘He’s such an asshole, I’ve been thinking about breaking it off??’” His voice was cold and you cringed hearing him speak your words. There was no denying he had read your texts.

You shivered, frozen in place as he stared you down, his blue eyes boring so deep into you that you swore you could feel them burning straight through you.

Your mouth was so dry, you had never felt so afraid of your boyfriend before. Even after everything he had put you through, you had never said anything about breaking up with him to his face. “Rafe, I-”

If your instincts hadn’t kicked in, you would have taken the blow right to your nose, however you had been lucky enough to dodge the phone fast enough that it only nicked your forehead before smashing into pieces against the wall behind you.

Unfortunately, while you had been focused on dodging your phone, the taller man had closed the gap between you, easily pushing you up against the wall by your throat and choking you with both hands. Rafe’s fingers pressed down against the bruises that they had left there the previous night.

You wanted to scream, but Rafe had knocked the wind out of you and no matter how hard you shoved him, he wasn’t giving up.

“You’re mine,” he hissed as you struggled against him. “Maybe I’ve been hitting you too much recently, because I don’t remember you being this stupid when we first started dating.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Rafe had spun you around and pushed you face first into the bed. One of his hands was forcing your head against the mattress, while the other pawed at your silk pajama shorts, opting to rip away the fabric covering you before freeing his hard cock from his boxers.

“You think I’m an asshole?” He growled, the tip of his cock brushed against your slick cunt and you shuddered at the feel of him beginning to force himself inside of you.

“I’ll show you how much of an asshole I can be.”

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

There is an idea that Stephanie Brown was crime fighting as The Spoiler for fun, that she saw it all as a game. This reading isn't out of nowhere, it's supported by the things she and other characters say, especially in War Games (2005). However this understanding of Stephanie Brown's actions doesn't account for the large majority of her time as Spoiler, and oftentimes directly contradicts things she says or does.

This is important because how we understand why Stephanie keeps acting as The Spoiler informs what is true about the character. If she's doing it solely for kicks, it's not exactly unfair to call her a reckless idiot who should have listened when Batman and Robin told her to go home and stop wearing her costume.

So, should she just have listened when she was told to go home over and over again? Did she never take crime fighting seriously? Or was she battling against her father's sins to prove herself worthy? Or is there something else entirely going on? It seems like even Stephanie doesn't know at times:

Robin #40 (1993)

There are points where she makes light of her involvement, likening it to something she's doing for "the fun":

Robin #5, Robin #25 (1993)

And times where she rejects that same premise utterly:

Spoiler/Huntress: Blunt Trauma (1998)

It's very tempting to see this as character progression, she starts her first appearance in a Robin comic calling being Spoiler a "goof" but by the time Cataclysm rolls around, she says she isn't doing it for "the fun of it". However, this idea doesn't align with her first appearance and attitude at all.

I'd like to propose a reading which can account for the multiple reasons stated that she returns time and time again to being the Spoiler: the Spoiler represents Stephanie's agency and serves as a way for her to empower herself.

If we're determining why Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, we have to start where she starts, analyzing the her first appearance, and her motivations for creating the Spoiler mantle.

Stephanie's anger at her father + feelings of helplessness and lack of agency + desire to protect others = The Original Spoiler

I’ll stick to only evidence and panels which refer to or depict her time before becoming the Spoiler, or during her very first Spoiler "mission".

Let’s break it down

1.Stephanie Brown's Anger at her Father

This one's pretty self explanatory. I'll get into how her hatred of her dad has to do with Stephanie's feelings of helplessness and self loathing later. But for now, Stephanie's anger at her dad is pretty clearly one of the main things motivating her very first Spoiler appearance.

Detective #648

2. Stephanie Brown's Lack of Agency

Her father is an abusive piece of shit to Stephanie and her mother. He never stays in jail for long, and now that he's been cured of his clue-leaving psychosis, he might not go back at all.

80 Page Giant: Secret Origins (1998)

Her mom is, as Steph sees it, hopelessly addicted to her pills and drinking, Steph is unable to help, as she states: “talking to her didn’t do any good”

Detective #467 / 80 Page Giant: Secret Origins (1998)

Creating this costume and persona is not only a way to get back at her dad, it’s about her seizing power, it’s a decision to have agency, to no longer be helpless. She is no longer a passive observer in her dad's crimes, she is the force actively 'spoiling' it.

In her first story as Spoiler, we see that culminate to a dark point: she’s so desperate to have some control of her life and by extension, her father who has been robbing her of it for years, that she nearly kills him.

Detective #649

When Stephanie became the Spoiler for the first time, it was about her anger at her dad, and finally having control over his influence over her life.

But most crucially, her first appearance as Spoiler is also largely about her desire to help others.

3. Stephanie’s desire to protect other people

This is established solidly in her first appearance as the Spoiler. She states that she was stalking her father “trying to make sure nobody got hurt”

Detective #468

And later in the same introductory arc, she only jumps into the fight when Batman’s life appears to be in danger:

Detective #469

This applies to her mother too, who she sees herself as responsible for protecting.

Stephanie identifies her father as a trigger for her moms struggle with addiction, and the same shot which shows Stephanie sewing together her first Spoiler costume also features her mother, sleeping next to an empty glass and pill bottles.

80 Page Giant: Secret Origins (1998)

The 80 Page Giant furthers this idea by recontextualizing the scene where she jumps into the fight with her dad in Detective #649 by adding her internal monologue in that moment: clearly reframing her actions through the lens of this protective instinct towards her mother

80 Page Giant: Secret Origins (1998)

I'm sticking to her first appearance backstory stuff primarily, because for now I'm just making a case for her original reason for putting on the costume, but I think it's worth it to mention something Steph says about "one of the first" missions she gave herself as Spoiler.

Steph says she made it one of the very first missions she wanted to achieve as Spoiler to track down the man who nearly sexually assaulted her as a child. Despite the fact that she was severely traumatized by this (unable to stand being alone with men for years afterwards) she didn’t try to do so out of revenge, but specifically because she knew he would go after more young girls.

Robin #111 (1993)

She first becomes the Spoiler in order to stop her dad from hurting her mom, herself, and other people any more than he already had. But why does she keep going? Especially, why does she keep fighting crime after her dad is locked away in prison?

And if she's Spoiler because of her genuine desire to help people, and her anger towards her dad, and her feelings of helplessness, where does the idea that she does it for "fun" come from?

Contextualizing "The Spoiler" as a way for Stephanie to give herself agency is the strongest reading which answers both of those questions.

Much of what we see Spoiler do, is directly paralleled to what Stephanie cannot.

The most obvious example is her stopping The Cluemaster.

Stephanie Brown might be stuck with an abusive, criminal dad who never stays in jail for long, but The Spoiler can make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.

80 Page Giant: Secret Origins (1998) / Robin #111 (1993)

But there are more covert examples of this as well.

Stephanie Brown might not be able to make her mom get clean, only able to watch as she seems to succumb to her addiction over and over again, but the Spoiler can confront and potentially stop her gymnastics coach from dealing drugs after one of her classmates overdoses, in a way which is shown in conjunction with Steph's relationship with her mom.

Showcase '95 #5 (1995)

Her rage at being misled by her gymnastic coach, her anger at him for betraying the kids who "looked up to you", mirrors her anger at her mom in this same comic for how her struggle with addiction has affected their relationship. Spoiler attempts to do what Steph wishes she could: fight and defeat addiction, as a proxy for her desire to help her mom, and her frustration that she can't.

Stephanie Brown might be in a relationship with a selfish asshole, but as The Spoiler, she gets the attention of a smart, honest, good guy:

Spoiler/Huntress: Blunt Trauma (1998)/ Robin #80 (1993)

Robin (debatably) is the one who instigates this idea. (Kissing a girl on the mouth, even if i was out of relief for her saving your life, sort of sends mixed signals as to whether or not she has a shot.)

Robin #5 (1993)

Tim himself juggles with the fact that he both feels a responsibility to discourage Stephanie from acting as Spoiler, but doesn't, because he doesn't have an excuse to hang out with Steph, but he can spend time with her when she's Spoiler.

Robin #41 (1993)

Stephanie Brown doesn't get loved, doesn't get understood. Not by Dean, not by her mom, and certainly not by her dad. But Spoiler? Spoiler seems has a real shot.

Steph doesn't really feel like her mom cares, and she knows her dad doesn't. She wants to feel powerful, she wants to feel useful, she wants to protect people, and she really really wants to be loved.

She sees Spoiler as a way to achieve all these things, and that’s how she uses the identity.

Therefore, the Spoiler feels empowering, specifically in contrast to Stephanie Brown and her garbage home life and her helplessness and feelings of inadequacy.

This ties into something I haven't really explored yet, Stephanie Brown's canonical self loathing. This seems to linger in the periphery of her earlier time as Spoiler, but picks up significantly during and after her pregnancy arc.

She's dealt with blaming and hating herself in her past, we get a mention of how she had to overcome believing she was a bad person in the wake of her nearly being sexually assaulted:

Robin #111 (1993)

And she deals with feeling of inadequacy and self hatred again and again in her time as the Spoiler as well.

Steph refers to her boyfriend, who is unable to tell her his real name, share the majority of the stuff going on in his life with her, and who always has to wear a mask around her, as potentially "too good" for her. I don't care how cool and nice you think Tim Drake is, I think this is definitely indicative of at least some self esteem issues.

Robin #57 (1993)

Her self esteem issues become more clear during her teen pregnancy arc. She tells Tim straight up that she would understand it if he had cheated on her/left her.

Robin #59 (1993) / Robin #62 (1993)

This ties into why she acts as the Spoiler as well.

Stephanie blames herself in part for her dad's crimes.

She obviously didn't make Arthur Brown commit his crimes. This is just another instance of Stephanie's self loathing informing how she acts, in this case, being part of her rationale as to why she is Spoiler.

Robin 80 Page Giant (2000)

As Stephanie, she was helpless to stop Cluemaster from abusing her mom, unable to stop how his presence pushes Crystal Brown further into her addiction, unable to stop him from hurting other people and herself with his crime. This lack of agency explored earlier combined with her self blame leads her to believe it's her job as the Spoiler to "make up for" the bad she wasn't able to stop before, a responsibility which is obviously not on her. We see this also in the 80 Page Giant: Secret Origins (1998), where she briefly refers to 'spoiling' his plans as "her job", in a way that indicates a degree of responsibility.

It's no wonder that Stephanie becomes so attached to the Spoiler mantle. As Stephanie Brown, she is helpless and unable to control her environment, and she deals with thinly veiled self hatred and blames herself for this helplessness. But Spoiler gives her the opportunity to take control. That's why she returns to it time and time again, against the wishes of pretty much everyone.

This reading also aligns with the instances we get where Stephanie is portrayed as doing crime fighting for "fun". While I think its clear enough by now Stephanie clearly isn't out there for "the thrill", it's absolutely no surprise to me that Stephanie refers to it as a "rush".

It's, quite frankly, a little bit of a power trip. Of course it feels fucking fantastic to finally have a say, to no longer feel useless and helpless and guilty, to finally get to do something about all the shit that used to crush her. To finally stop feeling helpless and worthless, to have a chance at being loved. It probably feels fucking fantastic!

Why in god's name would she ever want to give that up? For her, I think its a very easy choice, the potential danger of acting as Spoiler brings upon herself doesn't factor in all that much at all.

The Spoiler as a symbol of Stephanie's Agency theory accounts for the multiple different and somewhat contradicting explanations we are given for why Stephanie acts as Spoiler.

I want to emphasize that this is not a bad thing, and also not entirely selfish. Agency means the freedom to go after the guy who she was powerless to meaningfully stop as an 11 year old (telling her asshat of a dad about it only got her yelled at and dismissed), but who might still be out there preying on other young girls. Spoiler means having the agency to protect her mom from her dad. Spoiler means having the agency to protect her neighbors.

But Spoiler also means this 15 year old girl gets to feel strong and loveable and worth something for the first time in a long time.

