#there is an entire lifetime of Issues in this bad boy. in SO MANY WAYS

[moe-broey]

I ❤️ HITTING TAG LIMIT. BUT. ALSO. I feel like there's a whole other avenue to explore, when you have an aromantic chara who Isn't Strictly Ace. Like mind how I said Mani is "functionally ace". Regardless of if its internal sense of whatever would line up perfectly w Moe's, who's demisexual -- that doesn't matter. Like I fully don't have a strict answer on that. What I DO have for a strict answer, though, is that Mani has such an unhealthy, trauma-fueled, and just deeply UNCOMFORTABLE relationship to sexuality that it straight up Does Not Matter. Treat it as though it is fully aroace, who would be abstaining on both accounts. Somewhere in here there is a Plumeria comparison -- it's important to acknowledge each goes about navigating the discomfort a bit differently. But. The sheer amount of intense discomfort is There. Enough to where forcing either into such a situation "nice style" (as in, idealizing the scenario and not using it as an avenue for horror) would be antithetical to Who They Are, as characters.

Cut back to Moe, and the opening statement. This is not something I'm gonna be able to capture perfectly, esp off the cuff. HOWEVER. For many reasons, Moe imprints on Alfonse. It is not a simple or straightforward process. But it does happen. The deep emotional bond is made. The Trust is established. Moe has been shockingly meticulous and methodical about it. Shocking, because of how rapidly it happened AND -- it's... A bit easy. To misjudge Moe. As someone who's far too flippant, casual to the point of carelessness, and naive. That isn't to say it lacks these qualities completely. But it is to say Moe contains multitudes, in a most contradictory fashion.

Okay. So give a mouse a cookie, and now we've got a sexual situationship going on in the budding friendship, friendship specifically slowed only by each having their own sets of Issues. Alfonse being Alfonse about it, you know the guy who's all "I find it best, not to get too attached these days... especially to Heroes." and "Promise you'll never leave us. Without warning me, first." and "I advise you not to get close to the Heroes. It will just make it harder... should you ever be parted." and AGGRESSIVELY GESTURES. AT THE ENTIRE 40 CONVO. AND THE ALEAR FBS. OKAY? SAME PAGE? OKAY. And now we got Moe being Moe about it. Guy who SWEARS up and down that you can like someone very much, genuinely, and not get attached to them. Guy who is relieved to leave everything behind and start anew. Guy who has an INFINITE AMOUNT of trust issues and is endlessly stubborn about it. Moe voice "you're not allowed to like me" and "I can Leave Any Time." Moe mentality "but i can like you just fine. You Deserve a Little Pussy, as A Treat. for your troubles. I'm Helping." And, of course, the Loadbearing "this guy is fuckin' awesome. he's not gonna get attached to me at all, i mean he said so himself."

There is. Of course. SO much set up and context. So many trust tests. So much of Moe just Evaluating Him. And so much of Alfonse becoming a neurotic guard dog about it. Extremely calculated. Moe worries for his well-being, makes itself available as a person to confide in. Alfonse has taken note of Moe's Struggles, like that thang is going to DIE if left on its own. Wounds fresh from Catastrophic Bruno Incident. Takes this opportunity to accept Moe's offer, Only if you confide in me, as well. Moe thinks it's got his ass. Alfonse knows he got Moe's ass. Peace and love on planet convoluted Trust Pact where neither party is remotely normal about it.

Okay. Looping all the way back to the opening statement, again. Aromantic character, who experiences some level of sexual attraction and desire for sex. All our ducks in a row, all the planets perfectly aligned...

This has. Fascinating effects. On the Moefonse dynamic. Moe likes Alfonse a lot. Is extremely fond of him. Moe would describe him as, "being very likeable". There isn't any romantic intent behind those words -- in fact, Moe makes it very clear, it resents the notion. Moe and Alfonse's relationship can only exist as it does at this point in time, because neither are "ready" to "be in a relationship". What Moe doesn't exactly realize yet, however, is that "ready" never comes to be. Alfonse is capable of romantic attraction, just has an odd way of going about it. He, on paper, could feasibly be "ready" one day. Moe never will. But this isn't exactly doomed -- it's not a story of starcrossed lovers. It's a story of being in love with your best friend, and loving your best friend dearly. Alfonse's goal will eventually become, learning to love Moe exactly where it's at. Hell, this can even go for Mani, too! Only the "Where it (Mani) is at" is very different, than where Moe is. That's focal. It defines the entire relationship (neutral phrase/title, here). Maybe, for Mani, the story is loving at a distance, and learning to be loved in a way that doesn't hurt, that isn't scary (OW! OUCH! OOOWWWW!!!!!!!!!).

I keep getting bogged down in the details, though. Sex, for Moe, is... An offering. It has determined, after much careful consideration, that Alfonse can be Trusted with its body. That he's worthy of it. That he deserves it. These words, feel like obligation, but trust -- Moe wouldn't be doing this if it weren't extremely fond of the guy. It has A LOT. Of odd, intense feelings about him it can't quite place, on top of that -- which surely will not come back to bite it in the ass come Book 3 and 4. Surely.

Meanwhile. What gets REALLY fucking fascinating, actually. Is how, Alfonse does allow all this to happen. He is giving that mouse a cookie. Ofc has his hot and cold moments about it. But something that GOT ME. THINKING ABOUT THIS. DEVELOPING THIS. Is how Alfonse is using this offering, and sex itself, as A Tool. Don't get me wrong, he genuinely likes Moe a lot too (just don't tell it that. Yet.), he wouldn't be allowing this to occur in the first place, if he didn't. He's very fond of Moe, and treads VERY carefully. Especially after he learns how calculated Moe has been, too. Complete perspective shift, needs a new approach, and... Yeah remember how Moe is stubborn? Endlessly? And how even WITH the Trust Pact, Alfonse is often fighting for his life to wrangle Moe into accepting ANY fucking help????? When it is DIRELY NEEDED?????

LIKE if I were to make a canon comparison. He handles Moe Exactly how he would come to handle Ratatoskr. VASTLY different circumstances, dynamics, and flavor of what bond would be developed, here. The opening of Book 8 and the insane Alfonse and Ratatoskr conspiring under the Order's nose and almost getting himself killed for it moment. Normal Alfonse Things. But the way he takes in all of the information Girl Assigned To Assassinate Him (And Is A Bit Hesitant To) gives him, through what she says directly, and what she reveals through her emotional state (sobbing wet creature), AND what she doesn't even INTEND to fully tell him, the context just slips through. In BOTH scenarios, after diffusing the threat (bc make no mistake! And he didn't either! Behind those tears, IS someone with the knowledge and skills to kill him.) by winning her over, getting her on HIS side. And the Normal Alfonse Moments Incident. In Both Cases, he is using Ratatoskr to achieve his own ends, here. And Ratatoskr, stuck between a rock and a hard place, but given exactly what she fucking Needed and was denied by her previous situation, The Choice. Him, respecting her agency and autonomy and just trusting the rest. She willingly offers herself, to help.

Like. Back to Moe. Back to Alfonse, with Moe. Like with Ratatoskr, there is a level of diffusing a looming threat. Except instead of his own life, it's Moe's safety. And after his previous homoerotic bestfriendship ended w his bestie trying to goad Alfonse into Killing Him, like, suicide at the hands of your bestie, and the implications that Bruno has made SEVERAL attempts before turning to the false identity suicide plot. That's, ah....... maybe a sensitive subject. For Alfonse. The idea, that Moe could be a danger to itself.

And beyond that! It's a matter of slowly but surely winning Moe over. Getting Moe to actually... be vulnerable, with him. It likes him a lot, that much is clear. He already has one foot in the door. But Moe is Moe about it. Will take some time.

So, fellas. What's the solution, here? Well. Clearly. Gay sex. Sex as an offering, and sex as a tool. Both UNBELIEVABLY calculated about it, believe it or not with all braincells just being thrown out the window, also. Because, that's the key, too. Despite how hard each of them fights it -- they both do, really, really like each other. They just enjoy each other's company. SO much. Devastatingly fond of each other. They're... Friends 🥺🥲💕

(... What does this make Mani? Whole other Beast. What does this make Lif? Epic Divorce Man. Easy.)

[wlntrsldler]

I keep imagining the first time Luke and Mr. D met after Luke's hickeys/scratches went viral

LMFAOOOOO ANON THIS IS SENDING ME

here is how i think that conversation played out (suggestive content ahead):

"shit, five star, your dad is calling me," luke mumbled, eyes wide as he looked down at his phone. "he never calls me."

connor snicked from his bunk in the tour bus, "well, given that the whole internet is talking about you right now after the show you gave them last night, i'm not surprised."

"ha!" travis exclaimed, sitting up on his bed. "put it on speaker. i wanna hear him yell at you."

you rolled your eyes, "he's not gonna yell at you."

luke turned to you with hopeful eyes, "you think so?"

"well, he's probably not gonna yell at you," you scrunched your face up, rethinking your words, "like 55% chance he won't yell at you."

"i don't like those odds, babe."

"answer the fucking phone, luke."

luke clicked the green button on his screen, chewing on the nail of his thumb. he rolled his eyes, pressing the speaker button as travis kept egging him on. chris and clarisse opened the privacy curtain of chris' bunk to listen in on the drama.

"hey, mr. d," luke cleared his throat, ignoring the quiet giggles from the boys when his voice cracked. "what's up?"

"is my daughter with you?"

"say no," you whispered. so you were wrong about the odds. your dad was 100% about to yell at luke and you selfishly didn't want to get your ass handed to you just yet. you were going to avoid your dad's calls for as long as possible.

"uhh... no?"

"oh jesus fucking christ," you sighed, smacking your palm against your forehead, "that was soooo convincing."

you heard your dad type on his laptop before shutting it. there was some background noise that subsided after you heard the shut of a door. it seemed like your dad went into his office to get some privacy.

"hey, kid," your dad said, no doubt addressing you now.

"hey, dad," you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, leaning down to speak into the mic of luke's phone. "how are you?"

"don't start with me," he said, "would it kill you both to not do whatever it is you do that results in those pictures? pictures that are all over the internet by the way!"

a snide remark was on the tip of luke's tongue, because yes, it would kill him to not do the things that resulted in the pink marks on his neck and the healing scratches on his back, but that didn't seem like the right response.

"dad, you never had an issue with them taking their shirts off during shows before. and luke has gone out on stage like that before."

luke cringed, remembering one too many instances where he'd gone out on stage with hickeys all over his neck. it felt like a lifetime ago now, as if ever since you walked into his life that past version of him was someone he didn't recognize anymore. he much preferred remembering the name of the girl who left him marked up, especially preferring that it was only you who did that to him.

"that was before he started dating my daughter!" he replied, "i don't want to know anything about your relationship, but i'm in an unfortunate situation where i happen to manage the career of your boyfriend's band so i have to deal with it sometimes. so for the love of god, please please, stop."

"i'm so sorry mr. d," luke mumbled, "i completely forgot about them and by the time i realized, it was too late."

you could practically see your dad pulling at his hair, a habit he had when he was in stressful or awkward situations. he didn't speak for a good thirty seconds and then he sighed, "just keep your goddamn shirt on."

luke gulped, "got it."

when your dad ended the call, the entire bus erupted in laughter, including you. luke's face was as red as a tomato as he groaned and buried his head in his pillow. your shoulders shook as you giggled, laying on top of him. he instantly turned his body to wrap his arms around you.

"that wasn't so bad," you cooed, running your fingers through his curls, "and that was a shit apology, baby. you were smug as hell on stage when people pointed out the scratches."

"i wasn't thinking of the consequences of my actions," he said, "i was caught up watching people connect the dots that my girlfriend is not only hot but a fucking animal in be--"

"okay, that's our cue," travis cut off, closing his curtain. connor followed his head, popping in his airpods. clarisse sent you a wink before she disappeared behind the curtain with chris.

"i'll stop leaving hickeys on you," you kissed his face, enjoying how flustered he got. "but i can't promise too much on the scratches."

"i'm gonna stop taking my shirt off at shows, i think," he mused, toying with the hem of the shirt you wore. "i don't think i can take another surprise call from your dad. i think it took years off my life."

"your fans will be highly disappointed," you teased, leaning over to his ear, "but if you're gonna keep your shirt on, does that mean hickeys on your abs is fair game?"

luke licked his lips, tugging on his own curtain to give you two some privacy, "absolutely."

[hot-in-a-dress]

Peter Bishop, aka God's Multiversal Apology

Preface note: I've currently been watching/rewatching Fringe, and I have Thoughts, so expect this to be the first of many posts.