[hoe4hotchner]

Extra Credit | [A.H]

Pairing: Professor!Hotch x fem!Reader CW: 18+, MDNI, coerced sexual activity, power imbalance, emotional manipulation, dubious consent, degradation and humiliation, age gap, student/professor, dom/sub dynamic, praise, (L/N) used once, no use of (Y/N). The smut in this is "just" a blowjob. WC: 2,9k

My dumb ass had to look up the american grading system cause we use a 7 point grading scale of numbers where I'm from. ---- Also alsoalso, i feel kind of evil with this one 😅

@ssamorganhotchner my love I will dedicate this fic to you cause your scream into the void made me finish it. 🤭🤭

           The lecture had been another brutal session, his lectures were always hard to get through, and you could still hear Mr. Hotchner’s voice echoing in your mind, sharp and cutting. His presence dominated the room - a force impossible to ignore - and it rattled you in a way no other professor ever had. Every question he posed felt like a challenge, every glance in your direction seemed to monitor your every move. The pressure in his class had been mounting for weeks now, suffocating and relentless as you tried your hardest to keep up with your studies.

           The other students had already packed up and left, the sounds of hurried footsteps and rustling papers fading as they filtered out of the lecture hall. You were just about to follow when his voice called out, stopping you in your tracks.

           "Miss (L/N), a moment, please."

           His tone was steady. There was no warmth, only command - one you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you wanted to. Swallowing thickly, your pulse quickened as you turned to face him. Mr. Hotchner stood at the front of the room, his eyes locked onto you, persistent and unreadable. You’d seen that look before - the one that pierced through you, as if he were dissecting every inch of your character, sizing up your worth.

           "Come to my office," he continued, already gathering his notes. "There’s something we need to discuss."

           You nodded, a knot forming in your stomach. You knew exactly what this was about: the last test. The one you felt like you'd bombed so spectacularly, despite staying up all night cramming. Panic twisted in your chest as you hastily grabbed your things, every step toward his office feeling heavier like you were marching to your doom.

           When you arrived at his office, he was already seated behind his desk, his posture straight, his face calm yet calculating. His office was an extension of him - neat, organized, cold - the only warmth coming from the mahogany furniture decorating the room. You hesitated at the door, but when his eyes met yours, pinning you in place, you stepped inside without a word.

           "Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from him.

           Your legs felt weak as you obeyed, sinking into the chair. The room seemed smaller now, the silence oppressive. The only sound was the rush of your own panicked heartbeat in your ears.

           Mr. Hotchner reached for the paper on his desk - your test - and slid it across the table toward you. Your eyes dropped to it, the red ink scrawled across the page like a string of wounds, culminating in the bold, unforgiving "F" circled at the top. The sight of it made your stomach drop.

           "Care to explain this?" His voice was low and direct, but there was an edge to it: disappointment, authority, judgment maybe.

           You opened your mouth, but no words came out. What could you say? You had failed. There was no excuse, no way to justify how badly you’d done, no matter how hard you’d tried.

           "I... I’m sorry," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I really did try, I-"

           His sharp gaze cut you off before you could finish. His expression hardened. "Trying isn’t enough, Miss. In this class, you’re expected to succeed. Effort without results means nothing to me." He leaned forward slightly, his eyes boring into you. "You know that, don’t you?"

           You nodded quickly, your throat tight with panic. "Yes, Professor. I just... I don’t know what happened."

           Mr. Hotchner sighed, sitting back in his chair, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk as his eyes flicked over you, assessing your every reaction. "This isn’t the first time your performance has been subpar," he mused, almost to himself. "But I’m not inclined to hand out second chances freely. You understand that, don’t you?"

           Your pulse quickened, and you grabbed the edges of the chair, trying to steady yourself. You needed this class to pass. Your entire academic path hinged on it. "Please, Sir," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. "I’ll do anything to make up for this. I just..."

           Hotch raised a brow, a faint smile tugging at his lips, though it held no warmth. "Anything, Miss?" His tone shifted, becoming darker, more sinister. He leaned forward again, his elbows resting on the desk, fingers steepled in front of him, his eyes locking onto yours.

           You froze, the weight of that single word hanging heavy in the air between you. Something in his gaze made your skin prickle, a cold realization settling over you, though you still didn’t fully understand what he meant.

           "There are ways," he said, almost absently, his eyes never leaving you. "To improve your grade. But... no, you wouldn’t want to do that."

           The soft, almost indifferent tone only made the tension worse, as if he were toying with the idea, considering something dark and unspoken. His eyes - steady and determined - never left yours, trapping you beneath the weight of his scrutiny. A shiver crawled up your spine, the walls of the small office seeming to close in as his stare held you in place, daring you to speak, to challenge the unspoken hint buried in his words. The air thickened, stifling, and at that moment, you realized you were no longer sitting across from your professor but a man who held all the power - and he knew it.

           "Please, Sir... anything." Your voice lingered on the verge of tears. Your stomach churned as you began to realize the gravity of the situation, the dark current running beneath his words. But it was too late. You’d already sealed your fate.

           The tension in the room thickened as Mr. Hotchner leaned back in his chair, his eyes eyeing you, estimating just what he could get you to do. His silence stretched, but you felt the shift - something in him had clicked, and it set your pulse racing with a mix of fear and something unnameable.

           He moved slowly, deliberately, pushing his chair back just enough to make space. He gestured to the small gap between him and the desk. "Come here," he said, his voice low, the command unquestionable.

           You hesitated, your legs trembling slightly as you stood, heart pounding so hard you swore he could hear it. He didn’t rush you, just watched as you took one small, uncertain step forward, then another, until you were standing directly between his legs. His proximity sent a jolt of awareness through you, your body hyperaware of the heat radiating from him - too close.

           Mr. Hotchner's hand reached out, his fingers brushing the fabric of your skirt before settling on your hip, guiding you into place with a firm grip. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice a quiet rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt trapped, pinned between him and the desk, with nowhere to escape as his other hand came to rest on the small of your back, pulling you even closer. The space between you vanished, and you swallowed hard, your breath catching in your throat.

           You could feel his gaze, assessing, waiting for you to protest, to pull away - but you didn’t. Something about the smoothness of his words kept you intrigued. His control was absolute, the imbalance between you undeniable, and yet… you found yourself rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to think of anything but him and the way his hands felt against your skin.

           "There are certain things you’re willing to do," he said softly, his voice carrying a darker edge now. "Aren’t there?"

           You nodded, barely able to find your voice, the room spinning as his hand slid lower on your back, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The intensity in his gaze was overwhelming, suffocating, and you realized with a sinking feeling that you were already too far gone to turn back now.

           Mr. Hotchner's gaze remained fixed on you as he maneuvered you with practiced ease. His grip on your hip tightened slightly, guiding you down until you were kneeling on the floor before him. The cold tile pressed against your knees, sending a shiver through you, but Mr. Hotchner's presence was a warm, commanding contrast.

           “That’s it,” he said, his voice rich with approval as you settled into the position he directed. “You’re doing well.”

           The praise made the tension more bearable yet, it came with an edge of something darker, something that made you shiver despite the heat pooling between you. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes, and saw the way they softened just a touch, but only enough to keep you vulnerable.

           His hand moved with deliberate care, stroking the length of your hair. The soft, almost caressing touch was a strange contrast to the authority he exerted. “You’re very obedient,��� Mr. Hotchner said, his tone almost gentle now, but there was an unmistakable command in his words. “And you know, I do appreciate that.” The warmth of his hand was soothing but carried with it an undercurrent of power, leaving you both comforted and apprehensive. “I can see you’re trying to do what it takes to improve.”

           He shifted slightly, his chair creaking as he leaned forward a bit, the fabric of his suit brushing against you. “You’re very dedicated,” he said softly, his eyes roaming over you with a mixture of satisfaction and something else you couldn’t quite place. “And I have to admit, it’s not something I see in my students very often.”

           Your breath quickened as his praise continued, his words a strange mix of encouragement and control that made you feel simultaneously uplifted and trapped. It confused you. The power he held over you was noticeable, his authority unchallenged as you knelt before him, feeling the weight of his gaze.

           “You’re willing to do whatever it takes,” Mr. Hotchner continued his hand now gently stroking the top of your head. “That’s very impressive. Most students wouldn’t go this far.”

           The air between you was thick with his dominance, the atmosphere heavy with the unspoken promises and threats that lingered in his words. His praise was both a comfort and a chain, binding you to him in a way that left you breathless and anxious for what was to come.

           Mr. Hotchner guided you to unbuckle his belt, watching as you hooked your fingers through the loop, carefully removing it and unzipping his pants. You kept looking up at him for reassurance, waiting for a nod of approval to continue. You gently grabbed the elastic waistband and slowly pulled his underwear down, revealing his thick, erect cock. It sprang free, long, and veined, with a bulky head already glistening with pre-cum. You couldn't help but let out a soft gasp at the sight of it.

           “Go on,” he urged. “Show me how much you want that grade.”

           With a slight nod, you leaned forward and extended your tongue, delicately licking the tip of his cock, tasting the salty sweetness. Mr. Hotchner let out a soft groan, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. Encouraged by his reaction, you opened your mouth and took just the head into your warm, wet mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

           “Fuck, that’s it,” he whispered, his hand gripping your neck, guiding your movements. “Suck it, take it deep.” He growled.

           You obeyed, slowly taking more of his length into your mouth, your lips sliding down his shaft. You moaned softly around his cock, the vibrations driving him wild. Mr. Hotchner's hand moved to the back of your head, gently holding you in place as he began to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes.

           “You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice hoarse with desire. “But I want more. I want to feel that tight throat of yours.”

           Eager to please, you relaxed your throat and took him deeper, your nose pressing into his pubic hair. You felt his cock hit the back of your throat, you gagged and coughed around him. Mr. Hotchner stilled for a brief moment as he let you adjust to the new position of his cock in your throat.

           As Mr. Hotchner's hand started gently caressing your hair once again, his other hand slowly shifted, a deliberate movement that drew your attention away from the soothing strokes. He let you take over, expecting you to continue pleasuring. His fingers, initially tender and reassuring, began to trace down the side of your neck, brushing lightly against the fabric of your blouse.

           “You’re doing very well,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. The praise seemed to be more about control than genuine encouragement, keeping you bound in a trance by his spell. The warmth of his hand became more insistent.

           You felt a shiver run down your spine as his hand moved with purpose, sliding along the curve of your shoulder and then lower. His fingers grazed the edge of your skirt, teasing the hem as they explored the fabric. The contact was both alarming and electric, the smoothness of his touch in stark contrast to the pressure of his gaze.

           “Such dedication,” Hotch continued, his tone almost contemplative. His fingers lingered at the edge of your skirt, the touch becoming more deliberate as he traced along the hem. “It’s rare to find someone so willing to go above and beyond.”

           The way his hand inched closer to the soft material of the front of your skirt, it made you acutely aware of the shift in the atmosphere. His touch, though light and seemingly casual, was charged with an intensity that left you on edge. The skirt felt suddenly like a barrier between you and him, a fragile line that he was now exploring with calculated movements.

           He pushed his fingers past the waistband; they were cold as they brushed against your stomach, slowly moving down toward your clothed heat. Mr. Hotchner tutted as he brushed his fingers against your folds, the soaking wet fabric leaving a slick trail on his fingers.

           “You naughty girl,” he mocked. “Do you feel that? The way your body reacts to my touch? How long have you been aching for this kind of attention?” He grinned, his fingers expertly drawing out mewls from you as you tried to keep your focus on the task at hand.

           You felt the way his cock twitched against your tongue, convulsing with every movement, every lick and suck. Mr. Hotchner could feel it too, his climax nearing. He moved his hands to the back of your head, holding you still as he flexed his muscles. You whined around him at the sudden loss of touch on your pussy.

           “Don’t be greedy,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fucking your mouth with such force that all you could do was stay still and relax your throat, trying your best to keep breathing through your nose.

           “Yes, that’s it, take it all,” he grunted, his hips moving faster now, driving his cock down your throat with each thrust. “Oh fuck, I’m close,” Mr. Hotchner groaned, his hips jerking as he came, emptying himself down your throat. You swallowed around him, taking every drop, your eyes never leaving his, a satisfied smile on his face.

           “Look at this mess you made,” he tutted, pulling his cock out of your mouth. The few drops of cum mixed with your saliva glistened under the light. “Now, clean it up.” He scooted his chair closer to the desk, effectively caging you in. “I have papers to grade.”

           You slowly started licking the shaft with small kitten licks as you made your way from the base to the head. You were scared he wouldn't pass you if you didn't follow his orders. Mr. Hotcher paid no attention to you whatsoever. You felt humiliated as you sat under his desk, his thoughts elsewhere as you mindlessly followed his demands. The sound of your tongue mixed with the slight scratching of his pen scribbling on the papers in front of him were the only sounds in the room.

           When you finished, the room seemed even smaller than when you'd entered, the walls closer than before. You sat back on your haunches, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as you tried to process what had just happened, your mind swirling in confusion and shame.

           Mr. Hotchner leaned back, his expression calm, his eyes glittering with a smug satisfaction that made your skin crawl. You were about to ask what he would change your grade to, feeling you had at least deserved a D for the effort. But Mr. Hotcher sensed your question before you even opened your mouth.

           “Don’t think so fast, dear,” he said smoothly, his voice like ice on your skin. “Good grades cost more than that.”

           Your stomach twisted painfully, and you glanced up at him, unsure how to respond, your voice catching in your throat. You wanted to believe this nightmare was over, that you’d somehow paid your dues and could walk out of his office with your dignity intact.

           But Mr. Hotchner wasn’t finished with you. He regarded you coolly, one brow arching as he tilted his head slightly, watching your every reaction with dark amusement.

           “Same time next week?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question - it was an expectation, a demand disguised as a polite inquiry.

           You nodded, the movement slow and uncertain, the weight of his gaze making you feel trapped, cornered. “Okay… sir,” you whispered, your voice small and fragile.

           His smile deepened, satisfied, and gently patted your cheek. “Good girl.”

[hamsternella]

maybe headcanons of Bill Cipher being obsessed with us for being Ford's wife, but at first he feels jealous and gradually that changes as he finds we have equal things (e.g. we are blind, and that makes Bill start to want to get more intimate with us as he has with Ford because he finds that we have also been despised/put aside because of that difference), and maybe he wants to make a deal with us but we refuse out of loyalty to Ford and that makes Bill jealous- but now of Ford, not of us lmao sorry if that is confusing or too specific.

Are you going to write any Gravity Falls fanfic on the side? I've seen your poll and I'm very excited

HELLO, and no problem. Here it is, I hope you like it.

As for the fanfic, I do plan to write one. Actually, it's in drafts; I just need to correct what I have written. I don't know if I should make it long or cut it and put it in chapters.

PART TWO

Bill Cipher being obsessed with you [headcanon]

cw: fem!reader, non-con touching, possessed body, jealousy, maybe a bit of ooc(?

The reason Bill begins to feel his plan is threatened is because of you. As much as Ford has him on a pedestal, you are still the main reason for his early accomplishments. The special person who has been with him since his college discovery years.

You're not like McGucket; your judgment carries paramount weight in Ford's most decisive decisions. You're not a mentally dazzling woman, not like him, but your claws keep you firmly entrenched behind Sixer's back. Bill repudiates that—it makes no sense at all!

As if that weren't enough, the affair culminates with you being blind. Can there be anything much more repugnant than a romance fueled by misfortune? Ford is drawn to your sincere heart, and you support him unconditionally because beyond your husband's obsession, your love for him seems to break down the most terrifying walls. And how can you be afraid of something you can no longer see?

Bill feels he has the enemy breathing behind his back. For the first time he thinks he can't solve everything with a kick to the rock in the middle of the road.

The closest thing to a tantrum you get from him —unknowingly— are regular nightmares, a weak body and constant paranoia about unfamiliar sounds and sensations. Your home is suddenly a new world; frightening and strange. Because of this you become clumsy and unpredictable, and even your husband doesn't understand what it is that has you so off track.

Bill can't use his influence on your reality at all, but through Ford and other extensions, as well as fine print manipulations, he manages to reach you without arousing suspicion.

''I've told you many times, Bill,'' sighed Ford with his back turned, both hands placed on his journal. ''I don't think I can go through with this completely until I manage to find a way to help my wife.''

''Isn't this a sign that it's time to get her out of your way?''

"Excuse me?’’ The man turned his attention to the demon; his eyes laden with bitterness and desolation. ''What do you mean by that? I can't abandon my wife, Cipher—she would never do something like that to me.''

''Well,'' Bill chuckled, ''it's not like she's really done anything for you all this time. This project is our thing, Fordsy, and it shouldn't be interrupted by a little stumble that doesn't even belong to us. Or are you going to give up everything you've sacrificed for this?''

''You have understood me like no other, Bill; I admit that there is no person or creature existing on this planet who can do all that you have done for me,'' admitted Ford solemnly. ''But she's my wife—she's been around even before you, when I was nobody. When I had nothing. And even when I came to Gravity Falls and left everything behind she was always there. Bill, I... I can't, I'm sorry.''

Bill held back another complaint, beginning to notice that things were not working out the way he had wanted. Your clumsiness didn't kill Ford's patience or control, but what little sanity —if any— there was in him. It was humiliating; Bill Cipher losing to a human being, a random woman—blind, to make it worse.

The demon was beginning to withdraw in on himself, frustration rising to anger, when Ford's voice from the entrance to the room drew his gaze back. There was a different gleam in his companion's, and Cipher understood with annoyance where the conversation would end up now.

Your husband introduces you to the possible solution to all your problems: Mr. Cipher, a doctor and close friend of Stanford. A mysterious man with a booming voice that makes your hair stand on end, but at the end of the day a man of studies and degrees. Of course you were going to trust your husband's recommendation.

''What a coincidence that you happened to be passing by, sir! Thank you for offering to help me. That's very kind of you.''

Bill starts pretending to be your personal doctor in search of a miracle solution to your problems. It's not hard to avoid contact with you to hide the truth; Ford tries hard to keep the situation straight.

If the demon hated you before, now you better start praying.

Cipher understands that he needs to play along with Ford if he wants the project to stay on track, even if that means starting to help you heal while containing his desire to get rid of you.

Maybe if he possessed Stanford and took advantage of you during your naps.

Maybe.

But he knows better than that—Ford isn't stupid. Not stupid enough, at least.

It was humiliating to have to take care of what he himself had caused, but it's not as if Bill could afford any other way to get back on the project. Ford was all he had. Where was he going to get someone else capable enough? This had been fate; interrupted at the last minute by the appearance of a bad third. This was all your fault. Blind little rat—woman busybody with a sweet smile and giggly voice. Cipher understood why Sixer was where he was with you, on the one hand. On the other it was all the same: a whim that cost dearly. Who needed someone like you? What was the benefit? Sex, maybe? But Bill Cipher was a thousand times better than something so banal! Please…

Bill rolled his eye, snapping his fingers to undo the nightmare you were in. As soon as your dream was undone you let out an exclamation of surprise, jumping on the bed. You brought a hand to your face, feeling the sweat, and almost immediately moved your body to where he lay. Cipher held back surprise, finding himself genuinely intrigued.

''Doctor,'' you whispered hoarsely, ''good afternoon. I... Forgive me, I think I fell asleep—it was sudden, I don't know what came over me...''

''Did you know it was me here with you?''

The smile you gave him threw him off. A ''Well, yes, isn't it very obvious?'' kind of grimace.

''Does your husband know that you have these nightmares during our therapies?''

'Therapies' sounded fancy, but it was shorthand for the tortures Bill forced you to go through; a theater of supposed recovery to cover up his need to hurt you.

“He doesn't know, doctor. I haven't told him, if I'm honest,'' you replied. ''Please don't tell him anything.''

''It would be unethical!''

‘’Pretending to be a doctor is also unethical, sir,’’ you laughed. ''I am blind, not stupid.’’

Killing you was going to be the only solution to all of this—although from that day on nothing else ever happened.

Bill has to accept that you have a lot of tricks up your sleeve. You're not just any woman anymore; being Ford's wife had to have been warning enough for him.

You continue to not remind him of his charade and allow him to continue 'treating' you, while your husband resumes the plans for the portal.

Surprisingly, Bill seems to have found interest in something much more striking.

You.

The nightmares subside, your mood and judgment improve, and Cipher finds a strange pleasure in this new side of you: much more alert, more talkative and wittier. You have your charm.

But it's your husband who pulls the reins. Bill gets it right away.

Evenings with you aren't exactly revelatory like they are with Ford, who always has enough data and information to surprise everyone with. With you it's different; it's something much more intimate and almost forgotten by Bill. He knows so much that it would be impossible to be taken by surprise—but you manage to do it.

He is overcome with a nostalgic and unpleasant feeling, but which ironically keeps him alive as he decides to lie to Ford.

Bill doesn't want to let you go. It's strange. Maybe he got used to another glaring presence besides Sixer? Torturing you a little more in silence to keep you under his care should not be a stupid thing to do at all.

Cipher encounters another particular feeling: curiosity. He needs to know why you know what you know; and what it is, above all else, that keeps you here.

What keeps you with so much power over him, Bill Cipher.

''Are you saying that I have tricks up my sleeve? I don't get it, doctor...''

''Oh! Oh, please,'' Bill interrupted, thunderous laughter bouncing across the room. ''You know I'm no doctor; the title is ridiculous.''

''Should I call you 'Mr. Cipher' instead?''

Bill held back a sigh, rubbing his eye for a moment before orbiting around you. If you had noticed, you didn't say or do anything. Your eyes, white as opaque pearls, remained fixed on a corner of the room.

''Since when did you know I wasn't a doctor? No, better yet, since when did you know I wasn't human?''

''Well, it's not quite like that either,'' you replied under a soft laugh. ''You just revealed to me that you are not human. As for the doctor thing... Well, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think that dream therapies and transverse snoring with citrus scent induction while dipping my feet in spoiled milk is something a professional would recommend.''

Bill pretended not to be offended.

''Besides that,'' you continued, ''I know my husband very well. I know that he hides dangerous things down there, where I cannot reach by myself, just as I know everything that has been happening is not the product of chance.''

''Did you know all this time that your nightmares and fears have been my doing?''

‘’No, not really. You just confessed it to me.''

‘’Oh, come on!’’ Bill shook his fists in the air, abruptly remembering that you couldn't see him. It was strange, you seemed to know the world you inhabited even though your eyes wouldn't let you. The thought made the demon orbit around you again, returning in front of you. Opaque pearls; gaze lost in the open. "I've had a majestic revelation at this very moment! Do you want to hear it, or will your big, bold woman brain let you know in advance what I have to say?”

"I have a slight feeling you don't like me.”

“Yes or no!”

“Of course, tell me.”

"I have to assume you weren't born blind; this must be the product of an accident," Cipher began to say. "That would explain why the hell you do everything you do, and why the fuck you know where I am.”

"That's right, Mr. Cipher," you nodded. "I've had an accident, though I suppose you know that because you've infiltrated me. Either that, or my husband told you.”

"So you did know that I'm a demon?”

“You just—”

“Oh, shut up! Don't fucking say it again.”

Your coexistence with Bill becomes pleasant, despite the early revelation of his nature and his having been the cause of your misfortunes.

Cipher comes to believe that he may have been wrong; maybe you were stupid after all.

But that would be crazy! Unlike with Ford, with you the feelings are extremely nostalgic and warm. There is no trace of some kind of farce or genuine morbid interest behind your words. You believe everything you say.

Bill, who despite not sleeping or dreaming, being haunted by the memory of screams and an old distorted and flat reality, finds in your company a comfort zone that makes him delirious.