First of all, I just need to talk about how much I love Peter Bishop. Not necessarily as a character crush (although it's not not that), but just generally. For all of his background and all of his emotional issues going on, I would have expected him to be a lot more..toxic? I mean, when we first see him he's a bit of a bad boy type, and generally mean to both Walter and Olivia, but I'm glad that the writers knew where the line was. His actions at the beginning of the show are demonstrations of how he's been closed off and running from his past, currently living in a state of hyper independence where he feels like he can't really trust anyone. I think that if it continued for too long, those traits could easily have made him really dark really quickly, and they could have overpowered any grounded moments that he had. Instead, the writers cut/heavily dilluted that aspect of the character pretty early on. At the very least, by the midpoint of season one, he's already started to soften up a bit, and his mean streak becomes the more sardonic charm of Peter that audiences love. By the end of season one, he's downright affectionate.

Speaking of affectionate, I absolutely live for the way he treats Olivia after that mid-season change. I think it would have been pretty easy for the writers to make him a tough-love, "get a fucking grip", push-her-to-the-breaking-point type, similar to earlier Broyles, and instead Peter treats her with such....gentleness.

When she has a panic attack in "Bad Dreams", he goes to comfort her. He clearly makes moves to touch her, but the motions that he makes are really carefully placed in front of her where she can see him, and he backs up/moves his hands away so as not to seem restricting. He doesn't even make contact with her until he knows that she's in a grounded enough place to handle it. That level of respect for her space and emotions is something not often seen in media, and not necessarily expected to come from their (at this time) still vaguely antagonistic relationship. Not only does it show his respect for her, though, just his willingness alone is something that feels so personal. It was one of the first examples of Peter's really deep compassionate streak that he has (especially in terms of Olivia), and it stuck out to me that...at that time, he had no reason really to comfort her. He was still in a more professional setting, and they hadn't quite developed the same level of emotional understanding they have in later seasons. And yet he was so ready to go after her, and so ready to offer not only words, but actual, physical comfort. He held her so tightly, once he knew he could. As all of Olivia's backstory becomes more and more apparent to both audiences and herself, I appreciate these moments even more. She isn't used to gentle men in her life, so the fact that Peter comes along, and he respects her, and trusts her, and most importantly, is gentle with her when she needs him to be, showing her time and again what true love and affection can be, it's just..fucking precious to me. It's everything she deserves and more (though that's a different post entirely).

Anyways, it's also really charming to me that physical contact is a repeated pattern with Peter. From a character perspective, that's so fascinating. He has faced such traumas throughout his lifetime that he seems like a character that would be really hesitant to form connections, and rightfully so. Yet, not only is Peter empathetic, he is so overtly physical about it. Whenever someone else is in pain, Peter becomes a comforter and a protector. And every time he does, it feels like that "he healed something he didn't break" moment. It seems like Peter, who comes from such brokenness and secrecy, just wants to keep the people around him safe, because he's seen the absolute worst things that can happen. He had every right to be angry and cruel, but instead he chooses to be an anchoring point for the people around him, and absolutely loves them fiercely.

It's not that Peter is flawless. He's known to be a bit aggressive, and often dismissive of Walter, among many other instances of recklessness, plus a couple counts of fraud. Yet at the same time, to me, those flaws don't make his love and compassion any less merit worthy. It just makes him a complex character. It's the reason why he feels so stand-out from other characters of that genre of show, and other tropes of The Leading Bad Boy. Peter Bishop at his heart is just...written beautifully, and he's exactly the type of healthy masculinity that sci-fi tends to lack. He's God's Apology, across all the multiverse, and I am absolutely here for it.

[supersailorgoku]

I got into this stuff all backwards: I’m a diehard Boys fan and got into SPN over a year ago from a coworker while I was gushing over The Boys TV/Comic adaption heavy lifting (especially Soldier Boy; that is a whole essay in itself and I’ve never seen a trick pulled like that for a character that was on maybe 3-4 issues of the comics entire run and how it’s a total Rubik’s Cube move while making him somehow less sympathetic in his TV role - nevermind the entire lifetime it would take to talk about the clear Homelander-shaped elephant in the room, the actual groundwork of a true Kripkeverse and - well, that’s another post!)

My darling coworker - that I would later recognize her amazing, always equipped custom earrings that said JERK and BITCH for entirely different reasons other than social commentary/affirmation - she literally yelped and was like WOODS YOU ARE WATCHING SUPERNATURAL RIGHT NOW YOU ARE GOING TO SIT AND WATCH AN EPISODE and I did and that episode was Scoobynatural S13E18

I was sold so hard it was like a brick was dropped on me. I’m mad in some ways that it was my first whole ass experience because, as I would find later, almost every episode - some Buick-sized exceptions - is a “pilot” episode and you’ll never go wrong just jumping into that pool and hitting shuffle. How rare. Due to that crucial first impression, I cannot do anything but view Supernatural on the shelf that houses both Red Dwarf and Farscape and I say that with complete, utter, gibbering love. Supernatural, to me, is perfect example of any-size-fits. Get in, the water’s fine.

It really is for everybody. It’s got something for everyone and everyone where I live has fucking seen it because they filmed episodes here so it’s one of my few shows - if any - I feel actually talking to with a person who is looking right at me and within striking distance when I say “Bad Day At Black Rock S3E3 and Dog Dean Afternoon S9E5 and should be shown in college-level courses.” I’m real brave like that.

But that crucial introduction; the sheer coincidence of just avoiding a damn near two decades of this particular piece of media made me realize I’ve never been paying much attention to the internet. tumblr least of all and tumblr - man.

This place is an battleground: bloodied and cracked with bullets, craters, and ghosts and angels and acres upon acres of tapestries and paintings and offerings and so many goddamn words and miles of poetry and I’m taking a tourist walk through the settled, pockmarked earth. I can sit on a bench, made on the backs of fans, built around a rock with a plaque filled with names that never end - but it thrives. It hums with life.

I want to divine with extreme patience, using a stack of dvd and blu-rays - all passed from second-hand sources - (with their owners names and I feel like I know them already; there’s that rarity again) - and copious amounts of unmeasurable time ask the hoof prints and the bullet holes and the angelic ghosts what, exactly, happened here.

[williszhang]

I hated growing up in Howard County Maryland, and I still hate it

Mom raised me never to say the word hate. But after lab testing words like "loathe", "detest," "abhor"... "hate" is the most precise, respectfully.

tl;dr there is a lack of accessible third places where I grew up that makes life absolutely suffocating

Let me get the subjective points out of the way because, at the core, that is what colors my entire view. I had a very happy childhood in Cockeysville but our family moved to Woodstock next to Ellicott City when I was in middle school. The Baltimore suburbs were both "more suburban" (lots of forests) and lower-middle class than the area we moved into, but I felt so much loss when we moved. My parents, to their credit, were not helicopter parents and left us to figure out what to do, but this probably wasn't the right parenting style for the challenges I would have.

Objective point 1: incentives to live in isolated areas

We moved into a McMansion Lite single family, a decision that singlehandedly made me swear never to buy single family in my lifetime. It wasn't even that bad cuz right outside the subdivision were sidewalks that took you to...idk, friends, Waverly commerce, playgrou- aha! There are literally no playgrounds to walk to unless you're half a mile from the elementary school. This is a planning choice and one that has surprising cascading effects you only realize after you've moved to communities that have the amenity (more kids, more family socializing, more walking, etc.)

Howard County does have places with those amenities, ie., Columbia Association. Except! People who live there would rather be in the more prestigious school districts if they had the choice. CA has very nice amenities: trails to walk anywhere, access to Blandair, Lake Elkhorn, Lakefront, heck lakes everywhere!

But the "desirable" districts are like Clarksville and Marriottsville which are in Bumbleheck™ Nowhere. Back in the day the fastest way to get to my school friends would be to bike on MD-99. I consider myself a trendsetter because many people do this now, but back in 2003 when I did it I was the only one, and my mom was rationally incredibly terrified. People have bad incidents and there are no sidewalks at all. So in actuality, I spent the majority of my middle school hours depressed in front of the computer with the unfettered Internet.

Objective point 2: overrated

"HCPL voted 5-star library system" "Wallethub's top livable community" "Progressive ideals" "Cultural landmarks for diversity and history" "Best schools in Maryland"

I actually don't have a problem with the last assertion: by all accounts the school programs are great (barring recent transportation issues). But let's go through the others.

HCPL should be ashamed. I'm not even talking about the proposed thing next to Whole Foods. Spring Break just passed and during that week, HCPL cancelled and renegged all events. Not a single thing for kids or community members to do that week. MCPL in contrast on any given day had 50-some odd events across the system. There's a likely reason: the staff takes a spring break to coincide with the school schedule. But that just reveals how little robustness there is in the system. The library should provide for the most vulnerable in the community whose families can't afford nice spring break programs. Utter failure.

Oh and before pointing to HoCo rec as the alternative, you pay out the nose for membership. MoCo rec is free with better facilities (but this is punching down).

Livable. Progressive. Anecdote: I was shocked when we had coed physical education in middle school. In Baltimore, I'll just say it, we had real physical education. Boys did pushups regularly. There were wrestling units. Weight lifting. Gymnastics. I just didn't think I could handle the pretentiousness of coed archery and wiffleball when I landed in Howard County, I just wasn't ready. Yes, gender distinction is a pretty sensitive topic now but the need for boys to be challenged...I felt was a miss.

The progressivism seems like such a hypocritical veneer when the slogan at the time was "Choose Civility." Such a dog whistle. Howard County is decidedly upward middle class or adjacent. If you don't own a car you don't have an existence.

In terms of culture and landmarks, the literal landmark in our district was the snowball stand. I just .... please just go visit a real mixed use lot and then come talk to me.

There was an attempt to put on an "Asian Night Market" event at the Fairgrounds and it was so awful it was on every news outlet: people stuck on Interstate 70 for hours, and vendors not prepared to distribution. There is clearly demand for the bored masses to want to have fun things but the infrastructure isn't there to support it.

Here are what the county thinks are the culture areas: downtown EC and lakefront. Historic EC... could be so much better!! There is so little room for people to congregate and yet the cars cut through endangering anyone who might want to space out. I'd rather hang out in Kentlands (whose road network is decidedly tempered) during a hurricane than suffer through downtown EC on a perfect day.

Oh and let's talk about lakefront. Recall my BS-meter raging when the society only endorses its version of progressivism or diversity. It seems like the county actively wants to punch young people in the dick: you're not allowed to dance at the lakefront, and you're not allowed to be at the mall after 6 without an adult.

The lakefront is so lamentably sad now, which I'll explain in another point below.

Objective point 3: Route 40 is the ugliest ugly to ever ugly on this side of ugly

And recently designated a new cultural landmark!

Route 40 deserves its own hate section. It's possible most locals would agree with the statement that the Route 40 corridor is the heart and soul of Ellicott City.

And yet if you told a naive tourist that and dropped them there, what reaction would you expect? I think you'd get a resounding "double you tee eff."

what's the difference?

This is just such a perfect specimen of American commercial sprawl, way too perfect <🤌chef's kiss>. This area espouses what creed? "To be here, you must consume."

Where do you hang out? Like where can you kick it with friends? When I hung out with bethel kids it was in front of McD or Checkers, which were fun and affordable, but overall it did seem like in order to socialize you need to spend money, consume, and drive. I'm being completely serious when I unironically think the best third place option is the center with Sprouts Market. There's sidewalks you can walk between smoothie, gamestop, wingstop, and some chipotle.

You may have thought, "Oh! Not the center with Honeypig and trendy Cafe June?" Well to get between those places you need to first get run over by 3 minor arterials, and yea none of these businesses (even Roggenart) bother with outdoor seating cuz....... freaking Route 40.

Objective point 4: things have gotten worse

I'm lying, things have gotten so much better since I've been a kid. So many more fun places to eat and hang out.

But some bulwarks of why Howard County is "worth it" are starting to shake. Buses are failing to pick up kids so kids end up missing school. What? Turf Valley home invasion and kids mugged at Waverly pool in broad daylight. Excuse me? What's even the point of living in this desolate suburb then if we dealing with "city" problems 🤣🤣

The lakefront is a shell of what it was and can be. This past Sunday was the most amazing weather and... absolutely no one was at the lakefront. The "coolest" thing there is Whole Foods where the whole point is to get in and out with your food. The pub on the corner has no outdoor seating. No one patronizing any of the (checks notes) four businesses. I won't explicitly punch down with the infinite examples of peer counties proactively stimulating cultural life, but I've already ranted in the above points about how everything reeks of proactive suppression of life and frankly NIMBYism of folks probably just not allowing more business and development.

In conclusion

Please do not read "Howard county is the worst." It is not. It is a very decent place to live. Which just speaks to American standards of living tbh. This is squarely a personal write-up of why I hate Howard County. Over the years I got NUMTOTed to high heaven and finally have the vocabulary to identify the childhood dissonance.

My happiest memories are here. Would I have gotten into bboying without the boredom? Would I have become a Christian without the quirky friends and desolation? Would I have crumbled in the face of crazier competition of high-achieving Chinese kids in Montgomery County? How much of the neurosis is simply a function of my family culture regardless of where I lived? Did the gentle and stable environment allow me to ultimately thrive and succeed? The answer to these counterfactuals could fall on either side.