Sadly, your heart and your judgment is still tied to Sixer—as if that brainiac cared at all!

Bill begins to drive Ford crazy; he feeds him extensive knowledge, possesses him more often to enjoy the benefits, and then alters his memories, making it difficult for him to know what is truth and what is a lie.

Where he can no longer meet your needs, Bill is always there to dazzle you.

You jumped in your seat, feeling your husband's warm hands wrap around your neck. Fingers, rough from machines and dust, caressed your skin awkwardly, drawing a chuckle from you. His breath came to you from above, as if he had just sighed in delight at your reaction. When you felt him rest his hands on your shoulders, you slowly brought one of yours to caress the back of his. You felt him tremble.

''I thought you were sleeping?'' you asked with genuine interest. ''Is everything all right? All these days you've been doing the same thing.''

''Do you mind, beautiful?''

You stifled a laugh.

''No, Ford, your company would never be a bother to me... Are you smelling my hair?''

‘’I just can’t get enough of you.’’

You felt him circle your body, delineating one of the chairs near you so he could relax his body in it. You didn't last long without his hands—as soon as he resumed his seat, you felt his fingers intertwining with yours. This time it was more consistent and comfortable; not like all those days where it seemed like your husband had forgotten how to use his own body.

''Oh, dear! Seeing you with these two orbs of nerves and membrane is amazing! You look even more dazzling.''

Although the comments without any context or sense were still there.

''I'm not that great,'' you said with a small laugh. A little shy. Ford didn't used to give you so many compliments. “How's your project going?’’

‘’That thing? Good, very good. Excellent, my dear! Maybe you could see for yourself—oh, well, you can't,'' he guffawed. ''Right. Whatever! Hey, uh, can I ask you a question?''

‘’Y-Yeah, sure, honey.’’ You cleared your throat. ‘’What’s the matter?’’

''Hypothetical scenario. You're married, but you're not quite fulfilled. Suppose someone comes along who is much better than your husband,'' he explained. ''He's smart, funny, multifunctional, powerful, extra-dimensional, or very soon will be, and also very stylish!'' Silence. Moments later an exclamation. ''Do you have a favorite color? His favorite color is yellow!''

‘’I… I mean, sorry, but I actually don’t understand at all where’s the question.’’

‘’Don’t be silly! Would you leave your husband for this entity—excuse me, for this person?''

‘’What?’’

‘’The heck.’’

Another booming laugh, and though you tried to accompany it with your own, the sound that came from you was choppy and awkward. This exchange was strange.

''I can't find a reason to leave my husband for this so-called mystery person,'' you replied. ''I am supposed to have married him for a reason which should be more than enough. Ford,'' you rushed on, ''is this regarding Mr. Cipher?''

''Why?'' he asked at once. ''Why do you think of him all of a sudden? Do you feel something forbidden about him in this marriage?''

''But of course not!''

''What do you mean ‘no’?!’’

His hands let go of yours. The chair in front of you seemed to be dragged, the wood against the floor squeaking with the sudden friction. The movement had taken you by surprise.

‘’Ford?’’

''Why are you so happy? Why, huh?'' he sighed, frustrated. ''Haven't I abandoned you every night in a freezing bed, while I prefer the company of machines? Cipher has been very kind to you and kept you company!''

''Ford, what are you—wait. Wait a moment... Bill, is this you?'' You covered your mouth, terrified at the discovery. Your companion didn't respond and you simply let out a shaky breath. ''Are you possessing my husband?’’

‘’Damn, that was fast.’’

‘’That’s awful!’’

"There was full consent!" added Bill with a chuckle. "This is a man-to-man thing, my pretty little fleshbag. Something between colleagues, plain and simple. You needn't fear—Bill Cipher is taking care of everything.”

"But it's horrendous anyway!" you exclaimed with your voice splitting. "It all makes sense now... The words, the touches, the way you acted—it was all a sham! You were using my husband!”

"Oh, please, little one. Wasn't it you who dreamed of being able to touch me?”

"You, not a substitute class using Stanford's body! Have you two been doing these kinds of exchanges all along?”

"It's just that there was a change of plans!”

“A change? What—”

“I mean, I tried to kill you; but it's not that easy now,” he laughed.

You tried to calm your breathing. Your heart was beating painfully against your chest, and your whole body was trembling. This wasn't right, obviously. It was like a vivid nightmare.

“Not that I want to do it, of course.”

“Why?” you asked after a long silence.

You felt the presence of your husband's body very close to you. A pair of hands rested on your cheeks, caressing them with his fingers very softly; the touches getting lost under the trembling of your figure when you heard again a sigh of delight. Something was up.

“You know,” he whispered, “I think we could make a deal. A little, pretty one, and just for you.”

“A deal? A deal with a demon, you mean. No, thank you.”

“Oh, come on! It will be fun!”

“And it makes no sense.”

Bill turned away from you, returning to his chair to take a seat across from your body.

"What exactly is it that Ford gives you that I can't manage to satisfy? Because very soon the little project will be complete, and I will have full disposal of many wonderful tricks to take care of you, my dear," he continued. "An eternity together! We'll be able to create and tell thousands of new stories; to travel across the world and let you experience hundreds of new sensations. We'll be unstoppable! Incomparable!”

"That's not the way things work, Bill…”

"Things work because of the strongest. I will soon be the only one with that title.”

"What will happen to Ford?" you asked haltingly. "What will you do to my husband?”

"He's my co-worker, dear.”

"You're hiding something from me.”

"So what if it is? He doesn't matter here! It's our time... You're mine.”

The way your husband's voice was beginning to distort sent a shiver through your body. You loved Ford—you missed him. The idea that you had been kissing the lips of a man possessed a couple of days ago was turning your stomach. Your silence seemed to feed something inside the demon; his voice thundered, totally changed, across the room.

"A few weeks ago you said you missed the stars," added Bill. "The last time you saw them was when you were a teenager. I miss the stars too—the ones I saw with a different eye. It's not the same anymore. Nothing is, since..." Silence. You didn't dare interrupt the creature who seemed to be drowning in bitter memory. It took him a while to pull himself together; a split laugh piercing your ears like an arrow. "Oh, the misery! I thought it repulsive the way you two looked so united over something so pathetic. Anyway, what does the past matter now, what does misery matter! There's no such thing being with Bill Cipher. You'll want for nothing.”

"I refuse, Bill.”

"And I refuse too," he laughed. "See? We can play the same game, silly. I don't recommend testing my patience, though.”

The touch of palms against the warm skin of your neck took you by surprise. The roughness of those fingers you loved so much were now forbidding you to breathe; the softness of moist lips pressing against yours, taking advantage of the way you parted yours to find a sliver of air. You soon struggled against your husband's body, desperate to deny the foreign tongue that flicked unseemly and inexperienced inside you. Bill was drowning in an unfamiliar feeling that felt too good. You were soft, fragile. Your flesh was tender and warm, quivering like an animal about to die—he was going to devour it to the bone. Was this what Ford had been doing with you? You liked it?

He could kill you. He could end your life when the portal was complete; he could take advantage of Ford, as he had been doing all this time, and keep the prize all to himself. Why was it so hard? What was it you had done to him? Was Ford a victim too? The thought burned like a fierce fury at the back of his mind—jealousy once again. The need to own even the crumbs. Ford wouldn't have the right to be your victim anymore. This feeling was too good for that brainiac to understand, surely he never did.

But Bill understood everything. He was incomparable. He could dominate your life and hold the reins as well as Ford had been doing. No. Cipher was going to do better! Did you miss your husband's domination? Bill would be your ruler; he would destroy obstacles and build better ones to keep you in check. Maybe a little training and you'd become a beautiful little bag of flesh and muscle—tight, warm and obedient. And who knows if you'd end up exceeding his expectations! Who knows if a little gift occupying your orbs would give you the chance to enjoy the same star-studded sky together.

"Don't think too much," whispered Bill pantingly. "There's plenty of other things to do than something as dull as that. Don't worry your pretty little head.”

You shook your head, surrendered to crying. Your husband's hands had left your neck, but now they wrapped around your wet cheeks, offering shy caresses.

"From now on you're going to use it when I say so. Everything will be that way, and you know why?”

A crooked laugh vibrated against his chest, reaching you through his hands.

"Because now you will be my new pet. A special one! The best of them all… You could say ‘muse’, even. Isn't that beautiful, dear?”

A cold kiss. The last one.

“Aren't you, above all, beautiful too?”

[longing-for-rain]

Katara and Mutuality in Relationships

There are lots of conflicting opinions about which characters Katara felt attraction towards, which characters she didn’t, and how long she felt that attraction. I see in most cases, people point to quick clips of her faintly blushing or kissing another character on the cheek as evidence, but I think these kind of takes miss the nuance of the purpose attraction serves in a story.

Most importantly, I see these characters treated as if they are actually people capable of making their own decisions. It’s important to remember that these are fictional characters. They don’t make their own choices; the writers make their choices for them for the purpose of telling a story. From that standpoint, it’s more valuable to examine how a character’s story and narrative themes tie into their relationships with other characters. Animators can shove in a kiss or a blush wherever they want, but it’s harder to demonstrate through storytelling how and why two characters might feel attraction towards one another, and how a relationship between them would develop both characters and contribute to the overarching themes of the story.

In other words, when discussing which characters Katara is “attracted” to, I’m discussing which relationships and actions within the narrative build on her established story and arc. Romance is always integrated into a story for a reason, and considering that reason is important.

Unfortunately, ATLA is very much a product of its time in this way. It’s easy to see what romance adds to the arcs of the male characters—but not so much with the female characters. All three canon relationships (kataang, sukka, and maiko) follow this trend to some degree. The primary purpose of the woman in this narrative is to act as a prize for the man for performing some good deed. Once they’re together, she ceases having her own motivations and becomes an extension of the male character she’s dating. This is pretty blatant with Suki—she barely had a personality in that later seasons; she is there to be Sokka’s girlfriend. Similarly, Katara becomes a completely different character—she’s even animated differently—when the narrative pushes her into romantic scenes with Aang. Her character is flattened.

So what is Katara’s arc, and how do the romantic interactions she has throughout the series contribute to this?

Well, that could be a whole other essay itself, but to put it simply, Katara’s arc is one of a young girl devastated by grief at a young age clinging to hope that she has the power to fight and change the world for the better. Which she does as she gains power and confidence throughout the series—culminating in her defeating Azula in the finale.

But the part I want to focus on here is how Katara connects with other characters. She connects with them over shared experiences of grief and loss.

Take Haru, for instance.

Haru: After the attack, they rounded up my father and every other earthbender, and took them away. We haven't seen them since.

Katara: So that's why you hide your earthbending.

Haru: Yeah. Problem is…the only way I can feel close to my father now is when I practice my bending. He taught me everything I know.

Katara: See this necklace? My mother gave it to me.

Haru: It’s beautiful.

Katara: I lost my mother in a Fire Nation raid. This necklace is all I have left of her.

Haru: It’s not enough, is it?

Katara: No.

This isn’t just a throwaway moment; it’s an important character moment that leads up to growth and the progression of Katara’s overall story, both in this individual episode and in the whole series.

Katara finds her power in the connections she’s able to make with other characters. It’s a powerful driving force for her that makes her a strong character even before her bending abilities develop. Imprisoned was such an important episode to establish who Katara is and what her power is, and adds so much to her arc.

But there is one line in particular from the above exchange that also stands out: Haru says “it’s not enough, is it?” and Katara agrees. Even this early in the series, we’re establishing the fact that despite her drive and hopeful outlook, Katara feels deeply hurt, she feels a deep sense of loss that she opens up about to other characters in moments like these. But unlike Haru…Katara can’t go rescue her mother. Her mother is dead, and we see her grapple with that grief throughout the series.

Another character she reaches out to like this is Jet.

Jet: Longshot over there? His town got burned down by the Fire Nation. And we found The Duke trying to steal our food. I don't think he ever really had a home.

Katara: What about you?

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever.

Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation.

Jet: I’m so sorry, Katara.

Another important note about Jet is that there are explicit romantic feelings from Katara in this episode. Again, Katara empathizes with another character through a shared sense of loss. Sadly, in this case, Jet manipulated her feelings and tricked her into helping in his plot to flood the village…but those feelings were undeniably there.

That was the tragedy in this episode, but it also gives the audience so much information about Katara as a character: what motivates her, and what she wants. Katara is established as a character who wants someone who will connect with her and empathize with her over her loss—her greatest sense of trauma. She wants to help others but also receive support in return. The reason why she was smitten with Jet, beyond just initial attraction, is because he gave her a sense of that before Katara realized his true motivations.

A lot of people make the claim that Aang is good for Katara because he also feels a sense of great loss and trauma. And while on paper that’s true…does he really demonstrate that? I just gave two examples of characters Katara connected with this way, and both responded with deep empathy to what she said. Very early on in the show—the third episode—Katara attempts to connect with Aang the same way. How does he respond?

Katara: Aang, before we get to the temple, I want to talk to you about the airbenders.

Aang: What about 'em?

Katara: Well, I just want you to be prepared for what you might see. The Fire Nation is ruthless. They killed my mother, and they could have done the same to your people.

Aang: Just because no one has seen an airbender, doesn't mean the Fire Nation killed them all. They probably escaped!

Just compare this exchange to Haru and Jet. No effort to empathize, not even a “sorry for your loss” or anything. It’s a stark contrast, and the reason for that is because this narrative entirely centers Aang. Katara’s narrative always seems to be secondary to his when they’re together—which is exactly my point when I say this relationship has a fundamental lack of mutuality. It’s built that way from the beginning of the series. It does not add to Katara’s arc nor establish what about this dynamic would attract her.

And, look, before someone jumps down my throat about this…I’m not saying Aang is a horrible person for this response. I think it’s a sign that he’s immature and has a fundamentally different approach to problems than Katara. Katara is a character who has been forced to take on responsibilities beyond her years due to being a child of a war-torn world. Aang’s approach to problems is avoidance while Katara never had that luxury. It doesn’t mesh well.

This is all in Book 1. I honestly could have gotten on board with Kataang if the series meaningfully addressed these issues…but it didn’t. In fact, they actually got worse in some ways.

Back to Katara’s mother. We’ve established that this is a core part of Katara’s character and like in the scene with Haru, she indicates that this is an unresolved issue that pains her. But then, in Book 3, Katara actually does get a chance to confront this pain.

This would have been a powerful moment. Surely the character who is meant to be her partner, her equal, would have been there for her. Surely he would have understood and supported her, fulfilling her narrative and adding to her story.

But Aang didn’t do that. I won’t go into details because there are a million analyses out there on The Southern Raiders, but Aang’s response to Katara was the opposite of understanding. He got angry with her, insinuated that she was a monster for wanting revenge, and tried to dictate her behavior according to his own moral values. And importantly, from a narrative standpoint, he did not go with Katara. One of the most important events in her arc, and Aang didn’t support her—he actually tried stopping her. He didn’t contribute to her growth and development.

Also noteworthy:

Katara: But I didn’t forgive him. I’ll never forgive him.

Even at the end of the episode, Aang clearly doesn’t understand at all what Katara is feeling. This line demonstrates it perfectly. He thinks she forgave him when that wasn’t the case at all…but of course, he didn’t even accompany her, so he didn’t see what actually took place. His worldview is fundamentally different from hers, and he’s consistently too rigid in his morality and immature to center Katara’s feelings.

Throughout Katara’s whole arc, her most significant character moments, Aang’s character just doesn’t come through the way Katara’s constantly does for him. Their narrative lacks mutuality. When Katara and Aang are together, she becomes an accessory to him. The ending scene is a perfect demonstration of this.

Now, to address the elephant in the room.

Which character does actually add to Katara’s narrative and support her growth as a character?

Correct! I just talked about how important The Southern Raiders is to Katara’s character and story, how it’s a chance for her to finally address the grief she’s been carrying since Book 1. And who stood by her side throughout this pivotal moment? Right—Zuko did.

You can talk all you want about how he’s a “colonizer” while Aang’s people suffered genocide, but you’re forgetting that “show, don’t tell” is one of the most basic aspects of storytelling. The fact is, despite how it looks on paper, Zuko was the one there for Katara at her critical moments. Zuko empathized with Katara more than Aang ever did—as demonstrated in this episode. Zuko never once brought up his own cultural values. Zuko never once told Katara what to do. Zuko’s position was that Katara should be the one to decide, and that he would support any choice she made. He supported her decision to spare Yon Rha, but he would have also supported her if she decided to kill him. I actually found this episode to be a satisfying reversal to what is typically seen in TV—for once, the female character is centered while her male counterpart takes the backseat and becomes a supporting role to her narrative.

Even before this, Zuko is shown to empathize with Katara.

Zuko: I’m sorry. That’s something we have in common.

I think what gets me about this scene is the fact that he’s still Katara’s enemy, and she was just yelling about how she hates him and his people. But despite that, Zuko still empathizes with Katara. She is fundamentally human to him, and he expresses that to her in a way that allows them to connect. Zuko stands to gain nothing from this. It’s true that Azula entered the picture and twisted things around—but in this moment, Zuko’s compassion is genuine. His instinct was to respond to her grief with empathy, just like she consistently does for other characters.

And finally, how else does Zuko add to Katara’s arc?

I don’t think there is any more perfect of an example than the finale itself—the culmination of the arcs and development of all characters.

Zuko and Katara fight together. In a heartbeat, Zuko asks Katara to fight by his side against Azula, because he trusts her strength. She’s his equal—both in his mind, and in a narrative sense.

Then, this:

Both of their roles are so critical in this fight. They both save each other. The scene has such raw emotion to it. These characters were together at the conclusion of their respective arcs for a reason.

This is the perfect conclusion to Katara’s arc. She just played a critical role in ending the war that has caused her trauma her whole life. She just demonstrated her mastery of waterbending (another thing she’s dreamed of throughout the series) by defeating the world’s most powerful firebender during Sozin’s Comet. Even though she had help as all characters do, these are victories that belong to her and demonstrate the growth and power of her character. And to top it all off? She was able to save Zuko’s life. She didn’t have to endure the pain of feeling helpless to do anything while someone else died for her; this time, she had an active role, she changed her fate, and she prevailed. Zuko plays an important role in Katara’s story without dominating it. They perfectly represent mutuality. They add to each other’s stories. Their narratives become stronger when they’re together, without one diminishing or sidelining the other.

So, from that standpoint, that’s why I always see the attraction between Zuko and Katara and why I see it lacking between Aang and Katara. Zuko and Katara’s story doesn’t need some cheap little throwaway moments to shine. It’s integral to both characters’ stories. We are shown not told of the way these characters feel about each other. Given everything we know about Katara, her goals, her values, her past loves…absolutely everything points to Zuko being the true subject of her feelings.

Because let’s be honest. The ending I just described is so much more powerful and so much more Katara than seeing her being relegated back to a doe-eyed love interest for Aang to kiss. It hardly even made sense—Katara played no role at all at the culmination of Aang’s arc. She was relegated back to a love interest, rather than the powerful figure we saw fight alongside Zuko.

[iridescentmirrorsgenshin]

obsessed with hoyoverse one-upping themselves every time they revisit Alhaitham and kaveh, they gave us a flashback of an intimate conversation in their home in cyno’s second story quest, and now we get a flashback of the two having a ‘private’ conversation in a ‘secluded’ place, where it’s casually dropped that kaveh programmed mehrak to recognise alhaitham’s voice ????

firstly, it’s very, um, INTERESTING that the flashback starts with a line which we have no context for, of kaveh stating that ‘we’ have more than a heartless, transactional relationship to alhaitham, presumably referring to him and Alhaitham. i feel like this lack of context is deliberate, as Alhaitham is the one to provide the context in the following line

this insinuation is !??!!? considering that kaveh has previously considered his and alhaitham’s relationship to be exactly that – a heartless, transactional relationship, in that he believed he owed Alhaitham something, and that Alhaitham expected something from him, when moving into alhaitham’s house

so personally I’m running with this line referring to mehrak, but also commenting on the progression of the relationship between Alhaitham and kaveh, I will make a more extensive post about this at some point!

But also this flashback scene provided us with apparently the very essential information that mehrak now recognises alhaitham’s voice <3

this is driving me a bit umm crazy actually!! Mehrak has been previously established as kaveh’s helper companion, and in his voice line he says that he hopes mehrak understands what he’s saying, which hints to his loneliness at the time he made it – after he moved into alhaitham’s house

and now we have a whole scene establishing how their relationship is not heartless, how kaveh feels terrible about having potentially driven it away from him, and ultimately how important mehrak is to kaveh, only for this to be followed by Alhaitham saying that he and mehrak have ‘met’, as if meeting a person, which to me establishes that he knows how mehrak is important to kaveh, and this culminates in Alhaitham letting kaveh program mehrak to recognise his voice

mehrak being emotionally significant to kaveh is being used to indicate the intimacy of Alhaitham and kaveh’s progressed relationship, as Alhaitham is the only other person whom mehrak recognises, and may even respond to – which highlights how important kaveh interprets the bond between him and Alhaitham to be

where kaveh used to be lonely, he now has integral bonds whom he allows himself to rely on, which corresponds to his understanding of a ‘home’

[sirenalpha]

I'm seeing so much commentary on people reacting to the live action atla toning down Sokka's misogyny

and I'm over here like this is a total non-issue because in my own rewrite of the show I already did that exact thing, it makes complete sense to do it and they should do it because it's a weaker aspect of the original show

Sokka's early misogyny is utterly cartoonish in comparison to the set up of the rest of the SWT, it doesn't feel realistic for the only teenaged boy in a dying culture surrounded by adult women with a grandmother who left a more out and out misogynist society to act the way he does

how Sokka "resolves" his misogyny is equally cartoonish, I never liked how in The Warriors of Kyoshi literally episode 4 of the show makes a teen girl compromise her own culture with a female only fighting tradition teach a boy who is supremely rude and disrespectful to her and then still be attracted to him afterwards, it's more misogyny to fix misogyny and is very obviously men writing about how to fix misogyny especially as they have Aang make a joke about Sokka wearing a dress after going through how meaningful the fighting costume is and how a lot of Asian clothing with hanfu influences like atla borrows from would have men in what to western eyes would be dresses, Aang has already seen multiple male authority figures in robes, the joke makes no sense

I also wouldn't consider Sokka's misogyny genuinely resolved after this, consider how the show deals with his romantic relationships with both Yue and Suki and how both can be seen as extensions of how Kataang is treated in the show, rewards for the hero, especially with how Sokka interacts aggressively with Hahn instead of respecting Yue's wishes whatever her reasons for them, I think an argument can be made that Yue's death is a fridging for Sokka's storyline rather than or in combination with being a consequence of Aang's failure as an avatar or the culmination of her own storyline where she fulfills her duties as a leader to protect her own people

Beyond his romantic relationships, while Sokka drops a lot of his more misogynistic language with Katara, he doesn't support her when she faces off with the NWT leaders to learn waterbending, and he still leaves the caretaking and food preparation and grocery shopping to her which is more common than him going out to hunt or gather in order to provide for the group while he takes a leadership role like determining their travel schedule and routes, it is not an even division of labor and falls along traditional sex stereotypes