[raccoonspooky]

Reasons why diff slashers are out there doing ~All That~

Michael Myers:

He’s got something stuck in his teeth and no matter wtf he does he cant get it. Someone take peepaw to the dentist please. He’s got an inner thigh rash from them nasty ass coveralls and probably needs some aveeno.

Honestly please wash those or get him new ones because the reason he sits up the way he does is because the fabric doesnt crease any more so he just has to very straight leggedly stand up every time hes knocked down.

Billy Loomis:

He’s abstained from jerking off for too many months, the anti nut mindset has rewritten his brain chemistry and now all he can do is ~mansplain manipulate manslaughter~ dude’s backed up so bad he can see shrimp colors.

Bo Sinclair:

The entire events of the movie happen because he was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror like a bird flirting with his own reflection. He slipped on the tile and gave himself a REALLY bad concussion. He can see sounds and taste lights. He wears a baseball hat at night and leaves his keys in the ignition, if he takes off the hat all the blood swelling in his brain is dispersed way too fast and he’ll sputter out like a de-inflating balloon.

Vincent Sinclair:

He listened to evanescence one time.

Billy Lenz:

Dude has straight up rabies. And like some weird bacterial disease that you can get from being bitten by a bat. Its actually a medical anomaly that he’s on two feet at all? Yknow that post that says that like 60% of bacteria found on NYC subways has no known origin? Basically Billy Lenz is the canadian equivalent of that.

Jason Voohees:

He’s actually a meat puppet for thousands of single celled organisms found in the lake. Imagine if your spore creation gained sentience and then it evolved itself into a giant buff guy, like ur spore creation would immediately go on a rampage duh. Dude is a macro-biome habitat of millions of critters all playing QWOP with his arms and legs.

Brahms Heelshire:

His mother was really into those baby mozart and baby einstein VHS tapes. Dude’s been weird since the WOMB. He’s also got a critical vitamin D deficiency and is likely anemic. No, he wont eat his spinach to help with the iron issue. But he will hide it in the walls and then huff and whine that something smells funny and that you should maybe go clean it up. Give him a flinstone vitamin gummy pls.

Alternatively: He’s like that because he’s bri-ish, you eat enough mushy peas in your lifetime and this bullshit just sorta becomes you. Sure, whatever! Eat beans on toast, put on a mask, live in the walls!

Any of the texas chainsaws:

Tapeworm. Why? Because its funny. Hungry ass tapeworm infested ass cannibals. Gotta eat up to appease ur worm!

OG big boy is really into that QVC old lady channel and every time the women are talking about lipsticks or lotions or whatever he’s seething in jealousy. Therefore he must kill.

[sketching-shark]

Mk being a stone monkey gives me sm headaches like no it doesn’t mean swk is his father. They’re family depending on how u look at it. For example they could be brothers or mk being swk grandkid in the similar vein as Sun Luzhen.

My issues is just that literally pulled a naruto on all of us

Like he pull out the cudgel and it gave him his powers but are those powers actually his or swk??? Wgeres those it start and end??

DONT GET ME STARTED THATBY HAVING MK BEING A STONE MONKEY N PULLING SWK MOVE OUT OF THE MOVE UNDERMINE THE YEARS OF EFFORTS SWK TOOK TO MASTER IT(i know mk did a little training but that not what im talking about. It seen like him being a stone monkey had bypassed him the need to do actual cultivation one must need to do in order to do cool shit or be immortal. Remember that scene when he plucked his hair n then it became a clone? Yea like this kid hasn’t even exercised n yet?? Hes able to use qi like that?? Huh??? even wukong was mortal at his early stages n didn’t do the thing mk was doing besides that one timehe shoots laser from his eyes)

Like mk became a daoist immortal in a day than the 50+ years swk took to be one😭😭 it doesn’t even work like that mk. It just feels like they made mk be this way to show hes a better swk than swk himself.

N it already complicated the idea of swk somehow giving mk some of his powers(this kid would actually be dead like how azure lion was w je golden core) that u don’t actually know if its mk that’s doing these things naturally or is infused w that.

Did swk do ritual like how hd did in the novel with the three prince??(the arc introduces three prince who became the pilgrims disciples n so theyre were to wield weapons similar to that of the pilgrims via a ritual. One of the prince got extra buff stats in order to wield his replica of the riyu jingu bang that still the same weight ss the og)

^i doubt this bc lmk had diverge sm from jttw that u can swapped out the names w others and its be its own show completely unrelated to jttw.

Monkie Kid spoilers & complaining below:

Hmmm well you know anon as it is I actually found the insta-powers in the first few seasons pretty funny and charming specifically because they were often played for laughs in a pretty light hearted way. And it made sense for what the show was at that point! Monkie Kid set itself up as a relatively low-stakes and fun cartoon where a goofy and kind hearted delivery boy would get to go on all sorts of wacky adventures under the tutelage of the Great Sage, often going against some delightfully hammy villains in the Demon Bull family. Even when the stakes were still "save the world" the tone of Monkie Kid still made it pretty clear that we weren't dealing with the grimdark dramafest that has come to define so many other works. But of course a grimdark dramafest is in many ways what this cartoon would soon become (even while there is still some silly funtimes to be had), what with the world routinely being in danger of destruction, the constant trauma MK has been subjected to significantly because of his connection to the Monkey King, and with everyone and their mother yelling at Sun Wukong for being a terrible person, with the cartoon itself then often bending over backwards to prove just how true these statements are. Hell even SWK himself admitted that he's a bad teacher and described his entire existence in the season 4 special as little more than multiple lifetimes worth of mistakes (maybe he'll go on another genuine journey of self improvement and atonement but tbh I'm not holding my breath given that his miserable spot was where the journey to the west got him lol), and yeah at this point you do have to kind of laff that Xiyouji's ruthless murder monkey SWK is a more loyal friend, selfless individual, intelligent leader, and even a better shifu than Monkie Kid's. It is these writing decisions that have made me pretty leery with where they might be taking Qi Xiaotian being another stone monkey, especially since yeah lot of people seem to think this is going to lead to a fight between the two stone primates. Plus given the very recent indications that MK was both enraged that Azure Lion was using him for his own ends--something that other characters besides Azure have said SWK is also doing to Qi Xiaotian--along with the pretty blatant hints that MK's terrified he'll end up exactly like SWK I can easily see that fear turning into violent anger :(

[hello-nichya-here]

Who was Buffy's worst boyfriend and why was it Riley?

*cracks knuckles* let's do this.

No Personality

This is by fair the biggest problem with how Riley was written. See, Joss Whedon never wanted Buffy to hook up with any vampire, but he was forced to write her romance with Angel. Buffy's college years were his chance to make the message of “vampires represent the struggles of adolescense, something the characters overcome as they grow” finally happen. He even added the episode “Something Blue”, that had Spike and Buffy dating because of a spell, as a way to make Buffy get over her thing for “bad guys” and moving on to liking guys like Riley, who are completely boring Nice Guys.

The problem is that there was nothing truly outstanding about Riley for us to get attached to him. Xander once says that he is a “once in a lifetime” guy, but what we actually see is that, because of his years in the initiative, Riley doesn’t think for himself, he is used to only doing things one specific way, and there are many, many, many, many, MANY others like him - and he ends up joining his buddies again after not that much time had passed since he left them, essentially negating any growth he could have possibly had. Buffy even straight up says that the whole reason why she was first drawn to Riley was because he was “a normal guy.” His appeal is supposed to be the fact that there is literally nothing unique or special about him.  

Angel was defined by guilt, Spike was defined by passion, and Riley was defined by "This Guy Is Not A Vampire" and that, by itself, is simply not interesting enough to make a good character - and Joss just had to go shoot himself in the foot by making an entire episode dedicated to Buffy ignoring him so she could make out with her evil boyfriend who was a fan favorite character because he had a fuck ton of personality from the very first moment he was on-screen.

Rewarded For The Bare Minimum

This is another case of Riley being more defined by who he isn't rather than by anything that makes him his own person.

Buffy’s first time was pretty traumatic. Angel lost his soul right after they first made love and became Angelus. He abandoned her, tortured her mentor, killed Jenny, attacked everyone she loved, stalked her, nearly caused the apocalypse, and all while twisting the knife further by constantly reminding her that all of this was happening because of what was supposed to be one of the most special moments of her life. Later, when she is in college, she meets Parker, who seems really nice at first, but then dumps her right after getting what he wanted.

Riley is appalled by all of this... but so is everybody else, including the audience. He puts Parker in his place, which is nice... but so do Buffy and Willow. He tries putting “Angelus” in his place... but Angel already has his soul again - he had it for almost two years by that point. He doesn’t break Buffy’s heart (by that point)... and THAT is supposed to make us adore him until the end of time.

Sure, it's great that he didn't bail right after sleeping with her... but the fact that this is a big deal is evidence of how shit Angelus and Parker were, not of how amazing Riley is. And even that positive trait of his is going to be thrown out the window later, so retroactively these sweet moments don’t mean anything, because we know he is going to show his true colors eventually.

My Way Or The Highway

Like I said, Riley’s time in the initiative, and his eventual return to being just another soldier among them, were a big part of why he had no real identity of his own, and it also leads to one of the main issues in his relationship with Buffy: Riley doesn’t know how to adapt.

He can’t bring himself to accept that, while he is part of a team, the world of the Slayer just doesn’t work like the military world. He can’t adapt to no longer being the special boy that is going to save everyone, and instead being the one who needs to step aside and be protected instead of protect every now and again. He can’t understand that Buffy telling him to take care of her younger sister in case shit goes wrong while she’s patrolling IS her including him in her life, both personal and as the Slayer, and trusting him with the person she loves the most. He can’t even accept the basic concept of “My strength is not why my girlfriend is attracted to me, nor was vampirism the reason why she started liking her ex.” 

And, most important of all, he refuses to see that just because Buffy isn’t completely useless without him that doesn’t mean she doesn’t need him, AND that him not constantly leaving her heartbroken is NOT a problem and that his belief that she can only truly show she loves him by suffering for him is weird as hell. For fuck’s sake, he makes her struggling to deal with life now that HER MOTHER IS DYING all about him and his insecurities.

Riley doesn’t really have anything going on in his life, and thus he just doesn't understand that Buffy isn't wronging him by having other things going on in her life, and that sometimes these things exclude him, or don’t include him in the exact way he hoped he’d be included.

The Season Five/Six Fuckery

After all that insecurity and hurt ego, Riley starts cheating on Buffy with what are essentially “vampire prostitutes” (Buffy even refers to them as his whores) - and this infidelity starts while Joyce is sick and dying. He is still constantly paranoid about Buffy leaving him for Angel, Spike, Dracula or literally any vampire that shows up, even though HE is doing the very thing he is borderline accusing her of doing, and he even leaves the house after making love to Buffy to go be with the vampires.

When Buffy finds out about this, he says what happened was not her fault... and then immediatelly proceeds to show he did not mean it, as he starts shifting blame, including complaining that she didn’t stop everything to call him when her mother was at the hospital nearly dying. He talks about he the vampires made him feel needed, and how Buffy neved did that for him, and then announces that he is going to disappear from her life forever unless she forgives him right that second.

But then, a season later, he comes back! He doesn’t apologize for shit, but he is being all sweet, and charming, and flirty, and Buffy is all hopeful... Except, surprise! He is married now! And he conveniently didn't mention that! And as a bonus he asked her, the SLAYER, for help to hunt the monster of the week, but just casually forgets to tell her THEY NEED THE THING ALIVE. Excellent job, writers, I am totally on his side here. Totally. I am definitively not making a Riley vodoo doll just so I can hurt him. 

No Remorse

This is the one that personally pisses me off the most. 

See, I never cared for Bangel and I don’t like the way Angel broke up with Buffy, but he DID feel bad about everything he did to hurt her AND he was worried that he was stealing her chance of having a happy life. It was a flawed, but genuine attempt at doing something good for someone he loved.

Spike is a fucking mess, and because he had no soul he did some truly horrible things, including almost raping Buffy - and the realization of what he almost did to the woman he loved made him so disturbed and disgusted at himself that he willingly went through hellish torture just to get his soul back so he would, in his words “Be the kind of man who would never... to be a kind of man.” He was a monster, and he changed for Buffy.

Hell, even Parker apologizes for what he did to Buffy. A minor character that wasn’t even that important and wouldn’t be getting the show any awards for brilliant writting was allowed to grow and learn from his mistakes.

Riley hurt Buffy deeply. And at no point does he show any understanding that this was wrong and he never gives her a proper apology.

The Realism Problem

I feel this one explains why people get such an intense negative reaction to characters like Riley (and Xander, even though I personally like him despite him angering me sometimes), while “forgiving” characters like Angel and Spike who, on paper, are much worse. It’s a lot easier not to care about behavior we don’t see in our daily lives. 

Sure, we all at least heard of an adult man that stalks and dates a teenage girl and crushes her heart by showing his true colors after he gets what he wants from her, or an obsessive guy who stalks the object of his affection and violently lashes out when rejected. But how many of us know freaking vampires? How many of us know a literal creature of the night that needs to drink blood to stay alive? How many of us know people that are possesed by demons and had their souls sent to hell? How many of us have casual interactions with what is basically a corpse? How many of us built relationships with what are serial killers by nature? How many of us met someone who tried to end the fucking world?

Vampires are monsters - but because they're not real it's a lot easier to turn off our brains and just enjoy the good side of these characters, since there isn’t really a real-life equivalent of their bad side.

Riley on the other hand? He is just a whiny, needy, selfish, hypocritical guy who never takes responsibility for his mistakes and that everyone keeps telling us is the best thing in the universe even though he is as interesting as watching paint dry. Once again, he is completely human. Which means everyone knows a Riley. Everyone knows A TON of Rileys. And people get sick of meeting them, be it in real life or in the media they consume.

How The Show Frames His Actions

THIS is the final nail in the coffin. This is what made Buffy and Riley’s romance age like milk and forced everyone to either choose between the two blood-suckers, ship Buffy with someone else, or want her to be single.

The main problem with Riley, the thing that makes him so disliked by so many, is that his flaws were accidental, not acknowledged, and, worse of all, presented as positive traits of the character. 

Nothing kills a story quite like the people writting it not understanding what they're creating. And the writers did not notice that Riley wasn’t a good guy and HE did not deserve Buffy, not the other way around.

[lazykcdoodler]

Thoughts on Louie and Della's Relationship + which of the triplets is my vote for Most Likely to hold any sort of longterm grudge against their mom (and why it would be Huey)

I was looking through the Della Duck tag in my blog, when I came across some discourse about the Della-Louie relationship dynamic that I reblogged a while back. I was reading thru the comments and saw someone's HC about how S3 Louie might still hold a small grudge against Della for stealing the Spear of Selene.

And I'm like, no?? If any of the kids in S3 and beyond would hold any sort of substantial grudge against Della for taking the Spear, it would obviously be Huey.

Wait, why did I think that-

Then because Huey's not explored enough, I had to take a step back and think about why I thought of him as the most likely candidate.

First, to work thru my thoughts on Louie and Della's relationship, and why he's less likely to hold a grudge against her in the long run. To start things off, he and Della already had their big clash and make up in the S2 finale. Remember this?

Their small arc in S2 did important things for their character development. That's not to say that they'll never argue again, or that they won't ever have problems. I can certainly see Louie using the Spear as ammunition for a future fight, if things came to that. But Louie and Della have other traits in common, aside from sharp scheminess and their tendency to think that they're the smartest people in any room.

Louie and Della are communicators. Yes, they're both sly and manipulative. But their success in that department comes from their ability to understand people. Dewey might've inherited Della's impulsiveness and natural charisma- but his inclination toward dramatics, his need to be well liked by others, and his desire to stand out among his family and peers, all mean that Dewey is more likely than Louie (but not Huey) to keep secrets and his personal feelings quiet. Della and Louie? Much less so.

It took Louie less than a year to voice his insecurities about his capabilities as an adventurer to Huey. When their mom came back to the Manor, Louie voiced his personal concerns in the very same episode. Louie is a crier. He complains a lot. He's an excellent orator. By far, Louie is the easiest triplet to read as a character, because his thoughts and his intentions are made known to the audience very quickly.

On Della's side of the equation, it's strongly implied throughout the series that she served as the emotional translator between Donald and Scrooge. Don't get me wrong; Scrooge and Donald love each other very much, and they understand each other in a way that very few others do. But when wires get crossed and either of them clam up on their hurt feelings (or fight about other things to avoid the elephant in the room), Della comes in to mediate. She voices whatever the other person won't say out loud. But that deserves its own post.

Regardless of any trouble between Louie and Della, I'm sure of three things. 1) Della and Louie love and care about each other, 2) Della is trying her hardest, Louie doesn't like getting into fights, and he admires passion as a trait in other people, and 3) in spite of everything- despite how agreeable Huey is, or how Dewey's such a momma's boy- out of the boys, Della's relationship with Louie is probably the healthiest in the long run. When it comes to his feelings, Louie is the most emotionally honest triplet. If he beats around the bush, it won't be for long.

While Dewey and Della ride the same wavelength (which causes its own problems), she grounded Louie in Timephoon and said those infamous words because she's been in Louie's place before. She knows what scheming and selfishness got her and her family, and she doesn't want Louie to do the same thing. Because she knows she was harsh- and she knows she might've been too harsh, since she just began learning how to be an authority figure- Della is probably less confident with her ability to handle Louie properly. Which means she's more likely to go to Donald for help with Louie's issues, far more often than she might for Dewey and Huey. Louie will always let Della know where she stands with him. And while she won't take his shit, Della will listen and reciprocate his emotional honesty with her own.

Huey is not good at emotional honesty. Don't get me wrong, he's great at helping other people. But unlike Louie, Huey is as emotionally transparent with his insecurities as a steel bear trap.

So. Why Huey? As I mentioned above, he and Della have stuff in common. They enjoy video games and exploring. They're both outdoorsy. Della is giving this her best shot, and Huey's a kind kid. They get along fine, so obviously things must be fine. Right?

Rrriiiigggghhhhtttt. So, why do I think that Huey's the most likely of the triplets to have any residual resentment toward Della for taking the Spear?

Dewey admired Donald's commitment to his family, but he had to learn to respect him. Louie respected Donald's passion and work ethic, but he had to learn to admire him. Huey never had to learn any of that; Donald has held Huey's respect and admiration from Day 1.

Huey's uncle has a terrible temper. He's easily misunderstood by others. He's the hardest worker on the planet, but he's often underappreciated. Huey can relate. This intrinsic understanding is the root of Huey's longstanding admiration and respect for Donald's character and Donald's efforts. Despite their pre-series financial insecurities, Donald successfully raised three boys on his own while providing them with a relatively middle class lifestyle. Despite everything, Donald is rich in the love of his family and friends.

When it comes to Donald's difficulties with public society, out of his brothers, Huey is the most empathetic to their uncle's plight. He might not be a father of three, but Huey holds the best understanding of the responsibilities that Donald undertook on their behalf.

And therein lies the rub.

Huey Duck is the Responsible One. He works hard, takes his duties as the eldest triplet very seriously, and helps Donald wherever he can. Whether by serving as a vocal translator during a bank transaction, taking charge of his siblings when their uncle is away, or speaking in Donald's defense when his brothers call him boring or lame, Huey tries to makes things easier.

Della probably did some of those things for Donald when they were younger, and vice versa. I'm 99 percent sure that Donald has been teaching her how to AdultTM since she got back from the Moon.

(Because her impulsiveness got her stranded for 10 years).

Huey and Della love each other. They get along great. They have plenty in common. But Huey Duck is by-the-book, and naturally inclined toward hard work- just like his Uncle Donald. Della ripped up the book, took a shortcut, and had to learn to become hardworking the hard way. Huey Duck is the Responsible One. Della had to take a crash course in becoming a Responsible Authority Figure after Louie's scheming almost erased the family from history.

There are many reasons to admire Donald, but his ability to wrangle the three of them is probably near the top of Huey's list. If Donald wasn't responsible before the SOS Incident, he certainly learned to be. Huey has his own lifetime of trouble dealing with Louie's cons, Dewey's impulsiveness, and their collective recklessness and disregard for Huey's work and Huey's passions. They're difficult and infuriating, but Huey tries. And whenever Huey tries, his respect for Donald probably rises. Because Donald isn't their sibling- he's their uncle, their guardian, their first parent since the day the triplets hatched. While the triplets probably had honorary family in their lives long before they met Scrooge (apparently, Mouseton and Duckburg are very close to each other), Donald was HDL's only parent for 10 years.

Because Huey's mom was reckless, and got stranded on the Moon.

At least Huey knows where Louie and Dewey got it from. (It's bad enough, coming from them).

But Huey Duck is the oldest. He needs to be a figure of strength and capability. He needs to be a leader, needs to provide support, needs to be a good role model. His family relies on him for that sort of thing. Mom's been through a lot. Uncle Donald has been through a lot. Huey spent ten years watching his uncle go through a lot. Huey needs to set an example. He's the oldest- which means he needs to extend a hand, make an effort, and bury any proverbial hatchet even if it kills him a little.

(Huey wants things to run smoothly. Huey doesn't want to be a burden for others. Canonically, Huey locks away a lot of his own problems and internal anxieties...until his control slips. Huey hates it when that happens).

Let the record show that I love Della Duck. She's one of my favourite characters. I love how hard she tries, and she's come amazingly far. I'm sure Huey appreciates her efforts.

I'm not saying that canon Huey holds a grudge, or that he secretly resents his mom. I just think that out of all the triplets, he's who I'd pick as the most likely to do so. And unlike Louie and Dewey, Huey knows how to hide certain thoughts and feelings successfully. Huey can be anxious, but he can't be mean (he's already weird and nerdy, he can't afford to be mean). Huey has spent his entire life honing his control over his less...socially acceptable emotions. (Hello, Duke). If Huey has grudges about Della and the Spear or anyone and anything else, I have faith in his ability to hide those negative thoughts for a long, long time.

Until he can't.

[heyheyloki]

The Thought Of You

Summary: Not remembering the night before, the reader distances himself from Loki.

Loki x M!Reader

It was always one thing. Perhaps it was Tony and Steve arguing, or maybe Thor bothering Loki, and maybe it was you making fun of the spider boy. Whatever it was, it was exciting for others to watch. However, between all the fighting, Loki and you never did. It was odd to everyone else since they had this deep hatred for the God of Mischief. To you, you didn’t care, you enjoyed Loki’s presence and always knew if you needed a break from the others, you’d go to him. He was always there, even if the two of you started out on a bumpy road since he was hesitant of you when you first came around. 

Loki thought you’d be like everyone else, so it wasn’t totally personal. Though, after your many attempts to get to know him, his wall eventually fell around you and then, the bonding started.  Everyone around the two of you thought it was weird, after all, Loki was the man who wanted to take over Earth and sent an army onto New York City. Even with that fact, it never seemed to bother you.

Tony Stark always thought something would happen between the two of you, and Thor was more than supportive is it came to be. Steve had some issues since he was close to you as well and just wanted the best for you, and, well, he just didn’t think that ‘best’ was Loki. Nat and Clint seemed indifferent, but were happy with anything you decided. Banner, on the other hand, flipped from Tony and Steve’s perspective at times.

You always told them that Loki and you were just friends, but Loki never seemed to comment on it. In the back of your mind, you knew the god had looks but you cherished the relationship between you and him now. You didn’t need to progress it further since you were quite comfortable where it was. Though, perhaps that was about to change.

After a late night of drinking and dancing courtesy of Tony Stark, you were out for the count. By the time your hung over eyes had opened, you noticed it was almost noon. A groggy groan escaped your chest as you sat up from your rather large bed, again, courtesy of Tony Stark. Your body didn’t even take up half of it, and speaking of your body, when you gazed down at it you noticed your fluffy, grey night robe.

You didn’t exactly remember putting it on, but you didn’t care much. At least, you didn’t care then. When your ears started to work once more, you couldn’t help but notice the sound of your shower running. It was connected to your room and when you gazed towards the door that was shut, the light underneath was shining through.

“What did I drink last night?” You mumbled to yourself as you collapsed back into the bed, your body bouncing a bit.

As your mind tried to figure out what had happened the night before, you heard the shower faucet squeeze close and the water stop it’s pattering. You didn’t bother to look, not that you weren’t curious who you probably slept with last night, but you just didn’t care. It wasn’t common for you to have one-night stands but it wasn’t something you didn’t participate in from time to time.

You could hear the person turn the doorknob before it creaked open, their bare feet stepping across your hardwood tile getting louder as they stepped closer.

“Are you up yet, [Name]?” The stranger asked. Though, that voice wasn’t a stranger to your mind.

Your eyes fluttered open to get a look at a man half naked in your room, the towel around his waist poorly done as if he’d never done it before. The long, black hair he had was wet and textured with like curls. His body had little muscle but his thin figure made up for it, the muscle he did have off subtle lines about his body that was beyond a godly sight.

“Uh, Loki?” You mumbled out, his eyes looking at you as if waiting for you to continue moving your lips.

Though, when you didn’t, he answered with a confused, “Uh, that is my name.”

“Right, right.” You uttered, his words snapping you out of your mind. Without even a second thought, you hopped out of your bed. You quickly tied up your night robe since you didn’t seem to be wearing anything underneath except for a pair of boxers. “I’m, uh, gonna go talk to Tony.”