In addition to his typical duties to the group, Sokka also remains invested in the trappings of masculinity after ep4, he's concerned about what's manly and how he compares to Jet for example, there's no investigation or interrogation in his interest in meat and hunting and how they relate to masculinity and his misogyny, in the episode with Piando, his insecurity as a non-bender is resolved by giving him a new male mentor and a new martial skill, sword fighting, which is masculine in both western and Asian cultures rather than assuaging his self esteem issues in any less stereotypically masculine ways, I also think it was done so he could compare more favorably to Zuko, another male character, and even his interest in engineering and mechanics comes with a male mentor and is a traditionally masculine pursuit

the show's poor handling of misogyny also extends beyond Sokka, with the NWT, the show acts as if Pakku is the only reason the tribe is misogynistic and the only consequences to that misogyny is that women can't waterbend and there are arranged marriages, and that both the NWT and Pakku's misogyny is resolved by allowing only Katara to learn to waterbend which she doesn't even earn on her own merits, she gets the opportunity because Pakku likes her grandmother

none of this is realistic, misogyny is not because of one bad apple, Pakku doesn't make Yue's arranged marriage, Chief Arnook does, he picked Hahn for her, and the show acts as if Arnook has no authority to compel Pakku to teach Katara or any ability to persuade him in order to reduce his culpability in the NWT's misogyny as its leader to make him a more respectable character so it's not uncomfortable when Aang and Sokka follow his orders in the battle later on, but women not being able to bend and forced into arranged marriages is still status quo when the gaang leaves, Yue's just dead

I'm not even convinced the show runners understand what's wrong with arranged marriage, the issue is not Yue can't be with Sokka who she likes and at most has a slight crush on cuz she's only known him for like two days, it's that she's being treated as male property, a broodmare, and a vehicle to ensure Hahn receives the throne because her father has no male heir and picked some guy to succeed him instead, like it's not explicit in the show but that is the implication based on the historical reality of princesses in arranged marriages, and the show has her get out of it only through death idc that she ascends to being a spirit, it's still a teen girl that dies

There's also no discussion by the show of the Earth Kingdom's misogyny when it has the exact same shit going on, Toph is the only female earthbender in the show not including avatars, there might have been a female earthbender in the background when Katara broke them out of prison, but I'm not really counting that, the entire army and Dai Li are all made up of men, the EK might even be worse because the show doesn't demonstrate that women and girls even have the capacity to earthbend aside from Toph and avatars and Toph doesn't even learn from a human, she has to learn from animals, the show treats this as commentary on her disability but the show has no compelling reason why it can't also be commentary on her sex, Toph was also originally supposed to be a boy so this could have ended up so much worse there literally would have been no female earthbenders aside from avatars at all, I'm not counting Oma as she might just be a mythological figure not a real person that once lived

The Fire Nation kinda barely avoids the same issue, Azula is the only named female firebender aside from avatars in the show but she has two female sidekicks who despite being non-benders show martial skill and there are clearly female soldiers and guards in the FN military so there are much stronger implications of female firebenders existing and being completely allowed to train their abilities and that Azula isn't exceptional in that respect like Toph is, only for being a prodigy with blue fire

Azula was also originally supposed to have an arranged marriage in s3 and they dropped it in favor of showing that royal and noble girls could casually date in the FN which has wild implications for women's empowerment in the country more so than but especially in combination with the fact women can train and join the military (which is why I say the FN is not fascist it's literally the least misogynistic country aside from Kyoshi and by like a country mile so it's literally not misogynistic enough) not that the show does anything more than minor teen drama with it

again, the vast majority of this misogyny is completely unremarked upon by the show especially after s1 when they leave the NWT, it is clearly a fictional world made by men with no true understanding of misogyny just a vague awareness that misogyny is bad and what the really obvious and outdated examples of it are, this is a narrative inconsistency in the show to have the examples and commentary on misogyny be so cartoonish in the beginning and then disappear after s1

your options to resolve this inconsistency is to either go all in with more realistic misogyny and provide commentary on all of it but this takes effort and will be divisive, or take the easier route and ease off the cartoonish-ness of it and comment less on it to avoid drawing attention to all instances of misogyny in the show

obviously Netflix was gonna do the latter

(not me tho, I'm making it less cartoony and dealing with it in my rewrite)

[somereaderinblue]

Random Ultraman Rising Moments I Loved

Decided to rewatch Ultraman Rising & I enjoyed it just as much as I did the first time. Thus, I've decided to compile a list of random moments that made me love the movie & its characters even more.

WARNING: SPOILERS UP AHEAD

(P.S. sorry for the lackluster screenshots ;p)

Ken's Intro

This one simple line already shows the audience Ken's empathy. Despite resenting his Ultraman responsibilities, he doesn't hate kaiju.

Ken's Childhood

This frame is full of adorable details. There's the obvious ones, like Ken wearing Ultraman & baseball merch, showing us that even before his relationship with his dad went sour, he already had a loyal love for the sport. We also see toy cars, a mecha & the BINGO bunny, all of which would be present in his base.

The Interview Intro

We see Ken getting the celebrity treatment & him wearing the celebrity mask. However, even the mask isn't malicious. He addresses the reporter by his name instead of the news station he's representing. When Ami tries to ask more personal questions unrelated to his baseball career, he doesn't get huffy or defensive at her. Instead, he reminds the crowd to remain civil & it isn't until she explicitly asks about his mom that he leaves.

People shouldn't expect rewards for basic decency, but I'm not against acknowledging acts of kindness & respect you don't often see in an environment as cutthroat as a celebrity interview.

Ken's 'Giants'

Imo, there's 2 ways for the term 'Giants' to be interpreted here.

(1) Ken is referring to Ultraman, & by extension his dad. One's a literal giant while the other is metaphorical, esp for kids.

(2) He's referring to the possibility of making friends. As he mentioned to Ami, he knows firsthand how 'kids will always talk', implying that he's been bullied & ostracized as a child, possibly due to his Japanese heritage or some other reason that's nonetheless soured Ken's perception of friendship.

Ken & Ami's 1-on-1s

Ngl, when I saw the trailers, I braced myself for the possibility that Ami would serve as Ken's possible love interest. However, that's not the case, which I'm grateful for. Still, that doesn't take away how interesting Ami is as a character.

Their first interview is set up beautifully. They're sitting face-to-face but there's a table between them. And then there's the way they present themselves.

Ken is dressed casually, practically oozing 'cocky young celebrity without a care in the world'. He's wearing sunglasses indoors, that also cover his eyes. It's a classic character design trope meant to make someone look stern, intimidating, stoic, reserved, closed-off from everyone.

Ami on the other hand is dressed professionally, as she takes her job seriously. But her glasses are transparent & not aesthetical. She has to be fair & objective, yes, but she also values honesty, transparency & empathy. Its these traits that make her a reliable person for Ken to turn to when he was struggling with parenting Emi.

Interview #2. They're sitting next to each other instead of opposite, but there's still a table between them. Still, this time Ken isn't wearing sunglasses & he's more put-together whereas Ami is dressed more casually. Ken has opened up to her & he wants to keep trying; she in turn meets him in the middle.

This culminates into the final interview. Unlike the previous times, it's clearly one that's broadcasted to the public. Despite this, Ken again, isn't wearing sunglasses or putting on an attitude. There's no table between them because this is the climax of Ken's character development: he's learned that it's okay to be vulnerable, it's okay to show others that you're being vulnerable.

Ken's Comfort

When Ken's reminded of his inadequacy as Ultraman, he turns to the one thing that makes him happy: baseball. But he doesn't ask Mina to pull up videos of the crowd cheering or him winning; instead, he watches recordings of his mom, of the happy memories he shared with her. Yes, Ken has an ego. But underneath it all, he genuinely loves baseball because that sport is deeply tied to the love he has for his mom.

Not Gossip Hour

.....am I the only one who couldn't help but cheer Ami on when she called this guy out?

Prof. Sato's Cheer

Nobody, esp parents, should force their children to become someone they don't want to be. It's even more heartbreaking when both parties have little choice in the matter because of how necessary the duty is. Parents are flawed people, but I wouldn't call Prof. Sato a bad one.

Yes, he wants Ken to do better as Ultraman too. But he knows how much his son loves baseball & does support his achievements in them.

Mother's Corpse

Sometimes, a brief glance can convey a thousand words. In this brief glance, Ken doesn't see a defeated kaiju, he sees the corpse of a mother & he'll be damned if he lets the KDF add a baby's corpse to accompany her.

Mina is Awesome

A good plot is always appreciated but good characters are always loved & Mina isn't an exception. Let's hear it for the orb robots that always act as a voice of reason!!

But srsly, I love Mina. I love her wit, how her voice has that robotic yet motherly lilt, how she cares for Ken's wellbeing but isn't afraid to put her foot down to push him in the right direction.

In her final moments, she doesn't say 'you must/have to save her', she knows she doesn't have to. Instead, she tells him 'you can save her'. Sometimes, people are so focused on making sure others know what they have to do that they neglect to let them know that they believe they can accomplish it.

Onda's Humanity

Which brings me to another character I loved: the antagonist himself. Loved how they made him nuanced & sympathetic. Yes, he's ruthless, pragmatic & the 'end justifies the means' sort of person. However, unlike most military bad guy leaders, he cares for those under his command.

His screentime with Captain Aoshima is brief, but I enjoyed all of it. He doesn't berate Aoshima when he fails to capture Emi, nor does he lash out at him when he wavers in their mission. Instead, he encourages & empathizes with him.

Lots of fans speculate that Aoshima will have a more major role in a future sequel & I rlly hope that when the time comes, he'll be just as complex & engaging to watch as his predecessor had been.

"I Don't Know What To Do"

Kids are usually the target audience for Ultraman, but you cannot tell me this moment didn't hit home for parents. That moment where your child gets hurt because you looked away for a second; the first time your child falls ill & you wonder if a common cold will kill them before old age.

Whether you're a parent, older sibling or someone working in medical/childcare, having to say those 6 words will be the most devastating moment of your life. I'm certain that for Ken, it was nothing less.

Final Boss

Let it not be said that Ken doesn't know his final battle clichés.

[didhewinkback]

likes to watch

these photos required a blurb out of me sry it took 800 years but heres 4k of smut from the something old universe

---

You flicked off the lights of the ensuite, throwing the towel into the hamper as you headed over to the floor length mirror in the corner of the bedroom, lotion in hand. It’s been a long week, culminating tonight with what felt like the longest work dinner of your life, capped off with desperately needed drinks with the only two coworkers who get it. 

You barely saw Harry all week, two ships passing in the night as you dealt with extensive crises at work and he spent his days doing his unemployed side quests. He had texted you once the show was out, seeing if you wanted him to pick you up on his way back but you were already home by then, hopping in the shower to scrub the corporate small talk away. You tightened the rope on your robe and took a deep breath, more than ready to be in that bed and as far away from this week as possible.

You heard the front door open, immediately followed by his whistling. It was a tune you didn’t recognize but it still brought a smile to your face, the impact the show he just saw had on him seemingly immediate, even if he wasn’t conscious of it. His whistling is almost instantly drowned out by Sammy’s barks, and you can almost picture the scene as you hear it. Him crouching to greet the dog, his “‘s only me, Sammy! Just saw you a couple hours ago mate, ‘m not back from war” before a softer “yeah, yeah I missed you too.”

You place the lotion on the dresser, squirting it into your palm and rubbing it into your face and neck as you listen to him coo at the dog. It’s a few minutes before you hear his footsteps down the hallway, his knuckles on the door as he pushes it open and you look over at him, almost choking on air when you get a sight of him as he leans against the doorway, smiling over at you. 

He looked good. 

The beard and hair both growing in nicely, the mullet look you were tentative about at first really doing wonders on you now. And the fit? 

The fit.  

The blazer over the tight fitted tee, tucked into trousers that made his legs look like they went on for days. You couldn’t help gaping a bit, your eyes roaming up and down as you got a good look. 

“Like the fit?” he asks with a laugh, your grin widening as you lock eyes. 

“Love the fit.” you say, your eyes snagging on the words emblazoned across his chest, squinting as you try to read the lettering. “What’s the shirt say?”

He smirks, keeping his shoulder pressed against the doorframe as he uses his free hand to pull one of the lapels of the jacket open, helping you read the words 'I like to watch'.