“Stark?” Loki questioned. “Why?”

“Oh, yanno, Avenger stuff.” You chuckled out as you slowly began to inch for the exit.

“I can occupy you, if you wish.”

“No!” You screamed. Your voice startling both you and him. You cleared your throat to quickly say, “I think he wants to do a few tests on me. You know how those are, very private. I’ll see you later, ya? Okay, bye!”

Your hand reached around for the door handle and slipped yourself into the hallway before slamming the door shut behind you. Your back soon going against it as you took in deep breaths. It could have been anyone else, anyone in the damn place and you would have been fine. But, Loki? Why did it have to be him that your drunken self choose?

“I’m so gonna get shit for this,” You uttered as you began to travel down the hallway towards the main area of the building.

“Morning, [Name].” Nat said as she and Clint sat on the couch watching movies.

You nodded in her direction before shuffling into the kitchen. You needed something cold, or hot. No in between for this one. As you were pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you heard footsteps make way towards you.

“What’s up with you?” You heard. Your eyes gazing over at Nat who stared at you with crossed arms.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she started out saying. Her body slowly making way towards yours. “Normally, every morning, you say good morning back. You never give a simple nod. So, what’s wrong with you?”

Your eyes blinked rapidly for a moment before letting out a sigh. You knew there was no way for you to get out of this one, but than again you didn’t want her to spill anything to Steve, Banner, or Clint. So, you gave a half lie.

“Just not to happy with who I found in my bed this morning.” You laughed off. “Nothing to worry about.”

Nat stared, her eyes moving up and down before giving a simple, “Okay. Just make sure whoever the mystery man is is out before Tony comes back.”

“He’s not here?”

“Nope. He went out for a bit, but he’ll be back soon.” Nat explained.

You nodded before grabbing your coffee and heading out. You weren’t sure where to go. You wanted to go back in your room, but you didn’t know if Loki was still there. You wanted to go sit in the living room, but you didn’t want questions from the others. So, you choose the next best thing. Wonder about the halls. It wasn’t as bad as you thought, in fact, it was quite therapeutic when gazing out at the birds that flew about. You seriously thought you’d get a break, well, that was until you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

You turned around, the soft smile on your lips dropping, your body grew hot at the God of Mischief that stared back.

“Are you alright?” Loki questioned. “You seem.. off.”

“Wha, um, what?” You asked, your throat going dry as your mind thought about what could have transpired the night before. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Loki tilted his head as he eyed you up and down. You noticed every single, tiny detail about him to the point were you noticed the small flicker of his eyes, the tiny redness of the tips of ears. Not to mention the explosive feeling when his hand came to rest on your lower back way too casually.

You quickly grabbed his wrist, your grip tight but not tight enough for Loki to notice a difference. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” He questioned. For he first time since you’ve met him, he sounded completely innocent. “Would you like me to take you back your quarters? You look rather flushed, are you sick?”

“N-No, I’m not sick.” You stuttered out as you pushed his hand off of your body. The lingering effects causing your mind to turn foggy, it was the first time in a while that you felt such an effect from a simple touch of another. “I’ll go to my room by myself.”

“I don’t mind the trouble, really, allow me to occupy you.” Loki stated. His body ready to move right along side yours.

“No, seriously.” You stated as your hand came straight flush against his chest. The moment it hit, your words ceased to exist. It felt odd, to fell his heartbeat. You never thought in your lifetime would you be able to feel it, much less this clearly. Though, something was off with it cause you swore for a single second that you felt it skip a beat.

“I, um,” you hummed out as you placed your hand back at your side. “I’ll go by myself.”

When you turned away from the God of Mischief, it was like your entire body became cold. The feeling of him slowly slipping away from your presence was almost the worst feeling you’ve ever experienced before. It was like moving away towards the perfect, most handsome looking sun you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

When your back fell into the bed, it was like everything you were feeling hit you at once. All the things you kept towards the back of your mind came to the front, center stage. All these questions entered your mind.

What did you say to Loki while drunk?

You know he isn’t effected by Midgardian liquor, so, he was completely sober. If so, did he take advantage of your drunk state?

Sure, he was Loki and tried to take over Earth at one point. But you wouldn’t call him evil, at worse you’d give him the ‘bad boy’ label.

Did you really sleep with him?

“Shit,” you grumbled to yourself as you began to bite down on your bottom lip. You knew you had some kind of feelings for Loki, and yes you shut them down as quick as they came for obvious reasons, but you didn’t want everything to come undone just from some liquor. If anything, you at least wanted to tell him at the right time when you were sober.

Turning on your side, you pressing your knees into your chest. It really was nagging, this unknown feeling. You knew the only way you were going to get answers was from Loki himself. However, the thought of that was too much. It was like you were ripping off a bandage that you had just placed on. You were frightened that when it came undone, the painful ripping would completely tear away at what relationship was already there.

“Sir,” Jarvis called out. This wasn’t uncommon since Tony had made sure to install Jarvis in every aspect of this place. “Dinner is ready. Everyone is waiting on you.”

“Okay, thank you.” You hummed out as you gathered yourself before heading out once more. Was it too much for you to be left alone today?

When you made your appearance at the large set table, everyone finally began to eat. Steve made it top priority that everyone must be present before eating, for some reason unknown to Tony and you.

You were seated next to Tony and Thor, Loki sat across from you with Natasha and Steve on either side of him. The food that was presented to you was a simple meal. Take-out. You knew everyone had kitchen duty at least once a week, so you began to believe it was Tony’s week thanks to this being the third time take out was for dinner. Though, you were impressed how he managed to make simple take out so impressively set out like it was from a five-star restaurant.

“How was everyone’s morning?” Steve asked politely. This was routine.

“Fine, just woke up with a massive hangover.” Tony said with a funny-looking smirk that made most of the people sitting around him laugh in amusement.

“Same.” Natasha said. “Remind me never to drink at your parties.”

“Eh, it was still fun. Even if I don’t remember most of it.” You commented. Your eyes going off on their own for a moment before connecting with Loki. Except, his eyes were already on you. With no expression on his face and this certain look in his eyes while staring, it made you zip your mouth quickly. Your eyes darting back down towards your food.

Loki raised a brow quizzically before his attention was brought back to Natasha when she asked you, “Did you manage to get the mystery man out of your bed?”

“What?” You flinched, your hand even lost hold of the fork. The noise it created as it rang the glass plate caught more attention than Natasha’s comment.

“You okay, [Name]?” Steve asked with a curious look.

“Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?” You questioned back. If they didn’t know you, they’d drop it. However, they did know you.

“Is it someone we know?” Tony asked with a sly smirk. The look he gave made something turn uncomfortably in your stomach. “Or, maybe the same guy from last time?”

“No,” You lied. “He was a stranger.”

“That is quite exciting.” Thor chuckled as he tried to learn more about the human customs of ‘one night stands’. Something he, for some reason, doesn’t know.

“It really isn’t, but thanks.” You reassured.

“I would disagree.” Tony commented. “I think they’re rather.. thrilling.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to eat once more. Your eyes desperate for another peak at the man across from you. In the back of your mind, you told yourself no. It wasn’t worth it. Just ignore him. Though, your body denied itself to listen to your brain and gave into the desire. In that moment, everything froze. For some unknown reason, it was like everyone else in the room disappeared. The only ones left where Loki and yourself. That look in his eyes, the way his hand held up his head. Everything told you this was a dangerous game you were playing.

“[Name]?” Thor asked, his voice pulling you out of the void and back to reality. “Are you going to eat that?”

“What?” You mumbled before gazing down at the food that you haven’t eaten yet. You shook your head before pushing the plate towards the God of Thunder.

“You sure? You didn’t eat much.” Steve asked, his eyes growing to big puppy eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah, I’m not that hungry anyway.” You waved off. Your body soon standing up from your chair as you dismissed yourself from the others.

You didn’t bother to wait around for good nights or goodbyes from the others. Your feet aimlessly moved around until you rounded the corner. The quick footsteps that grew closer to you the furthest thing from your mind. So, when you felt your body get pressed into the wall, you couldn’t help but let out a loud gasp. Your mouth quickly getting covered by a rough, large hand.

Your eyes quickly began to analyze everything in front of you. Your mind processing the face and body that belonged to Loki, the hand that pressed against your mouth his. He eyed you down for what felt like a decade, that was until he broke it to gaze down the hall for any incoming Avengers. When he didn’t see anyone, he slowly released his hand from your face but still kept you pinned to the wall.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his question rough and demanding of answers.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Dont play dumb with me.” He hissed out. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m not avoiding you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Loki huffed, his patience wearing thin. “Then why did you run away this morning? Or when I saw you earlier, and how do you explain not even capable of holding eye contact with me at supper?”

“That was nothing.” You mumbled out, your head turning to the left and down so you didn’t have to look at him. Though, you suppose that was pointless.

His hand was quick to grab onto your chin to make you face him once more. “Don’t look away from me.”

You could feel your body temperature rise, the feeling brutal to the point were you had to bend your leg a bit and tap your fingers just to calm yourself a bit. Everything in your mind ran so quickly that you began to believe you would have a malfunction up there. Though, instead of a malfunction you ended up just blurting out, “Did we sleep together?”

You watched as nothing but pure confusion twisted in Loki’s face. You weren’t positive yet if that was good or bad, but something deep within your stomach told you not to make any false moves. Not to assume anything until you hear his words.

“Would that really be so bad?” He asked, his voice low.

“I don’t mean it like that.” You corrected. “I’m just asking cause I don’t remember anything from last night and when I wake up you were in my shower.”

Loki sighed, his body taking a step back to allow yours to breathe. “No, we didn’t.”

You wanted to desperately to let out a sign of relief. However, you were smart enough to read the look on his face and know this wasn’t the right time for that.

“Then, why were you there?” You asked.

Loki sighed, his eyes making contact with yours before beginning to explain. “I took you back to your room since you were probably more drunk than Stark. I didn’t mean to upset you if I have, I just thought it would be best to keep an eye on you until you fell asleep. I suppose at some point I did as well.”

“So, you took care of me.” You stated as you took an unconscious step closer.

“I suppose so, yes.” He said. “Was that wrong of me to do?”

“No, no.” You ushered out quickly. “That was fine. I’m glad you it was you.”

“You are?” He asked, his eyes staring into yours.

You nodded. Another step closer taken. Both pair of eyes danced with the other as each of you stared at the other. It was this moment of silence that you appreciated the most, cherished the most. It was an intoxicating feeling to sit in silence with Loki, to allow no sound of voice to flow between the both of you. The way your heart beat so intensity, the thoughts that crawled out that always made a shiver go up your spine, well, it was nothing but pure ecstasy.

“Come to my room.” You blurted out, the afterthought not even in question. You meant what you said, and Loki could see that as well by his silence nod and questionless lips.

As the two of your traveled, Loki following behind you in silence, your heart began to pound faster. The wonder of what would come to pass filling in your veins and by the time you came upon your room, you didn’t waste time to lock your door just in case.

“I want you to know something.” You said as you sat down next to Loki on the edge of your bed.

“What is it?” He questioned, his eyes never leaving yours for a second. After all, that would be too long for him.

“I wasn’t in regret or anything, I just wanted to know the truth.” You stated clearly. “If I ever did that with you, I rather remember the time clearly.”

You noticed the adam’s apple in Loki’s throat bob quickly after your words. The way his eyes now going frantic about your body without shame made your hand grip onto your pants. It was a new feeling, but one you enjoyed. Having him look at you felt nothing like anyone else in the past had done, when it was him and only him, you felt like he was looking at the stars.

“Allow me to be frank?” He asked, his question answered with a simple nod.

When Loki leaned in, he stabilized himself by moving one of his hands on top of yours, his fingers snaking in between the spaces in your hand. You felt him grip a bit harder, in a relaxing way before speaking his mind.

“I find myself thinking of you even at the most.. inopportune moments of the day. I feel as if a link exists between your heart and mine and should that link be broken either by distance or by time, my heart would cease to be and I would die.” Loki freely spoke. His voice soft, and low as he spoke so that only you would hear this side of him even if no other soul was nearby to hear. “And you.. you’d soon forget about me.”

You leaned your head, a plethora of emotions washing over you at once. Though, you needed to address this one thing as if life and death hanged in the balance. Your body scooted closer to the God, your hand that connected with his now placed on your lap before saying, “Loki. I’d never forget about you.”

The God let out a dry chuckle. “I acknowledge that. I just suppose that’s my fear speaking.”

“If we’re being so open, I’d like to say something as well.” You said, his eyes looking at you with such patience that you’ve never found before. “You make me feel.. you make me feel vulnerable. Every time your eyes meet mine I can feel you looking at my very soul, and I don’t like it. Do you know?”

“Do I know.. what?”

You smiled softly, your hand squeezing Loki’s as you ask, “Do you know what it’s like around you? It’s like.. It’s like I can’t breathe when you’re around and everything stops. When everything stops, I can only focus on you.”

You’ve never really seen Loki smile, but he had granted you the privilege of seeing a few times. However, you instantly knew this kind of smile, the soft and sweet kind he directed towards you was your favorite yet. Sure, the causally smirk or smile was nice, but this one was for you and you alone.

And you loved it.

[veilder]

Hi! Would you happen to have Convin or Reed900 fics to recommend?

Oh, hello! I can definitely help you with Convin fic recs at least, lol! Reed900, not so much, but there are plenty of blogs around that you could ask for that ship. ^_^ But yeah, I’ll try to categorize these as best I can! And give a little summary, too! :D

Longfics 75k+ (Complete)

1. Mission: Unexpected by J11nxed (@j11nxed) Rated E (violence, sexual content, language, abuse): Super great casefic with lots of amazing character development. Very funny. Probably my favorite characterization of Connor and Gavin, lol. The fic I read when I’m feeling down. ^_^

2. Golden by jarpad (@embaggins on Twitter) Rated M (dark themes, mature content, allusions to self-harm/suicide, mental health issues, language): An absolutely beautiful story of healing and overcoming your demons handled in a very respectful manner. The subject matter is very thought provoking and it brought me to tears, both cathartic and not, more than once. It’s a heavy story, but... So worth it, imo.

3. like roses, death blooms by alekszova (@ewates) Rated M (violence, rape, torture, abuse, mental health issues): A very, very dark revenge fic. Definitely the darkest one on this list. If you like heavy angst, this might be for you, though please heed the tags. A lot of this story is about the aftermath of horrific events but there are still some very brutal scenes.

Mid-length fics 20k-75k (Complete)

1. Running Uphill by NHMoonshadow (@sharysisnhmoonshadow) Rated M (violence, peril, language): The ultimate time travel soulmate AU fic imo. Absolutely top tier Gavin characterization and development. Rich backstories and relationships. Definitely some trauma, omg. But ultimately, a happy ending. Definitely a must-read for any Convin fan imo.

2. Traces by berryblonde (@berry--blonde) Rated M (language, peril, minor suicidal ideation): One of the first long fics I ever read for this ship and still one of my faves. Excellent casefic setup, very interesting premise and some very dynamic characters. Also, really A+ backstory for Gavin. This is basically a classic for anyone who wasn’t around in the early days of fandom. Highly recommend!

3. His Robin by wolfetz Rated T (drama, language): Absolutely fantastic coming of age story set in a human!AU world. Really great character work for both Connor and Gavin and their relationship through the years. Love this one.

4. A Scratched CD/A Faulty Code by consecrated Rated T (mental health issues, language): Companion pieces told from Gavin and Connor’s POVs respectively. These were also very early fics I read when I was first getting into the fandom and I love them both dearly. The characterization here went a long way towards me loving the ship to begin with. A great intro to Convin.

5. That Boy is a Powder Keg by QueenHarleyQuinn Not Rated (language, violence, mature content, mental health issues): One of the most realistic takes on Gavin going from his canon asshole self to someone who could feasibly be in a relationship with Connor. I’m definitely due to re-read this cuz I can’t quite remember the details anymore, but I know I really enjoyed this at the time. Good for anyone who likes a more antagonistic take on him.

Shortfics/Oneshots (~20k)

1.  Sedum Spathulifolium by Burrahobbit Rated T (language): This fic... is so dang sweet. I’ve read it so many times. It’s absolutely adorable, what can I say? Love their dynamic here. ^_^

2. Always know that you are not alone by Liveinelf Rated T (language, drama): Another fantastic take on Gavin and his growth as a character. He starts off very close to canon here and is one mean asshole. But this fic does a great job of explaining why he acts as he does. And how he changes. Highly recommend.

3. Some things never change by berryblonde Rated T (language): An absolutely hilarious fic, lol. The view of Convin through the eyes of some rookie trainees, omg. It makes me laugh so much. XD

4. Mankind Needs More Empathy by BrightestStarInTheSky  (@brighteststarinthesky) Rated T (language, drama): Some good old-fashioned Gavin-getting-his-head-out-of-his-ass, lol. I love fics like this. Need a good basis to start a relationship, after all. Apologies are in order. ^_^

5. as i see them by rekal Rated T (language, drama): Same as the previous entry, this one deals with Gavin’s character growth and how he and Connor grow closer in the aftermath. It’s lovely.

6. Sweet/Wise men say... by 99MillionMiles (@99millionmilesaway) Not Rated: Two short, sweet fluff pieces that absolutely delight me every time I reread them. And as a bonus, some beautiful art by @deep-in-mind67, too!

7. Melted Phoenix by Astrapod Rated M (violence, trauma, mental health issues, mutilation, peril): This one... This is a heavy fic. It starts off with a very harrowing description of android violence that might be too much for some folks to handle. Proceed with caution. But, if you can weather that, this is an absolutely beautiful fic about love and healing. Definitely recommend.

8. So Pathetic and So Lovely by alekszova Rated M (language, drama, mental health issues, mature themes): I think the fic’s description speaks for itself here: “ Neither Gavin or Connor think they are capable of being loved by the other, but that doesn't mean it's true.” Definitely worth a read.

9. An unexpected turn of events by Smokey310 Rated T (language): This one is freakin hilarious. Connor and Gavin and a night out at the club, omg. I love this fic to death. XD

10. As Do I by berryblonde Rated T (drama): A human!AU where your soulmate can feel the injuries of their other half. It’s the story of a lifetime together. All the way til the end.

11. because the bed’s warm and it’s cold out by voidpants (@voidpants) Rated G (no warnings): Connor and Gavin being old men together. It’s beautiful. Such a lovely take on the two of them.

Unfinished Fics/Honorable Mentions

1. Spinning Yellow by sheepishwolfy (@sheepishwolfy) Rated E (violence, language, mature themes): Amazing casefic with top-tier characterization. What’s written of it is still amazing, even if it’s not complete.

2. Amidst a Crash of Worlds by fireplanetz Rated T (violence, mature themes, war, language): A fic told entirely through letters between Connor and Gavin in the aftermath of the bad ending of the game. It’s such an awesome idea and it’s executed so well. Definitely recommend. 

3. The Bet by Pence Rated T (language): Brooklyn 99-inspired DPD shenanigans. Need I say more? It’s so funny and I love the characterization of Connor and Gavin. Mostly finished, too! Just the final chapter missing!

4. Wicked by MercuryPilgrim Rated M (language, mature content): I love this one. It’s such a unique take on Connor and Gavin and it works so well, too. They are delightful here. Love the dynamic!

5. (can’t say) i don’t love you by Chibbers (@teh-chibi) Rated M (language, drama, sexual content): An angsty hanahaki!AU fic where these two idiots don’t realize they’re in love with each other. Really great writing here. Very emotional. Made me feel a lot.

And I guess I should mention that I have fics of my own, too, about half of which are Convin? You can check them out on my AO3 here! ^_^

So yeah, there we go. Those are really all I can think of off the top of my head. I know I missed some amazing works, too, alas. But at least this can give you a good start, yeah? Hope this helps @pancrystal! And thanks again for the ask! :D (Also, if I messed up any of the link or if there’re any glaring typos, lemme know. This was a lot of janky, Tumblr formatting, omg. >_<)

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 3.4k 

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg​, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week. 

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent.  He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you.  Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.  

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.

[heli0s-writes]

crystalline*

A/N: Instead of attending to the rest of my WIPS, here’s 1.6k words of Bottom Bucky and Service Dom reader. Throatfucking. Erm. Cathartic crying. 

Warnings: Bucky working out trauma. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You teach him how to want things again.

His pieces from the past, the joys he used to have taken too soon— you tell him he can have it all back.

It started with food, predictably. No longer being tube-fed slurry, Bucky quickly embarked on discovering all the new flavors of the 21st century.

Chocolate alone was a month-long passion as he attempted to scrub out the standard issued combat rations haunting his tongue. Chalky cuts like cold pressed gravel— fuck that. The first time you broke off a square of unroasted, dark, sprinkled with Himalayan sea salt chocolate, Bucky’s head hit the back of the couch with a pathetic mewl and a million things rushed through his mind of all the ways he could keep feeling this good.

Sleep came next— something he thought he’d had enough of, but the difference between getting perma-frosted every decade and lying face down in whatever memory foam’s made out of is lifetimes apart.

Bubble baths. Streaming apps. Nice clothes.

Attention and affection. Kisses. Braids in his hair. Tickles for extra laughs. His ego’s in overdrive because he has half a thought about anything and you’re fulfilling it like his personal genie. You say he needs all the dopamine he can get and you’re gonna give it to him.

And you give it to him in spades.

Orgasms. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s spoiled rotten.

Morning sex, afternoon sex, sex before bed. Blindsided in hallways and under conference room tables. The compound pool’s been properly christened more than once, and if Tony ever found out just exactly how many of those precious luxury cars have seen the imprint of Bucky’s ass, he’d set them all on fire.

But, reconciliation comes for him eventually. Spend long enough feeling all good he figures it was about time he starts screwing it up. He turns greedy, he starts wanting for too much. His girl’s an insatiable little beast, but even beasts have limits.

-

Bucky went shy when he asked, stuttering about how it’s okay if you didn’t—if you weren’t—it’s kinda strange— but you’d put your hand over his and tilted his chin up.

“Bucky,” you said fondly, “Baby,” and then a sweet smile curled over your pretty pink lips like spun sugar, “I’d eat your ass like a five-course meal. I’ll let you fuck me on the moon. What is it, huh?”

He could’ve kissed your dirty mouth silly.

“I want you to use a toy—"

“We do all the time.”

“—on me.”

And that sweet candy pink smile turned red hot and wicked. No limit in sight.

-

You approach the bed like a fever dream and all the blood in Bucky’s body congregates south.

Nothing on but the 2-day-shipping-because-the-phone’s-a-genie-too leather harness sitting snugly on your hips and a grin. The heaviness between your thighs hangs like both an offering and a weapon.

He asked for it. He wanted it. Just—maybe, to start— can you be rough with him. Then, stuttering once more because he doesn’t know how to justify why. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s hard to say out loud that with all the things you let him have, that after nearly a century of being out of his own body, he… wants to give it away.

He’s messed up, baby. Sick down to his rotten core.

You only shushed him. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll rough you up real fucking good. No why’s necessary.

Fleshy weight brushes against your inner thigh, swinging idly from one side to the other. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, still dressed at the edge of the mattress, skin beginning to prickle, nerves taking a hard left into arousal. When your hand finds rough landing in his hair, he thinks he must be the luckiest bastard in the entire world.  

Bucky drops on his knees like dead weight, nearly tearing off his clothes, feeling the upsurge of heat in his cheeks and chest. His eyelids are fluttering, your face going fuzzy but he can still see that look of adoration you reserve for him.

He’s pondering if that old saying is true—if there can be too much of a good thing, if he’s become spoiled sick, or if he could overdose on pleasure when you start thumbing the edge of his mouth.

“Pay attention,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Open.”

He’s tingling when you put two fingers in, moving around his tongue, scissoring them against his inner cheek. They explore for a while, bolder each passing second. He can tell you’re getting excited too, your chest heaving gradually, watching him with curious intent.

“You like this?” You ask, lip between your teeth, and Bucky nods, leaning further in, spit following the path of your hand down to his neck. You palm the cock like it’s always belonged to your body and he’s mesmerized at how it rises from your grip, moving over his face to rest on his cheek.

“It’s big, baby.” You warn, full on now. You stroke the outline of his jaw with it, leaving a burning path in its wake. “You sure?”

He quietly likes that you ask—honey-toned and patient, needing to hear it, knowing that he needs to hear it from himself. All those things he’d been made to say with his body and not with his mind.

Now he gets it back, as you said. Gets a part of himself back, too.

“Yes—ah—yes.”

Bucky’s words are slurred into your hand, but he’s begging with his eyes. Yes. I want it. Please let me. Please make me. Please fix me.

You replace your fingers, sluicing up the cock with his spit. Then, you fuck his mouth slow, feeding it to him inch by inch before dragging it away. Bucky’s lips are quivering for more, jaw slack, panting hoarsely. He feels overcome at how you stand over him, mesmerized by him, too.

“Yeah, honey,” you croon, and Bucky’s heart swells with pride. “You’re doing so well, pretty boy.”

He’s licking blindly and sucking between ragged gasps when he attempts to say your name, knowing full well he’ll never get the whole word out before you wedge back into him. And god, it’s hot. It’s dirty and filthy and so fucking sweet.

You grasp the base of his skull, keeping his head still and laying into his mouth rhythmically. The cockhead hits Bucky’s throat, pushing into the soft palate, reaching further. His eyes are rolling, whimpers catching where the toy ends, caught in the breath of air in his mouth.