You huff a laugh, smirking as you look back at his face, eyes staring back at you with a twinkle, a glint, and not an ounce of shame. 

“Cheeky,” you murmur and if possible, his smirk only deepens, your stomach twisting. You just stand there, staring at each other for a few moments. “You look fucking fit.”

“So do you.” he says, eyes simmering as they sweep slowly down your body.

“Me?” you ask incredulously, looking down at yourself. “I’m wearing your old robe.”

“Meant what I said,” he shrugs, unbothered as he pushes off the doorframe and makes his way over to you. 

His hands come up to frame your face as he leans in to kiss you, stealing a few in rapid succession before pulling away and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. You wind your arms around his neck, holding on as he rubs a hand up and down your back, pressing a kiss to your temple before pulling back to look at your face. “Hi.”

“Hi.” you say, leaning up to kiss him again. “Missed you this week.”

“Me too. You had a long week, huh? How was that dinner?” he asks, snorting a laugh when you make a face. “That bad?”

“Three of us immediately ran to a different pub the second it was over because we so desperately needed to talk shit,” you say, feeling warm down to your toes when he honks out a laugh. “The ballet was good?”

“So good,” he says, pulling a hand from your waist to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, brushing the backs of his fingers against your cheek before pressing a kiss there. “Really inspiring. The movement and the music - just the way they use their bodies to tell a story, express an emotion. Made me think about how much I need to stretch.” 

You snort.

“Made me think about more than that, y’ ninny.” he says, pinching your chin between his index finger and thumb when you laugh. “‘M just saying, It really moved me in a way art hasn’t in a while, so I’m excited to see what comes from it.” 

“Mmm, me too,” you say, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “You haven’t called me a ninny since we were, like, 12.”

“Felt right in the moment,” he says with a smirk and you laugh, shaking your head before reaching for the lotion on the dresser and he whines when you move out of his embrace.

“I’m almost done,” you say, “Just be two seconds.”

You lift your leg, resting it on the pouf beside you and you hear his sharp intake of breath when the sides of your robe fall back, revealing the skin of your naked thigh. You go to squirt the lotion onto your hands when his hand clasps around your wrist.  

“Let me do that,” he says quietly, taking the lotion from your hands as he presses a slow, soft kiss to your cheek. 

He sits down on the pouf, looking up at you with a warmth in his eyes, the promise of more. He taps his thigh, before curling his hand around your calf, bringing it up so your foot rests on his thigh, your knee in line with his shoulder. He smooths his hand over your skin, your breath catching in your throat as he leans in to press his lips to your thigh. He closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath and losing himself in the moment, as he slowly drags his lips up along your skin.  He pulls back after pressing a kiss to your knee, squirting lotion on his hands before working them up your legs, rubbing it into the smooth skin, kneading the muscles. You have to reach out a hand to hold on to his shoulder for support as his hands move up under the robe, before sliding back out. 

He places your foot on the floor and grabs the other, giving it the same treatment, taking his time to kiss up along your inner thigh before he works the lotion into your skin, fingers digging into the muscles until they loosen under his touch. You can’t take your eyes off him, feeling your breath quicken as he moves his hands over your skin, eyes not wavering from yours as he goes higher and higher, just shy of where you suddenly need him the most. 

He smirks when you deflate slightly as he puts your other foot on the ground though he immediately makes up for it by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in between his legs, lips twitching at your sharp intake of breath. He rests his chin on your belly, looking up at you. You bring a hand up to drag through his hair and he leans into the touch, his hands holding you tight before loosening their hold, slowly moving up and down the robe, squeezing as he goes. He presses a kiss to the terry cloth fabric covering you before pulling at the tie, sighing happily when it comes undone, the robe falling open to reveal your naked body underneath. 

He leans in slow, taking his time to kiss along your belly as his beard scratches your skin. His hand slides up to grope at your breast, arousal pooling in your stomach when you feel his tongue dart out against your stomach. He groans when your hand tightens in his hair as he switches hands, bringing one hand to grope at your bum while the other works over your other breast. Christ. You just stand there, practically panting as he makes you melt underneath his hands and mouth, taking his time to suck a mark by your ribs. 

“Missed you so much this week,” he murmurs against your skin. “My hard working girl.” 

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you down into this lap and burying his face into your neck, kissing a slow line up your neck.

“Smell so nice,” he murmurs, his hot breath making you squirm, your naked thighs sliding on his trousers. “Feel so soft and warm.”

His lips find their way up your jaw, nose brushing against your temple as he presses a slow kiss to your cheek, his hands slowly moving up and down your body, getting lower with each pass.

“Is this what the ballet inspired then?” you ask, breath catching when his hands knead your bum.

“No, this is all you, darling,” he murmurs against your cheek. “It’s always all you.”

His index finger draws back and forth on your jaw before turning your mouth towards his. He brushes his nose against yours, once, twice, wide grin breaking out when you let out a frustrated whine. His hand cups your face as he presses his lips to yours. It’s been mere minutes since he last kissed you, but it somehow feels like ages, both of you inhaling sharply at the contact before pressing in for more. Your hand sliding up into his hair as his mouth opens, his tongue rolling over yours in a smooth pass, making your thighs clench against his. Each kiss somehow deeper than the last, each of you pouring all you have into every kiss, every swipe of tongue, every lingering press of lips until you’re both gasping for breath. 

“Need to touch you.” He pants against your cheek before taking your mouth again.

“Please - oh.” you gasp against his lips as his hands trail down your body, inching closer and closer to where you’re wet for him before he freezes, stopping suddenly. 

“I - fuck. I’ve still got lotion on my hands.” he says breathlessly. “Trying to be sexy but don’t want to - like if I stick these inside you, I’m gonna give you an infection or summat.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, feeling his stomach shake with laughter as he mutters apologies against your temple.

“Ruined the moment haven’t I?”

“A bit of a dip in the momentum, I’d say” you say and he sputters a laugh.

“Just let me - gonna wash my hands. Just don’t want to - feel like that would be itchy later on down the road.” he says and you groan before laughing again. “Sorry, darling - sorry  - just give me a mo.” 

He kisses you quickly before sliding you off his lap and shuffling to the ensuite as you take a deep breath, the unexpected break making you aware of your racing heart, the ache between your thighs. You can hear the sink and his frantic scrubbing, shaking your head as you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, huffing a laugh as you take in the sight, the open robe, the messy hair, the sections of your neck where your skin’s been rubbed raw by his beard. 

You hear the sink turn off, can hear his footsteps making their way back into the room and turn to face him. He stops in his tracks when you look at him, murmuring “wow” before shaking his head slightly and closing the distance between you, wrapping his arms around your waist once more.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to kill the vibe. But ‘m all clean now, ready to just -” he pauses, jabbing his two fingers in the air, his eyes twinkling with mirth, “get up inside you now.”

“Jesus Christ.” you honk out a laugh as he tightens his hold on you, giggling into your neck. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry” he apologizes through giggles. “Had y’ right where I wanted yeh a few minutes ago, let’s get back to that, yeah? Let me make you feel good.”

He leans in, lips brushing against yours as he mumbles “Back to our regularly scheduled programming” that has you laughing against his mouth. 

“You are so stupid.” you say before he shushes you and quiets you with kisses, pressing his lips to yours firmly before sucking on your bottom lip. He dives back in for more, licking into your mouth slowly, letting you fall back into the rhythm you were in before only this time it's more charged somehow. He’s a man on a mission as he pulls away from your mouth, kissing down your neck, his tongue darting out for a taste. 

“Yeah but y’ love me, right?” he murmurs, lips dragging against your skin. “Y’ think I’m funny? That I look nice?”

You hum noncommittally as he pulls you closer, though you find yourself taking in his outfit once more, eyes scanning him from top to bottom, snagging on the parts you like best. When you look back up at him, his eyes are dark, hungry, his jaw clenched as he brings a hand up to cup your face.

“Do y’ have any idea how you look at me when y’ like what I’m wearing?” he says, practically growling, his eyes lit up in the way they get when he’s got his mind set on something, a chill rushing down your spine at the thought of that something being you. “Not even sure if I can describe it…makes me feel like I’m on fire.”

He pinches your chin between his index finger and thumb, holding you in place as he claims your mouth, taking his time to kiss you so thoroughly your head spins.

“Sometimes when I’m, like, nervous about an outfit, I’ll picture your face seeing me in it,” he says when he pulls away. “The way you look at me - the way you devour me with your eyes. Makes me feel like I can do anything. Y’ make me feel so good about myself, the way you want me.”

“I do - I do want you” you say breathlessly, his confession making your heart race, the never ending pattern of his hands and mouth making arousal pool in your stomach. You’re needy and wet -

“Gonna show me?” he murmurs against your mouth, smirking when you nod. “Me too. Gonna show y’ how much I want you. How much I always want you. I always -”

You moan, cutting him off with a hard kiss, your tongue swiping over his in a way that has him groaning into your mouth. You pull him impossibly closer, your hands sliding up his blazer covered arms and over his shoulders, weaving your hand into his hair as you sink deeper into the kiss. 

He pulls away slowly, panting as he kisses your jaw slowly, tongue darting out to taste your skin.

“Turn around,” he mutters lowly, spinning you in his hold until your back is against his chest, his hands splaying across your stomach. You look up to see that you’re both now facing the mirror. 

Oh. 

“Let’s get this off,” he murmurs, pulling the robe up and off your shoulders, letting it crumple in a pile at your feet. He pulls your body up against his as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, running his hands up and down your body. His eyes dragging up and down your reflection, feeling like molten lava as they take you in. “God, look at you.”

The momentary instinct to look away from the mirror, to hide from the reflection of your naked body is immediately overpowered by the sight you see, your naked body against him in his suit, his clutches turning white knuckled in desperation as he drags his mouth along your neck, mumbling praise into your skin without ever breaking eye contact with you. Where this should be a vulnerable situation, instead you feel dead sexy. Amost turned inside out with how much you want, how much you need him. You can feel how much he wants you, how he’s already hard for you, just from this. You can see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch. And fuck if it’s not the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced. 

Your chest is heaving as he pauses his ministrations, resting his hands on your lower belly before bringing one up to clutch at your jaw, instantly covering your mouth with his. You wind your arm around his neck, hand grasping at the hair at the nape as he groans into your mouth, fingertips sinking into your skin. 

He slides his hand down and you gasp against his mouth as you feel his fingers sliding through your folds.

“Fuck - feel that?” he groans as his fingers lightly circle your clit, your hips twitching towards his touch. “I know, I know. Gonna take care of you, baby.”

He kisses you deeply once more, before pulling away and guiding your head back to face the mirror. 

“But I want you to watch.”

He hooks his chin over your shoulder, dark eyes never wavering from yours as he draws circles on your clit, kissing you on the shoulder when you moan. 

“Yeah - let me hear you,” he groans as he continues to draw circles on your clit, increasing his pressure the more sounds you make. 

Your stomach burns with arousal, feeling a deep ache in between your thighs as he teases his fingers over your entrance before bringing them back up to your clit. He does this over and over, smirking at you in the mirror before you finally break, a whimpered “please” that has him clenching his eyes shut for a moment. Seeing his reaction in the mirror makes you just about lose your mind. You slide your hand up his arm, clutching at the muscles that flex beneath your palm as the fire burns in your belly. 

“‘M right here, baby. I got you.” he murmurs, resting his cheek against your temple, facial hair scratching into your skin as he dips his fingers lower, sliding two fingers into you with ease. “Fuck - all this for me?”

You nod, barely able to swallow back a moan as he works you over with his fingers, fucking them into you deeper before he reaches the spot that makes you cry out.��

“Fuck, H -” 

“That’s it,” he groans, his palm rubbing over your clit as he curls his fingers deeper. You’re practically soaking his hand but can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s looking at you like that, not when he’s making you feel this good. You can feel your abdomen tighten, knees weakening as he brings you closer and closer to your high. He presses his palm down hard on one particular stroke that has you shutting your eyes and leaning your head back before he tuts. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Want you to look at me when you come.” He smacks a kiss to your temple when you open your eyes. “‘S my girl.”