“Take it, baby,” you command, and Bucky gags. One hand scrambles for your thigh, other clawing his own, pressing red crescents into the flesh. It hurts. It hurts good like it never did before and Bucky chokes it down, eyes squeezed shut now, tears prickling from the ducts and collecting at the corners.

“Oh, you’re so good,” and his body just keeps lighting up. “You good boy. You perfect, perfect boy.” And he’s nodding desperately, needy, gut coiled tight like a spring.

“So fucking dirty,” you hiss, pulling hard on his hair, “Look at you— leaking all over yourself.”

He is. He’s a goddamn mess, sticky lines of precome down his shaft and collecting at his base.

“Drooling all over my cock like this. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

“Uhhngg— hnnng—” He moans weakly at the things you do to him and for him.

“That’s right, you are. Keep going, show me how much you want it.” Jesus, the way you make him feel— like he could be exactly who he is and never have to apologize for a goddamn thing. Broken and ruined but you’d still give him the whole fucking world.

The noises Bucky’s making are muffled and obscene as he fists himself, shuddering and pumping erratically. One more final drive from your hips and he’s bursting at the seams, shattering to pieces, coming with a strangled cry.

You don’t let up, taking his throat unrelentingly, watching him sob and fall apart. He’s going limp in your clutch, letting his eyes well up like pools, your smiling face so beautiful in the crystalline light.

If he’s sick, then you must be the fever he can’t sweat out. The fire burning through his bones until he’s nothing but smoldering bits of debris afterwards. Grains and soot of him floating in the steady flow of your faithful current.

When he’s made a perfect mess of himself, come-covered and quivering, you finally let him breathe again, pulling out wetly.

“There you go,” you say, kneeling to kiss his panting mouth, “Did that feel good?” 

Your lips are a cool balm on his swollen ones and Bucky hums a response, body still thrumming. “Yeah,” he sighs, sensitive like a wound, raw and open and tender. “Real— good.”

You rub his back and run your fingers through his hair, letting him rest in your arms. You wipe away the tears on his cheeks and over his trembling eyelids.

Gentle words tumble from your lips. Promises of love and of good memories to replace the bad ones. More kisses. More affection. More reclamation.

All those little granules of fractured time, you collect in the soft surrender of his mouth. Wet and salty, they fall together there, and Bucky feels himself clicking into place. Perfect and whole and treasured like an iridescent pearl.

[adorable-deku]

to flesh out the idea i had earlier:

the hspc wants to train a quirkless hero bc right now quirkless ppl have no attachment nor loyalty to the hero system, they are not represented among them

that makes quirkless ppl a threat, so the hspc needs to create a quirkless hero who will settle and satiate the quirkless masses

enter 1 midoriya izuku, a four year old who wants to be a hero so bad and just found out hes quirkless

the hspc swoop in and offer the boy a deal he cant refuse. inkos a little more wary but theyre offering her sons dream and she can trust the hspc to keep her boy safe, right?

....

little midoriya izuku starts being trained to be a hero: 4 hours of the day on physical training, 4 on mental.

he gets no break days and whenever he complains abt being tired (rarely) they call him ungrateful

"we're giving you the chance if a lifetime, and you cant even tolerate this much effort? what kind of hero could you possibly be?"

they increase the amount of training as he gets older so by the time hes thirteen: 7 hrs physical, 7hrs mental

whenever hes not sleeping is 'free time' but he cant go outside and he only has books about heroes. he gets into quirk analysis bc its really his only option

hes kinda friends w hawks, since they were often trained together. they werent allowed to be around eachother v often to prevent them from forming a bond and to maintain a sense of competition

the issue with izuku is that he asks too many questions, pokes his nose where it doesnt belong

hes very polite about it, extremely well mannered, but he still has morals, has faith in heroes

is trained to call all his handlers and teachers 'sir'

he figures out that the hspc is doing some fucked up thing (havent firgured out what yet, maybe they experiment on villains that they dont even bother holding trials for. is that too tongue in cheek?)

hes like, u better stop or im leaving one way or another

the fucked up thing is nore important than izukus value as a quirkless hero, so they let him leave

not w/o ensuring (violently) that he wont tell anyone

izuku is thrown out in the snow bc i think blood on snow is dramatic and cliche and i love dramatic cliches

he is picked up by afo who was actually planning to go back and help inko raise izuku after finding out he was quirkless but he was taken in by the hspc

getting him out of the hspc would jeopardize many things, izukus life probably included

he knows immediately once izukus out and goes to pick him up

shigaraki and izuku dont get aling at first bc izuku loves heroes but they mesh weirdly well bc izuku is super diligent and always practcijg and shigaraki forces him to learn to relax

izuku doesnt like violent video games

the first present izuku gets from his newfound family (inko also moved in dont think im forgetting her) is animal crossing and a ds to play it on

its his favorite thing in the world

one issue: he calls afo 'sir' and afo simply does ot care for that. he doesnt do it to inko bc shes mom or shigaraki bc hes a peer. hes hawks age so izuku doesnt consider him to be old enough to be a 'sir'

the rest of the fic is fluff with all for one trying ridiculous schemes to get his son to call him 'dad'

they go on some sort of mission where all for one and izuku pretend to be father and son (even though they are that) and izuku just calls him father

afo's smile is weirdly strained for this entire incident and next week on the news it turns out an hspc agent died huh wonder who did that

the fic ends w him succeeding bc i think itd be nice

[edie-baby]

Les Fleurs du Mal Chapter 1| Pierre Gasly

Summary: Sava Dvorakova had big dreams for Formula One. An opportunity of a lifetime comes around, so she takes it and runs. She proved just about everyone wrong, and is awarded a very controversial seat on the F1 grid. There’s smiles and grins, hugs and kisses, love and laughter. There’s tears and sobs, fights and break ups. There’s evil where you least expect it, hidden in the garden of eden. The Flowers of Evil.

Warnings: a lot of swearing, shitty parents (they’re a recurring theme), sexism, i ignored a lot of actual f1 rules because i couldn’t be bothered writing it into the story tbh, yuki is fcking adorable, a lot of smut eventually, like a lot.

There were hundreds, thousands, maybe even a million girls who have dreamed of making it into Formula One. It is the pinnacle of motorsport, the highest calibre and the most competitive of its many engine-based counterparts. Many women over the years have tried to make their way into the sport, but as each season becomes more competitive, it seems as though the women of motorsport keep slipping through the cracks. Perhaps it’s a timing thing - they weren’t in the right place at the right time - or perhaps it’s a sexism thing, or maybe the female drivers just simply are not at the same level that a lot of the men are at.

Sava Dvorakova feared being one of those women. One that would try their hardest, but were still unable to make their mark on a sport they had very clear passion for. The seventeen year old had been karting since her fifth birthday, progressing through the levels the Czech Republic had to offer before she moved onto European championships. Nearly every weekend of the year, Sava was in her kart, racing against boys three years her senior and thrashing them each time. However, she didn’t get the opportunity to progress into single-seaters for many years.

It was September 2020, just like any other race weekend when it happened, Sava piled into her kart as the marshalling for her heat was called. Her uncle patted the top of her helmet for good luck, a tradition the two had kept for about twelve years at this point, and she made it out onto her starting place - pole position as usual. Sava pulled clean moves the entire race, defended her position without being reckless or desperate, and had perfect pace. As she pulled back into the pits under her team’s marquee, she spotted her uncle speaking with an older man in a button up and slacks, something quite odd for a normal karting weekend. Sava hopped out, practically ripping her helmet and balaclava off as her footsteps increased in pace to get to her uncle. He scooped her up into a hug, spinning the girl a few times and congratulating her on another victory for the season.

“Bunny, this is Doctor Helmut Marko, he’s the director of Red Bull Racing. He’d like to speak with you about a driving opportunity.” Sebastian, her uncle, stated clearly, his excitement spilling into his eyes as he stared at his seventeen year old niece. Her dyed-pink hair sat matted to her forehead, the majority of it spun into Dutch braids down her back that would be tucked into the back of her race suit before the next race, her cheeks were flushed red, and her bottom lip was cracked in places from how much the Czech nibbled on it on and off track. Sebastian almost laughed at the situation she had ended up in.

“Dr Marko, it’s lovely to meet you. I have an hour until my next heat, so if you would like to speak urgently, there is a small cafe about a hundred metres from the track. If you’d like less of a time constraint, I will be completely free after 4pm today.” Sava told the man in front of her, Czech accent so thick the Austrian could barely understand her.

“It should only take about 10 minutes, so if you’d like, I can buy you and your uncle a coffee at the cafe while we speak.” Dr Marko offered. Sava nodded calmly, her uncle much more vocal about his excitement. Sava excused herself to change into less sweaty clothes, returning in a halter-neck singlet and a pair of ripped skinny jeans. Her trusty combat boots stepped over all of the tools, debris, and shit that was scattered around the pits as she made it back to the two men.

“So, Sava, what is your goal in karting?” Dr Marko began almost immediately after the trio had sat down in the cafe.

“To make it into formula one and win multiple world championships.” Sava responded confidently, barely a second between the question and her reply as it was something she had thought about for a very long time.

“So why aren’t you already driving in single seaters?” Dr Marko questioned further, and from the corner of her eye, Sava could see her uncle tense up.

“Because no one’s willing to give me a chance in the big leagues because they know I’ll do a lot better than half the boys on the grid.” The seventeen year old replied. Helmut seemed impressed with the rapid fire, confidence laden responses he was receiving.

“Well, I’m willing to. Jehan Daruvala, a Red Bull junior currently driving for Carlin in formula two is unable to attend the last three races of the season because of health issues. I want you to take his seat for those races, and if you’re as good in a single seater as you are in that kart, I’ll make sure you have a seat for next year.” Helmut laid out, and Sebastian audibly choked. Sava smirked at her uncle’s reaction, and stared into the eyes of the man offering her a fast track to her dreams.

“I’d love to. When and where is the next race?” Sava chuckled, her uncle’s recovery from his choking fit was slow, and Helmut looked on in amusement. He had seen many similar reactions from the drivers he was propositioning, but it seemed as though this duo had reversed the normal roles.

“The weekend begins on Thursday in Italy. You’ll be racing in Mugello.” Helmut told the pair dryly. Sebastian began coughing once again, Sava simply rubbing his back soothingly while she nodded.

“I’ll need to make arrangements with my school, but I presume you’ll make travel and accommodation arrangements from Prague to Mugello?” Sava continued her calm conversation, though she could feel her natural bubbliness and excitement ready to burst through.

“Yes. There will be a Carlin race suit and boots in Mugello when you arrive, as well as a helmet and teamwear. You’ll have a personal assistant for the time you’re in Jehan’s seat, to keep up with the media and to navigate the paddock. I’ll have all of the relevant information forwarded to you tonight, and there will be a contract for you to sign upon your arrival in Italy.”

“Then I’ll see you there, sir. I best be on my way, I’ll need time to change back into my race suit before my heat is called in about half an hour. It was lovely to meet you, and I look forward to meeting and exceeding your expectations.” Sava concluded, standing up to give her new boss a handshake before she turned on her heels and practically sprinted out of the cafe. She speed walked back to the track and into the changing rooms before letting out the ear splitting squeal she had been holding in since she won her race forty five minutes ago.

It was easy enough to sort out her absence with her school, as there were no assessments due and Sava was already miles ahead of the rest of her peers, so her teachers had no qualms with letting their champion out to represent the country.

The issue however, was with her parents. Her father, a man she had been emancipated from for over a year, decided he would give her grief for throwing away her education to take someone’s spot for a few weeks before they would inevitably drop her once they realised how bad she was. Her mother wasn’t much better. As her legal guardian, she technically did have the right to stop her daughter from going into the F2 seat, but after a gruelling discussion and many threats from Sava to emancipate from her mother as well, she conceded.

So, on a very sunny, very early Thursday morning in September, Sava hopped onto a plane with an overnight bag to begin catching her dreams. Unfortunately, Sebastian had work during the week, but would be flying out to Italy on Friday night to watch his niece’s races on Saturday and Sunday. But, Sava arrived in Italy as bubbly and excitable as ever. Her pink hair was split into her iconic high pigtails, a white crop top, and pastel pink pleated skirt and trusted combat boots covered her form, black duffel bag thrown over her shoulder with some clothes for the weekend, and all of her travel documents. The PA standing with her name printed on a sign was very confused when a very small, very pink teenage girl bumbled over to her and said ‘Hi, I’m Sava. But everyone calls me Bunny’.

“I’m sorry, I expected someone a little more gritty.” The twenty-something woman spoke, her blonde hair in a high ponytail with a Carlin shirt and dark wash jeans. Sava guessed the PA expected someone who looked more like herself.