He doubles down on his efforts and what was once a slow burn is now a raging fire. Your eyes never waver from his as he murmurs endless streams of praise into your ear. You’ve never been so on display and you’ve never felt hotter as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge. You can barely make sense of the sounds you’re making, trying desperately to keep your eyes open, finding yourself transfixed by the way his brow is furrowed in concentration, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as his eyes never move from your reflection, sheer determination as he takes you apart. 

Your chest heaves as you try to get a breath in but he’s overwhelming all your senses. You clench down on his fingers and it’s the guttural groan you get in response that sends your right over the edge with a curl of his wrist. You see stars as you come, hand sliding along his jacket sleeve as he mutters praise into your ear, working you through your high until you’re batting his hand away. 

You watch breathlessly as he slides his fingers out and brings them up to his mouth, eyes locking with yours as he sucks, moaning at the taste. You spin in his hold, crashing your lips to his as you wrap your arms around your neck. His hands immediately adjust, big palms squeezing your bum as he kisses you deeper. You slide a hand up into his hair, pulling as he opens his mouth wider and you give as good as you’re getting. You pull your mouth away, moving to kiss along his jaw as you slide a hand down his front, fingers dancing over his pecs before sliding down his abs, smirking when the muscles jolt at your touch.

Without pulling your mouth away from his neck, you unbutton his trousers and slide your hand inside his briefs, sliding your hand along his length, gasping when you feel how hard he is for you. He grunts when you start to stroke him, fingers digging into your skin when you lean up to say in his ear, “Need this inside me.” 

He moans, leaning down to capture your lips with his before walking you backward into the mirror, hand coming up to cradle your head from hitting it. 

“Want it like this,” he mumbles against your mouth, hands coming to squeeze at your hips. “Want y’ against the mirror.”

He spins you around, your chest pressing against the cool glass as he takes a step back and pulls your hips flush against his so that only your hands touch the mirror, your back arching to put you back on complete display, giving you a vantage point of everything. His eyes sear through you as he drags them up and down your form, knuckles clutching and eyes darkening as he visually devours you.

He nudges your heels apart with his foot, spreading you wider as he pulls down his trousers and briefs, just enough to pull himself out. Making no moves to take off any of his clothes. The image alone sends a shiver down your spine.

 You’re so close together, you can feel when he strokes himself a few times, knuckles dragging against your bum. He looks up at you, shaking his head almost in disbelief before leaning in to press kisses along your spine, palms dragging up and down your spine. 

“Look so hot like this,” he mutters, bringing one hand to rest on your hip while the other wraps around his cock, guiding it towards your core. You both moan when he slides the head against your entrance. He taps it against your clit, hand tightening on your hip when you gasp, eyes locking with yours.  “Ready?” 

“Need you.” you moan out and he pushes into you in one swoop, sliding his hand up your back to wrap around your shoulder, pulling you back as he thrusts forward.

“Christ,” he groans, taking it slow as he thrusts into you steadily, letting you get used to the stretch. “Feel so fucking good.” 

You lock eyes in the mirror as you push your hips back, meeting his thrust halfway, brow furrowing as his mouth drops open from the feel. His grip on your shoulder tightens and suddenly, It’s hard and fast instantly, the sound of your skin slapping against each other reverberating through the room. You can’t take your eyes off his reflection. The clench of his jaw, the vein in his neck bulging as he pulls you back onto his cock over and over. 

Your hands slip on the glass with the force of his thrusts, fire licking up your spine at the reflection in front of you. The way his muscles bulge under his clothes, the way his clothes look against your naked body. The way every clash of your hips punches out a sound from him that makes your stomach twist, how a particular circle of your hips has his eyes rolling into the back of his head. 

“Prettiest thing I’ve seen all night. Love watching you. ” he grunts out, brushing your hair away from your sweaty nape, letting the cool air hit it before wrapping his palm around the back of your neck, fingers digging into your skin. “Gonna make me come. Y’close?”

You nod, words failing as each drive of his hips brings you racing to your finish for the second time tonight. 

“Touch yourself for me, baby. C’mon.” he murmurs. “Wanna watch you come on my cock.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than you’re bringing your hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles that have you practically whimpering. He’s muttering encouragement as you struggle to keep your eyes open. His hand slipping from the back of your neck to the front. One squeeze is all it takes for you to come, feeling your walls flutter around his cock as you moan.

“So good for me. Such a good girl.” he grunts, squeezing his hand around your neck once more as he pistons his hips, before moaning lowly, coming hard as you feel him spill inside you, squeezing your neck as he collapses onto your back. He places on hand next to yours on the mirror for support, panting against your head as he catches his breath. His hand not on the wall dragging up and down your spine, pressing kisses to your shoulder as you both come down from your high.

He squeezes your shoulder before pulling out, tucking himself back into his pants as you push off the mirror, turning to face him. You smile at each other, huffing out laughs before he pulls you towards him, cupping a hand under your jaw as he captures your lips in a kiss, tongue smoothing over yours. 

“That was fucking hot,” he murmurs before claiming your mouth again. You hum in agreement, sliding your hand up and into his hair, fingers looping through sweaty strands as you kiss each other deeper. 

The kisses slow, eventually. Your racing hearts returning to their normal pulses, hands grazing each other’s bodies slower until you both pull back. 

“Do you think that’s how everyone else ended their night at the ballet?” you ask and he barks out a loud laugh, eyes crinkling around the edges as he tilts his head back. 

“Reckon so.” he says, pulling you in closer and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I gotta take Sammy out.”

“I’ll come with you,” you say, heart flipping when his grin widens. “Just gimme a sec.”

You kiss him quickly before heading off into the bathroom, cleaning yourself up and catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. How well fucked you look. 

You head back out, grabbing an old shirt of his and gym shorts from the dresser, feeling his eyes on you as you quickly get dressed. 

“You’re not going to change?” you ask, looking over at him as he shrugs.  

“My girl likes my fit. Trying to see if I can get lucky twice in one night,” he says, grin widening as he holds open the door for you, hand on your lower back as you make your way down the hallway. He wraps his arm around your waist, slipping his hand up under your t-shirt, splaying his hand against your belly.

And yeah, he probably will.

---

a/n: did not edit this whatsoever needed to get it out in the world bc i had been working on this for so long. and its absolute filth i could not bring myself to read back. lmk what you think !

taglist:@tobesolovelysstuff, @louyoursins, @daydreamingofmatilda, @jojo-blog53, @marzhshaim, @devilsqueen722, @just-happiness-only,@lomlhstyles, @feestyles, @spock4presidnet, @sunshinemoonsposts, @indierockgirrl, @jerseygirlinca, @kissitnhekitchen, @goldnrry,

[prideprejudce]

I feel like people have read into Alicent's response to Rhaenyra's ultimatum in both good AND bad faith ways, but i feel like I haven't seen much of what Rhaenyra was feeling about it!!

Personally, I feel like the ultimatum she gave Alicent was the product of 3 different motivations- first, it was the obvious political move to kill the usurper to her throne, duh. The second, is that I think Rhaenyra is super aware- and terrified of- being trapped in a cycle of loss, being passed over for a son, and her claim to the throne standing only because of what she represents not her as a person. Thats its own whole fascinating character essay i cant get into here lol.

But the third reason is that I THINK she has a desperate personal obsession with being chosen by Alicent over Aegon, and leans into the ultimatum as a way to extract what she needs from Alicent-- to be chosen and prioritized over her father's son, and be the centre of Alicent's attention (romantic or not).

The directors/writers have mentioned one of the crucial aspects of Rhaenyra and Alicent's relationship is how many times Rhaenyra reaches out, only to be rejected by Alicent over and over. I think Rhaenyra, as someone who really internalized going after what she wants from a young age, is a bit spoiled, and is obsessed with Alicent's continuous rejection as both a novelty, and a deep source of insecurity.

Rhaenyra has a bit of magical thinking where she really does think that if she just pushes hard enough she can change the world into the shape she wants it to be, and I think when Alicent CONTINUES to deny her, she gets more and more frustrated.

Double this with her general issues around being passed over for a son, first from her father with baelon, and then COMPOUNDED with baby aegon stealing both her father AND alicent's attention as alicent prioritized birthing and probably caring for her son over rhaenyra's sulking when Rhaenyra was in the most pain she had been in yet in her life.

I think Rhaenyra is HIGHLY resentful about not just aegon usurping her throne, but also the lack of attention during the HEIGHT of her teenage years, where she already has a contentious relationship with her father AND .....stepmother?? first love??? sister?? (targaryen family incest issues are a wonderful icing on top of this cake)

It was very clear that the reason Alicent married viserys was SPECIFICALLY to have more children, and that Alicent CHOSE (from Rhaenyra's perspective) to put herself in that position JUST after Aemma died from the same cause, becoming a mother rather than staying with Rhaenyra and daydreaming about riding off into the sunset. In Rhaenyra's mind, she lost her mother to the promise of a son, only to lose Her Alicent™️ to ANOTHER promise of a son right after. This is probably the deepest rejection Alicent could have given her.

The entire second half of season 2 is more denial; Rhaenyra's marriage proposal of their children is rejected, Alicent rejects Rhaenyra's bastard sons in general, and Rhaenyra's choices by extension, then driftmark happens, then the ENTIRE USURPTION happens, rejecting Rhaenyra's claim to her own birthright.

Rhaenyra even tries AGAIN in season 3 - extending herself to go into Alicent's place of comfort to sue for peace, even telling Alicent bits of a personally sacred religious doctrine only to be rejected AGAINNNNNNN.

(I could write forever about how Rhaenyra indulges Alicent's religious but never gets the same back on her own customs)

Yah, I think when Rhaenyra sees Alicent next, its not just that the ultimatum is a political necessity, but its decades of rejection culminating in 'you need to choose and prioritize me over everything, including your son, bc i cannot take anymore rejection from you, and I cant handle NOT being the most important thing in your whole world tbh :)' Especially on the heels of her newfound radicalization i feel like Rhaenyra sees Alicent's 'Choosing Rhaenyra' this time as a Holy Blessing and the last crucial piece she needs to self actualize.

(Also never forget all of this takes place in the targaryen CESSPOOL that is Rhaenyra having Alicent as a sister/step mother/half employee?? Alicent was at least her subordinate at one point/only confidante/possible first love-- theres probably alot of projection on Rhaenyra's part for what Alicent's approval means to her)

sorry this is so long the word rejection has ceased to mean anything to me at this point

"Rhaenyra sees Alicent's 'choosing Rhaenyra' this time as a Holy Blessing and the last crucial piece that she needs to self actualize"

what if we all just set each other on fire

[kvetchlandia]

Felix Nussbaum Self-portrait with Jewish Identity Card, Belgium 1943

Felix Nussbaum, born in Germany in 1904, murdered in Auschwitz in 1944, aged 39.

The name Nussbaum means "Nut Tree" in German. In the painting, there is a tree that's largely dead, shorn of all its branches, yet with one remaining branch that still blooms. It's assumed that branch symbolizes Nussbaum himself and his wife, the Polish-Jewish painter Felka Platek, as well as Nussbaum's family and by extension, the Jewish people of Europe. Within one year, Nussbaum's parents, grandparents and siblings were murdered in concentration death camps, culminating with Nussbaum and Platek being killed by the fascists in 1944.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

i wish they would make a yukimiya irl so he could fall in love with me when he passed me on the street, prompting him to undergo an extensive search so that he could find me again in the mere hopes that i would say yes to him asking me out (i would) and then we would have a beautiful relationship culminating in a wonderful wedding where all of our friends (except karasu) were invited and then we would have two children (a daughter followed by a son) and a golden retriever like the one that taught him to play soccer as well as a pony that he would buy for me with his hefty ass soccer playing + modeling salary. and then we would live happily ever after. the end ❤️❤️❤️