“It’s okay, I get that a lot. Most people don’t recognise me out of my race suit, so I definitely don’t expect someone who’s never seen me to anticipate my looks. What’s your name?” Sava’s Czech accent, combined with her hyperactivity meant she talked extremely fast, and often it was all nonsense, and she simply spoke for the sake of speaking. The PA took a few seconds to process the words Sava had spoken before finally replying with a simple ‘Amelia’. The two made it to the car that was waiting and travelled to the track in silence, Sava taking in the sights, and Amelia tapping away at her phone. When they got out, Amelia handed Sava a paddock pass, explaining the importance of it and demonstrating how to use it at the gates. They walked through to the Carlin garage, one half working away excitedly, while the other side seemed rather dead.

“Everyone, can I have your attention please? This is Sava Dvorakova, she’s our reserve driver for the rest of the season. Make her comfortable, and make sure she feels welcome!” Amelia yelled, very quickly causing silence to spread over the entire garage.

“Hi! I’m Sava, but most people call me Bunny, so feel free to do either! Or if you’d like, Dvorakova works just as well, but it’s a bit of a mouthful so I understand if you mispronounce it. I’ll also probably respond to ‘hey you’ so anything works. I’m really looking forward to working with you all and giving you some good results this weekend!” Sava giggled at the end, her fists clenched in front of her chest as she gave a small cheer with her hands and the entire garage remained silent for a few moments before breaking out into whispers, their eyes trailing over the teenager’s body. The anxiety in Sava’s belly bubbled, and she began playing with her hands until she was approached by a boy who was a little taller than her with a friendly smile on his face.

“Hi, I’m Yuki. I drive the other Carlin. It’s nice to meet you Bunny.” Yuki introduced with a smile and fist bump. He was unbelievably pleased to meet a driver who was smaller than him, though he supposed that her being a girl wouldn’t ease all of the teasing he got from other drivers on the grid. The two chatted about their background in racing, and Yuki gave Sava a few pointers on handling the car she was about to drive for the first time ever.

“Sava, I have all of your race gear to try on, and later on you’ll need to do a seat fitting as the mechanics are just going to modify one of Yuki’s seats since you two are similar height.” Amelia stated, breaking up the conversation between the two youngsters. Sava apologised to her new friend before practically skipping behind Amelia. She received a few weird looks from others in the paddock, including a few F1 drivers she recognised from TV and her Instagram feed. She wasn’t sure why they were in this paddock, but supposed a few of the younger guys had only recently come out of F2.

When she got into a Carlin motorhome, race overalls and her flame-retardant undersuit were thrust into her hands by Amelia, and then pointed toward a tiny bathroom within the motorhome while the PA continued scrolling through emails, updating social media, and answering calls. Sava pulled the suits on excitedly, and though it was a bit tight in the hips, thighs and chest, she thought it looked pretty damn good.

“So, I think this was definitely made for a guy with less boobs and smaller hips, but the fit is still really good.” Sava joked to Amelia when she stepped out, only to see Helmut Marko standing alongside her new assistant. She went red instantly, her shoulders tensing and sliding up toward her head.

“Yes, well, we can certainly fix that before the next race, but right now, I believe you’re needed for fittings in the garage, so throw on your helmet and get down there.” Helmut ordered. Sava quickly snatched up her balaclava and helmet, threading the two onto her arm as she began undoing the pigtails to braid them on her way back to the Carlin garage while Amelia and Helmut stayed behind to talk.

If Sava thought she was getting weird looks on her way to the motorhome, she was getting even weirder ones on the way back from it. From what she could tell, it seemed more like mechanics, engineers and other personnel from other teams and she couldn’t see any drivers she recognised before she slipped into the Carlin garage, one braid half finished, and her helmet banging against her head every time she moved her arm. Yuki laughed at her struggles, ambling over to thread the helmet and balaclava off her arm while she held the half finished braid precariously. Sava thanked him with a quick smile and continued braiding, her tongue occasionally poking out the side of her mouth in concentration. One she was finished, and the long braids were tucked into the back of her suit, she pulled on the balaclava and helmet in record speed, and then was ushered into the F2 car to begin the tedious process of trying and changing one of Yuki’s seats to suit her height and posture. 

After about an hour of fiddling, she was allowed to take the helmet off, and was beginning to doze off in the cockpit while a few of the employees debated different ways of measuring and fixing the seat nearby. Amelia came into the garage to find the new driver fully asleep in her car with everyone still talking around her. She took a photo and uploaded it to Carlin’s Instagram story, tagging the driver and writing a quick word about the reserve driver they hadn’t officially announced yet. She giggled slightly, and when two of the mechanics came back over to lift the seat out of the car, they accidentally lifted the driver out with it. Amelia took more photos of the seventeen year old comfortably in her race suit, curled in her seat while two mechanics held the entire ensemble up above the car.

Suffice to say, Carlin’s Instragram was flooded with adoring new fans, angered stans, and a few cheeky formula one drivers on private accounts. 

[amwritingmeta]

15x20: Oh fuck it’s actually really good. Dammit Dabb.

So I slept. And waking up the first thought in my head was... but there is this open ending with them all in Heaven and Cas not a stated angel even, just a helper to Jack...

And then I felt the need to watch the episode again. Because of how I’ve said, perhaps not for always, but often enough, that this show of ours was never about Destiel, was never about Dean and Cas’ love story, and beginning to hope that the ending would be focused on them... it wasn’t fair. Not really. And I remembered reading somewhere that a big chunk of the internet accepted Cas’ death as final, and seeing posts to that effect and thinking LUDICROUS and NO WAY and knowing all along that it could all be denial on my part.

And oh boy was it. 

I know there were plenty of us who kept that hope alive, and I’m thankful for you, but I made myself believe that he’d be back because I couldn’t imagine he’d die like that, or that the love story would end unreciprocated like that. And I guess, in a way, it still did, BUT... in another way, it really didn’t. 

It’s not enough. Subtext is not the representation I’ve always hoped for, but it wasn’t just erased either. And we got as much as we could get, because obviously Dean being textually bi and us getting an I Love You out of him was just never going to get green lit by the studio.

I’ve always believed the writers would’ve gone there if allowed. I think Cas’ love declaration underlines that they would’ve. But they weren’t given the opportunity, and I’ll lament it until the end of time, but it is what is.

What we did get, though, is quite beautiful. No, listen, IT IS.

There’s the emotional substitute Miracle Dog, getting so much LOVE from Dean, which I know most of us all went the big awwww at, no matter what we thought of the rest of the ep. 

There’s the healthy way Dean is dealing with the loss of Cas, and of Jack, knowing that pain will never go away, and accepting it. Accepting it because he’s feeling worthy of moving on without them. He’s no longer attaching his self-image to the perceived failure of protecting others. He’s letting them go, believing that they may meet somewhere further down the road.

But looking at the finale for what it is, rather than for what I wanted it to be (cardinal sin omfg my emotions really ran away with me and I wish I could’ve been more level headed and come on here with this positivity and calm) (but) (no dice) (anyway) it’s just beautiful how Cas is in the background, not waiting, not really, because he’s busy preparing Heaven and fixing his home in ways that will actually mean peace AND freedom when the brothers are done.

Something Cas would not have been able to do if he’d not fallen in love with Dean. If he’d not gone through his journey. I mean. Those implications are highly satisfying. 

Last night all I could think, ALL I could think, was that it’s not ENOUGH.

But it has to be. Because it’s not dismissive. It’s not erasing anything. It’s the same subtextual thread we’ve always been pulling on, and it’s there for us to continue to pull on, and that’s a goddamn gift.

I wish that 15x18 hadn’t been quite so in our face “kill your gays” buuuuuuuut that’s if you’re surface watching, yeah? Cas isn’t dead, for starters, and everyone was, obviously, brought back when Jack took Chuck’s power, so even if it wasn’t visually established that Stevie and Charlie are back and thriving, it’s narrative fact that they must be. What it is, more than anything else, is what I read it as to begin with: a love letter to the love story, where we get the subtext of couples loosing each other so strongly stated that there’s no way we’re not meant to understand that Dean losing Cas is within that exact same context.

We didn’t get textual Destiel, but we did get the love story textually confirmed through Cas’ declaration, and we did get it subtextually confirmed, not hinted, subtextually confirmed through all those other couples losing each other, that the love story EXISTS there, on that level, for us. 

Oh guys I feel so sad that I was so SAD yesterday. Why didn’t I just take a breath?? Guys, guys, guys, there’s such BEAUTY.

And Jensen.

Jensen in how he played that death scene. Jensen who kept it so even, so gentle, so... brotherly. These brothers have been through hell. Dean ending this way... it’s a travesty, but it also means he meant to go to the place where he doesn’t have to hope to see Cas again--because he will see Cas again.

And why didn’t Cas come right back to Dean once he was out of the Empty, why did he go off with Jack to fix Heaven?

I would say that it’s another underlining of Cas’ independence, and this his entire focus isn’t Dean, but, of course, I would assume the thought of Dean is ever present, and the rearranging of Heaven is as much about making sure Dean gets that freedom, as well as that peace, once he’s done as it is about Cas simply not being able to stand for souls being trapped in their memories anymore. Cas knows how to fix Heaven. I mean... that’s a fucking gorgeous and highly satisfying ending to his individual arc. And he’s with Jack!

Like. I mean. That implication that Cas is fixing Heaven with Dean at the back of his mind is quite head-exploding to me. And yeah, sure, that’s how I’m interpreting it, but all the ingredients for that delicious pie is left right there for us in this ending.

What about the legacy issue? What about found family? What about Dean finding happiness in death? What about Dean opening himself up to love?

Yeah, it’s not without issues, depending on how we interpret these things. Do I believe Dabb set out to write an offensive, horrifying, deeply problematic ending to this show and pretty much hand it over to the side of this fandom that has always been the... well, shall we say, less stabile? 

No. I kept saying yesterday that I just didn’t understand what happened, I didn’t understand why our writers room would choose THIS ending, I couldn’t fit the pieces together. That was on me, not on them. Get me?

Interpretation is deeply subjective. It’s personal. And it’s tainted. Always tainted, guys, and there’s no way around that. It’s not perfect and it’s not absolute and all the writers can hope for is that their core message will get across strongly enough to avoid misunderstanding.

I misunderstood the intention yesterday because my interpretation was tainted by what I wanted and felt I needed from this narrative.

For years I’ve refused to put expectation on the story because I know what that does to one’s perspective. It’s futile to engage with hopes and wishes on a deeper level because the show will never deliver exactly what you want. It’s delivered stuff in the ballpark enough times for me to dance alongside it, but to place so much expectation on this finale was just... oh man. Bad. 

I take full responsibility. :)

What about the legacy issue?

The legacy is that you live the best life you can and you end up in happiness, with the people you care about. You LIVE. Nothing about Dean’s death is prescribing dying to get what you want. We have it established that Dean is not suicidal in any way, that he’s mentally stabile and that he’s carrying on without Cas, even though he thinks about him. Not living would make the sacrifice pointless.

What about found family?

Found family was meant to be a part of this ending, but due to COVID (I’m assuming along with everyone) we didn’t get a collection of oldies and goodies at the Roadhouse. We got a father figure to signal the father/son thread that this finale was pulling on, a thread always tied so tightly around Dean and Sam and underlined for us in this episode. The codependency finally broken because they were ready to let each other go. Not forever, because that would’ve been tragic, but for now.

What about Dean finding happiness in death?

The implications of Dean having to die to be happy are quite dark, I know that, but he was never going to hang it up. Not entirely, right? He would never be able to rest on Earth. And he’s always afraid. So instead of spending a lifetime alone, growing into a crusty Bobby (who lost the love of his life too early too), Dean got to go to the place where his happiness actually is. He got to go where Cas is.

I mean, that’s my interpretation here, but rather than set both brothers up with a love life and families and all that, we got a Dean who’s lost the love of his life and is dealing with that loss as best as he can, but who is also ready to go when it’s his time. He wasn’t expecting it to be right then, that day, and he says as much, but he’s ready. As long as Sam is ready to let him go. And Sam isn’t, but he does, and Sam deals with that loss, and finds his way into life and living and loving and happiness in a way that Dean simply wouldn’t have been able to. Because he lost the love of his life.

And Dean waited for Sam to show because of course he would. Sam was the only thing missing: Cas, and Jack, and everyone else Dean has ever loved and cared about, were already in Heaven. For the show to go on, Sam had to return too.

Hope.

That hopeful ending that I, and so many, many of us, have always wanted. Sure, everyone’s DEAD, which, you know, bummer, but they are at peace, they are together, and they are done sacrificing, bleeding and dying. Isn’t that remarkable? Isn’t that the greatest reward? Love and happiness and togetherness. Forever!

And for this fandom, we got what we hoped we’d get, right? An ending open enough for us to keep returning to this narrative over and over and over.

Let me formally apologise for the despair of yesterday. For all of you still feeling it, I send you so much love. Know I understand, I honestly do, but I hope, perhaps, some of these words will offer a sliver of comfort.

So, this is first impression based on second watch of 15x20 positivity. Let me know if anything hits right or hits wrong and let’s talk. <3